Luminous Beings

Black Fall [Superhuman/City/Character Driven]

Holly Gabrielle Baless

As the Good Lord would have it, Holly traipsed directly across the path of the Mean Bean Street-there was a curious energy lingering in the air, a kind of faint, barely palpable electricity that made Holly smile. This was nothing supernatural, nothing related to metahumans or even the faith that was so integral to Holly's psyche: it was simply that feeling you get of something momentous happening. Of something very important unfolding around you, of a thousand little coincidences all falling just the right way. It brought a grin to Holly's lips-what a lovely day! And something, she didn't know what, was surely at hand. Surprises were always excellent, and the not knowing in life kept Holly feeling invigorated. Things would get boring if one knew what were to happen! It was the suspense that kept things entertaining

Holly strode into the warmth of the Mean Bean Coffee Shop, deeply inhaling the aroma of coffee. Ah! She'd pay just to have the smell, let alone the drinks. Why, Holly mused, couldn't they make perfume that smelled as nice as that. Holly wasn't one to wear perfume, she thought it gaudy and a little wasteful (Although boys were silly enough to judge someone by how they smelled, weren't they?). But if someone could get a scent as lovely as fresh-brewed coffee? Holly'd be a believer. Holly scanned the shop for a familiar face, which was a normal practice of hers. Owing to her pretty outgoing lifestyle, Holly nearly always ran across someone she at least had a passing knowledge of as she went through town. Even in districts such as The Dead End, Holly saw familiar faces, whether it was a result of church, the kitchens, school, or any number of activities Holly was in. She was one of those sorts who could remember little details about people-while Holly had to work to retain the Krebs cycle or the American attack plans on D-Day in her mind for tests and exams, she could keep track of social things very well.

And lo and behold, a familiar face! Holly beamed (which is getting redundant, she smiles pretty much all the fucking time) and threw out her arms to grab Deborah in an embrace. Deborah! What a lovely girl. She was a little bit older than Holly was, but they were nevertheless good friends. "Why, I'd love that! I've never been one to turn down coffee." Ah, the charity of friends was a great thing. Holly generally tried to be the one offering to pay for meals-it set a good example, she thought, and her family was doing well enough that Holly could afford to do so-but it was just rude to turn down such a polite and selfless offer. "It's been a while! How have you been? You look great, I might add!" Holly said, giving Deborah a once-over. Holly was in good shape, but Deborah was in splendid physical condition. And so pretty! Holly felt a tingle of warmth-she just felt happy for Deborah. Nice, pretty-she was going to snare quite the fine young man one day! "Will you be going to the Christmas festival later?"

As they got their coffee and sat down-well, Holly got hot chocolate-Holly glanced around the coffee shop. Hm. There was a man with a limp walking in, and Holly's brow furrowed. Where had she seen him before...? Ah! On TV! He was interviewed after some absolutely atrocious killings a while back, one involving a metahuman. They'd called in NEST and the FBI and everyone. Quite the tragedy, but if Holly's memory was serving her correctly, this man was a...psychologist? Perhaps forensic? Or was she making that part up? Regardless, Holly felt a certain degree of respect for the man: devoting one's life to understanding and helping others with their personal demons? Surely there was no more noble calling!

Holly sat with her legs curled beneath her in the booth as she listened to Deborah answer her questions. Presumably. She was looking good-while most found leggings to be sexy, Holly's modest skirt negated any appeal to them, and the Christmas sweater and scarf were equally effective in avoiding being form-fitting. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, blue eyes sparkling with excitement as she chatted things up with her old friend. While she was focusing on what Deborah had to say, she couldn't help but overhear a poor patron standing in line. There was the subtle disruption in the background-that of something not happening when it should've been happening. Holly turned to the side and noticed a rather irritated line of patrons standing behind one scraggly looking fellow, with long red hair and clothes that looked rather as if they hadn't seen an ironing board in several millennia. Holly briefly wondered if he was homeless, but decided against it. No, she had a feeling she would've at least recognized him in passing if the man was in-between places to stay, and she generally trusted her instincts about these things.

Regardless, Holly wasn't one to pass up an opportunity to help someone in need! Especially so close to Christmas-Santa would be watching, after all. "Deb, love, could you excuse me for just a moment? I think I have the chance to pay it forward." Holly slipped out of the booth and jogged up to the counter. She reached into her little purse, which contained more Bible verses than money and drew out two dollar bills, sliding them onto the corner. "Here you go, friend!" he said cheerily. "Merry Christmas." She smiled at the people waiting in line behind Lenny but they, ah, weren't full of the Christmas spirits. Perhaps I should've gone with happy holidays...

Holly turned and walked on back to Deborah, sidling back into her seat. "So sorry about that, wasn't trying to interrupt you. I think we might have had a riot on our hands, these people don't look happy at all. I suppose everyone's tense with the holidays. And that whole NEST fiasco earlier."

Black Fall [Superhuman/City/Character Driven]

Holly Gabrielle Baless

It was a beautiful wintry day-most wintry days were, of course, as they were drawing close to Christmas. Having already knocked a large chunk of her shopping out of the way-let alone decked the halls with holly (how apt), wreathes, and lights, one could very accurately say Holly was positively brimming with the Christmas spirit. Being too old to enjoy the myth of Santa Claus any longer, she took it upon herself to find Christmas magic wherever she could-and she was certainly finding it. Bundled up in a plush, puffy pink jacket and a scarf-and, of course, a Santa hat to keep her ears warm and festive, Holly set out to...

Hm. What was she going out to do? She had no real plans today. There was the Christmas Fair later, which would certainly be delightful, but she had a few hours to spare until then. Hours! Whole hours of free time. Holly was rather unaccustomed to this-the majority of her time was usually spent either at a desk studying or doing some project somewhere-soup kitchens, youth groups, any number of altruistic endeavors. She overtaxed herself pretty regularly, but it never seemed to really to get to her. Holly was one of the most annoying types of people in existence: an unshakable optimist.

Whistling "Jingle Bells", she walked down the street, a wide, beaming smile greeting everyone she passed. More than a few curious stares were thrown her way, as the residents of Black Fall weren't typically used to such...pep...but it didn't rattle Holly. Hm. There were any number of shops and stores she could go into, true, but Holly had burned through most of this month's allowance already (there were so many presents to be bought!) and, while she was sure her lovely parents would give her more if she needed it, she didn't think it prudent. Christmas was around the corner-she could wait. Holly's spirit was shaken a bit when she saw the NEST takedown site-men in horrible black armor, toting around rifles plain as day and dragging people off into trucks. Holly pursed her lips and shook her head disapprovingly. What drove people to do such things? Was there really any amount of money in a bank vault that was worth it? Or any high that was that enjoyable? Holly could not fathom the thought processes of men like the ones they were dragging into the back of the NEST van, and that was okay with her. To Holly, there was only one type of riches she was interested in acquiring it, and it couldn't be found in any bank.

A brisk chill cut through Holly's many layers of jackets-despite her best efforts to bundle up, she was a small-framed girl, and staying warm got tricky in these cold spells-and sent a shiver dancing down her spine and tingling up her toes. Curling her arms around herself, Holly closed her eyes for a mere moment and took a deep breath in, reaching within herself, to the well of warmth and fire that she seemed to be able to find no matter how dark and cold it became outside. A giddy feeling overtook her-one she was used to by now but nonetheless enjoyed-and a sensation of warmth billowed out to her extremities, staving off the cold. Holly had no need to truly ignite-it would be such a gaudy thing, here in this crowded street corner-and the Lord did say one was not to pray in the street corners, but rather in the confines of one's one room. No, she would not be showing off her talents-because they were not hers to show off. Reinvigorated, and scarcely aware of the cold, the only hint of Holly's minute usage of her power was the scarcest of glow on her skin-a barely, truly barely, visible flicker of light above her head. In the sunlight in the midst of the city, it would certainly be difficult to detect-which was fine with Holly, as she had no desire to quarrel with NEST. Or anyone, really! There were so many better things one could do than quarrel or argue. So many!

Holly stopped at a street corner, humming to herself as she looked around. What to do, what to do. In a city full of the supernatural, one would think that boring days were few and far between. Unfortunately, Little Miss Baless was something of a workaholic, and she was lost as to things to do. Perhaps, she mused, something would just come along her way and surprise her. Life had a knack for throwing serendipity after serendipity at her-something Holly attributed to the Lord, something others attributed to luck, and something NEST attributed to her powers. Who was right was anyone's guess. There was a lovely little coffee shop somewhere close-the Mean Bean Cafe, was it? Hm. She couldn't remember the name. They had hot chocolate, didn't they? Surely they did. It would be silly for a coffee place to not have hot chocolate. She could go there...but Holly couldn't for the life of her remember just where the coffee shop was. Hm.

Standing at a crossroads and totally unaware of the symbolism, Holly mused over her choices, smiling gently, humming softly. Her Santa hat flopped a bit in the December breeze, but stayed pretty securely on her head. And to those passing by really close, there was just a hint of warmth and energy-of life-that one might feel sitting in a favorite chair by the fire, or remember from opening presents on Christmas morning,or feel in the embrace of a favorite pet. Then, throwing her fortunes to the winds and going off a whim, she decided to mosey on northwards-unknowingly heading straight for the Mean Bean Cafe. Funny how things just seemed to play out for Holly like that.

Selena Wodan Chilver

No reception. Not a single bar.

Ah. It was beautiful. Selena tucked the phone into her pocket-she slid it into the little pocket over her breast in her windbreaker-and ran her hands down her sides, double-checking for everything. Knife at her side, bow slung over her shoulder. She left the .357 at home-Selena wasn't a hundred percent clear on Pennsylvania's gun laws yet, ya know, and figured NEST was the sort who would love to take down a meta toting around illegal weapons. Selena mused briefly on the perks of being an outlaw-she could wear a bandana-mask, rob banks, knock over trains...eh. Probably not worth it.

Probably.

Selena walked quietly through the woods, ears primed for any noise (the scurrying of squirrels across a branch to her right) and eyes flickering around in front of her, picking up (hoof-prints half-hidden underneath that leaf over there) traces of the woods around her. Selena did hate that this was over-she tried to get a walk in the woods in pretty much daily, and aimed to go hunting at least once a week or so. It annoyed the ever-loving HELL out of Eva, but she figured her little sister would just have to learn to live with it. Nothing wrong with killing an animal if you were going to treat it with respect. Nothing at all. Selena broke the treeline and continued walking towards her house, boots falling silent on the familiar grassy path. It wasn't too cold out, but there was a bit of a chill-enough for Selena to wiggle her toes every few minutes to keep the blood pumping. She drew her hands out of her pocket for a moment and raised her hand to the horizon. Oh, she had plenty of time before sunset. Plenty of time.

Selena then passed through the normal rituals of "getting ready to go do public things in the outside world". Showering without messing up her dreads (after double checking to make sure no one was home, Carrie Underwood karaoke was a go), then the usual teethbrushing, deodorant-applying, hair-oiling, clothes-finding (the latter being particularly difficult, as Selena's room could've merited FEMA intervention and was generally considered impossible to navigate). She wriggled into a pair of jeans (Ah, my ass looks great) and then threw on a simple long-sleeved brown shirt, putting on another layer or two above that. She slid her feet back into the same pair of boots she had been trekking in earlier-beat up old things, scarred and scuffed up, but undeniably reliable. Selena cinched her leather belt on tight and double-checked herself in the mirror to make sure she hadn't missed something totally obvious.

Shit! She forgot underwear. Damnit!

The process began anew.

Somewhat later than originally planned, Selena walked out the front door, closing and locking it behind her. Why'd she lock the door? Honestly if somebody broke in, Selena would just be excited. Finding them wouldn't be too tough, and then she could have a lovely little ass-kicking session. But, hey, 'tis the Season. She figured she'd wait until after Santa brought her presents to get herself firmly put on the naughty list. Selena walked over to the driveway, staring at the love of her life. Smooth. Sleek. Gentle curves. God it was beautiful. Selena hopped onto her motorcycle, slipping on her gloves and letting the engine warm up. She neglected a helmet because-first off, c'mon, it's Selena. If she gets in a crash, she's not gonna need a helmet-but the pavement she lands on had better be wearing one. Beyond that, trying to do dreads and a helmet just generally didn't end super well. She tied her hair back and tucked it in under her jacket so she wouldn't have it flying all over the place like Medusa when it was humid outside. At the last moment, Selena remembered her cell phone. She hopped off the bike and jogged back inside (she took the stairs three at a time) and found it in no time, sending a quick text to Eva-Hey I'm heading into town. Don't know where you are or what you're doing. Message me if you wanna do something. Back on the saddle. Rolling her neck around, Selena braced herself for the biting cold, knocked the kickstand back and rolled out onto the main road.

The air was absolutely fucking freezing, but it felt great. It felt alive. Selena was within the Black Fall city limits faster than could be deemed responsible and slowed to a speed less likely to get her pulled over. Time to play. Now, what the hell was there to do in this city? Eying her surroundings for something excited, Selena idled around, waiting for something to jump out at her. Hopefully not literally.

Black Fall Character Deposit

Selena Wodan Chilver

Name: Selena Wodan Chilver
Nickname/Alias/Etc: Tally (short for Tallymark).
Gender: Female
Age: 19
Height: 5'8
Weight: 150 lbs
Status:

Appearance

Hair Color: Platinum blonde or a dark hazel. Yeah, I'll get to it later.
Eye Color: Brown.
Ethnicity: She is 1/4th Greek, 1/4th Italian, and 1/2 Cherokee.
Physical Appearance:

To address the immediate question-how the hell is someone of Selena's lineage platinum blonde-I will address that later.

Selena's a visibly tough girl. She's pretty, but tough. Consider a whitewater river, coursing with too much force to possibly try and raft down. Or a mother bear eviscerating the dumbass tourist who wanted a picture of her cub. This is Selena. Magnificent to behold, terrifying to be held by. She's in excellent shape-she's not bulky enough to be a bodybuilder but not thin enough to be a runner. Selena's athletic, and while she's not butch or masculine, she has a firm physique and some visible muscle. She moves calmly and with focus-as strange as that may sound, it aptly describes her. She walks with the poise of someone who's entirely relaxed but ready for what's coming-as if she's expecting trouble to come her way, but not necessarily afraid of it. Selena tends to move in a way that may be considered self-assured or arrogant-she's fond of holding eye contact when she speaks, and her general posture and mannerisms almost seem to subtly suggest she considers herself to be dominant or superior. Selena has a nice smile, but she doesn't show it off very frequently-she prefers a faint grin, just a notch or two above absolute calm. Selena's hands are callused, with a fair amount of faint scars and nicks on her knuckles and one or two on her arms. She's not one to use much makeup, and has a fair amount of natural beauty-if she put a bit of work towards it, she could be gorgeous, but as is, she's a diamond that's still in the rough. Her face is heart shaped, with a small round chin and slightly higher, slightly prominent cheekbones. Her skin tone is a blend of a Mediterranean olive tone, the more reddish complexion of her Cherokee heritage, and the tan of many an hour spent outside. Suffice to say she sunburns very rarely. Her eyebrows are angled a bit sharply and thin, a dark color (that lightens slightly, in sync with her hair, but not very much). Her eyes are a warm brown and seem to have a few speckles of green. Her forehead is average sized, perhaps a bit small. Her mouth is a little small but her lips are full, a light pink.

Selena's voice is a bit breathy, a tiny bit raspy-nothing so severe as "I used to be a smoker" commercials, but she doesn't have the higher pitches that most girls have. It's nothing close to butch or gruff, but she's a few notes lower than most of her teenage girl compatriots. She's also not one to laugh often-you'll normally get a bemused grin out of her, or perhaps a chuckle. When she does laugh all the way, it's an uncontrollable belly laugh, a very unladylike guffaw. Her anger, however, is far more quick to surface. Well, perhaps anger isn't the right word-she gets a fire in her eyes and her posture shifts-chin juts out a bit, the same grin a shark gives a slow fish appears on her lips, and she normally goes through a handful of routine tics. Her fingers dance and curl up into fists then relax a few times. She rolls her wrists around. Trigger fingers twitch. Casually stretching out the hamstrings for a sprint.

Her hair is also interesting-it's in sync with the phases of the moon. At a new moon, her hair is dark hazel. The closer it gets to being full, the lighter it turns, becoming platinum blonde and then glowing a faint silver during the nights of a full moon-after which it begins to dim back to brown. The cycle repeats. Her hair is about shoulder length and she has several dreadlocks-neat, well-maintained ones, not like nappy fat ones. When hunting or doing physical activities she normally pins it back in a ponytail to keep it clear and out of the way.

Attire:

Selena dresses pragmatically. She's more used to colder, woodsy environments, so she prefers utility and durability over fashion. You can normally count on several shirts for layering, normally earth tones. She's fond of camouflage jackets or a rugged, leather/shearling coat. Jeans or khaki-style jeans tucked into scuffed and scarred boots normally do the trick. She likes comfy wool socks and this nice leather belt she got for Christmas a couple of years back-it's etched out with a lot of different scenes you can't really see without an up-close look, and if you did that, Selena would probably slap you for sticking your face in her lady area. Tsk tsk. A little class goes a long way, friend.

Personality

Outward & Innate Personality:

Selena is a huntress. This encompasses all aspects of her psyche-she is honorable, competitive, territorial, fierce, assertive, and reliable. Selena is by no means a bad person-she is a little lacking in social graces, which can often convey the impression of her being a bitch, and her difficulty in walking away from a challenge tends to make enemies, but she's not malicious. She's had her fair share of misinterpreted comments, and her lack of fashion sense can often cause her to butt heads with those who are more socially aware/stylistically inclined. Selena's somewhat judgmental-rather harshly, she doesn't tend to forgive easily, and someone who acts like a douche or lies very rarely regains any sort of respect in her eyes. She has burned a fair amount of bridges in the past this way.

Selena's competitive, as mentioned before. Proud, Selena enjoys friendly competition and especially winning. However, that being said, honor is another component of her personality-she is not only a terrible liar, she's averse to it. To Selena, there is no joy in cheating to secure a victory or lying to secure a happiness. Selena's abruptness and upfrontness often lead her to not understanding the nuances of social scenarios or the intricacies of situations-she can very easily miss subtleties that extroverts notice with no effort at all. Her pride and honor often make her squirm when forced to be quiet about something-Selena's never one to back down from a challenge, and often has trouble picking her battles. She has trouble allowing short-term losses for long-term successes.

Selena's an outdoorsy sort. She loves nature in any form-rock climbing, hiking, hunting, swimming, boating, mountain biking. The wild calls to her, and she can only tolerate being stuck inside a classroom or building for so long. Her eyes wander, and she always sits next to the window, always finds the balcony or way to the roof of a building first. Not to say Selena doesn't have a more mellow side to her-secretly, she has a few passions that she's rather embarassed to be public about. She's pretty good with yarn and enjoys making scarves and whatnot. Selena also likes to write poetry, as well as do sketches. She also loves bubble baths but will never admit this to anyone, under pain of death.

Selena's rather harsh on herself. Ambitious and headstrong, she has trouble admitting when she's gotten herself in too deep and isn't one to ask for help very often. She detests apologizing as well, even when she knows she's wrong. However, her desire to set things right normally outweighs her shame. Selena can more readily admit when she's been beaten-while she doesn't like losing, she has a very healthy respect for competition and her rivals (whom, oftentimes, don't realize they are her rivals). Selena's also somewhat hindered in the romance department-she understands fighting and competing and all but is at a total loss with flirting. Watching Selena try to flirt in comparison to her running a race or hunting something is almost hysterical-she's got no clue what she's doing and not very sure how to act on it. There are usually two extremes with this-Selena is hilariously. She often winds up "friendzoning" herself, and her physical prowess and competitive nature tend to scare off most guys. She can be rather lonely, and yearns for friendship and relationships more than she lets on.

She also gets stage fright.

Hobbies/Interests: Anything outdoors. Hunting, fishing, falconry, whittling, sketches, poetry. She likes hiking and wandering around exploring places. Any form of physical activities. Challenges and competitions.

Skills/Talents: She's an excellent huntress. Selena is a skilled tracker and pretty adept at most wildernessy, survivaly activities. Most people who know her think of her whenever that "who would you want to be stuck on a desert island with" question comes around. She's very good at moving about quietly and camouflaging herself. Selena's a skilled markswoman, whether with a long rifle or bow (she's not quite as good with handguns). She has no martial arts training, but has been in a few scuffles and knows how to handle herself in a fight. Selena's also quite good with animals, and able to sniff out a liar fairly easily. She's in excellent condition physically and has a high pain threshold.

Prized Possession: Selena's not a materialistic person, overall. However, she has a small retinue of items that she treasures dearly. These include her leather coat I mentioned earlier, her bow, her boots, and her knife. She loves her motorcycle Also, her teddy bear. Shhh.
Quote(s): (Selena clamps her hand over your mouth as you ask for a quote and points at a nightingale that just fluttered down and landed nearby. She forgets about you and watches it curiously for a little while.)

History/Bio:

Selena's mother left at an early age-her childhood was spent in-between her uncle who lived in Wyoming and her father, who lived in North Carolina. Her father's work on an oil rig kept him away for a month or two at a time. As an only child, Selena never had much in the way of a strong female figure in her life, and as such had to learn a few lessons about femininity-more basic ones such as bra shopping and periods and more complex ones such as how to deal with guys and not hate oneself more or less on her own. She had a varying degree of success with all of these, and her negligible fashion sense is also a result of her upbringing. Suffice to say Dad wears crocs and socks.

She, however, did have a few male cousins with whom she spent a fair amount of time. As such, Selena spent most of her time doing the sorts of boyish hobbies most girls her age got too involved in-and her ability to keep pace with her cousins physically kept things interesting. The events of her mother's absence were never really delved into-however, secretly, childishly, Selena always clung onto the idea that she was the daughter of the old goddess Artemis, that the little fairy tale a denial-ridden dad had told her about how her mother was waiting for her up in the night sky was true. Selena still fancies this idea but would never, ever, EVER admit it to anyone. She, underneath the gruffness she developed to deal with the cousins who treated her as a little sister (complete with pranking and constant teasing), had a pretty big hole in her heart, and never really moved past it.

In school, Selena was an average student. She liked certain stuff but wasn't really phenomenal at anything. She wanted to be a veterinarian-Selena, stemming from her time spent outdoors, loved animals, but figured she didn't have good enough grades for it. Her life was fairly uneventful otherwise-she had no major disasters, no unforeseen trauma.

Family: Uncle, cousins, dad.

Relationships

Relationships: (Basically a section where you put your character's thoughts on the other ones they've encountered. You can also talk to other people and decide what your characters relations will be.)

[Character name] | [Impression (Good/Bad/Neutral]] | [Relationship (Friend, Rival, Crush, etc)] | [Character's thoughts [EX: I think Bob is quite the amiable fellow, has a great head on his shoulders, but is kinda daft]] |

Abilities

Power Class: Other
Power:

Super-System

The Huntress Selena has an innate predator's drive. This is nothing so cruel as, say, the Dresdenverse's mantle of the Winter Knight, but she has an edge for bloodlust and passion. Selena, I should clarify, is not bloodthirsty, feels no senseless cruelty. However, she's got a rush she only feels when she's stalking her prey, when she's lunging in for the kill-in whatever form that may take. She feels the same rush at winning a race, at killing a deer, at beating someone in wrestling-at securing her position as apex, queen of the jungle. To this end, her body is more capable than the average person. Her strength, speed, endurance, reflexes, and senses are all enhanced-particularly the latter two. She is not able to pick up cars or sprint like the Flash-however, if she continues to develop, she could easily be an Olympic athlete (in several categories) later on in life. She's able to, by more fully embracing her predatorial, instinctual side, become more powerful, however in doing so her rational thought and levelheadedness begins to ebb. This is by no means permanent, but if she moves and operates fully on instinct, she becomes a force to be reckoned with. Her senses make her a keen hunter-she is able to track scents, move near-silently, and function without much impairment at night. Her abilities are more powerful as the moon is fuller. Additionally, she can camouflage herself rather easily-this applies to muffling her scent, noise, and presence as much as it does her appearance.

Queen of the Wild Hunt. For centuries, legends have existed of the Wild Hunt, a cavalcade of beasts and hunters that stormed the skies of Europe and took prey wherever they so desired. Now giving Selena this kind of power would be ridiculously OP, but she does hold sway over wild beasts. She cannot directly control animals, but they are more inclined to obey her-particularly predators (prey animals are mostly scared by her presence). She doesn't have to fear being attacked by wild animals and can normally communicate with them to a crude extent. She's also able to sense disturbances in nature around her, and has a natural gauge for life around her. This effect is more pronounced when she's outdoors, or in the wilderness-in a concrete building,it's greatly muffled. She's also got an edge against any animal-based metahumans-as Queen of the Wild Hunt, their abilities are not as effective against her, and a natural fear and reverence (usually subconscious, something they can't put their finger/claw on but can't ignore) is present there. This is not to say that she is immune to them-however, they may have more trouble picking up on her scent, may be more shaken by her threats, more wounded by her attacks, etc.

The Daughter of Artemis. Legendary markswoman that she was, Selena is an excellent markswoman. This applies to rifles and bows mostly-she's got very little with pistols (unless they're scoped, but who does that). This is nothing really supernatural-she can't, for instance, hit a fly with an arrow or anything ridiculous. However, she is a peerless shot, especially with a bow. As the moon grows more full, her skill increases. Her arrows are capable of dealing slightly disproportionate damage-especially during the full moon, they gain an armor-piercing quality that tends to cut through most supernatural defenses. During the new moon, they still pack a punch, but aren't quite as damaging.

Actaeon's Hound. According to myth, Artemis was gifted by the god of nature, Pan, with the seven finest hunting hounds in all the world. During the full moon, Selena is capable of giving in entirely to her predator's side and transforming into a wolf. While in wolf form, she's not capable of much but instinct-based action. She can't transform back until the moon's light has left the sky-this, predictably, can leave her in a somewhat vulnerable state if she's up against enemies who have any modicum of intelligence. If she embraces the Wild Hunt/transforms into the wolf, prey will flee before her. It doesn't really do much but it's funny as hell to watch.

Weaknesses/Limitations/Drawbacks:

First and foremost, the moon. While the moon is new, during the day, she's more or less your average human, albeit in great shape and with a considerable amount of training (in the form of many years spent hunting). Direct daylight hampers her abilities somewhat, and she's not quite as sharp. Her ability favors the long, drawn-out nature of a slow hunt-stalking her prey for weeks until the opportune moment to strike.

Her ability also plays a lot with predatorial instincts, and to what extent it affects her. Her territorial/aggressive nature is passively affected by this. The more she draws upon her powers, the more Selena slips into that mindset. If she's drawing upon her powers fully, she'll be fully obsessed with the hunt, with the kill, with catching her prey. Predators' eyes are focused in the center, on the prey before them. Selena can be lured into traps, outmaneuvered, and defeated more easily when she develops this tunnel vision. She also becomes more aggressive and willing to take risks, as well as more...base? Challenges will not go unanswered, and threats will not be taken lightly. These can be turned against her easily. Primal desires are more prominent over complex ones.

She is, innately, the Queen of the Wild Hunt. Whenever she is bested, however, this mantle may briefly flicker to another individual. If Selena's let her predator side take over while fighting, then she may have difficulty shaking it-establishing your status as a predator above her may result in Selena acknowledging defeat and falling into the pack underneath the new alpha until she regains her senses.

Selena's also prone to suffering the fallout of her actions. If she pushes herself too far, she can deal with anything from soreness to torn ligaments as a result of her overexertion. She prefers the slow, drawn-out hunt-exhausting her prey and then lunging in for the kill when it's weak. In an outright battle, head-on, she runs the risk of tiring herself out. Predators don't normally like confrontations where they don't have the advantage-if the tables turn, Selena may leave to lick her wounds and return another day rather than risk being bested. Her pride, however, can interfere with this.

Additionally, her powers leave her more prone to psychic attacks than most others would be. She's also, as a result of her inexperience in the romance department, a little more easily swayed by infatuation based powers or emotional powers than most others would be. Selena has a weakness to solar-based powers as well, and is not as potent within very urbanized areas.

The smell and taste of blood will also cause Selena to become somewhat riled up. In large quantities, it can trigger her more predatorial side to take over, and cause needlessly aggressive actions and reckless decisions. Think a shark near a bloodied fish. She generally prefers long-range, relatively clean kills to avoid this. Curiously, if the creature is dead-or the hunt over-this effect isn't anywhere near as strong. She can skin and clean her game with minimal adverse effects, but if she's wounded it? Its blood calls to her, an irresistible trail on the ground as it flees from her, beckoning to be bested, to be slain...

The wolf thing is meant to be a one time gig. She's never done it before and is totally unaware that she can. Her active resistance to fully "going over" and the fact she'd be completely drained for the next day or two means it's not something she can do frequently at all-it's an ultimate last resort tactic.

Other:

Writing Sample:

Selena was quiet, which was in and of itself unsurprising. She was, more alarmingly, in suburbia. Humming softly to herself, she brushed some of her hair back behind an ear and scanned her nearby surroundings. Nope. Not here.

"C'mere, Chaser," she called, her voice warm but with an authoritative undertone-perhaps it was something people would've missed, but a squirrel scampering across a branch stopped and glanced over its shoulder at her before squeaking and running away. She chuckled softly, continuing her pursuit. It was a pretty windy day, which was making this whole ordeal somewhat more difficult-she couldn't try and track down the pup without eau de soccer mom's trashcan flooding her senses. Selena was promptly reminded of why she avoided cookie-cutter neighborhoods, just on general principle. She also didn't have her bow with her, which was...annoying. A part of her felt almost naked-well, metaphorically naked. Selena wasn't quite as bothered by being naked as other people were. Not to say she stripped frequently, or enjoyed being naked around others-but alone, sunbathing or something, it wasn't really an annoyance to her. Felt normal. Felt natural. And not having her bow felt like not having her right hand. Or maybe her finger.

The dilemma of what body part best constituted her bow distracted Selena for a few dozen houses until she broke out of her reverie. Right. Lost dog. Important matters at hand. She whistled again, sharp and fast. "Here, Chaser. I don't have all damn day, Chaser." Selena continued down the road, boots echoing softly against the pavement. With a teensy bit of effort, she could've walked very quietly-however, it was trickier to do on concrete, and she wasn't really worried about anyways. Selena yawned softly and shivered under her jacket. Should've worn another layer or two, which is what she'd normally do, but of course she had to get dragged out to look for a stupid lost dog, who of course had to be dumb enough to...

Selena stopped cold, almost comically so-her foot froze a few inches from touching the ground and she perked up, nose twitching softly, eyes darting around. She cocked her head ever so slightly, and a grin pulled at her lips. "Ah, I know where you are." Selena wheeled around ninety degrees, casually resuming her stride as she approached a six foot high wooden fence. With a two-step running start and grunt, she lunged up and clasped onto the top of the fence, pushing off with her feet and clambering to the top, where she perched for a moment as she looked around again. Another long breath in and slow sigh out. Selena dropped down into the woods behind the neighborhood, immediately feeling more at ease. Subconsciously, she landed in the spot devoid of any fallen leaves, and as she stood back up, her joints did not crackle and pop to betray her presence, her breath seemed to mist a little more transparently. The birdsong was louder. The smells on the breeze more prominent. Selena walked through the woods, hands in her pockets as she followed the faint odor she could just barely pick up.

After a little ways walking, she froze once again-not for any particular reason, but rather for the sudden, overwhelming urge that she should-Selena's eyes flickered down and she saw why. A silent curse escaped her lips-Stupid, Selena, real stupid. Shoulda been paying attention, those boots aren't snakeproof.. Selena stayed motionless, glaring at the rattlesnake coiled beneath her. "Too cold for you to be out anyway. Go. Get."

It stayed still for a moment, quivering.

Selena snarled, her eyes boring down into the serpent. She put her foot down, not three inches from it. Its tail danced back and forth, rattling softly. "I. Said. Go." Selena growled, standing at her full height. There was a faint thud-thud in the back of her skull, and she felt her fingers begin to dance with anticipation. She didn't have her knife with her, just a little pocket knife in her pocket. That'd be four, five seconds to wrestle it out and flip it into place. Then another one to dive down. She'd stomp the son of a bitch and cut off his head.

There was a second or two of standoff and the snake hissed, recoiling back and slithering away. Selena watched it go for a minute then shook her head. "Cheeky little bastard." Undeterred, she continued a short ways on to find the puppy, yelping softly. It was stuck in a briar patch, wriggling to get free and only further worsening its conditions. It reminded Selena vaguely of American politics. "Hush. Hold still." The puppy, far too young to have been trained, did as it was commanded, and Selena knelt down a foot or so from the briars, scanning for a way to get the stupid thing out of there. She glanced up at the sky.

"You. You're lucky you're cute, Chaser." Selena began to take off her jacket and shirt, feeling a rush of goosebumps as she lay her clothes down on the frozen ground. Down to her tanktop. It'd take too long to cut through them with her pocket knife, dull and small as it was, and beyond that, the sun was going down. As many open wounds as the little mutt had, he probably wouldn't do too well out in the cold. So, that left the more unsavory solution. At least her clothes wouldn't get torn up. Biting down (perhaps, had she delved into her more predatory side, she could've shrugged off the pain and the cold entirely, but Selena preferred to avoid that whenever it wasn't necessary) hard, she shoved her hands through the briar patch, pulling the dog free (and holding it still with a visegrip) of the many branches it'd latched itself onto. Then, she guarded it as best she could and slowly began to work it back out, finally getting the puppy free. It yelped and rolled around on the ground, shaking furiously.

"I'm not giving you a bath, that's up to Melissa," Selena muttered, standing up. Bah. Blood was oozing down her arms in a couple of places and she'd have a couple of nasty scrapes, but Selena had tussled with briars before. Nothing that would scar, at any rate. Cursing to ease the pain, she took her jacket and shirts and bundled the puppy up, pressing him up against her chest. A shiver ran down her spine, and Selena took a deep breath, closing her eyes and listening for her heartbeat, the sound of the wind on the leaves. The pain receded a bit-the edge of the cold was dulled. She opened her eyes, shaped just a bit more like slits than they should've been. "Alright, Chase," Selena muttered, half-hoping they'd chance across that snake again. "Let's get you home."

Black Fall [Superhuman/City/Character Driven]

Shoulda put this in the depot. Whoops.

Black Fall Character Deposit

Cordelia Lynn Holmes

Name:

Cordelia Lynn Holmes

Nickname/Alias/Etc:

Lynn. Cord. Delly, only by a select few. You will get your ass torn into six separate parts if you are not one of those select few.

Gender:

Female.

Age:

21.

Height:

5’5

Weight:

110 lbs

Home District:

The Dead End.

Appearance

Hair Color:

Dark brown-“raven colored”.

Eye Color:

Blue. A lighter shade.

Ethnicity:

Caucasian. Unknown descent.

Physical Appearance:

Lynn’s a little ball of hellfire and it radiates from her every pore. A small, thin girl, her personality seems almost too big for her frame, and it hovers around her like an aura. Standing near her, you can almost telepathically hear her saying “Fuck you. If Lynn died, and you tore open her body to examine her, it would be written across her heart: “GO FUCK YOURSELF”

Lynn’s never really been one to give two fucks about her appearance. Any fucks she does have are being diverted towards more important issues. She’s not homely, but she’s not what most would consider beautiful either. Lynn’s face is round and on the pale side, her lips grey and usually pretty chapped. She has a small, slightly crooked nose as a result of an old break and a stud through the right side. She also has a single stud on her right ear-no hanging earrings, Lynn saw a girl get her earlobe ripped off like that. And by “saw” I mean “had a real close view”.

Lynn’s body is not quite disturbingly thin, but it’s clear she’s missed a few meals she probably couldn’t afford to. Her ribs poke at her chest and there’s not much body fat on her frame. Lynn’s cheeks are slightly, just barely, hollow, and she often wears clothes that are a little warmer than is strictly necessary. Her teeth are slightly misaligned, but not anything too terrible, and she has a tongue piercing. Lynn’s face is normally locked into a permanent scowl, one that makes Marines get uneasy and cops call for backup. Her posture is ramrod straight, eyes staring defiantly out at whatever dumb soon-to-be-dickless motherfucker decided to look back. She moves with a purpose and is the sort who will bump into you rather than move out of the way. She will proceed to bark at you: “Watch it!” with any given expletive attached.

Lynn’s voice is somehow tainted by her personality. She’s never been one to smoke a whole lot, so it can’t be the occasional cigarette that makes her voice a little raspy. It’s something about the cold cynicism that is normally pouring off her tongue that makes her voice harsher and sharper than it truly is. Lynn does not pull any verbal punches and her tone of voice is nearly always a brutal, curt bark, if not a fully aggressive snarl. She has never once been mistaken for dainty.

Her body is also covered with a fair amount of tattoos. On her right shoulder, stretching down her arm sleeve-style (I’m probably fucking up all these terms I know nothing about tattoos) is a rendering of the angel of death, while the other arm proudly displays a phoenix, alight with colorless fire, stretching down to about halfway down her arm. Across her shoulder blades the text “DEAD END KINGS” is emblazoned, with the four horsemen of the apocalypse riding out across the rest of her back set against an apocalyptic BACKdrop (BAHAHAHAHA). Her forearms have a fair number of scars, none of which appear to be self-inflicted. There’s a teardrop tattoo under her right eye.

Attire:

What you’d expect from your average street rat’s ensemble. She has a Black Falls All-Stars ballcap on most of the time, usually turned backwards with her hair in a ponytail. She normally wears a wifebeater or a graphic t-shirt of some sort, with a baggy hoodie over it. Ratty jeans complete the look.

Personality

Personality:

Lynn takes shit from no one. No one. This is the component of her psyche that explains all the rest. She is fierce, protective, determined, and territorial. What Lynn may lack in raw physical power, privileged upbringing, or education, she makes up for with raw willpower. Her spirit is indomitable-this is a trait that has brought her more suffering than perhaps anything else.

Where to begin? Lynn has learned from a hard upbringing of what you can expect from the world: and that is absolutely nothing on a good day. If you don’t get out there and get it for yourself, no one’s getting it for you. Lynn’s cold and pragmatic, with a brutal attitude to reflect the harsh social conditions she faces to survive. There’s no one else. No backup, no cavalry. Lynn handles shit how she sees fit and pays very little respect to any authority. Any intrusions on Lynn’s honor are met with fierce reprisals. The message is very clear-Lynn does not fuck around. Those who have mistaken the small girl for a doormat have paid rather dearly for it. Lynn does not have many problems justifying her actions-she needs that guy’s wallet. She finds it easy to rationalize her actions and, as such, on the rare occasions that Lynn really stops and reflects on herself (something she tries not to do too often), she’s often frightened by what she sees.

Lynn is not needlessly cruel. Callous and aloof, yes, but not malicious. Granted, if you fuck her over, she will bury you. However, Lynn doesn’t go out of her way to cause conflict (at least in her eyes she doesn’t-she often escalates problems, but admittedly doesn’t start them very often. Okay that’s a lie. She starts them.) and is willing to help others when she’s given an opportunity to do so without looking soft or causing too much expense to herself. Lynn’s barely making it by, paycheck-to-paycheck. She has no resources to donate to charity and no damned time to spend helping other people. Nobody helped her, why should she return the favor?

Lynn’s morality is focused about preservation and loyalty. To those whom she feels loyal, Lynn is respectful and considerate. Lynn’s not one to go along with something just because it’s a rule (Or a law, for that matter). She’s defiant of authority, deeply suspicious, and a quintessential skeptic. Lynn is very rarely fooled, because she very rarely extends her trust to anyone. Borderline paranoid, Lynn’s hypervigilance keeps her a few steps away from a nervous wreck, but it keeps her alive. Lynn’s surrogate family is treated with incredible loyalty-given that she has no one else, she latches on very firmly to those whom she does open up to. She is slow to make bonds but once they are made, she does not cast them aside lightly. Lynn is the sort you may be ashamed to take to a formal dinner, but would want whenever someone started being a dick to you.

Her hard exterior masks a hard interior, albeit one with patches of softness. She has a particular emotional weakness for little girls-seeing herself in them, Lynn often tries to be kind to them and try and encourage them away from a life like hers if possible. She’s also lenient towards fathers and mothers for the same reason. Lynn avoids crime that actively harms others if she can. Lynn’s on a dark path, but she’s not an inherently evil person. She’s someone who’s willing to do what’s necessary, whatever that may be. While she did not receive much in the way of education, Lynn is by no means an idiot-she is smart, clever, and cunning. Many have mistaken her less-than-stellar grammar and vocabulary for idiocy. She’s sharp, and with a few more years of schooling, might’ve been able to make something of herself. Shoulda, coulda, woulda.

Lynn’s code of honor is…flexible, shall we say. She has no qualms with lying, stealing, or backstabbing, but, generally, can be expected to hold true to her word. If she makes a promise, you can trust it. Lynn’s not one to back down from a challenge and has a proud streak. She’s also very cynical and tends to expect-and prepare for-the worst in any given situation. Lynn is the killjoy. She has extreme difficulty apologizing. She often tends to compartmentalize her problems or outright ignore them. Lynn’s belief that she doesn’t have time to address her emotional issues will cost her dearly one day. Just not today.

Hobbies/Interests:

Lynn is a skilled artist and not bad at rapping. She prefers activities that bear some practical benefit to her. Drawing helps with her job (tattoo artist). Whittling helps her handle a knife. Running helps her with running. She has also attempted to teach herself some basic school courses but is making slow progress.

Skills/Talents:

Lynn is an absolutely brutal street fighter. I’m not dismissing martial arts, but I am stating that Lynn has fucked up some black belts pretty badly. She fights with zero holds barred with anything on hand, with the ferocity of a rabid mother bear deprived of her cubs. On meth. Her deceptive speed and strength, high pain tolerance, and considerable experience make Lynn-despite her size-more than capable of backing up her trash talk.

Lynn is also familiar with most criminal activities. She has hotwired cars, pickpocketed, picked locks, robbed and burgled, trespassed, run drugs, you name it. She’s got a familiarity with the police of Black Falls and the criminal element there. If you needed to know what was happening on the streets, Lynn would be your girl. She has several contacts, old friends, and can figure out what’s happening pretty easily. Word travels pretty fast.

Lynn is smart. Not like MENSA level or genius, but she’s clever. She will approach her problems with a simple but effective brand of pragmatism: she will do nearly anything to solve her problems. Lynn’s solution are often unexpected but rarely ineffective. She has lots of street smarts and is good at shaking off tails, knowing when she’s being followed, threatening others, and dealing with high-intensity situations. Lynn is not one to lose her cool when shit hits the fan-she reacts quickly and instinctively, and throws together a plan on the fly.

Lynn’s also a good tattoo artist. She’s managed to land a job, despite her absolute lack of credentials, with a really sketch tattoo parlor in The Dead End as a result. She performs pretty well, all things considered.

Lynn is a fast little fucker as well. While not superhumanly fast, she is quick as all hell. She lacks the physical element (read: lived on the streets) to keep up high-endurance chases, but she is agile. Lynn’s had experience climbing fences, darting in and out of crowds, and scaling walls.

Prized Possession:

A small silver locket. Her switchblade.

Quote(s):

“No. Fuck yourself.”

History/Bio:

Let us merely say a meta child kidnapping ring slipped up and Lynn slipped out, lost from her parents. A stint in an orphanage ended messily. Fell in with a gang. Lost a lot of good, close friends. Lost a lot of herself after that. Then she found a little sister-one who claimed to be a sister by blood. She’s been trying to piece together the rest.

Family:

Sister: Olivia “Livvy” Averton

Relationships

[Livvy] [Excellent] “Eh. Good kid. Good kid. Don’t want her to…well. Let’s hope some things don’t run in the family.”

Abilities

Power Class & Rating: Super-System, Elemental (Darkness)

Elemental.

Power:

Lynn has a guardian angel and he is terrible. Lynn’s shadow is a supernatural being, one that is hell-bent on guarding her. It is always there. It is always watching. It never rests and never falters. The shadow’s strength and versatility in protecting her are considerable-she is able to fight far above her weight class through it.

Lynn’s shadow possesses extraordinary reflexes and ultimate strength. It is capable of shifting its form to protect her-a shadowy wall to stop a bullet, a multi-armed abomination to stave off multiple attackers, so on and so forth. Lynn’s shadow is also capable of shielding Lynn mentally and emotionally, however it may not defend her physically and psychically simultaneously. The shadow also subtly infuses her with strength. Lynn is not superhumanly strong, but she is more powerful than a 110 lb girl with a history of malnutrition should be able to be. This results in a minor regenerative factor (mostly occupied with staving off any number of health complications Lynn should have from her poor diet and malnutrition) and a boost to her endurance and constitution, enough to function. Lynn’s shadow is sentient and capable of communicating with her if necessary. It can, occasionally, help Lynn with minor matters, but it generally stays dormant unless Lynn is in severe danger. Lynn’s power offers her an affinity to the dark, and as such she can see more clearly at night than most. Lynn's shadow cannot be manipulated by another shadow manipulators, as Lynn could be killed pretty much instantly that way.

Weaknesses/Drawbacks:

Lynn’s shadow can only act if Lynn is in extreme danger. Lynn has thus far managed to remain unlisted by NEST, so any blatant displays of her power will get her ass in some serious trouble. Additionally, her shadow can only function to the range her shadow normally could-so there’s a five or six foot limit to its effective range. Very defensively focused. Finally, the righteous or those acting with pure motives are less affected by Lynn’s abilities. Lynn’s shadow is also in charge of defending her psyche: Lynn remains more or less sane as a result of her gifts, which staves off the more traumatic experiences she’s endured and represses things it deems a threat to her sanity/life. As the shadow is forced to defend her physically, it will divert less attention to her mind, and Lynn will rapidly begin to breakdown until it’s able to fix things.

Other: Lynn is bisexual *nudge nudge Alex nudge nudge*

Lynn also keeps a backpack near her at all times. This backpack is full of emergency supplies. She’s lived out of it for a while when necessary. Inside (if not on her person) is a trusty switchblade, a spare change of clothes, a water bottle, a liquor bottle, some handkerchiefs, a pack of smokes, a flashlight, some bolt cutters, and some cash.

Lynn does not have a full education and, while she is intelligent, may not know much in the way of book-smarts. She has some trouble reading at times.

Sample Post:

“You fucked up my tattoo.”

Lynn kept her back turned. Ass pressed against the counter. Where was he? Sounded a couple feet back. Footsteps. Closer. Close enough to punch. Or stab-he was the rowdy sort. Tall. Thick. Lynn’s eyes, unbeknownst to the unhappy camper behind her, flickered around the parlor. Her bag was a good four or five feet away. Not reached quickly. Switchblade? In her pocket. Eh. Didn’t want to do this the messy way.

“Did you hear me? I said you fucked up my tattoo. You misspelled-“

“I’m going to fuck up your ability to walk if you don’t leave right now,” Lynn muttered, continuing to shuffle through the bills. She felt a tension between hers, the little spine-tickle of imminent conflict. Lynn didn’t shudder or so much as flinch. She merely kept on counting the bills. Fifty six. Fifty seven.

Click.

Ah. That was causing the tingling.

“What the hell did you just say? I’m going to have this for the rest of my-“

Dead End’s best tattoo parlor was kind of like being the best murderer in Cook County Jail. It was cool, but it would be a lot cooler if you weren’t surrounded by other murderers. No, wait, that metaphor doesn’t work. Does it? Well, if it doesn’t work, it’s okay, because neither does ninety percent of Dead End’s population.

Lynn closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. She could, quite honestly, be detailed as not having any fear. She had stopped bullets before. Well, she hadn’t. But someone else had. She glanced down at her shadow-or, more accurately, where her shadow should be. The overhead light, the grimy half-burnt-out fluorescent star, should’ve cast her shadow in front of her. Over the dollar bills she was counting. Over her rough, no-makeup face with the teardrop tattoo.

“Yeah. That sucks. You want your money back?”

Lynn turned around, her face blank and empty. The man noticeably shifted a bit-not many people react with nonchalance to the unhappy end of a 9 millimeter. “No! I…yes! Do you understand what you’ve done? I-“

“Put the gun down. Get out. No refunds.”

He went to click the hammer back again for dramatic effect-but he already had. Lynn smirked. Damned amateur. Too many movies. Lynn didn’t watch many movies. Movies were usually dumb. Too long and hard to follow and shit.

“That’s how you’re going to-“

“I don’t like guns being focused on me. And you are sure as hell not going to like me being focused on you. So leave. Last chance.”

There are a lot of people who don’t understand violence. They question why people go to war, why people are driven to murder and rape and kill. These people, in a word, are weak. This is not to say any of those things are particularly justified or ethically in the right. But if you hand a man a knife in a sheath sooner or later he’ll take it out to see what it looks like. And sooner or later he’ll run the blade gently along his hand to see what it feels like. And sooner or later he’ll find a reason to take it out and tear apart a zip tie or a cardboard box or some minor inconvenience, he’ll find some reason to utterly annihilate something. And sooner or later, he might just do the same to a person.

The gun was trembling in the mistattooed man’s hands. Lynn blinked.

She threw the money and he pulled the trigger. Lynn flinched, reflexively-one of the few reflexes she hadn’t been able to hammer out, despite her best efforts to bury those damning expressions of fear and weakness. Bills fluttered. Gunpowder smoke. A hand of pure darkness was holding the bullet. Then another slapped the gun out of the man’s hands, knocking it clear across the parlor.

It the wall and split in half.

Lynn slowly slid over the bar and walked over to the man, who perhaps wisely took a few steps back, pale eyes wide and face a few shades lighter than normal. “Wh-you’re-you’re one-“

Lynn brought her knee up into his groin and, perhaps a second later, brought her fists into the man’s kidneys. Groaning, he sunk down, one hand fumbling for a knife or a phone or it didn’t matter. Lynn brought her knee up again into his nose, an unnatural crunch coming from his something or another, Lynn didn’t know shit about anatomy. Clutching at his nose Lynn cupped her fists together and swung it, hammer style, against his left ear.

He fell over. Lynn’s hand snaked down slowly to her pants pocket and pulled out a switchblade, which she flipped out with instinctual ease. “Look at me.”

A half muffled sob. A bloody nasal groan.

“I did not ask. Look. At. Me.” Lynn kicked him in the gut and the man’s eyes looked up.

“I’m not one of them. Am I?”

The man whimpered but refused to give an answer. Ugh. Lynn knelt down, moving with the leisurely ease of someone tending to flowers in the garden. She placed the tip of the knife against the man’s crotch, pressing down slowly but with increasing force. “Look at me. Am I one of them?”

“No! No! You’re not! You’re not I swear you’re-“

“Listen. I have your name and I know what you look like. If anyone comes by asking anything about me do you know what I will do?”

The man shook his head, a two-parts blood, one-part mucus, one-part tears solution running down his blotchy face.

“I will go to prison. Probably for a very long time. But first. I will find you.” Lynn turned the blade out and punched the man square in the groin. “Now get the fuck out of here. If I ever see you-and I mean if I ever see you-passing in the street, getting food at Burger King, I will kill you. In broad daylight. In front of your pissant kids, your cocksucking mother. I will put you on speaking terms with God with this knife.” Lynn stood up and kicked him one final time, feeling the cathartic bloodrush of violence. It suppressed the legitimate fear he’d go running off to NEST. That fear takes its toll. Coupled with Lynn’s less than stellar childhood, it tended to leave her prone to the occasional outburst.

“Now get out before you piss yourself and leave me with a mess to clean up. And be sure to tell your friends about us. Word of mouth is important.” The man, after a moment or two, gathered himself up into a hunched over walk that resembled a mobile fetal position. He staggered out, ideally never to be seen again.

When he was a good ways out Lynn went and turned over the “OPEN” sign. Then she went into the back room and punched the wall until her knuckles split open. Then she just sat in the dark for a couple minutes shaking like a motherfucker. Then she washed her hands off and bandaged up her hand and went back out and turned the sign around and sat back down behind the parlor to keep earning minimum wage for the rest of the day.

Black Fall Character Deposit

Holly Gabrielle Baless

Name: Holly Gabrielle Baless
Nickname/Alias/Etc: Ellie, Angel
Gender: Female
Age: 16
Height: 5’5
Weight: 120
Home District:

Appearance

Hair Color: A dirty blonde.
Eye Color: Blue
Ethnicity: Holly is ½ Russian and ½ German.
Physical Appearance:

Holly, visibly, is one of those goody two shoes girls. A natural beauty, her form is complemented by taking good care of herself and proper attention to her skin and hair and such. This, however, is not to be mistaken with vanity, which Holly would never do. No, she comes off as presentable, and one considers that if Holly really put forth the effort, she would be that much prettier.

In a hilarious contrast to her personality, Holly’s form is soft. She’s slightly curvy, and while she plays sports she doesn’t have the incredibly toned physique that very serious athletes are blessed with. Holly’s face has a faint splash of freckles on her cheeks and her ears taper just a bit, almost elfish. Her smile, the result of many years of braces and flossing twice every night, is radiant, and it’s nearly always on her face. She’ll have laugh lines before she’s twenty. Ellie’s posture is ramrod straight, and she moves briskly-always rushing somewhere, always purposeful. Ellie tends to look someone straight in the eyes as she speaks to them, a trait that can unnerve some. Her appearance does radiate energy, however-whether it’s the smiling or the hurried nature of her movements, she’s always giving off an impression of purpose, of having something to do and being excited about it.

Holly’s nose is a bit upturned, giving an innocent touch to her features, and between her modest dress and general cheeriness, she doesn’t come off as sexualized or seeking romantic attention. She tends to sit regally, folding her legs under her as she’s nearly always wearing a skirt.

Attire:

Holly dresses nicely but not gaudily. One might describe her wardrobe as a little stiff-she usually wears skirts and nice blouses, but occasionally a dress. She’s fond of bright colors and clothes that give off warmth and energy-she brings out black only for the funerals. She likes heels because they give her an extra boost to her height.

Personality

Personality:

God bless Holly. There are a lot of Bible-thumping types out there, and Holly is among them. However, to her credit, she practices what she preaches. While many disagree with her beliefs, or the fervor with which she holds them, one can’t say that Holly isn’t a kind indivudal. Altruistic and caring, she is hardworking, dedicated, and determined. She’s also annoying as hell to a lot of people, but most will grudgingly admit respect for her dedication to her faith.

I mention Holly’s faith first because it truly is at the core of her being-in all things, Holly sees God/her faith. Holly’s uncompromising stance on morality and ethics is a deterrent to a great many people: she’s not very wise on which battles she should choose and which sleeping dogs she should just let lie. Her own adherence to her beliefs brings up strong feelings of guilt and compulsion in Holly: she’s a harsh critic of herself, and despite her outward confidence and security, often struggles with her own morality and faith at times.

Holly, however, does have a strong belief in God and the inherent goodness of people-her idealism is nigh unshakable. Holly’s altruistic and has racked up a few thousand community service hours over the course of her life. While sometimes abrupt and judgmental, her heart is in the right place. She eagerly encourages others to attend church, convert, etc, out of a desire to help them. She’s often confused as to why people are annoyed by this or agitated by her repeated insistences: Holly’s not the best at taking hints. Holly’s also pretty bad at politics, and can walk into pretty obvious social traps at times. She’s headstrong and unflinching-she’s not one to run away from fights and not one to stand by quietly. Holly’s caused quite a number of little controversies, and her group of loyal friends is fairly small as a result. Again, good intentions, sweet girl-just a bit lost concerning how to go about doing it.

Holly is also not entirely in touch with her sexuality. She has never had a boyfriend and generally considers herself to be far too busy to bother with silly things like boys. She looks down a bit on girls who throw themselves at boys and abhors public displays of affection. How tasteless! She’s very traditional with most of her beliefs-she’s pro life, disapproves of gay marriage (however, she’s not rude to gay people), and is against the legalization of marijuana. Holly, however, is a fairly empathic person, and while her personal opinions on someone’s actions may slip out unintentionally, she’s generally pretty good about trying to be polite if nothing else. She does recognize the weight and severity of abortion, for example, and while she personally doesn’t know what else someone expected from only-for-procreation-sexual-relations, she can sympathize with someone undergoing that struggle.

Her general solution to problems is to tackle them head-on and apply of her energy and focus to one task at a time. She is a perfectionist and a hardworker-two traits that have helped her stay on the honor roll despite her not being the smartest. She’s by no means stupid, but isn’t gifted academically as some are-she has excellent grades, but studies hard for them.

Holly is a pacifist, abhors violence in all its many forms. She also strongly condemns alcohol and drug use-although she’s more neutral about alcohol consumption behind closed doors in one’s home. She finds public intoxication disgusting and doesn’t understand why kids go and get drunk to have fun. Bah! She’s not one to be scared easily (although she often fears for the moral state of this country) and is almost suicidally overconfident in dangerous situations.

Hobbies/Interests:

Holly has a very lovely voice (two guesses as to where she uses it, and the first one doesn’t coutn) and enjoys riding horses. She also likes doing community service, as mentioned above-she has fun working at soup kitchens, picking up trash, so on and so forth. Holly also likes watching TV and movies, but there’s not a whole lot she really approves of. She mostly sticks to cool Disney films and such. Between her younger siblings, activism, and schoolwork, she doesn’t have much time to do a whole lot else. Holly also plays soccer.

Skills/Talents:

She’s a Biblical scholar, and is extremely determined and hardworking, which are two skills that will take someone further than most others will. Holly’s also skilled at organizing and getting things done. She’s not a leader in the super charismatic “I can talk you into doing anything” way, but her headstrong confidence and no-holds-barred enthusiasm is certainly inspiring.

Prized Possession:

Probably her rosary.

Quote(s):

“Lovely day today! God bless!”

Family:

Two parents (father is a minister, mother was a missionary but now stays at home) and three little brothers.

Relationships

[Character name] | [Impression (Good/Bad/Neutral]] | [Relationship (Friend, Rival, Crush, etc)] | [Character's thoughts [EX: I think Bob is quite the amiable fellow, has a great head on his shoulders, wouldn't want anyone else on my side]] |

Abilities

Power Class & Rating: Super-System
Power:

Yea, for in those days men shall know fear, and its name shall be Ellie.

Holly’s power is intertwined with her faith. Now, her power isn’t actually mandated by God-however, she views it as such, and through her faith, to her it is holy. This is pretty integral to understanding the rest of it.

Holly is capable of producing and manipulating holy energy-this is primarily in a few set ways.

St. Elmo’s Fire. Holly is able to conjure St. Elmo’s fire, a flame which does not burn. It is, however, incredibly bright-if Holly is going all-out, it is painful to look upon her. Instead of a harsh heat, it gives off a reassuring warmth. Her flames have mostly positive effects: they are a purifying force. Poisons and toxins are eliminated around her (this also includes lactic acid buildup: those in her immediate vicinity will be reinvigorated, and this also explains some of her constant enthusiasm) as is doubt and fear. She’s a rallying presence: while her flames can’t harm anyone, they bolster those around her. The flames are a strong protective force-while she’s not invulnerable, they do make her much more durable, and the flames shrug off psychic attacks. One cannot speak lies or cast illusions in the presence of the fire as well. Now, to clarify, she’s not throwing around this stuff Avatar-style. Instead, she draws up her power and essentially becomes a corona of intense light-St. Elmo’s fire, like a halo, gathers around her head, shoulders, and arms. If she lays her hands upon someone, she can confer it to them for a brief while, but it will eventually flicker and fade out if separated from her. The extreme intensity of the light varies depending on who sees it-those allied with Holly or fighting with her are not affected as harshly, but any who are fighting against her may have difficulty maintaining eye contact. It is really fucking bright. In the immediate presence of the fire, feelings of guilt and remorse become more pronounced, and many feel physically comfortable as a result.

Healing. Holly is also a very capable healer, and while the hospitals are leery of letting her near patients, Holly is an adept healer. Her fire dispels bacteria and toxins, which is generally helpful. She’s able to channel some of her energy into someone else to infuse them with quintessence-“life force”. This process is basically a pure injection of stem cells into someone’s body, along with replenishing and balancing out the materials the body needs to work with. Holly can’t bring back the dead or cure certain conditions, but she’s a potent healer, and is a valuable ally for anyone with a tendency to get hurt a lot.

Luck. Holly does not have anything drastic like luck manipulation, or the kind of extreme luckiness that would come with having luck as a primary power, but she’s certainly got a lucky streak. She attributes this to her being rewarded for her faith-regardless of whether or not this is true, things do seem to work out her way fairly often.

Holly also displays a strange immunity to "Power" powers-her powers can't be replicated or fiddled with by other metahumans. She attributes this to her powers being something more than mere metahuman.

Weaknesses/Drawbacks:

First and foremost, none of her powers can be used to directly harm another. She can’t burn anyone with the fire or anything. She can maybe mess up your night vision for a couple hours but that’s about it. Holly’s also a pacifist, which is considered by most to a severe psychological weakness, known by psychiatrists as “bein’ a lil bitch”.

Second, while others focus to use their powers, Holly goes off faith. If her faith is wavering or she’s shaken up emotionally, she may be unable to use her abilities. As such, if she feels she’s acting against the way things are meant to be, her powers may not function at all.

Finally, if she draws blood, she can’t use her powers until she’s cleansed herself entirely.

This is a pretty succinct list of weaknesses, but she’s a pacifist. She will help others in fights but refuses to lift a finger to harm another. Her very easily manipulated honor and fairly predictable tendency to do help others regardless of how foolhardy it is are also pretty considerable weaknesses in and of themselves.

Her immunity to "Power" powers also means she cannot reap from any of the benefits of those "Power" powers.

Other: None.

Sample Post:

“Language!” Ellie chided, kneeling down beside the half-dead man. His hands were clutched to his chest, which was a bloody, ripped up mess. “Can you hear me?” Ellie asked, taking his soaked, trembling hands with her own.

“Agh! Fuck! Yes…I…”

“Sh. Quiet. It’s okay.” Ellie’s voice was soothing, almost musical-there was a certain tone of absolute assurance in her voice that did help to calm the man, helped to assuage a bit of the shock he was undergoing. The man’s body was shaking and shivering. Ellie briefly considered calling the paramedics but figured he wouldn’t make it waiting for them. Well, when there was not a way amongst men, there was a way with God. “Sh. It’s alright. Lord. Please be with this man. Please help him.”

Ellie, softly, began to glow, a faint light dancing from around her head to her shoulders to her hands. With each passing second she began to glow a bit more, St. Elmo’s fire finally coursing smoothly and softly down her arms and onto the almost-cadaver before her. He groaned for a moment, perhaps out of pure shock, but he quickly relaxed: his pain was…gone? That couldn’t be right. Was he dead? This bitch was a weird looking angel.

Ellie continued to murmur softly to herself, her face strained with contortion. The more severe the energy, the more effort it took on Ellie’s part. Well, that was a bit of a misstatement-Ellie wasn’t doing very much here, no, not very much at all. She was a mere conduit, the messenger. She was glowing in earnest now, a swathe of the empty parking lot bright as day, and yet to the man (who was feeling quite alright now-he had sensations of warmth in his toes again, which he hadn’t realized he’d lost) before her it was a mild, gentle glow. A few moments passed-perhaps a whole minute. It was so easy to lose track of time.

Ellie gasped for air and opened her eyes-they were glassy and dilated, out of focus and hazy. The flames around her dimmed a bit and she blinked a few times, coming to her senses. “Do you feel better now?” she asked, looking down at her patient. The wounds in his chest were sealed-there was still blood all over the place, and he would want to avoid any strenuous activity for a little while, but he would make it. “We should probably call the…the…umm….”

“911?”

“Yes, them,” Ellie said. “Sorry. Whew.” Ellie stood up and offered the man her hand. It took a moment to convince himself he was capable of it, but he woozily stood back up, feeling rather alright. A few pieces of metal fell to the ground as he did so, and it took Ellie a moment to realize they were bullets. He’d been shot!

“Goodness! You’ve been shot? Who shot you? Should we call the police? Where did they go?” Ellie scanned the nearby parking lot, but it was futile-it was dark, now, and she hadn’t seen any nefarious types running past she walked by. A funny coincidence, really, that she’d been over here. Her car had broken down and she was walking to go get a pay phone, as Ellie generally didn’t believe in using cell phones, and she stumbled across this poor denizen of The Dead End.

“No, no, don’t call the police, that’s, uh, that’s-“

“Why not? Surely you want to see justice done!”

“Well. Um. I’m real thankful for what you did, I mean real thankful, but, um, that’s…that’s not…”

Ellie’s brow furrowed as she looked up at the man. This parking lot certainly did seem seedy-not at all the sort of place an upstanding citizen would wish to traverse at this hour of the night. Of course, Ellie, herself an upstanding citizen, was only here at this hour of the night because of her youth group and an unfortunate car breakdown, but that was hardly the point. Hardly the point at all. “Sir, might I inquire as to what you were doing here that led up to your…condition?”

The man stayed quiet for a moment and nervously took a step back, a clear look of guilt on his face. “Um. Look. Let’s just say the cops being called would, uh, not benefit either part-“

Ellie reached forward and opened up the man’s jacket, prompting a furious “Hey!” from him. Standing about half a foot beneath him, and easily a hundred pounds less, this was perhaps the most one-sided mugging in history. Ellie drew out a sizable bag of what she could only presume was marijuana-she, admittedly, wasn’t actually sure.

“Ugh! You would throw your life away over this?” she shook the bag angrily. “Why, I would still have saved you had I known this was the…the…”

“Look, I’m real appreciative, but that bag cost me a lot of-“

“It will cost you far more than money!” Ellie said defiantly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her form beginning to glow faintly, and then with increasingly intensity.

“No! No wait-“

After a few seconds buildup, she burst into St. Elmo’s fire once more, the flames running down and devouring the marijuana-one could, perhaps, make an argument that they were not toxins, but Ellie believed them to be, and that sufficed-in a second or two. Nothing but a bag of ashes remained, and Ellie’s form gradually dimmed. She returned the bag to the man with a look of righteous fury upon her face. “I hope you reconsider your life choices, sir! You are on a very dark path. Violence! Drugs! Where do you think you would’ve wound up had I not happened across you lying there a few moments ago?”

The man, visibly freaked about by this girl, stammered. “Um. I don’t know. Nowhere?”

“Far worse than nowhere, sir! Far worse! I may not be there next time for you, but you should consider befriending someone who will be!” Ellie opened up her satchel and drew out a Bible, one of many she tended to carry on her and distribute throughout the day. “Good evening to you.” She turned and stormed off, taking a few deep breaths as she did so. Ugh. Bleh. Doing the work of the Lord was always rewarding, but sometimes she questioned if these sorts even paid attention to her.

Ellie stormed out of the parking lot, leaving a rather confused and alarmed drug dealer behind.

“Well at least she didn’t get the crystal.”

Black Fall [Superhuman/City/Character Driven]

Max your sheet brings back memories from the last blind date I went on.

Black Fall [Superhuman/City/Character Driven]

Too late bitches. The unsavory is upon you.

On that refined and elegant note, time to hit up the character depot.

The Reckoning of Lesser Men

Still here, just not much I can do sans you guys. I didn't know if you were still working on something in Titanpad or not, I'm not too familiar with it either.

The Reckoning Of Lesser Men. (Conspiracies. Soldiers of Fortune. Interest Check. Open.

A teacher? Many kudos to you my friend, that's a job I'd love to do. Take your time-we're in no rush.