Avatar of Qia

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1 mo ago
Kinda tempted to try a 1x1 RP but never did one before.
4 likes
1 mo ago
Nonetheless, the pressure of being almost like the original probably doesn't help with this either. This can be seen with Katara's bland and confusing portrayal.
1 mo ago
That's not to say that the live adaptation succeeds in this either, as they give opposing themes at the start and at the end of the season.
1 mo ago
Possible hot take: I think the main reason why a lot of people didn't enjoy Avatar's live adaptation is because they expect it to be exactly like the cartoon instead of it's own consistent story.
2 likes
4 mos ago
If you're interested in finding a relatively new tv series, I highly recommend FROM. Pretty good so far.
5 likes

Bio

Hi, Qia here <3. I'm a gamer and RP fan just looking to have a good time.

Most Recent Posts

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Location: The Beach - Pacific Royal Campus
Welcome Home #1.033: Dreams
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Interaction(s):*Insert Everyone gif here*
Previously: Tempest


A smirk began to form on Katja’s lips as she listened to Harper’s reply, giving a couple of small nods to acknowledge her answer.

“I feel you on that one, sis. We’ve got a lot of things on our plates, so I totally understand forgetting about it.” Her voice was filled with the usual enthusiasm she was known for across the campus. “You shouldn’t worry though. A cute girl like you will find a date in no time! If you don’t then I’ll take you to the dance, and you don’t want that now do you?”She said with a playful wink.

“Thanks, Kat,” Harper replied. She managed a small laugh, but beneath it lay a quiet vulnerability. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, but honestly, I'm not too worried about finding a date. There's more to life than dances, right?”The brunette highly valued her friendship with Katja. Still, the thought of attending the dance together as friends felt like a band-aid solution—a temporary fix for a deeper yearning she couldn't quite voice to the guy beside her.

The next words out of Gil’s words seemed to hang in the air like a frosty mist, however, chilling away the warmth of Harper’s anticipation.

"As for the dance, I don't have a partner yet. You've got to keep your options open, you know?" he said, as if the whole thing were a mere footnote in his grand life. His words were a paradox to her—a plea for freedom disguised as practical advice. Harper couldn't help but wonder if he truly believed it or if it was merely a shield against vulnerability. Perhaps he feared commitment, or maybe he revelled in the thrill of uncertainty.

Or maybe she just wasn't his first choice for some stupid dance like he was hers.

And then came the final blow: "Besides, I'd hate to disappoint any die-hard fans." The pang in Harper’s chest was sharp, like a sudden frostbite. Die-hard fans—those who clung to his every word, who traced the contours of his fame. A face in the crowd of his adoring fans? Was that all she was to him, perhaps?

But self-awareness tugged at her. I’m not being very fair here, am I? What exactly have I done to be seen as any different? Harper knew that her feelings for Gil ran deep, but she also recognized that, to him, she might simply be a friend and fan.

The realization stung more than she wanted to admit to herself.

As the weight of her thoughts fully settled in, Harper found herself searching for any semblance of normalcy remaining in them. And then she took a deep breath.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll make the right choice when the time comes, Gil," Harper said, offering a smile tinged with a hint of sadness. “As for me, I’ll probably just go with the flow.”She paused, her gaze drifting back to the scene behind her further up the sand. By now, Lorcán seemed to be in better shape than he was before, as far as she could tell. But her eyes were more so focused on the cooler beside him. She licked her lips.“And…right now I think I could use a drink.”




As the sun dipped lazily toward the horizon, casting a warm golden hue across the beach, Harper found herself in familiar territory—sand between her toes, the rhythmic lull of waves in her ears. This time, she held a cold can of beer, its aluminum surface chilling her palm. Settling onto the warm sand near the campfire, she stretched her legs out before her. The beer can perched on her knee left a faint damp circle on her light blue jeans, thrown on earlier with a white tee after an afternoon with the group. The remnants of her earlier buzz had faded following a refreshing shower, leaving her hair slightly damp but no longer carrying the scent of saltwater.

Lorcán's question, delivered with his signature flair, broke through the comfortable silence then:

“Alright gentle-dudes and lady-brahs, where does everyone see themselves once they graduate?”

Haven was the first to answer, supplying a response that sounded pretty incredible to the brunette.

“I think it’s their loss if they don’t accept you,” Harper reassured her, offering an encouraging smile across the fire.

Next was Aurora, echoing sentiments of uncertainty about the future. Harper had previously held back her own aspirations, fearing they might come across as boastful. The last thing Aurora needed was to hear about Harper's confidence in her path.

The thought held her tongue, until finally, she spoke, her voice soft but resolute. "If I keep my grades up, I’m aiming for a spot in a diagnostic radiology residency program." Leaning back, she traced patterns in the sand. "It’s not as fancy as it sounds, though." It was one of the best ways to help others with her ability, but the program was notoriously competitive—a source of occasional stress.

The waves seemed to whisper their approval nonetheless, as if saying, “Go for it, Harper.” And she would. Because beyond the textbooks and exams, she had to believe there was a purpose to her being the way she was.


A



A’s heart raced, the adrenaline coursing through her veins as the entity devoured M. His bravery, both admirable and terrifying, had been futile against the malevolence that now consumed him. Loss hung in the air, a tangible ache even though she had only just met M. There was no time for mourning; the entity’s attention shifted back to the remaining group.

Shadows leapt from the walls, their movement unsettling. A chilling coldness enveloped A, seeping into her very bones. She fought against the invading darkness, but it was relentless, overtaking her senses. The entity’s voice, distorted and unsettling, promised help—but A sensed malevolence behind its words.

She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the onslaught of visions. Survival depended on understanding their adversary, yet the cost weighed heavily. Determination warred with dread as she surrendered to the entity’s invasive power, hoping the answers she sought lay within the shadows it conjured.




She felt the girl’s fear and despair as if it were her own. Her heart ached for the pain and humiliation the girl endured. Bravery shone through the darkness—the girl’s defiance in the face of cruelty was nothing short of admirable. Yet, it was painfully clear: she was outnumbered and outmatched.

The blood from her injured nose, the bruising on her face—each detail etched into her memory. The emotional toll of the experience weighed heavily upon her.

Was that… her reflection?

The veil between present and past wavers and A stepped into her memories. The girl before her, battered and bruised, is a reflection of her former self—a mirror echoing pain and resilience.

She reaches out and takes her hand.




Facing her own shadow creature, A swiftly realized that her ability -Hemorrhage- had little effect when she tried to use it on the being made purely of darkness. Undeterred, she adapted her strategy, searching for any sign of weakness or vulnerability in her opponent.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied the shadowy form, seeking patterns in its movements or any indication of a physical weakness. Despite its amorphous shape, she realized the creature appeared most solid around its core, where the glowing red eyes resided. Perhaps that was the key—focus her attack there.

Gathering the remaining energy within her, A channelled Hemorrhage once more, directing it toward the creature’s central mass. She gritted her teeth, pushing the limits of her newfound power, determined to incapacitate her foe.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: The Beach - Pacific Royal Campus
Welcome Home #1.024: Tempest
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Interaction(s): Gil @Roman, Katja @Zoldyck, Amma @Rockette
Previously: Rainbows


Harper’s brows furrowed slightly, a crease forming between them as Amma addressed her. A faint hint of unease washed over her face, like a cloud passing over the sun, as she slowly processed the interaction that was occurring. Despite her innate discipline, a discipline honed through years of tough love and the navigation of complex social waters, she couldn’t help but feel a thread of disconcertment weave through her thoughts, tugged into existence by Amma’s unyielding intensity and her peculiar, almost theatrical mannerisms.

As Harper offered her gift, a cold can with droplets of condensation sliding down its sides, the brunette managed a tight-lipped smile. It was a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, eyes that were busy noticing the subtle shift in Amma’s stance—the way her grip on the still unopened can had tightened imperceptibly, her knuckles whitening for a moment as if the can be a precious object too worthy of her taste buds.

She doesn’t like it.

Harper didn’t need to use her ability to see that.

Nonetheless, the girl offered a nod, her gesture one of tentative acceptance of the other’s expression of… gratitude? It was a question that hung in the air, unanswered.

She then took note of Amma’s distraction by the others, her eyes briefly flitting over her shoulder to gauge the unfolding scene. Upon witnessing Lorcán’s stumble and subsequent fall, a crease of concern carved itself deeply between her brows, her lips pressing into a thin line of worry. Her body reacted instinctively; a small step forward was taken with the readiness of one prepared to offer aid. However, her attention was abruptly reclaimed by her immediate surroundings as Gil’s voice, deep and unexpected, resonated from just beyond her shoulder. Startled by his unforeseen proximity, Harper’s muscles momentarily coiled tight, her sharp gaze snapping to him. Her mind raced to piece together the silent approach he had managed, her senses heightening as she tried to understand how he had evaded her notice.

A disquieting sensation gnawed at the brunette, an intuition that something was profoundly amiss with the entire scene unfolding before her. Yet, despite her efforts to pinpoint the anomaly, the reason remained elusive, shrouded in a fog of uncertainty that seemed to cloud her usually impeccable judgment. It was as if her mental faculties were ensnared by the same enigma that currently disturbed her peace.

She had to do it now. She had to use it.

The shift in the atmosphere was a subtle one, a nuance that would have escaped any other observer but Harper. They often say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and at this moment, as hazel locked with blue, there was an entire saga written in the depths of their gazes.

As Amma addressed Gil, Harper detected the undercurrent of tension that seemed to weave through the very air around them, a silent tempest gathering strength in the space of their interaction. Amma’s laughter, which to an untrained ear might sound carefree and genuine, carried a certain edge—a sharpness that Harper couldn’t quite identify. It was as though the laughter was nothing more than a fragile facade, a thin veneer that struggled to conceal an underlying strain, a pressure that simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to shatter the illusion at any moment.

Harper’s gaze subtly descended, her eyes narrowing as Amma continued to speak. The slight clench of her jaw and the almost imperceptible grinding of her teeth betrayed a mix of emotions—irritation, wariness, and an emerging twinge of something green and very ugly.

As Amma uttered Gil’s name, it was with a tenderness that seemed to caress each letter, a familiarity that struck a dissonant chord within her.

Harper was no fool; she was acutely aware of the kind of attention Gil often garnered—the admiring glances, the flirtatious conversations, the subtle and not-so-subtle advances.

But this was different.

This was primal.

Harper couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a raw edge to Amma’s voice, a certain timbre that hinted at wild, untamed depths and instinctual urges. It was a tone rich with the resonance of shared secrets and perhaps intimate moments, suggesting a connection that transcended mere acquaintance. This very undertone, this subtle yet unmistakable note of intimacy, set Harper’s nerves on edge, kindling a flame of jealousy that flickered fiercely within her, a flame she desperately fought to keep hidden.

Harper watched, a masochistic part of her unable to look away, as Amma’s gaze began its slow, deliberate descent then ascent of Gil’s form. Her eyes shone with a brightness that belied a deliberate intensity, almost as if she were claiming ownership with her stare. Her eyes appeared to linger on certain points of Gil’s physique, her gaze pausing with an almost predatory precision. It was as though she were etching every contour, every line of his body into her memory, cataloging each detail with a possessiveness that left Harper feeling a cold that could rival Calliope’s inside of her.

Harper’s heart raced, a frenetic drumbeat echoing in her chest. Each pulse was a rapid staccato, a tumultuous rhythm that surged through her veins with an urgency that mirrored her inner turmoil. It was as if her heart was trying to outrun the cascade of emotions that flooded her system—the sharp sting of jealousy, the biting chill of apprehension, and the simmering heat of anger. With every beat, her heart seemed to thrum louder, faster, a wild thing caged within the confines of her ribcage, desperate for release.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. The pressure was a grounding force, a physical sensation that helped to tether her to the present moment, to keep her from being swept away by the storm of emotions that raged within her. The world around her seemed to dim, her heightened senses receding as she released her ability, the intensity of the experience leaving her drained and unsettled. As the vibrant hues faded, replaced once more by the muted tones of the evening, Harper was left with a lingering sense of unease, the echoes of her turbulent heartbeats still reverberating in her chest.

And then, Katja’s arm encircled her, drawing her into a tight embrace. Harper’s eyes widened, her breath catching. She hadn’t anticipated this—Katja’s warmth, the unexpected closeness. But as she registered Katja’s genuine joy, the tension in her shoulders eased. The sincerity in her voice was unmistakable, her joy at seeing them again palpable. Harper found herself leaning into the embrace, allowing herself to be enveloped by the warmth of Katja's enthusiasm.

As she adjusted to the closeness of the embrace, Harper became acutely aware of Gil's proximity. Her heart skipped a beat, the earlier chaos of emotions momentarily forgotten as she focused on the sensation of his arm pressed against hers, their bodies sandwiched together within Katja's hold.

"It's good to see you too, Katja," Harper replied, her voice soft and sincere, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

As Katja placed them down and settled her hands on their shoulders, Harper couldn’t help but feel a sense of security in the familiarity of the gesture. Despite the chaos of emotions that had plagued her earlier, there was something grounding about the presence of her bulky friend—a steadying force amid uncertainty. 

However, as Katja broached the subject of the dance, Harper’s heart sank. The earlier apprehension rushed back with renewed force. She felt her cheeks warm, the weight of the question settling heavily on her shoulders. The dance—an event that held both excitement and now a great deal of trepidation.

Before Harper could respond, Katja’s attention shifted. A glint caught her eye—the spare beer can still in the brunette's hand. The conversation veered, and Harper’s shoulders relaxed slightly. The weight lifted, if only for a moment. She watched as Katja quickly consumed half the beverage, a brief reprieve from the topic at hand. But even as Harper hoped for a complete change of subject, she knew that Katja’s expectant gaze would soon return to her and Gil.

Steeling herself for the inevitable, Harper mustered a small smile, her eyes flickering towards Gil as she prepared to address Katja's inquiry. "To be honest, I haven't given much thought to the dance yet," she admitted, her voice soft but steady. "I've been so focused on other things that it kind of slipped my mind."

As she finished speaking, Harper couldn't help but wonder how Gil would respond, her stomach tying itself in knots as she awaited his answer.


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Location: The Beach - Pacific Royal Campus
Welcome Home #1.0017: Rainbows
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Interaction(s): Aurora @Melissa, Gil @Roman, Katja @Zoldyck, Amma @Rockette
Previously: Tides of Responsibility:Harper’s Campus Stand


An involuntary smile curved Harper's lips as Aurora's voice drifted toward her, the familiar tone piercing through the salty sea breeze. Despite her best efforts to maintain the stern facade of a seasoned "drill sergeant," Aurora's playful teasing possessed an uncanny ability to chip away at Harper's resolve.

“Somebody has to keep these maggots in line,”Harper quipped, her hand sweeping across the beach to emphasize the scattered debris. The sun-drenched sand was still somewhat strewn with remnants of carelessness—discarded wrappers, forgotten plastic bottles, and the occasional abandoned flip-flop. As Harper’s gaze swept across the beach, she noticed the colourful contrast of her friend Aurora's vibrant hair, a fiery blend of red, orange, and golden yellow, against the deep green hues of the palm fronds swaying gently in the breeze behind her.

"Otherwise, this place will be a disaster zone by the end of the day,"she added, her tone half-serious, half-teasing.
"And don’t you dare say I’m being too hard on them. Someone has to remind them that this beach is more than just a playground. It’s a fragile ecosystem—a sanctuary for creatures big and small. Like…Kat and little Rothy. And I care immensely about both! So there!" She harrumphed with a pout before dissolving into giggles.

As Aurora sat down, Harper took a moment to truly observe her friend. She always looked so stunning, no matter what she wore. Her hair shimmered in the sunlight like a halo. Her eyes, the colour of a seafloor dotted with sunken ships, seemed to hold a thousand mysteries—and Harper felt lucky to be privy to some of them. She practically embodied everything Harper admired, too. She was the yin to her yang—the chaos to her order. And as much as Harper grumbled about the students’ lackadaisical attitude, she secretly revelled in Aurora’s presence. It was like a soothing balm for her perpetually furrowed brow.

“In all seriousness,” Harper continued once she caught her breath, her eyes dancing,“you’re looking at P.R.C.U.'s new and one and only lifeguard.”She struck a pose, hands on her hips, channelling her inner superhero. “Watch out, world! Harper’s on duty.”

Harper’s gaze shifted from the sun-kissed beach to the worn pages of her sketchbook at Aurora’s comment. She wasn’t usually one to seek out compliments. Her art was a silent companion, a refuge from the world's chaos. But Aurora’s praise slipped past her defences, settling in a corner of her heart. It was nice to have her work acknowledged, even if she rarely shared it beyond these pages.

“Thanks, Rora,” Harper replied, her voice soft. She traced the curve of the protagonist’s winged back with her fingertip. “I’ll have to add you to my list of subjects.”

Although, she’d already drawn Aurora once.

Harper’s sketchbook held her remaining secrets. Each line drawn was a confession, a silent tribute to the people that coloured her world presently. And Aurora was no exception to that. Her old shyness resurfaced, however, tangling her tongue. So, she settled for a half-smile.

That quickly vanished once he decided to make his presence known.

Gil.

Harper's heart fluttered slightly, and she couldn't help but avert her gaze, looking down at her lap as if searching for something beyond the polished surface of the megaphone resting there. She was so captivated by his presence that she barely took notice of Mei's arrival, an oversight she knew she would have to apologize for later, accompanied by some pitiful excuse.

To distract herself from the whirlwind of emotions, Harper’s fingers traced the edges of her sketchbook, which she had swiftly—though not subtly—swapped for the megaphone.The graphite smudged her skin as she turned it over, revealing the familiar embossed design at the front.

“Yeah… gonna be great,” she managed as an answer to his question, her voice steadier than expected. Four words. No stutter. Progress. But beneath the surface, her thoughts churned like a tempest. She’d drawn Gil before, too—captured glimpses of his essence in fleeting strokes. His blue stormy eyes were etched into her memory, a detail she could never quite capture on paper when he wasn’t watching (and surely not when he was). Just from memory, she’d recreate the curve of his lips, the tilt of his chin, the way his hair fell across his forehead.

Harper’s cheeks warmed, and she wondered if he’d ever stumble upon her sketches. Would he recognize himself in those lines? Or would they remain secret, hidden within the pages of her sketchbook, a silent tribute to the guy who made her heart race and her fingers itch for the touch of charcoal?

Thank goodness for Calliope’s arrival. Harper didn’t think she could take much more of whatever was going on in her head.

The sun painted Calliope's silhouette with hues of indigo, casting a dark, almost regal aura around her as she approached the group. The deep blue-violet shade seemed to embody the coolness Harper often sensed in Calliope's demeanour, and as her figure drew closer, the indigo shadows receded, revealing her familiar features and that controlled, calculated warmth Harper had come to associate with her.

And when there’s the blonde beauty queen there is…the Dung Beetle.

Right on cue, Harper's ears picked up the distinct drawl of Banjo's accent as he approached the growing group—an accent that often grated on her nerves due to the fact that she could hardly understand him half the time. Seriously, what the hell was a Soup star!? The man was a walking, talking enigma, and not always the charming kind.

She needed a break, and she needed it pronto.

The brunette stood up to follow her copper-headed friend, deftly slipping her sketchbook into the camo drawstring bag stationed beside her before leaving. She brushed the clinging sand from her sun dress as she walked, her gaze now lingering on Rory’s cooler. He’d set it up upon arrival, a silent invitation to quench their collective thirst. But Harper’s attention wasn’t solely on the chilled beverages; it was on the figure she’d noticed earlier—Amma—strolling near the water’s edge.

While everyone congregated here, Amma stood apart, a solitary silhouette against the horizon. A familiar feeling enveloped Harper at the sight—one that she had often experienced herself during her first year here, isolated amidst a sea of people. The loneliness was a shade of violet, a gentle hue but unmistakably present, connecting them in their shared solitude. It wrapped around Amma like a delicate veil, almost like she was a figure in an old horror painting.

The thought of her alone, forgotten, tugged at Harper’s empathy. And that simply would not do. So, with determination etched into her expression, she pondered her options—the possible unspoken peace offerings that could bridge the gap.

Two beer cans caught her eye, their metallic coolness promising refreshment. Harper frowned; her decision was made. If Amma wanted anything different, she’d have to venture here herself. For now, Harper carried not just beer but a silent invitation. One that she hoped Amma would take.

As Harper turned around, however, she was greeted with a scene she honestly should have expected: Katja engulfing Amma with one of her famous bear hugs. That girl truly was sunshine incarnate. She peered down at the two cans in her hand and decided to keep with her original intention. At least, this time, she wasn’t risking putting Amma on the spot.

“Hey ladies,”she greeted the both of them as she drew near, holding up the cans in her hand,“Care to join us?”


No rush at all :)!
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Location: The Beach - Pacific Royal Campus
Welcome Home #1.004: Tides of Responsibility:Harper’s Campus Stand
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Interaction(s):Open to Everyone
Previously: Nil


Harper sat on the soft sand of the beach, her toes sinking into the fine grains like a gentle embrace. The sun, a warm golden orb, painted her skin with a delicate glow. Around her, the world blurred—the waves, the seagulls, the distant laughter—all merging into a canvas of inspiration. This was rare for her. This kind of serene quiet.

Her sketchbook, slightly worn at the edges, lay open before her. Its pages held the promise of creation, each blank sheet inviting her pencil to dance. She traced her fingers over the graphite smudges—the remnants of past sketches. Each mark told a story—a seagull in flight, a sun-kissed horizon, a familiar face emerging from the void.

If only.

The scent of salt and seaweed hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of sunscreen. Perhaps she’d put on a bit too much, but the last thing she wanted right before school began was a massive sunburn. Besides, it was a fragrance she associated with freedom—the kind that came from being lost in lines and shadows instead of fear and regret.

Harper glanced toward a distant sailboat, its white canvas billowing against the azure backdrop. Where was it headed? What adventures awaited its crew? She wondered if her sketch could capture that sense of wanderlust—the longing for uncharted waters and distant shores. Perhaps…another time, she thought, her focus returning to the sketch in progress in front of her.

Yet still, she found herself once again distracted. Seagulls wheeled overhead, their cries both raucous and melodic. Their wings dipped and soared, tracing invisible patterns against the sky. Harper imagined their conversations—the secrets they shared as they rode the wind. Perhaps they spoke of forgotten shipwrecks or whispered tales of lost sailors. Or a winged girl. That particular thought brought a smile to her face.

Focus.

Her eyes glued themselves back to the pages of the sketchbook. They were slightly curled, and as she resumed her sketching, the world narrowed between their borders to the character before her—a fierce, vulnerable protagonist. The lines blurred—their stories intertwined.

Art was a sanctuary she’d thankfully picked up after everything had changed. It often pulled her into a place where time lost its grip on her mind. The crashing waves seemed to fade away, leaving only Harper and the character she was bringing to life. Here, she explored the depths of her soul without fear or judgment. With each mark on the paper, she unburdened herself—releasing troubles, fears, and memories.

The Protagonist- yet to be named after many depictions.



Her eyes held the weight of worlds—the kind of gaze that saw through illusions and touched the core of existence. In the graphite lines, Harper captured her essence—a blend of strength and vulnerability, determination, and quiet longing.

1. Eyes: The character’s eyes were always the focal point of the piece. It was the part of a person that Harper knew best. They weren’t merely drawn either; they were etched—a continuous dialogue between artist and paper. Within those irises, secrets swirled—a map of scars, dreams, and broken promises. Harper hesitated as she shaded the corners, where shadows hinted at untold stories. Were they always that distant?

2. Expression: The protagonist’s lips curved—a half-smile, a hint of defiance. She wasn’t a damsel awaiting rescue; she was the architect of her fate. Her jawline bore the memory of battles fought—against both external foes and inner demons. Harper wondered if her own jaw clenched in the same way during sleepless nights.

3. Hair: The wind played with her hair—a wild cascade of ink strokes. It framed her face, a curtain shielding vulnerability. Harper imagined the saltwater tang in those strands—the sea woven into her very being. Perhaps the character, too, sought solace in the waves and whispered her secrets to the tides. Wait no, you’re supposed to be done with that.

4. Posture: The protagonist sits on an invisible shore, legs crossed, spine straight. Her shoulders carried burdens—responsibilities, regrets, unspoken farewells. Harper’s pencil traced the curve of her back, the hollows where wings might sprout. Was she anchored or yearning for flight?

5. Clothing: The character wore simplicity—a loose dress, with her back exposed as if to say, “I fear nothing”. If only.

6. Hands: The hands—oh, the hands! Harper lingered here. They weren’t mere appendages; they were conduits. One hand rested on her knee—the weight of existence. The other could not be seen—an unbreakable connection to something beyond the page, perhaps? Was it hope? Regret? Love?

7. Background: The sea, always the sea. Harper’s pencil blurred the horizon, merging character and ocean. The waves whispered to her—of beginnings and endings, of cyclical tides. Harper wondered if the character yearned for distant shores or found solace in the familiar like her.

8. Vulnerability: Beneath the ink, vulnerability seeped. The character’s chest rose unseen with each breath—a fragile equilibrium. Harper’s own heartbeat appeared to echo in the lines—the rhythm of creation, the pulse of shared existence.

And so, as Harper shaded the final contours, she knew she’d birthed more than a sketch. She’d conjured a mirror—a reflection of her battles, her longing. The character stared back as if saying, “We’re both stories waiting to unfold, aren’t we?”

See, we’re not so different after all, Sisi.




A sharp frown etched its way across Harper’s lips, slicing through the tranquil bubble she’d woven around herself. The laughter—the raucous, heedless kind—finally reached her ears, jolting her back to the present. Of course, it never lasted, did it? But surely…surely, they couldn’t be doing that?

Reaching over to her side, Harper’s hand found the megaphone lying there. Its plastic surface was cool against her palm, a stark contrast to the heat simmering within her. She lifted it, the weight familiar—a tool of authority, a conduit for her voice. The character she’d sketched earlier seemed to watch from the paper, eyes questioning. And then, with a clearing of her throat, Harper shouted into the megaphone, her words amplified by the salt-laden breeze:

“No littering, maggots!”

The laughter faltered, replaced by startled glances. The young and obviously new faces froze—a tableau of guilt and surprise. Harper’s frown deepened. She wasn’t a stickler for rules—okay, who was she kidding, yes, she was—but this was her sanctuary—the private cove meant for Pacific Royal’s students and faculty. Not some uninitiated miscreants. The pristine sands deserved respect, not discarded wrappers, and carelessly tossed cans.

With the megaphone still warm from her grip, Harper watched as those caught in the shameful act—the litterers—scrambled like startled crabs. Their laughter dissolved into nervous glances, and they hurriedly picked up their discarded wrappers and half-empty soda cans. Some muttered apologies, while others shot Harper resentful glares. They hadn’t expected a sentinel on this private beach, and her shout had shattered their carefree bubble. One even muttered, “Who the hell made her the beach police?” to which Harper responded, “I heard that!”

H A R P E R
H A R P E R
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”I’m not saying I’m perfect, but I’m pretty close… well, at least when it comes to my aim.”
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C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T
C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T
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C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y
C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y
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Harper Raven Baxter
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January 17th,2006 | 22 | Caucasian
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Single | Female | Heterosexual
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Fort Bragg | North Carolina | United States of America
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Strigidae | Team 21 - Blackjack

C H A R A C T E R S T A T S
C H A R A C T E R S T A T S
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B U I L D || Lean and Athletic
H A I R C O L O U R || Dark Brown
E Y E C O L O U R || Hazel
H E I G H T || 5’8” (173 cm)
W E I G H T || 137 lbs (62 kg)
S C A R S || Small scar on left shoulder from archery accident
T A T T O O S || None
P I E R C I N G S || Single ear piercing in each ear, often wearing small arrowhead-shaped studs
O T H E R || Freckles across nose and cheeks
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T
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Harper Baxter was once a model 14-year-old child—disciplined, intelligent, and obedient. Born into a military family, respect and duty were ingrained in her from a young age. But when her parents were killed in a mysterious lab explosion, her world was turned upside down. In the aftermath, she struggled with overwhelming feelings of sadness, anger, and confusion. She often found solace in the quiet moments spent alone, processing her emotions and reflecting on the memories of her parents. Harper also found comfort in routine, maintaining a structured schedule that helped her regain control in her now unpredictable world.

After this tragic loss, her aunt and uncle took in both Harper and her older sister, Sierra. They were determined to provide stability and support for the girls during this difficult time, despite their military commitments and the challenges of raising two children who were dealing with grief and loss. Nonetheless, moving in with her aunt and uncle brought new challenges for Harper. Living under a new roof and adapting to their military lifestyle forced her to navigate unfamiliar territory. She often felt isolated and alone during this time, struggling to connect with her new guardians while longing for the familiarity of her old life. Discovering her enhanced vision only added another layer of complexity to Harper's life. Already feeling vulnerable and overwhelmed, she feared that revealing her newfound abilities would create more chaos and uncertainty. By keeping her secret, Harper maintained a sense of control, avoiding potential scrutiny or rejection from her family and peers.

As she grew, Harper continued to rely on her disciplined nature to help her manage her emotions. She often channelled her feelings into her training, pushing herself to be the best scout archer she could be. By focusing on her goals, Harper found a sense of purpose that helped her move forward despite the challenges she faced. It wasn't until a fateful hunting trip that Harper realized the potential benefits of her abilities. That night, the group was ambushed by a rogue grizzly bear. In the chaos, Harper instinctively used her enhanced vision to guide her uncle’s aim, saving their lives. As the adrenaline subsided, her family members, especially Sierra, noticed the uncanny precision of Harper’s directions.

Sierra confronted Harper, demanding to know how she was able to guide their uncle’s shot so accurately. Harper, overcome with emotion, confesses her secret, leaving the family shocked and struggling to process the news, leading to a mixture of disbelief, anger, and fear. They feared for her safety and the possible repercussions of others discovering her abilities. However, her aunt and uncle eventually recognized the potential good that could come from her powers and supported her enrollment at P.R.C.U. to help her learn to control and use her abilities for the greater good. (Note: She’s been attending there for a year in the current plotline).

D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E & A E S T H E T I C
D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E & A E S T H E T I C
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Harper’s style can be best described as “practical yet polished.” Her P.R.C.U. uniform is always well-maintained and tailored to allow for ease of movement. Outside of her uniform, she favours comfortable, athletic attire in muted, earthy tones that blend well with her surroundings. Despite her preference for function over form, she takes pride in maintaining a neat, put-together appearance, reflecting her disciplined personality.

Her dark brown hair is typically pulled back into a tight braid or ponytail, keeping it out of her face during training or missions. On the rare occasions when she lets her hair down, it falls in soft waves just past her shoulders. Harper rarely wears makeup, preferring to keep her hazel eyes and freckled complexion unadorned. However, she does have a weakness for unique, artisan-crafted jewelry, particularly pieces featuring arrowhead motifs.

Though her clothing choices may seem understated, Harper’s attention to detail and commitment to quality ensure that she always looks stylish and composed, even in the heat of battle.

M A N N E R I S M S & P E R S O N A L I T Y
M A N N E R I S M S & P E R S O N A L I T Y
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Harper Baxter initially comes across as reserved and disciplined, a reflection of her military upbringing. Her no-nonsense attitude and unwavering focus can make her seem unapproachable to those who don't know her well. Holding herself and others to high standards, her critical eye can be intimidating to her peers.

Beneath her serious exterior, however, lies a warm and loyal heart. As Harper gets to know her teammates and friends, she reveals a dry sense of humour and a deep capacity for empathy. Fiercely protective of those she cares about, she is willing to go above and beyond to ensure their safety and well-being.

Despite struggling to express her emotions openly, Harper is deeply introspective and constantly strives for self-improvement. Her strong moral compass and determination to do what's right make her a natural leader, inspiring those around her to be their best selves.

However, beneath her confident demeanour, Harper harbours a deep-seated fear of losing the people she cares about, a vulnerability rooted in the tragic loss of her parents. This fear drives her to keep others at a distance initially, making it difficult for her to trust and form new connections. Despite this, she yearns for a sense of belonging and dreams of finding a balance between her responsibilities as a hero and cultivating meaningful relationships.
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A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S
A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S
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H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y || Enhanced Vision
__PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION || Esoteric
__SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION || Somatic
__POWER SCALE || 2
__THREAT CLASSIFICATION || Σ

Harper’s Hyperhuman ability grants her enhanced vision, allowing her to see with exceptional clarity and detail. This includes:

Night Vision: She can see clearly in darkness or low-light conditions, making her highly effective in stealth and scouting missions.
Thermal Vision: She can perceive heat signatures, allowing her to detect living beings or objects emitting heat, even in complete darkness or when obscured.
Enhanced Visual Acuity: She has an increased ability to discern small details and spot hidden or distant objects.

Harper’s enhanced vision does not tire her eyes quickly, nor does it require additional energy to maintain. Her vision can be activated and deactivated at will, allowing her to switch between normal and enhanced modes seamlessly. This ability, combined with her exceptional archery skills, makes her a formidable scout archer, ready to face any challenge.

L I M I T A T I O N S || LIGHT SENSITIVITY

In brightly lit environments, Harper’s vision can become temporarily overwhelmed or blinded. This forces her to rely on her goggles, which provide protection against bright light and also incorporate a filter that can adjust the level of light entering her eyes.

W E A K N E S S E S || HEARING AND SITUATIONAL AWARENESS

Harper’s reliance on her enhanced vision sometimes makes her neglect other senses, such as hearing. Enemies can exploit this weakness by using sound to distract or disorient her. Additionally, due to her focus on observing and analyzing visual details, Harper may be vulnerable to unexpected or sudden changes in the environment. She has to consciously maintain her situational awareness to avoid being caught off-guard.

P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S )
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Main Plotlines:

1. Her Sister's Keeper (Status: Progressive Plotline)


Goal: Unlike her aunt and uncle’s reactions, Sierra’s is one of resentment. Already harbouring feelings of anger and resentment due to their parents’ deaths and the family’s obsession with secrecy (due to wanting to maintain a low profile), Sierra saw Harper’s hidden abilities as a betrayal. She felt that Harper had been selfish and deceitful, driving a wedge between the sisters. In response to everything, Sierra threw herself into her research as she grew, obsessively pursuing advancements in human augmentation to avoid being outpaced by her sister.

2. An Unlikely Alliance (Status: Filled)

Goal: Harper aims to unravel the truth behind her parents’ deaths and the conspiracy that led to the lab explosion.

- Subplot: Welcome to the Black Parade (Status: Open)- Harper's traumatic childhood experiences begin to resurface, affecting her performance at P.R.C.U. and straining her relationships. She must confront her past, seek help, and learn to trust others to heal and move forward.

School-Based Plots (W.I.P.):

1. Smells Like Team Spirit (Status: Filled): Harper is paired up with an unlikely partner for a school project, forcing her to work with someone she doesn't initially get along with/like. They develop a surprising bond and learn valuable lessons about teamwork and understanding as they overcome their differences and work towards a common goal.
Subplot: Title and details to be revealed during the events of Smells like Team Spirit

2. The Secret Admirer: Harper begins receiving anonymous love notes from a secret admirer, sparking a school-wide guessing game and causing her to question her own feelings.
S K I L L S & T A L E N T S
S K I L L S & T A L E N T S
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S K I L L S
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MARKSMANSHIP || Harper is an exceptional archer, capable of hitting targets with incredible precision and accuracy, even at long distances.

T A L E N T S
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TACTICAL ANALYSIS || Harper’s military upbringing has given her a keen tactical mind, allowing her to assess and adapt to complex situations quickly and efficiently.
C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L
C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L
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A T T I R E
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S I G N A T U R E E A R R I N G S || Small arrowhead-shaped studs in each ear, subtly representing her love for archery and serving as a reminder of her disciplined background

I T E M ( S )
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G R A P H I C N O V E L || Despite her disciplined upbringing, Harper has a secret love for graphic novels, particularly ones featuring strong female characters. She always carries her current read with her, often sneaking a few pages during quiet moments.

T O O L ( S )
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L I G H T - S E N S I T I V E G O G G L E S || A pair of sleek, lightweight goggles designed to address Harper’s unique visual needs. The lenses feature a proprietary coating that reduces glare and auto-dims in response to sudden changes in light intensity. This allows Harper to maintain clear vision in both bright and dimly lit environments, preventing her from being momentarily blinded or overwhelmed.

A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S
A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S
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P O S T C A T A L O G
P O S T C A T A L O G
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P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S
P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S
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E N T E R I N G I N T O Y O U R F I N A L Y E A R, W H A T A D V I C E D O Y O U H A V E T O A N E W S T U D E N T?

My advice to a new student entering P.R.C.U. would be to embrace vulnerability. It might seem counterintuitive, especially for those with a weird background like mine, but being open and honest with your teammates will only make you stronger. Trust your instincts, trust your team, and don’t be afraid to ask for help when you need it. Remember, you’re not just training to be a powerful Hyperhuman—you’re learning to be a part of something bigger.


W H A T W E R E Y O U R A S P I R A T I O N S W H E N Y O U S T A R T E D H E R E? W H A T C H A N G E D, W H A T S T A Y E D T H E S A M E?

When I joined P.R.C.U., my primary goal was to become the best Hyperhuman agent possible and to use my abilities to protect others. That goal remains the same today. However, I’ve realized that being the best isn’t just about mastering my powers; it’s also about being a good leader, teammate, and friend. I’ve learned to open myself up more and trust others, which has made me a stronger agent and person.


I F Y O U C O U L D M A K E O N E C H A N G E T O Y O U R T I M E A T P . R . C . U ., W H A T W O U L D I T B E?

If I could change one thing about my time at P.R.C.U., I would’ve been more open and honest with my teammates from the start. I spent too much time trying to keep my struggles and secrets to myself, thinking it would make me appear weak.
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S U P P O R T I N G C A S T
S U P P O R T I N G C A S T
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"You call it betrayal; I call it leveling the playing field."
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S I E R R A B A X T E R || T H E E S T R A N G E D S I S T E R
S I E R R A B A X T E R || T H E E S T R A N G E D S I S T E R
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Sierra Baxter, the older sister of Harper, was 18 years old when their parents tragically passed away. Her world was flipped upside down, but the revelation of Harper's hidden abilities led Sierra down an unexpected path of isolation and resentment. Feeling betrayed and determined not to be overshadowed by her sister's genetic gifts, Sierra channelled her intelligence and ambition into her research.

Over time, Sierra's relentless pursuit of advancements in human augmentation became an obsession. She secretly developed a groundbreaking technology that grants her the ability to manipulate electronic systems with ease, unbeknownst to her family. Fueled by her drive for power and control, Sierra embraced the alias "Rogue" and emerged as a formidable cyber-terrorist, operating covertly in the shadows.

Despite walking this dark path, Sierra maintains her connection to her family, particularly Harper. The tumultuous relationship between the sisters, fraught with secrets, jealousy, and a deep bond, fuels the emotional complexity within Sierra. As she navigates the dangerous world she's created for herself, Sierra must grapple with her conflicting loyalties and the consequences of her actions on both her family and the world at large.


R E L A T I O N S H I P S H E E T
R E L A T I O N S H I P S H E E T
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NEUTRAL || FRIENDS || BEST FRIENDS || § TENSE § || CRUSH || ENEMIES
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Barnes, Haven
"She brings a spark to our friendship that I can appreciate."


Galahad, Gil
"I can't expect Gil to reciprocate my feelings if I don't offer him something beyond what his other fans do. I need to become more well-rounded so he can see me for who I truly am....assuming he even cares for any of that."


Mitchell, Aurora
"This might be one-sided, but she's truly a remarkable person."


Roth,Lorcan (Lucky)
"A bit naive, but his trustworthiness makes him a great comrade."

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Cahors, Amma§
"I...still want to know more about her, but I can't ignore how uneasy I felt once we met again, especially with how she interacted with Gil. I'm not sure what her deal is, but I'm keeping my eye on her."


Hisamatsu, Mei
"She's a true force to be reckoned with."



§Olyphant, Banjo§
"He's got that chaotic charm that keeps things interesting, even if it drives me crazy. I do wish sometimes... *sighs*...never mind."



Tyler, Rory
"His relentless positivity is refreshing and it's hard to not tease him when I can. I'm glad...he is the way he is."

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de Leon, Calliope
"Calliope has this regal air about her that's somewhat intimidating. She's always so poised and composed, like a queen holding court."


Kruger, Katja
"A ray of sunshine that can brighten even the darkest of days."


Penada, Pallyx
"There's probably more to her I haven't encountered yet."

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A



"Uhm, hey," the strange woman said. "I- I'm sorry you, ah, I'm sorry you h- heard that. I..." Her voice was no more substantial than the rest of her, and soon trailed off. "It j- just really hurt, ah, b- because..."- Ada


As the chaos unfolded around her, A couldn't help but feel a mix of intrigue and concern for the woman who had just woken up in a frenzy. The intensity of her reaction was undeniable, and her scars hinted at a painful past that A couldn't help but empathize with.

She approached the woman with a cautious yet friendly expression, aiming to put her at ease. "There's no need to apologize," she said gently, her voice barely above a whisper. "We're all in this together, and I can't imagine any of us were expecting a warm welcome." Her eyes briefly scanned the barcode on the woman's shoulder before returning to her face. "It seems we're all marked with these numbers," A continued, glancing at her own barcode. "Perhaps together we can figure out what they mean and uncover the truth behind our situation."

Taking a moment to observe the book in the woman's hands, A couldn't help but wonder about its significance. She couldn’t quite make out what was written on the front, but surely…since it was there it must be important, right?


"Call me Pia, then," She'd say to the group, in a heavy German accent, before pointing at the map. "Only two rooms are pointed out. The safe room and the main gate. I think whoever drew on this map wants us to get to the main gate, but...why would we need to use a safe room?"-Pia


A listened intently to Pia's introduction and question about the safe room. "Nice to meet you, Pia," she said, acknowledging her new name, “Umm…I don’t recall what my name is. But you all can call me…A."





A's breath caught in her throat as the terrifying shadow creature loomed above them, its red eyes piercing the darkness. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, a sense of dread washing over her. But as fear threatened to consume her, A drew on an inner strength, steeling herself against the malevolent presence.

"Stay close," she whispered to the others, her voice barely audible over the thrum of the servers. "We don't know what that thing is capable of."

A couldn't shake the feeling that the entity was sizing them up, assessing their vulnerabilities. She knew they had to keep moving and find a way out of this nightmare. But with the elevator closed behind them, their only option was to press forward through the server room.

"Let's move slowly and stick to the shadows," A suggested, her eyes never leaving the eerie figure. "Maybe we can avoid drawing its attention and find another way out of here."


I think i'll wait for the last person to post then. I can easily edit my pending post. :) I'm a terrible liar sorry xD
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