"I look in the mirror, and I'm not sure what's looking back at me anymore-"
"It's me you fool."
"It's me you fool."
"It's me you fool."
 _______________________________________________ Isabelle Marilyn Morgan-Sato She/Her | 16 | African-American & Japanese | 5'6ft | 115lb _______________________________________________ Fractured _______________________________________________ Skills & Talents "" ___________________________________ Situational Awareness ⫻ Isabelle can quickly read a room, people, or environment, noticing details others miss. She picks up on body language, hidden exits, threats, or inconsistencies, allowing her to anticipate danger and act preemptively. Observant ⫻ Isabelle notices subtleties in behavior, body language, and patterns in her surroundings, allowing her to understand people and situations quickly. Physical Discipline ⫻ Years of structured training and routine have given Isabelle balance, coordination, and stamina, making her capable in athletic or physically demanding situations. Patience ⫻. She can wait for the right moment to act or speak, resisting impulsive decisions and using timing to her advantage. | Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I'm really not sure if I belong anymore." Isabelle is five-six feet tall and exudes a quiet, steady confidence. Her balanced, fit build feels approachable, neither sharp nor intimidating. She moves with ease and naturalness, occupying only as much space as necessary, yet never shrinking herself. Even when stationary, she appears self-assured and comfortable in her body. As a Black and Japanese teenager, her mixed heritage subtly influences her overall presentation without being overt. Her composure reflects this blend - expressive when she chooses to be, reserved otherwise. Her mannerisms are controlled but relaxed. Her curly hair is naturally styled in a clean, intentional manner that frames her face. Whether worn loose or accessorized, her hair consistently appears deliberate and polished. Her style is confident yet practical. She favors fitted or cropped tops, high-waisted jeans or skirts, and clothing that complements her shape without feeling showy. She enjoys incorporating color and texture and isn’t afraid of statement pieces, while maintaining balance. Floral details and warm hues frequently appear, adding personality without swallowing her overall look. She dresses primarily for herself, not to impress others. Her accessories are minimal and thoughtfully selected. She might wear a necklace, earrings, or a ring but avoids excessive jewelry. Her shoes are stylish yet functional, appropriate to the occasion rather than flashy. Overall, her appearance is intentional and cohesive. Personality-wise, Isabelle appears calm, observant, and composed. She’s approachable but not instantly open. People tend to notice her before she initiates conversation. She listens attentively, speaks when she has something meaningful to say, and maintains steady eye contact. She doesn’t rush conversations or fill silences unnecessarily. Her presence is quiet yet dependable, making her trustworthy and somewhat reserved ignore. |
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"I have to act before the world forces to me."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Isabelle’s primary aim is to survive on her own terms. She seeks to understand what D’rryha has transformed her into, how long she can sustain this state, and if she still retains any agency. Her focus isn’t on rescuing Cornell or solving the bigger issue; it's on remaining functional, unnoticed, and in control just long enough to choose her next move.
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Isabelle holds that the world rewards awareness rather than innocence or good intentions. Although being cautious didn’t prevent her from danger, it kept her alive until something else intervened, which she considers an important distinction. She doesn’t seek comfort or reassurances that things will turn out fine. To her, hope is only valuable when supported by preparation. She relies on her ability to observe, anticipate, and control, preferring decisive action over emotional reactions. If she senses something is wrong, she assumes it is and adjusts before proof is needed. Since waking up, she sees safety not as a constant but as a fleeting condition that can disappear unexpectedly. Consequently, she moves through life with quiet vigilance, not paranoia, believing that staying alert is the best form of protection.
SECRETS ⫻ Isabelle conceals the severity of her condition. She doesn’t disclose that she was aware in parts during her repair or that she occasionally senses D’rryha altering her body without permission. She also remains silent about her initial lack of fear upon waking—only experiencing clarity. A part of her fears that sharing too much might label her as a problem to be fixed—or erased.
SEXUALITY ⫻ Isabelle has little interest in romance right now. Attraction exists, but it feels distant and secondary to survival. Physical intimacy is complicated by her altered body and her uncertainty about what she is now. She doesn’t label herself and doesn’t feel pressured to—connection matters more than category, but even connection feels risky.
FEARS ⫻ Her biggest fear isn't death but losing her autonomy. She worries about becoming just a vessel, a tool, or an unimaginative thing that continues without free will. She also fears being exposed before she fully understands herself and worries about what others might do if they find out she survived when she was not supposed to. At her core, she fears that being abandoned for dead wasn’t an accident but a glimpse of what’s to come.
REPUTATION ⫻ Prior to the warehouse incident, Isabelle was regarded as composed, dependable, and quietly competent. Currently, she is only present in rumors-another girl lost in Cornell’s turmoil. If she reappears, she might be perceived as disturbing rather than comforting, someone unfamiliar to the community.
FLAWS ⫻ Isabelle tends to be emotionally reserved and slow to trust, not out of cruelty but as a form of self-protection. Her survival through difficult experiences has taught her that visibility can be dangerous, so she keeps her thoughts, pain, and doubts tightly guarded. She believes that silence is safer than vulnerability and that being understood might give others leverage over her. Her desire for control is almost rigid—she plans, anticipates, and prepares obsessively because uncertainty terrifies her. This fear is not abstract but rooted in the belief that an uncertain moment could be fatal. Trusting others to act correctly feels like gambling with her life, so even when cooperation could help, she hesitates to rely on anyone. When things spiral beyond her control, she retreats into observation and logic, becoming distant and hyper-focused to avoid emotional overwhelm. She also struggles with detachment—once a person, place, or situation feels compromised, it’s easier for her to let go than to fight for it, driven not by indifference but by fear that holding on makes loss worse. This can lead to a calmness that others may find unnerving, where she might cling or beg. Beneath this is a network of quieter fears: dependence on D’rryha, the slow erosion of her independence, waking one day to realize her instincts are no longer her own, and the unsettling possibility that survival has trapped her in a half-life, where she no longer feels fully part of the living. She fears connection because it raises stakes, fears being seen too clearly or exploited once others understand her, and fears that when she should fight hardest to stay against death, loss, or disappearance, she might lose the will to do so.
PHILOSOPHY ⫻ Isabelle holds that the world rewards awareness rather than innocence or good intentions. Although being cautious didn’t prevent her from danger, it kept her alive until something else intervened, which she considers an important distinction. She doesn’t seek comfort or reassurances that things will turn out fine. To her, hope is only valuable when supported by preparation. She relies on her ability to observe, anticipate, and control, preferring decisive action over emotional reactions. If she senses something is wrong, she assumes it is and adjusts before proof is needed. Since waking up, she sees safety not as a constant but as a fleeting condition that can disappear unexpectedly. Consequently, she moves through life with quiet vigilance, not paranoia, believing that staying alert is the best form of protection.
SECRETS ⫻ Isabelle conceals the severity of her condition. She doesn’t disclose that she was aware in parts during her repair or that she occasionally senses D’rryha altering her body without permission. She also remains silent about her initial lack of fear upon waking—only experiencing clarity. A part of her fears that sharing too much might label her as a problem to be fixed—or erased.
SEXUALITY ⫻ Isabelle has little interest in romance right now. Attraction exists, but it feels distant and secondary to survival. Physical intimacy is complicated by her altered body and her uncertainty about what she is now. She doesn’t label herself and doesn’t feel pressured to—connection matters more than category, but even connection feels risky.
FEARS ⫻ Her biggest fear isn't death but losing her autonomy. She worries about becoming just a vessel, a tool, or an unimaginative thing that continues without free will. She also fears being exposed before she fully understands herself and worries about what others might do if they find out she survived when she was not supposed to. At her core, she fears that being abandoned for dead wasn’t an accident but a glimpse of what’s to come.
REPUTATION ⫻ Prior to the warehouse incident, Isabelle was regarded as composed, dependable, and quietly competent. Currently, she is only present in rumors-another girl lost in Cornell’s turmoil. If she reappears, she might be perceived as disturbing rather than comforting, someone unfamiliar to the community.
FLAWS ⫻ Isabelle tends to be emotionally reserved and slow to trust, not out of cruelty but as a form of self-protection. Her survival through difficult experiences has taught her that visibility can be dangerous, so she keeps her thoughts, pain, and doubts tightly guarded. She believes that silence is safer than vulnerability and that being understood might give others leverage over her. Her desire for control is almost rigid—she plans, anticipates, and prepares obsessively because uncertainty terrifies her. This fear is not abstract but rooted in the belief that an uncertain moment could be fatal. Trusting others to act correctly feels like gambling with her life, so even when cooperation could help, she hesitates to rely on anyone. When things spiral beyond her control, she retreats into observation and logic, becoming distant and hyper-focused to avoid emotional overwhelm. She also struggles with detachment—once a person, place, or situation feels compromised, it’s easier for her to let go than to fight for it, driven not by indifference but by fear that holding on makes loss worse. This can lead to a calmness that others may find unnerving, where she might cling or beg. Beneath this is a network of quieter fears: dependence on D’rryha, the slow erosion of her independence, waking one day to realize her instincts are no longer her own, and the unsettling possibility that survival has trapped her in a half-life, where she no longer feels fully part of the living. She fears connection because it raises stakes, fears being seen too clearly or exploited once others understand her, and fears that when she should fight hardest to stay against death, loss, or disappearance, she might lose the will to do so.
Backstory
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"I woke up and felt like a stranger in my own body. Every step, every breathe, reminded me that I'm no longer myself anymore... and I might never be again."
Isabelle was born in Oakland, California, and grew up in a lively neighborhood filled with noise, movement, and constant activity. From an early age, she learned to read a space before entering it, realizing that awareness mattered more than volume. Her confidence grew not through assertion but through understanding others-how they moved, when they lied, and what they avoided saying. At ten, her family moved to Cornell, Pennsylvania, for her father’s job. The shift was noticeable: a quieter, smaller town with no hiding places like California. Isabelle adapted quickly and quietly, learning the town’s rhythms and people with patient attention. She didn’t rush to fit in, but didn’t feel out of place either.
In her early teens, she stayed in a balanced middle ground, present but not loud, respected without craving admiration. Her calm demeanor and careful movements made her noticeable even when quiet. She gravitated toward activities requiring precision, physical training, and routine. Her friendships were deliberate, valuing trust and depth over social superficiality.
The warehouse party was meant to be temporary-something to observe and leave behind. Isabelle stayed alert, avoiding chaos, always watching exits. When the tear appeared, all that changed. The violence was sudden and confusing. She was among the first injured, struck down, and thrown into the woods amid the panic.
She was missing for weeks. Police searched the area, and search parties followed fruitless trails. Flyers circulated, and rumors spread. As instability grew, Cornell’s efforts quietly failed. Disappearing people, warped streets, and rising fear made her just another unsolved case. Eventually, the searches ceased.
While the town moved on, Isabelle did not. Her body was hidden in the woods, barely intact, while the Spider Parasite D’rryha orked silently. It did not revive her quickly but preserved her, stitching torn tissues, reinforcing shattered parts, and keeping her in a state of forced stasis. She remained in a coma, suspended between death and awareness, her body slowly rebuilt by this entity that refused to let her go.
Shortly before the story begins, the process finished. Isabelle woke, not to return fully but to resume her life, her body sustained by D’rryha’s presence, her existence no longer entirely human. She retains fragments of memory: pressure instead of pain, time passing without sensation, a feeling of being held together rather than healed. Now awake, she moves cautiously, recognizing that survival came at a cost she does not yet fully understand.
Officially, Isabelle Morgan-Sato remains missing. In truth, she’s back—quiet, changed, tethered to something that kept her alive when the world believed she was gone.
In her early teens, she stayed in a balanced middle ground, present but not loud, respected without craving admiration. Her calm demeanor and careful movements made her noticeable even when quiet. She gravitated toward activities requiring precision, physical training, and routine. Her friendships were deliberate, valuing trust and depth over social superficiality.
The warehouse party was meant to be temporary-something to observe and leave behind. Isabelle stayed alert, avoiding chaos, always watching exits. When the tear appeared, all that changed. The violence was sudden and confusing. She was among the first injured, struck down, and thrown into the woods amid the panic.
She was missing for weeks. Police searched the area, and search parties followed fruitless trails. Flyers circulated, and rumors spread. As instability grew, Cornell’s efforts quietly failed. Disappearing people, warped streets, and rising fear made her just another unsolved case. Eventually, the searches ceased.
While the town moved on, Isabelle did not. Her body was hidden in the woods, barely intact, while the Spider Parasite D’rryha orked silently. It did not revive her quickly but preserved her, stitching torn tissues, reinforcing shattered parts, and keeping her in a state of forced stasis. She remained in a coma, suspended between death and awareness, her body slowly rebuilt by this entity that refused to let her go.
Shortly before the story begins, the process finished. Isabelle woke, not to return fully but to resume her life, her body sustained by D’rryha’s presence, her existence no longer entirely human. She retains fragments of memory: pressure instead of pain, time passing without sensation, a feeling of being held together rather than healed. Now awake, she moves cautiously, recognizing that survival came at a cost she does not yet fully understand.
Officially, Isabelle Morgan-Sato remains missing. In truth, she’s back—quiet, changed, tethered to something that kept her alive when the world believed she was gone.
Abstraction
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"Stop... stop it! I’m not this! I’m me... I’m me! God, make it stop!"
TYPE ⫻ Aberration (Abominable).
ABSTRACTION ⫻ Abomination of Threads, Isabelle shares her body with a parasitic Abominable, transforming her into a semi-undead being capable of rapid regeneration and sprouting spider-like limbs at will.
ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ Isabelle’s body is no longer sustained by biological processes but by the Spider Parasite, D’rryha, which inhabits her from within. She has no heartbeat, no body heat, and her skin is perpetually cool to the touch. Up close, she carries a faint scent of decay, something most people can’t immediately place but instinctively find unsettling. Her breathing is shallow and unnecessary; her body conserving itself rather than living in the conventional sense.
When Isabelle takes damage, her body does not react with pain or panic as a living person would. Instead, D’rryha responds automatically. Swarms of small spiders erupt from beneath her skin, converging on the wound with disturbing speed. These spiders stitch torn flesh, reinforce cracked bone, and seal ruptured organs with silk and organic matter drawn from Isabelle’s altered body. Blood does not flow freely; what escapes is black, thick, and sluggish. As repairs are completed, the spiders are dissolved, leaving skin that closes too cleanly, sometimes without scars at all, as if the injury never truly belonged to her.
This regeneration is effective but unnatural. Repeated damage and repair leave Isabelle feeling hollow or disconnected, as though parts of her are being replaced faster than she can recognize as her own. After extensive reconstruction, she may experience moments of dissociation—moving normally while feeling estranged from her body, her reflection unfamiliar, her sense of self dulled. The repairs preserve function, not comfort. At D’rryha’s will, massive spider legs can force their way out of Isabelle’s body. These limbs are bladed at the ends, capable of slashing through flesh with enough force to be lethal at close range. They allow her to climb walls, ceilings, and vertical surfaces with ease, anchoring into structures like living grappling hooks.
Beyond physical abilities, the world reacts to her differently. Animals sense something wrong—dogs grow uneasy, refuse to approach, or bare their teeth; insects scatter instinctively. Spiders, however, behave unnaturally around her, gathering nearby without fear, drawn to her presence as if recognizing a shared nature. Isabelle does not command them consciously, but they respond to D’rryha’s influence nonetheless.
Despite everything, Isabelle remains conscious and autonomous-for now. D’rryha repairs, reinforces, and preserves her body without always asking permission, and she can feel it working beneath her skin even when she is unharmed. Survival is no longer a question of endurance but of identity: how much of her can be replaced before she stops recognizing what’s left as herself.
LIMITS ⫻ D’rryha is inherently parasitic, requiring Isabelle to regularly consume organic matter to keep it alive. Without nourishment, its regenerative abilities slow, leaving injuries unhealed and spider limbs sluggish or immobile. Starvation also heightens D’rryha’s control over her behavior, steering her toward predatory actions. Control over D’rryha is limited. While Isabelle can trigger or suppress some functions, the Abomination can override her will if it detects a threat or requires repairs. This can lead her to act dangerously or inappropriately without awareness. D’rryha needs an almost intact body to function effectively. Complete destruction of limbs or vital organs hampers repair or forces suboptimal tissue reconstruction. Though regeneration is rapid, it’s not instant; extensive or repeated injuries can outpace its healing, making her vulnerable until D’rryha catches up. The swarm also has coordination limits—multiple simultaneous injuries can reduce efficiency or temporarily leave some wounds unhealed.
WEAKNESSES ⫻ Extensive use of her spider limbs or rapid regeneration leads to fatigue. While Isabelle does not experience typical pain, overuse can impair motor control, slow reflexes, and induce dissociative episodes. The more D’rryha repairs and alters her body, the more her sense of self feels hollow; extended regeneration or limb use intensifies confusion, dissociation, and intrusive thoughts. D’rryha is vulnerable to extreme environmental conditions. Severe cold, heat, or corrosive substances can slow or temporarily disrupt the swarm’s regenerative functions. Certain chemicals or fire may temporarily neutralize its activity. Likewise, pathogens and magical toxins can interfere with its healing ability, leaving Isabelle exposed. Visible signs such as black blood, spider limbs, and a faint odor of decay make Isabelle appear alien, restricting her social interactions and freedom of movement. Regular regeneration risks erasing parts of her original tissue and sensory feedback, hastening her identity loss. She cannot perceive all internal processes; D’rryha sustains function but not consciousness, so surprises inside her body are possible. Finally, if she goes too long without nourishment, D’rryha may compel Isabelle to hunt living prey, regardless of her morals, to fulfill its biological needs.
Her presence naturally triggers discomfort in most people. Even those who do not consciously notice her darkened blood, faint smell of decay, or subtle unnatural movements sense something is wrong, prompting them to avoid her or act defensively. Animals nearby become restless or aggressive, while humans tend to recoil, whisper, or keep their distance. This creates difficulties in social interactions, as her attempts to connect are often met with suspicion, fear, or hostility. Over time, this enforced separation increases her isolation, making Isabelle depend on stealth, observation, or cautious manipulation to interact safely. Even allies may struggle to accept her altered appearance, leading to tension and fewer opportunities for teamwork.
ABSTRACTION ⫻ Abomination of Threads, Isabelle shares her body with a parasitic Abominable, transforming her into a semi-undead being capable of rapid regeneration and sprouting spider-like limbs at will.
ABSTRACTION DESCRIPTION ⫻ Isabelle’s body is no longer sustained by biological processes but by the Spider Parasite, D’rryha, which inhabits her from within. She has no heartbeat, no body heat, and her skin is perpetually cool to the touch. Up close, she carries a faint scent of decay, something most people can’t immediately place but instinctively find unsettling. Her breathing is shallow and unnecessary; her body conserving itself rather than living in the conventional sense.
When Isabelle takes damage, her body does not react with pain or panic as a living person would. Instead, D’rryha responds automatically. Swarms of small spiders erupt from beneath her skin, converging on the wound with disturbing speed. These spiders stitch torn flesh, reinforce cracked bone, and seal ruptured organs with silk and organic matter drawn from Isabelle’s altered body. Blood does not flow freely; what escapes is black, thick, and sluggish. As repairs are completed, the spiders are dissolved, leaving skin that closes too cleanly, sometimes without scars at all, as if the injury never truly belonged to her.
This regeneration is effective but unnatural. Repeated damage and repair leave Isabelle feeling hollow or disconnected, as though parts of her are being replaced faster than she can recognize as her own. After extensive reconstruction, she may experience moments of dissociation—moving normally while feeling estranged from her body, her reflection unfamiliar, her sense of self dulled. The repairs preserve function, not comfort. At D’rryha’s will, massive spider legs can force their way out of Isabelle’s body. These limbs are bladed at the ends, capable of slashing through flesh with enough force to be lethal at close range. They allow her to climb walls, ceilings, and vertical surfaces with ease, anchoring into structures like living grappling hooks.
Beyond physical abilities, the world reacts to her differently. Animals sense something wrong—dogs grow uneasy, refuse to approach, or bare their teeth; insects scatter instinctively. Spiders, however, behave unnaturally around her, gathering nearby without fear, drawn to her presence as if recognizing a shared nature. Isabelle does not command them consciously, but they respond to D’rryha’s influence nonetheless.
Despite everything, Isabelle remains conscious and autonomous-for now. D’rryha repairs, reinforces, and preserves her body without always asking permission, and she can feel it working beneath her skin even when she is unharmed. Survival is no longer a question of endurance but of identity: how much of her can be replaced before she stops recognizing what’s left as herself.
LIMITS ⫻ D’rryha is inherently parasitic, requiring Isabelle to regularly consume organic matter to keep it alive. Without nourishment, its regenerative abilities slow, leaving injuries unhealed and spider limbs sluggish or immobile. Starvation also heightens D’rryha’s control over her behavior, steering her toward predatory actions. Control over D’rryha is limited. While Isabelle can trigger or suppress some functions, the Abomination can override her will if it detects a threat or requires repairs. This can lead her to act dangerously or inappropriately without awareness. D’rryha needs an almost intact body to function effectively. Complete destruction of limbs or vital organs hampers repair or forces suboptimal tissue reconstruction. Though regeneration is rapid, it’s not instant; extensive or repeated injuries can outpace its healing, making her vulnerable until D’rryha catches up. The swarm also has coordination limits—multiple simultaneous injuries can reduce efficiency or temporarily leave some wounds unhealed.
WEAKNESSES ⫻ Extensive use of her spider limbs or rapid regeneration leads to fatigue. While Isabelle does not experience typical pain, overuse can impair motor control, slow reflexes, and induce dissociative episodes. The more D’rryha repairs and alters her body, the more her sense of self feels hollow; extended regeneration or limb use intensifies confusion, dissociation, and intrusive thoughts. D’rryha is vulnerable to extreme environmental conditions. Severe cold, heat, or corrosive substances can slow or temporarily disrupt the swarm’s regenerative functions. Certain chemicals or fire may temporarily neutralize its activity. Likewise, pathogens and magical toxins can interfere with its healing ability, leaving Isabelle exposed. Visible signs such as black blood, spider limbs, and a faint odor of decay make Isabelle appear alien, restricting her social interactions and freedom of movement. Regular regeneration risks erasing parts of her original tissue and sensory feedback, hastening her identity loss. She cannot perceive all internal processes; D’rryha sustains function but not consciousness, so surprises inside her body are possible. Finally, if she goes too long without nourishment, D’rryha may compel Isabelle to hunt living prey, regardless of her morals, to fulfill its biological needs.
Her presence naturally triggers discomfort in most people. Even those who do not consciously notice her darkened blood, faint smell of decay, or subtle unnatural movements sense something is wrong, prompting them to avoid her or act defensively. Animals nearby become restless or aggressive, while humans tend to recoil, whisper, or keep their distance. This creates difficulties in social interactions, as her attempts to connect are often met with suspicion, fear, or hostility. Over time, this enforced separation increases her isolation, making Isabelle depend on stealth, observation, or cautious manipulation to interact safely. Even allies may struggle to accept her altered appearance, leading to tension and fewer opportunities for teamwork.
Other
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"They may look at you and see a girl, but I see what they cannot."
"They may look at you and see a girl, but I see what they cannot."
"They may look at you and see a girl, but I see what they cannot."
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