banjoanjo — Roleplayer Guild

█   SARA ZHOU

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   ▼   PERSONAL DETAILS
► Age - Twenty-five
► Gender - Female
► Sexuality - Asexual (Homo-romantic)
► Nickname - Z
► Occupation - Assistant Manager at Delton General, seasonal event planner
► Qualifications - Barista certification, First Aid Training including defibrillation, half an online Bachelor of Commerce, kinda good at brewing beer?
► Residence - Delton, Maine

   ▼   PHYSICALITY
► Scars - Miniscule, almost invisible, scars littering her fingers. She was not dexterous in high school, but that never deterred her brother from constantly dragging her into the kitchen for help.
► Tattoos - Sprigs of Diphylleia Grayi crawling up her calf from her ankle.
► Piercings - Five in each ear.
► Style - T-shirts and loose button ups, almost always flannel. Practicality is the vibe here, as Sara doesn't do anything purely for aesthetic's sake. Her hair, though straight and clean, has lacked maintenance since high school and falls to the halfway point of her back at its fullest length. It is usually tied up in a messy but charming ponytail. Wears light makeup to work, only because she has a job to keep.

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They were never meant to stay here. Thank god it was Delton though, there are plenty worse places to get financially stranded. They were one family out of the thousands of classic immigrant stories, arriving with nothing but their luggage and barely applicable Chinglish. A father and a mother, a daughter and a son. The town received them generously but that wasn't grounds for getting complacent. The Zhous worked themselves to the bone as repayment. Surely they expected their children to do the same.

There was... some adjustment to be done. Sara, bright as she was, sure as hell wasn't spectacular, not in the way that would get her into an Ivy League school. Not the way she knew her parents secretly wished, as stubbornly mute as they were about their children's future. But Sara was a Zhou through and through, and she was determined to prove it.

High school was an academic breeze and Sara rode high on the winds. She had a reputation for knowing everything and everyone. Science decathlon, student council, soccer team. People respected her because of her work ethic but they liked her because she was a reliable friend. Very reliable, almost worryingly so.

Of course, being a high school, there were some detractors. Rumors of her being a secret lesbian, citing her laissez-faire fashion sense and apparent lack of romantic interest in boys. Calling her a narc, a goody-two shoes. Man, she was totally overloading. How does she cram all the shit she has to do in a single week? She was gonna burn out so hard.

They were wrong. The fire never flickered. It was extinguished.

It was a senseless, excruciating thing. Her father always insisted on providing their driving lessons himself, to cut down the costs. Her brother had been the one at the wheel. Willard never forgave himself, skipping town four months afterwards in a car bought with his own money. Couldn't use the one he totalled on the highway. They were only halfway through the school year then.

There was no moral. No lesson to be taken from this. Sara graduated, numb as frostbite. Exemplary grades, outstanding extracurriculars. And for what?

She returned to Delton after a single semester of college and hasn't set foot outside ever since.
PSYCHE
Sara is an emotional pragmatist. The Consul (ESFJ) archetype. A confident speaker, cool under pressure, dry of wit, the rock amongst her many, many, fr-- ...acquaintances. Need an extra planner for the fair? Need a substitute for your volleyball team? Need someone to move all the orchestra equipment? Sara was up for the job. Not only that, she'd do it pretty damn well. There was an unnatural level of perseverance in every action she took, topped off with a grit smirk as she conquered everything in her path.

Seven years since graduation, Sara has remained sturdy as ever, albeit with a more noticeable sense of brusqueness.

It became apparent the more distant she got from her old social circle. It wasn't loyalty to her colleagues. It was loyalty to a job well done. Her investment in others is questionable, as if their problems are mere checkboxes on a to-do list rather than something she wants to help with out of genuine concern. There's a peculiar engrossment she finds in other people. She doesn't always want to 'help', in the traditional sense. Sara sees the path to victory, to the completion of a task, and she gets it done. Whether this makes her come off as scheming, or even manipulative, means little to her.

	"Little factoid about sharks. If they stop moving, they die."

Beyond it all, in the quieter moments when there's nothing she can keep herself busy with, it flakes away. She flinches when cars go too fast past the crossings. She pales at the sight of any blood. She wrings her hands as she stares into space, lips pressed into a vacant frown. It's dangerous to be alone with her thoughts. Some time P.J's usually does the trick. Something to plug the leak for a few hours. Every night she numbs her brain.

And every morning, she wakes with a grimace.
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POWER
Short range time manipulation. 

Pretty straightforward stuff. By making physical contact with a target, organic or non-organic, she can ramp up the passage of time affecting it. Her maximum output currently sits around ten years per minute. Both hands must be used for this. Sara cannot de-age a target, nor can she use her ability on herself. 

There are severe consequences if she uses her ability too much in a short amount of time, sensations akin to sparks and spasms running up her arms until she can no longer move them at all. Thankfully, this cooldown period is temporary, but with every occurrence of this seeming longer than the last, Sara is unsure if she wants to keep testing her limits.

When her ability is in use, glowing, golden circuit lines trace their way up her arms from her hands.
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   ▼   STRENGTHS
► Restoratively, her power can be paired with her first aid knowledge to essentially amount to an insta-fix, provided the procedure is done right.
► Destructively, she has even more potential than her restorative applications. Converting milennia into a wall to completely erode it. Aging an organic being, paralysing them, forcing their cells to simultaneously decay and regenerate, until they finally turn to dust. Likely much more, if she dares to put her mind to it.

   ▼   WEAKNESSES
► Range, in that her power has none.
► Overuse during too short of a timespan can result in her arms ending up completely paralysed. This cooldown period can last from hours to days, depending on the degree of excessive usage.
► Because Sara cannot de-age her targets (yet), her effects are permanent.
► Still has her normal, human weaknesses. Her power does not work on herself.
► The specificity of the ability can also be its handicap. Its application is limited to Sara's improvisational capacity.
► A significant mental and emotional block is in place when it comes to using her ability on living beings. The potential consequences are too serious to play around with this sort of stuff.
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_{▼ PERSONAL DETAILS} _{► Age - Twenty-five ► Gender - Female ► Sexuality - Asexual (Homo-romantic) ► Nickname - Z ► Occupation - Assistant Manager at Delton General, seasonal event planner ► Qualifications - Barista certification, First Aid Training including defibrillation, half an online Bachelor of Commerce, kinda good at brewing beer? ► Residence - Delton, Maine} ^{▼ PHYSICALITY} ^{► Scars - Miniscule, almost invisible, scars littering her fingers. She was not dexterous in high school, but that never deterred her brother from constantly dragging her into the kitchen for help. ► Tattoos - Sprigs of Diphylleia Grayi crawling up her calf from her ankle. ► Piercings - Five in each ear. ► Style - T-shirts and loose button ups, almost always flannel. Practicality is the vibe here, as Sara doesn't do anything purely for aesthetic's sake. Her hair, though straight and clean, has lacked maintenance since high school and falls to the halfway point of her back at its fullest length. It is usually tied up in a messy but charming ponytail. Wears light makeup to work, only because she has a job to keep.} _{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}	^{_{LIFE AT RITMAN}} _{They were never meant to stay here. Thank god it was Delton though, there are plenty worse places to get financially stranded. They were one family out of the thousands of classic immigrant stories, arriving with nothing but their luggage and barely applicable Chinglish. A father and a mother, a daughter and a son. The town received them generously but that wasn't grounds for getting complacent. The Zhous worked themselves to the bone as repayment. Surely they expected their children to do the same. There was... some adjustment to be done. Sara, bright as she was, sure as hell wasn't spectacular, not in the way that would get her into an Ivy League school. Not the way she knew her parents secretly wished, as stubbornly mute as they were about their children's future. But Sara was a Zhou through and through, and she was determined to prove it. High school was an academic breeze and Sara rode high on the winds. She had a reputation for knowing everything and everyone. Science decathlon, student council, soccer team. People respected her because of her work ethic but they liked her because she was a reliable friend. Very reliable, almost worryingly so. Of course, being a high school, there were some detractors. Rumors of her being a secret lesbian, citing her laissez-faire fashion sense and apparent lack of romantic interest in boys. Calling her a narc, a goody-two shoes. Man, she was totally overloading. How does she cram all the shit she has to do in a single week? She was gonna burn out so hard. They were wrong. The fire never flickered. It was extinguished. It was a senseless, excruciating thing. Her father always insisted on providing their driving lessons himself, to cut down the costs. Her brother had been the one at the wheel. Willard never forgave himself, skipping town four months afterwards in a car bought with his own money. Couldn't use the one he totalled on the highway. They were only halfway through the school year then. There was no moral. No lesson to be taken from this. Sara graduated, numb as frostbite. Exemplary grades, outstanding extracurriculars. And for what? She returned to Delton after a single semester of college and hasn't set foot outside ever since.} ^_PSYCHE _{Sara is an emotional pragmatist. The Consul (ESFJ) archetype. A confident speaker, cool under pressure, dry of wit, the rock amongst her many, many, fr-- ...acquaintances. Need an extra planner for the fair? Need a substitute for your volleyball team? Need someone to move all the orchestra equipment? Sara was up for the job. Not only that, she'd do it pretty damn well. There was an unnatural level of perseverance in every action she took, topped off with a grit smirk as she conquered everything in her path. Seven years since graduation, Sara has remained sturdy as ever, albeit with a more noticeable sense of brusqueness. It became apparent the more distant she got from her old social circle. It wasn't loyalty to her colleagues. It was loyalty to a job well done. Her investment in others is questionable, as if their problems are mere checkboxes on a to-do list rather than something she wants to help with out of genuine concern. There's a peculiar engrossment she finds in other people. She doesn't always want to 'help', in the traditional sense. Sara sees the path to victory, to the completion of a task, and she gets it done. Whether this makes her come off as scheming, or even manipulative, means little to her. "Little factoid about sharks. If they stop moving, they die." Beyond it all, in the quieter moments when there's nothing she can keep herself busy with, it flakes away. She flinches when cars go too fast past the crossings. She pales at the sight of any blood. She wrings her hands as she stares into space, lips pressed into a vacant frown. It's dangerous to be alone with her thoughts. Some time P.J's usually does the trick. Something to plug the leak for a few hours. Every night she numbs her brain. And every morning, she wakes with a grimace.} ^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}


^_POWER _{Short range time manipulation. Pretty straightforward stuff. By making physical contact with a target, organic or non-organic, she can ramp up the passage of time affecting it. Her maximum output currently sits around ten years per minute. Both hands must be used for this. Sara cannot de-age a target, nor can she use her ability on herself. There are severe consequences if she uses her ability too much in a short amount of time, sensations akin to sparks and spasms running up her arms until she can no longer move them at all. Thankfully, this cooldown period is temporary, but with every occurrence of this seeming longer than the last, Sara is unsure if she wants to keep testing her limits. When her ability is in use, glowing, golden circuit lines trace their way up her arms from her hands.} ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	- _{▼ STRENGTHS} _{► Restoratively, her power can be paired with her first aid knowledge to essentially amount to an insta-fix, provided the procedure is done right. ► Destructively, she has even more potential than her restorative applications. Converting milennia into a wall to completely erode it. Aging an organic being, paralysing them, forcing their cells to simultaneously decay and regenerate, until they finally turn to dust. Likely much more, if she dares to put her mind to it.} ^{▼ WEAKNESSES} ^{► Range, in that her power has none. ► Overuse during too short of a timespan can result in her arms ending up completely paralysed. This cooldown period can last from hours to days, depending on the degree of excessive usage. ► Because Sara cannot de-age her targets (yet), her effects are permanent. ► Still has her normal, human weaknesses. Her power does not work on herself. ► The specificity of the ability can also be its handicap. Its application is limited to Sara's improvisational capacity. ► A significant mental and emotional block is in place when it comes to using her ability on living beings. The potential consequences are too serious to play around with this sort of stuff.} ^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}

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SARA ZHOU

█     act one: way down we go
 ▸ p. johnson's
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Sara flashed him a smile. Friendly, empathetic even. Right out of the customer service handbook. “Seven years flies by in a blink, eh?”

She gave a slight wince as the familiar, high-pitched squeal of a popular girl rang through the bar. As Hanna practically flung herself onto Sangster, she tossed a glance at Lucas to gauge his reaction. 

“Goes fast… but it’s plenty of time for people to mellow out, I’m sure.” A steadfast reassurance.

She turned back to the bar, an easy excitement rising as she spotted Meir at the bar. God, it seriously had been too long. He’d really grown into himself, becoming barely recognizable from the scrawny AP class companion she had. Not to Sara though. She’d know that curly hair and nervous posture anywhere. That particular deer-in-the-headlights expression was not as frequent, however. She had to rack her brain to recall what or who would trigger that one. It wasn’t a bully, was it? No, he wouldn’t be as clammy if it was. Maybe one of Hanna’s clique? Closer, but no dice. 

No, it was a specific person. Darn, who was it again?

“Hey Freya! What’s going on?”

Ah.

Fuck.

It came from a voice she couldn’t place for the moment, but it told her everything she needed to hear. Sara’s jaw clenched and she quietly abandoned all plans to join Meir at the bar, instead opting to continue blending in at this booth. She couldn’t just leave Lucas alone, after all!

‘I thought I was ready for this,’ she sighed internally. 

Her bereavement was quickly - efficiently - pushed aside as she watched Jack approach. 

“Hey guys, what’s up? Party’s happening over there.”

“Just making sure a little lamb didn’t get too lost,” Sara smirked back. Past Jack, she caught yet another person looking bug-eyed, in their booth’s direction this time. Was Cal… holding in a sneeze?

“Uhhh…” Maybe she should just ignore that. She needed a proper distraction either way. “Yeah, ‘f course, no rush. Hey, I’ve got a keg out back I prepared just for today. You mind helping me carry it to my car?”

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