Lemons

Breaking the Sun

Surly, angry, and—well, normal, Tori sat in a frustration-laden chair in the common room. Her bicep stung; she didn't know what she'd been injected with, she never did, and that made her even angrier than she usually was. Her hair was quite matted and unkempt; she'd spent the entirety of the night before clawing at bedsheets, restrained with leather straps as chemical-induced hallucinations ripped through her psyche. She had been just conscious enough when it ended to swear at the doctors before she passed out.

So, if anything, Tori was even angrier than usual.

She jabbed at the food in front of her, scowl briefly giving way to a look of concern and confusion: she had absolutely no idea what this was supposed to be. Usually the food was recognizable, if unpleasant looking, but this was some sort of (maybe) meat-based brown mush. Her lip curled up. God, this is disgusting. Guess I'm not eating. She shoved it away, slurping aggressively at a strawed cup. At least the water tasted like water.

From off to the side, she heard a woman's voice: "Now sit down and shut up."

Shifting her focus to the side, she saw a much older man—thirty? Forty? Something like that—being led in by another of the endless orderlies, muttering something she couldn't quite hear. She rolled her eyes. Sit down and shut up indeed. She closed her eyes. Might as well get some kind of sleep before she was called in for the next in the cavalcade of bullshit that they called Paragon.

---

Tori sighed as she fell back on her ratty junkyard couch, rubbing her aching hands slowly together. "Stupid fucking customers," she grunted, ill-tempered. Her voice jumped up into a ridiculous register, pretty much her approximation of a falsetto, and she pinched her fingers together in the mocking "stop talking" gesture. "Oh, hello, I'd like an iced cascara coconut milk latte with chocolate and caramel, but not too much chocolate and an extra pump of caramel, oh, and make sure it's decaf, but not too decaf, and..." Her voice trailed off, punctuated with a grunted "Fucking teenagers."

She popped a flask from out of her back pocket, near-yanking the top off and taking a long pull. And do it all again tomorrow, she thought, punching the couch irritably.

Thunk

Her ears perked up, and she hastily recapped the flask, getting herself into some semblance of decency and, moreover, getting herself ready to fight if she needed to. After all, her neighborhood, to put it lightly, was not the best. She fished into the pocket of her jeans, pulling out a folding knife. Moving carefully over to the door, she put her eye to the peephole, peering through cautiously.

There was a flash of brilliant light through it and she fell back, clutching at her face. The door blasted inwards, revealing four black-clad people who went straight for the disoriented Tori.

The grungy apartment was filled with the sound of a struggle, but it didn't last for long. "What the fuck are you doing?" she managed to choke out, feeling a collar clasping around her neck.

There was no response, and a hypodermic needle passed into her half-blinded line of sight. She desperately bucked, trying to escape, but she was firmly held, offering no real resistance to the syringe. A few seconds later, she blinked blearily, swore with a deeply slurred voice, then crumpled to the ground.

---

Choking with panic, Tori bolted upright, barely stopping herself from screaming. She was covered in cold sweat, and her back ached from the uncomfortable chair she'd been sleeping in. Dropping her head into one hand, she grit her teeth together.

"I swear to God, I'm going to fucking murder them all," she hissed. After a few moments to recover from her nightmare, she looked around, seeing the older man from before sitting a little ways away. The ubiquitous collar was clasped around his neck, and she fingered her own. If anything, she was even worse-tempered now that she'd woken up than she was before.

Breaking the Sun

Tori will yell at him until he realizes he's being an ass.

Breaking the Sun

@Days I think her optimism and general good-heartedness will play nicely off of Tori's "fuck you" nature.

Breaking the Sun

PERSONNEL FILE

{ VICTORIA ESKRIDGE }

{ 309468 }

---

General Information

name:// Victoria Alina Eskridge
age:// 23
birth date:// April 17th
gender:// Female
occupation:// Unemployed

---

Biology

height:// 5' 5"
weight:// 127 pounds
hair color:// Medium-blonde
eye color:// Gray
tattoos, scars, piercings:// She has a piercing in her right ear, but otherwise none

---

Psychology

ability:// Paladin

personality:// Tori was...pissed. Nearly all of the time. She's always been exceedingly irritable, and she's seemingly-always had a hair trigger that goes off if you so much as look at her wrong. Of course, being locked up underground against her will certainly hasn't helped that; now she's even more pissed. She's quite violent, and won't hesitate to deck you if you so much as look at her wrong. She's always been rather callous, and has never put a lot of stock into being emotional; those that do are often laid to waste with her whiplike, scorning tongue.

Despite that, she's brutally honest, and at the very least, she can be expected to tell the truth. With the whole 'imprisoned-against-her-will' thing, she's also become exceedingly cynical. She finds it very difficult to plan for the future, since she doesn't believe she'll have one, and is mostly just living her life day to day, hoping that something is going to go right for her eventually but not believing it. She's not particularly cooperative with her captors, which has led to a bit more that her fair share of bruises and other such 'war wounds,' as she calls them. In the end, most of her angry, callous personality boils down to the fact that she doesn't feel she's able to trust anybody, and so she's forged a very spiky armored shell. Not the irritability, though; that's always been her style.

The last real cardinal point in her personality, and pretty much her only redeeming quality, is her unbreakable tenacity. Those expecting her to give up once she's set her mind to something will find themselves disappointed. While it can certainly lead to her breaking instead of bending, it can also keep her going when somebody else might've quit a long time ago.

---

family history://

• Mina Eskridge, mother; deceased at 48; Paladin; buried in a graveyard near Philadelphia, her hometown
• Robin Eskridge, father; deceased at 47; No abilities; buried next to Mina
• Jack Eskridge, brother; estranged; 25; No abilities; currently living in Prague, Czech Republic

---

Miscellaneous Information

She vehemently despises vanilla, and much rather prefers Tori to Victoria. She really hates it when people call her Vicky, because when she was little, she was bullied by people who liked to call her 'Icky Vicky.'

She went to Susquehanna College and majored in Creative Writing, realizing only afterwards that now she has a hard time in the job market.

Breaking the Sun

Victoria Eskridge

PERSONNEL FILE

{ VICTORIA ESKRIDGE }

{ 309468 }

---

General Information

name:// Victoria Alina Eskridge
age:// 23
birth date:// April 17th
gender:// Female
occupation:// Unemployed

---

Biology

height:// 5' 5"
weight:// 127 pounds
hair color:// Medium-blonde
eye color:// Gray
tattoos, scars, piercings:// She has a piercing in her right ear, but otherwise none

---

Psychology

ability:// Paladin

personality:// Tori was...pissed. Nearly all of the time. She's always been exceedingly irritable, and she's seemingly-always had a hair trigger that goes off if you so much as look at her wrong. Of course, being locked up underground against her will certainly hasn't helped that; now she's even more pissed. She's quite violent, and won't hesitate to deck you if you so much as look at her wrong. She's always been rather callous, and has never put a lot of stock into being emotional; those that do are often laid to waste with her whiplike, scorning tongue. Despite that, she's brutally honest, and at the very least, she can be expected to tell the truth.

With the whole 'imprisoned-against-her-will' thing, she's also become exceedingly cynical. She finds it very difficult to plan for the future, since she doesn't believe she'll have one, and is mostly just living her life day to day, hoping that something is going to go right for her eventually but not believing it. She's not particularly cooperative with her captors, which has led to a bit more that her fair share of bruises and other such 'war wounds,' as she calls them. In the end, most of her angry, callous personality boils down to the fact that she doesn't feel she's able to trust anybody, and so she's forged a very spiky armored shell. Not the irritability, though; that's always been her style.

The last real cardinal point in her personality, and pretty much her only redeeming quality, is her unbreakable tenacity. Those expecting her to give up once she's set her mind to something will find themselves disappointed. While it can certainly lead to her breaking instead of bending, it can also keep her going when somebody else might've quit a long time ago.

---

family history://

• Mina Eskridge, mother; deceased at 48; Paladin; buried in a graveyard near Philadelphia, her hometown
• Robin Eskridge, father; deceased at 47; No abilities; buried next to Mina
• Jack Eskridge, brother; estranged; 25; No abilities; currently living in Prague, Czech Republic

---

Miscellaneous Information

She vehemently despises vanilla, and much rather prefers Tori to Victoria. She really hates it when people call her Vicky, because when she was little, she was bullied by people who liked to call her 'Icky Vicky.'

She went to Susquehanna College and majored in Creative Writing, realizing only afterwards that now she has a hard time in the job market.

Did somebody say they wanted an angry, cynical, unemployed former college student?

Breaking the Sun

Is this still open? It's practically ideal for exactly the kind of RP I love.

Flames of Vytal : Hunter's Mettle [High Casual] [World of Remnant]

Eyo.

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

I did a thing. It was a mediocre thing. I enjoy my characters being injured. Yes.

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

Etoile

---

Etoile was, quite predictably, displeased with how out-of-hand things were getting. She snorted somewhat disdainfully at the elaborate introduction of this 'Lazulin Mulciber.'

"Etoile. And he is not my friend. Now stop talking and start moving."

A moment later, the young-looking red-haired girl from the cabin—the one who had seemed so familiar—walked up, and showed that at least she knew what she was talking about. Etoile rolled her eyes as she burst into motion, calling back to her: "Nice to see that there's at least one other person here who knows anything about magic." With that, she dashed over to the blonde kid, lashing about her with her sabre at ever-swelling flocks of birds that hovered around him. She winced as a small raptor of indiscriminate type buried its talons into the soft flesh of her single working shoulder. Even the thick woolen mantle couldn't quite keep the claws off, and as it disengaged, it ripped a huge slash in the garment.

"I have no idea why you're still out here. How long does it take to get a few deckworkers and people taking the air down into the cabin? Your incompetence appears to have few boundaries. But as long as you're trying to draw the birds off so your friend over there," she jerked a thumb at Pagonia, "can get people into the cabin, I'll see if I can give you a hand."

That, of course, was the ideal moment for Etoile, distracted by her lambasting, to demonstrate her own incompetence. A sizable chunk was ripped out of her thigh by a particularly large bird as she missed it by a handsbreadth, unused to working with her left arm. She did manage to sever one of its wings on a second strike as it came back towards her, but the damage was done; blood was rapidly inundating the fabric around the wound, and a moment later, the pain came through and she staggered, barely managing to remain standing. "Bloody birds," she hissed through tightly-pressed teeth. Shit, shit, shit! Her options instantly dwindled heavily. The wound was extremely painful, hampering her ability to move around quickly. More than that, though, she didn't know if the bird had slashed open an artery or something, but the wound was bleeding more than she would've liked. If she passed out in the middle of this, the odds were heavily weighed into her being eaten rather quickly. She swore at herself for being so careless.

And this is what I get for relying on magic, she thought acidly. She'd been neglecting her swordsmanship practice in favor of running from Inquisitors, and now she was put into an impossible situation because of it. She spat a stream of bloody spittle, and realized that she'd bitten her cheek hard enough for it to bleed. Sliding the sabre into her mouth, she pressed her hand to the wound, grimly continuing to fight on and distracting herself with the impossible hope that just pressure could staunch the bleeding.

"If I fee a birvv affer thif, I'm going fo murvver if," she muttered to herself through the sword's handle, trying her best to pretend that there would be an 'after this.'

@Altered Tundra

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

Sorry; college got busy, and allergies and sickness should never mix ever ever. Ready to go.