[hider=Vicky][CENTER][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjEwNi4zMmNkMzIuS2xZcVNTcERLa3NxV1NvLC4w/novox-varsity.regular.webp[/img] [youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fF2zxT1GXh4 [/youtube][/CENTER] [i]"It’s so hard being this popular. You’ll never get it."[/i] [table][row][/row][row][cell] [center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/4e/a5/2b/4ea52bbc247142fb975fa4ba03f08db8.jpg[/img] [sup]_______________________________________________[/sup] [sub]Posie Victoria Prescott She/Her [b]|[/b] 17 [b]|[/b] German American [b]|[/b] 5’5” [b]|[/b] 140 lbs [sup]_______________________________________________[/sup] Pressure [sup]_______________________________________________[/sup] Skills & Talents[/sub] [i]"I wasn’t even eligible for senior superlatives and I still got voted Most Likely To Succeed."[/i] [sup]___________________________________[/sup][/center][hider=] [sub] [b][ACT ACE] ⫻[/b] Vicky seems like a sharp student. What she lacks in ingenuity and creativity, she makes up for it with attentiveness, a strong memory, and an eye for details. In the world of standardized testing, this means she can crush through a scantron thirty minutes before pencils down and get back to her romantasy novel. In the world of the supernatural, this means she’s typically the first to notice when shit’s about to get spooky. [b][Rah Rah Fight Fight] ⫻[/b] Go team! There’s a lot more to being a cheerleader than rooting for our boys and hopefully getting a frontline view to see that dick Danny Graham get utterly killed out on the gridiron. Vicky’s strong for her size, loud as hell, and has good cardio. Plus, she can do a backflip. Danny Graham can’t do a backflip. Danny Graham can’t even follow up on his promise to take someone to prom. [b][Little Miss Swing-And-A-Miss] ⫻[/b] Vicky’s a pitcher for the high school’s softball team. She’s got a lightning fastball, a nasty changeup, and an awful reputation when it comes to her sportsmanship. Vicky’s mid at best when it comes to being a hitter, but if she’s carrying a bat it’s probably best not to say that to her face. [b][Popular] ⫻[/b] And it’s not just because she’s conventionally attractive or because her parents have a pool. It’s also because her older brother Winston just turned twenty one, he promised to buy her alcohol now that he’s about to get out of rehab, and even if it's gonna be that big plastic bottle of grocery store vodka that tastes like gasoline it still means that they’re all getting wasted! [/sub][/hider] [/cell][cell][sub][b] Appearance[/b][/sub] [sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub] [i]"Even the girl in the mirror is jealous of me."[/i] [indent]In high school, everyone is trying so desperately to blend in so that they don’t get singled out. Unfortunately, this is impossible for poor Posie Victoria Prescott, because she’s been burdened to have the whole world revolve around her. She has blonde hair and lightly tanned skin. Well, okay, Vicky [i]has[/i] brown hair, but now it’s blonde and enough chemicals and expensive haircuts gave that straight shit a "natural" wave. But the tan’s real! Her brown eyes are blue and will remain blue because Diane’s stupid ass bought a yearlong supply of the wrong color contact lenses for Christmas despite Vicky telling her that she definitely wanted green. Vicky has bleach white, perfectly Invisalign-ed teeth surrounded by a dangerously flammable amount of lip gloss that will hopefully pull eyes away from her cleft chin that she absolutely hates. It’s stupid, and gross, and a boy she liked once called it a butt chin, and now she can’t unsee it, she has a butt on her face, and she hates it, [i]hates it, [b]hates it![/b][/i] Phew. Anyway, Vicky has an athletic build with broad shoulders that rival those of an Olympic swimmer. She’s lowkey jacked thanks to playing sports, exercising every day, and following a rigid, self-enforced diet with no cheat days because cheat days are for fat losers with two stupid butt chins instead of just one and—let’s move on. Visible ab definition easily makes up for it, anyway. She’s proud of her legs, the one good thing her mother gave her. The only thing she seemed to inherit from her father was his stress. She doesn’t wear fake nails just because she finds them cute; she wears fake nails because they stop her from biting her already shredded real ones down to the stubs. But a nervous habit is positively incapable of hindering the aura of confidence Vicky radiates. She is always “Game Face On”, rocking a kind of self-certainty and focused intensity in front of people that gives her a somewhat earned air of authority. The girl also possesses what might just be the single most withering stare in the entire world, capable of shutting down most dissenters with one hard glare. She’s also the loudest person in the room, her raspy voice basically a built-in bullhorn. When Vicky doesn’t have to dress to rep Cornell for the big game, she almost exclusively dresses in athleisure. She has the most impossibly clean lily white sneakers in the world, so fresh that she must be taking advantage of some store’s lax return policy. Recently, she’s made waves at school when she showed up wearing the letterman jacket of the best linebacker on the varsity football team, the letters C H E F and the coveted double zero printed on the back. What was once the modern day regalia crowning her as the de facto queen of this stupid ass school is now the greatest piece of evidence used against her in the social courts to accuse her of regicide.[/indent] [/cell][/row][/table][sub][b] Psychology[/b][/sub] [sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub] [i]"Ever notice when someone says, ‘Relax, it’s just a game,’ that they’re always the one who’s losing?"[/i] [INDENT][b]MAIN GOAL ⫻[/b] She’s getting out of Cornell. Vicky wasn’t just trapped here recently when reality snapped. She’s been trapped here her whole life, same as her parents, and her parents’ parents, and her parents’ parents’ parents. She’s not a quitter. She’s not moving the goalposts. She’s changing the play. If good academics and a sports scholarship can no longer get her out of Cornell then calculated sacrifices and an aluminum bat will. [b]PHILOSOPHY ⫻[/b] Everything is a competition and life is a zero-sum game. It’s stupid and impossible to try and make everybody happy. Someone has to lose so that somebody can win, and winning is the most important thing in the world. Anyone who says otherwise is just either lying or delusional. This doesn’t mean that Vicky doesn’t believe in cooperation. Cooperation is important. Teamwork is important. The best way to keep winning is to surround yourself with other winners. She just has to be the MVP. [b]SECRETS ⫻[/b] Vicky is a bully. She’s clever enough not to get caught. Typically, her form of harassment is insidious and untraceable: hateful notes left in a locker, vandalism when nobody is watching, mean comments on social media from a fake profile. People need to remember their place, and that’s below her. [b]SEXUALITY ⫻[/b] Vicky is attracted to anyone, anyone, anyone who isn’t named Danny Graham. She mostly just dates for status, because how can she possibly love someone more than she loves herself? [b]FEARS ⫻[/b] She is afraid that she’ll become her parents. She’s scared that she’ll be like her dad, who peaked in high school. She’s afraid she’ll become her mom, who thinks that wine in a box is a good deal and buys wood burned signs that say Live, Laugh, Love. She’s terrified that she’ll have children not for the sake of raising a family but as an act of selfish narcissism, a final Hail Mary pass in an attempt to vicariously have some kind of life because her own has fallen apart, pressuring and pressuring her kids to do better and be better until they snap just like her stupid, broken brother. [b]REPUTATION IN CORNELL ⫻ [/b] Vicky was the golden child. She’s “friends” with everybody. She’s pretty. She’s cool. She’s popular. There’s a reason she’s been crowned the Cob Queen of Cornell in a never seen before back-to-back victory at the end of the yearly Corn Har-Fest parade, and it’s only partially because her mother is on the planning committee. Then her boyfriend ate shit and died. Rumors began to spread, whispers saying that they had been fighting, that Vicky was somehow at fault, that it was even intentional. The authorities deemed his death as accidental. It didn’t matter. She was the golden child, but now she’s public enemy number one. [b]FLAWS ⫻[/b] She’s selfish, overcompetitive, and fueled almost entirely by jealousy, all of which is huddled up tightly beneath one big massive umbrella of insecurity and repackaged to look like confidence. She always has to come out the winner. She always must get her way. Vicky would rather complain than compromise, be right rather than protect someone’s feelings, and have everyone lose rather than let someone else win. Part of her hates that she’s like this. That part of her is a quitter, a loser, a stupid little dumb bitch and Vicky has to [b]CRUSH IT![/b] [/INDENT] [sub][b] Backstory[/b][/sub] [sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub] [i]"Just great. I really am going to die in this stupid town."[/i] [indent]Vicky vividly remembers her first defeat. Her brother never lets her forget it. It was back when she was playing peewee soccer. She was four, maybe five. For once she got the ball out of the mob of little kids and scored a goal, the first one of the summer, the only one of the season, and it was in her own goal. The kids didn’t really care. They still got to eat cardboard cheese pizza at the arcade after the game. But the coach? Coach Prescott? Her dad? He was so utterly disappointed. She doesn’t remember if he gave her “the speech” after that, but Vicky’s pretty certain her dad would. He would do some variant of it every time she lost a match, or wanted to quit, or dressed “wrong”, or hung out with people that he didn’t like. It always went something like, “There’s no losers in my household. You’re a Prescott, and being a Prescott means you win! And winners dont’...” Riveting, motivating shit from a man who grunted whenever he stood up, fell asleep every night in a recliner after killing a six pack, and had the yawn-inducing job title of logistics manager. Vicky wasn’t the original plan to define the Prescott legacy. That burden had fallen on her brother Winston’s shoulders since he was the oldest boy, but the boy fumbled the ball so it came down to Vicky to recover it. As her brother burned out, she shined. She won trophies, pageants, and scholastic achievements. She won things that weren’t even competitions. She won so much that everyone else began looking like a loser, including her friends, her teammates, and especially her family. Vicky realized then that she didn’t want to just define the Prescott legacy; she wanted to rewrite it. Step one was destroying all of the losers in her life that held her back. Vicky was always kind of a brat, but now she’d graduated to being a full on bully. She kept it anonymous when it was aimed at her friends and peers, trashing them from behind the safety of the Internet. She wouldn’t do anything in the real world. She needed them around so that she could climb over their backs, but at home Vicky was an absolute monster. Mom stopped being Mom and became Diane. The first time Vicky made Diane cry it was just, whoa, chills. “Just you wait until your father gets home.” So what did he do when he got home? He cracked a beer. That was it. Without her, he had nothing. Vicky was queen of the castle, she was god, and she would remain so as long as she kept winning. She saw what it was like to lose. She saw it in her mother, who realized that her only daughter had grown up to hate her. She saw it in her father, who was no longer the man of the house. Vicky especially saw it in her brother when she found him on the bathroom floor, blood trickling out of his head, as she stood there frozen in fear, terrified that she was witnessing her future. It's fine. He got better-ish. Turns out a brother almost dying from an OD was the secret sauce needed to open a seat up for Vicky at the cool kids table. Vicky was, like, [i]so strong and brave[/i]. Those words came from the same girls who used to call her Poser Prescott behind her back in middle school. She started to dress like them. She started to talk like them. But deep down Vicky knew she wasn’t like them. She was uglier in every sense of the word and meaner than they could ever imagine, but she was also hungrier, more desperate, more deserving. She wasn’t going to be like her brother, and she wasn’t going to lose her status once the next bitch racked up enough sympathy points to knock Vicky off of her pedestal. She would become unbreakable, untouchable, undefeatable. So she didn’t crack when that no good, stupid, lousy, worthless piece of shit Danny Graham broke his promise to take her to prom so he could go with Bitchface McBigtits. She didn’t even flinch. She upgraded. She started going out with his best friend, Bray Cooke. Senior. Linebacker. Very big deal. She didn’t really like him. He had a stupid laugh, used 3-in-1 soap, hadn’t read a book since the third grade, and went exclusively by his stupid football nickname. But dating Chef (ugh) solidified her spot at the top of the pyramid, and when he went away to college after summer they could break up. Maybe she’ll say that he cheated on her. Oh, how tragic! Who could blame Chef, boys will be boys right, but still people would feel so bad for her. It was the perfect plan to remain at the top of the social ladder and kick out all the rungs beneath her. Only Chef didn’t make it to college. He didn’t even make it through the summer. When the party of doom was over, what was left of Chef could be mopped up with a towel and rung out. Most of that blood was on Vicky. Questions were asked. Assumptions were made. Rumors spread. The town turned. She was no longer Vicky Prescott, the Cobqueen of Cornell, softball star, head cheerleader, and future prom queen. She was just that bitch who got Chef killed. His death was the second worst thing she saw that night. Something else happened at that party. Something that scared the shit out of her. It was proof confirming that nugget of doubt in her mind, shown in the form of a Kindling Event. Even the consultation prize of magic couldn’t heal a revelation so tragic. Vicky wasn’t going to define the Prescott legacy. She certainly wasn’t going to change it. It had been written down in blood centuries ago. It had just been lost, but never truly went away. It said that the Prescotts weren’t winners. They weren't necessarily losers either, but they definitely weren’t winners. They were survivors, scurrying by to struggle some other day, like rats, and cockroaches, and insurance agents. As the town weirdened and her “friends” started to earn those quotation marks, Vicky knew one thing for certain: she was scared. Scared that she might not live up to her true legacy of being a survivor. Scared of what she might do to become one. Scared that after everything is done and the town is unfucked, if the town could be unfucked, that she’ll still, still, still somehow end up dying in Cornell, survived by those who loved her, a club whose membership was becoming more and more exclusive by the day. [/indent] [sub][b] Abstraction[/b][/sub] [sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub] [i]"Watch your own back. Everyone else is just looking for a place to stick the knife."[/i] [indent][b]TYPE ⫻[/b] Adept [b]ABSTRACTION ⫻[/b] Yellow Lux. Vicky’s channeler is her aluminum softball bat, although often she appears to be holding nothing at all. Her slugger of choice is a [url=https://www.greatbats.com/cdn/shop/products/41XeAknPclL_740x.jpg?v=1688658395]32 inch black and yellow DeMarini Zenith fastpitch softball bat.[/url] [b]ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻[/b] Vicky’s fresh to the scene when it comes to magic, but she’s a tried and true hand when it comes to not showing a single ounce of vulnerability. Her magic is as selfish as she is. She has an affinity for spells that protect herself and is either seemingly unwilling to or incapable of crafting defensive magic that directly assists others. [indent] [b]Shutout ⫻[/b] A defensive spell. With a wave of her hand, Vicky wraps a protective weave of crackling Lux around a part of her body or her bat to brace for an impact. When the weave is hit, it absorbs all of the force and momentum of a blow she’d feel to protect Vicky from the impact. This dampening effect doesn’t cut both ways; the harder something hits Vicky, the harder it might hurt itself. Think of the weave like a diamond, incredibly hard but absolutely brittle, as it snaps and vanishes upon impact. She can rapidly cast multiple instances of Shutout on different parts of her body to keep up her defense. [b]Shout-out ⫻[/b] A stealth spell. Kinda. Casting Shout-out generates a barrier of absolute silence in a 5-foot radius around Vicky that lasts until she cancels it. Sound can exist inside of the barrier, but it cannot travel out of it. A Shout-out zone is visible when it is first cast, appearing like a sparking dome of Lux before instantly fading away, detectable only as a feeling of static cling or by magical means. Vicky can cast a modified version of Shout-out and target someone else with it by concentrating it into a softball size ball of energy and throwing it their way. She calls this version the Shut Up. Instead of creating a field of silence around them, it briefly silences them as the ball hits them and becomes a bit of weaved Lux that covers their mouth like a piece of tape. The Shut Up spell ignores Emotional Fields. [b]Strikeout ⫻[/b] A utility spell that can double as an offensive one. Vicky can make an object invisible by touching it. Once cast she doesn’t have to do anything to maintain it, and the effect could seemingly last forever. Vicky can still see this invisible object, which is highlighted to her by Lux sparking around the item. Otherwise it is undetectable by most, if not all, magical means. Vicky can use Strikeout in an offensive manner by turning her weapon of choice invisible. If she had this back in the day, a lot of invisible rocks would’ve been thrown at people’s windshields. They still might. Typically, her Channeler is under a Strikeout spell. [/indent] [b]LIMITS ⫻[/b] While some of her spells allow her to target others, Vicky currently is incapable of learning how to cast spells that would directly protect another person. [indent] [b]Shutout ⫻[/b] Shutout only lasts for a brief moment, measured in seconds if not milliseconds. It’s a parry, not a shield. Vicky needs good timing to pull off a successful Shutout, let alone to keep rolling with multiples. Shutout breaks upon impact. While it absorbs the force of an impact, it doesn’t necessarily deny the effect—the thing that hits her still hits her. In other words, if Vicky were to get blasted with a fireball, she could tank the initial explosion but would still be engulfed by the flames. While Shutout could cause some damage through whiplash, it doesn’t enhance Vicky’s own strikes at all. [b]Shout-out ⫻[/b] While Shout-out blocks all sound within the barrier around Vicky from leaving, it also blocks all sound outside of the barrier from coming in. She must be able to scream to cast the spell, although that original shout is blocked by the barrier. The zone must be refreshed and will fade away after roughly 30 seconds if Vicky does not say anything, although even a whisper will do. Vicky cannot maintain a Shout-out zone up when she casts Shut Up. While it ignores Emotional Fields, a Shut Up spell must hit the target’s mouth to actually work. Vicky’s a fast pitcher, but this means the spell can still be dodged, blocked, or intercepted even by something as small as a hand over a mouth. It is physically harmless and can be easily ripped off, making the spell more insulting than it is effective. [b]Strikeout ⫻[/b] Vicky can only have one thing under the effect of the Strikeout spell at a time, the previous item immediately becoming visible the moment she recasts the spell. The spell cannot be cast on objects carried or held within another person’s Emotional Field. The spell also cannot work on anything larger than her, although it can work on separate parts of a large whole. For example, she could Strikeout a door knob, but she couldn’t Strikeout an entire door even if it would make for a truly great prank. [/indent] [b]WEAKNESSES ⫻ [/b] Vicky’s abstraction primarily relies inwardly, and this self-focus is a fundamental flaw. Yellow Lux enhances her self-preservation and perception but isolates her from shared defensive space. Her magic actively resists protecting others; attempts to do so often cause spell collapse or feedback. In group settings, this makes her a liability—she can survive situations others cannot, but she cannot stabilize failing scenarios. When allies are injured or killed nearby, her Lux spikes into defensive overdrive, narrowing her focus and increasing tunnel vision and reactivity. Shutout’s fragility is its biggest weakness. While it prevents momentum, it does not eliminate consequences. Impacts can transfer secondary effects—heat, electricity, corrosion, or poison once the weave shatters. Repeated high-impact Shutouts cause cumulative damage-microfractures, whiplash, and nervous system strain. Poor timing doesn’t just cause failure but can leave her worse off, as the Lux lock briefly contracts her muscles at impact. Because Shutout rewards taking hits, it risks creating a dangerous feedback cycle. Shout-out’s silence proves to be a double-edged sword. When active, Vicky loses all external audio outside of the zone, leaving her unaware of unseen movements or environmental cues she can’t detect. Extended use leads to disorientation, delayed reactions, and balance issues, especially in chaotic settings. Since silence depends on vocalization, injuries that hinder breathing, gagging, choking, or throat damage can break the spell. If she panics and becomes silent, the silence ends with her. Strikeout does not make an object intangible or self-guiding; it only removes it from everyone else’s perception. Vicky can still see the invisible object, but her awareness of it is entirely internal to her Lux perception. If her perception is disrupted by pain, concussion, sensory overload, disorientation, or perception-altering effects, the Lux highlight that lets her track the object can flicker or collapse. In those moments, the invisible object becomes genuinely difficult for anyone to locate, including her. Additionally, invisibility does not remove physical interaction. The invisible object still displaces air, leaves marks in dust, blood, or water, and collides with the environment. [/INDENT] [sup][b] Other[/b][/sup] [sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub] [i]"Gimme an L! Gimme an O! Gimme an S! Gimme an E! Gimme an R! What’s that spell? Y! O! U!"[/i] [indent]Vicky used to write poetry and publish it anonymously online until she read a comment making fun of it. Now her poems are all locked away inside of a journal she hides underneath her mattress, and she’ll absolutely murder anyone if she ever caught them reading it. Until freshman year of high school, Vicky just went by her first name. Calling her Posie nowadays is a quick way to get underneath her paperthin skin. Calling her Poser Prescott is a great way to get your locker filled with contents of the trash bin from the girl's locker room. [/INDENT] [/hider]