Ruby

Absolute Comics - A Multi-Fandom Singular Universe Roleplay

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Absolute Comics - A Multi-Fandom Singular Universe Roleplay

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Absolute Comics - A Multi-Fandom Singular Universe Roleplay

B A T G I R L & S U P E R G I R L
B A T G I R L & S U P E R G I R L

^{"Why do you keep coming back?"
"I'm drawn to places, and I guess people, I don't understand."}

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 _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ 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 _________________________________________________________ Barbara Gordon | Kara Zor-El _________________________________________________________ Early 20s (technically for Kara) | Gotham City 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 _________________________________________________________ [+] A L L I E S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Gordons, maybe some other GCPD A N T A G O N I S T S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ I can make so many work for this... - P O S T C A T A L O G U E P O S T C A T A L O G U E _________________________________________________________ XX - Post Name -

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 ___________________________________________________________________________________ Barbara is largely just Barbara; her classic Batgirl, hacker extraordinaire. Few years experience, trusted enough to cherry pick from auxiliary caves when she needs to, work on a bike when needed. I’d prefer a deeper history that really gives her some trauma to work through, but I can be vague, so it doesn’t really matter all that much. Barbara is deeply rooted in very human systems, her struggles are very human struggles; psychological, not cosmic. She remains resilient, hopeful, and very much in touch with her own humanity despite all the extra-ordinary (read: Rogues Gallery) trauma she’s experienced in a surprisingly short amount of time. My only tweak is her background as an active hacker and gymnast, which isn’t that much of a change. Whoever wants to play other characters attached to this one, please know I’m trying to make this as ‘fits all sizes’ as possible. Ditto the next one; Kara. Kara would agree with you; she shouldn’t exist. A recent re-arrival to Earth; she had arrived before, saw Kal-El as Clark, and politely backed off, leaving the planet to become a one woman knight-errant of the stars. She carries enough survivors’ guilt to shatter any normal spirit, she was trained to infiltrate and survive alien societies; there is no naïve fish out of water here. Once she finished fighting and drinking and wallowing her way through the universe, she decided to return to Earth. She’s not Kryptonian enough, not human enough; she’s just stuck in a no man’s land of belonging and identity. She has never met Kal-El, she has never worn her House crest in public, she is nothing more than an undergrad STEM student in a world that sees her as no more than a pretty, distant, girl. She has learned that humans getting emotionally close usually means they want something from you, so Kara has gotten rather good at keeping to herself, living the life of a solitary refugee, staying safely hidden on the planet. Kara instinctively protects the vulnerable, she still chooses kindness even if it’s not her default state, her empathy and morality still feel hard earned instead of innate, but she doesn’t put herself out there. She didn’t think she ever would. And then she met the red haired girl in the computer lab, Barbara. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) __________________________________________________________________________________ This is a ‘kitchen table’ of a superhero roleplay concept. Kara is still raw, still healing. Barbara is still coming to terms with the costs of her new life, on top of her old life. Does the old life just decay like Bruce’s personal life? Can Barbara survive being a Bat? Or, in the end, does the Bat always overshadow the person under the cowl? Kara will quickly know what Barbara is. Barbara will eventually discover what Kara is. Their journey into that reality is the focus here, not the destination of that journey. There will be a series of plots they find themselves in, but these are the surprises of daily life, the Batgirl and Supergirl equivalent of needing to help a friend move, or having a bad day, these will not be the main effort.

_{__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

^{"It's not if I lose you, it's when...and how much of me do I lose when that inevitably comes to pass?"___}

Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay

NEW YORK – The Public X-Men – Philosophy: Coexistence

Jean Grey (Field Leader), Magik, Rogue, Gambit, Iceman, Wolverine (Part Time), Kitty Pryde (Part-Time // Columbia student), Dazzler (Part-Time // Public Relations)

GENOSHA – Mutant State ‘Strike Team’ X-Men – Philosophy: Sovereignty

Cyclops (Field Leader), Emma Frost, Nightcrawler, Bishop, Beast, Cannonball, Forge

SAVAGE LAND – Mutant Assistance X-Men – Philosophy: Independence

Storm (Field Leader), Sunspot, Exodus, Polaris, Warpath, Mirage, Wolverine (Part Time)

ASTEROID M – X-Force – Philosophy: Supremacy

Magneto (Team Leader), Mystique, Selene, Sabretooth, Archangel, Fantomex, Sage (Support)

Mutant Summary

With the world’s mutant population in the millions, with a mutant youth culture vibrantly emerging all over the world, with large mutant settlements emerging on several continents, even off world, the old age of mutants had ended, and thus began the new age: Charles Xavier, Magneto, Cyclops, Emma Frost, and Jean Grey began discussions in secret, hidden in psychic conference by three of the most powerful telepaths on the planet.

What emerged was a shared vision of mutant nations and institutions, linked by mutual support and defense, anchored by the five mutants who would soon adapt an informal but widely spread name: the Quiet Council. The system allows for ideological conflict, cooperation against external threats, and free movement between factions for mutants. The structure of what would become their society was laid down during the early days of their conference, settling into natural roles in unsurprising places.

The Psychic Conference & Quiet Council

Charles Xavier, optimistic but politically naïve, has made the transition from secret mentor to global civil rights leader. He has decided to take a step back from active leadership, declaring, “the dream no longer belongs to just me.” Recognizing that the generation of Scott, Jean, Storm, and even Emma have come of age as mutant leaders, Xavier has instead busied himself with rebuilding his school from X-Mansion to a sprawling series of facilities spanning acres and several levels, both above and below ground, welcoming in a far greater number of young mutant students at one time than ever before.

The next stage is being coordinated with Emma and Jean; to turn The Xavier Institute into a global network of mutant education, research centers studying mutant biosciences, and diplomatic outreach programs. Charles has begun to plan a secret interstellar mutant enclave in Shi’ar space.

Emma Frost took the psychic conference from a philosophical debate into something that began to resemble a real governing structure. Emma brought something the others did not: economic power, political ruthlessness, and institutional strategy. She immediately began to cooperate and coordinate with other wealthy or technically talented mutants to harness their gifts into economic power. The results speak for themselves; Charles has already begun relinquishing the global Xavier Institute network to her stewardship, giving Emma mutant education academies, mutant research and business development organizations, global telepathic networks (though to Emma’s irritation these still wholly depend on Jean Grey to continue to operate efficiently), and intelligence operations (coordinated with Magneto and Cyclops).

Cyclops has had a rough decade or so. Emotionally traumatized by possession from Apocalypse, and a long list of other likewise soul crushing experiences. What began as psychic therapy with Emma Frost quickly began a psychic affair between the two. The fallout from Jean finding out the truth is still, in some ways, going on: the two have separated, their friendship intact but uncomfortable with the emotional distance between them, his relationship with Emma more complicated than ever. Struggling with identity outside being the X-Men’s soldier, Scott is starting to see Genosha and his emerging role as strategist for mutantkind defense as new opportunities for something truly different.

Magneto is the ruler of the Genoshan nation, a controversial but legitimate political leader with millions of mutants migrating there, quickly developing into a powerful new state, on a fast track for UN recognition. He is more absent from the island nation these days, having reformed much of what was Asteroid M anew, though set further from Earth. While his friendship with Charles is re-connected, though strained, it is Magneto’s relationship with the others that define this new era of mutantkind; with Cyclops on Genosha and strategic mutant defense, with Charles on the science and grander cultural designs at play, with Storm on mutant relocation and resettlement.

Yet the defining relationship of the new age of mutantkind is that of Magneto and Jean Grey.

Jean Grey has emerged as a natural leader of mutantkind in the new age, in the way only a mutant can; by growing in power to unseen levels and doing so while retaining the core values of coexistence and love. Recognized by even Emma Frost and Charles Xavier as the most powerful telepath on the planet by far, with telekinetic power that rivals the skill and reach of even Exodus, Jean Grey is the bedrock of this new age, her telepathy underpinning nearly every major coordinated effort as Emma continues to establish new, supporting, telepathic networks in key mutant locations to take psychic ‘weight’ off Jean.

She has grown into something like a cosmic paragon of mutantkind—a figure whose authority is moral, symbolic, and occasionally cosmic rather than administrative, especially as her connection to the Phoenix is visibly, and obviously, returning in strength with ambient cosmic fire sometimes accompanying her power use. She has begun to explore and understand her connection to the Phoenix Force at a deeper, metaphysical, level.

Magneto understands the burden of leading mutants, understands immense power, isn’t intimidated by her. Both of them have spent their lives asking the same question: what does it mean to wield power responsibly? Jean leads the heroic X-Men presence in New York City. Magneto represents the hardline mutant destiny ideology. With Charles retreating from leadership, Jean and Magneto meet frequently to prevent conflict between factions, and over time they develop mutual respect. He sees in her the power to rule mutantkind, moreover, to do so easily…and yet to choose not to, and restraint has always impressed Magneto. Jean, for her part, sees his ideology as not about domination, but about ensuring mutants are never victims again. On this, they begin to agree more and more, though in ways far different than Magneto could ever imagine.

Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay

NEW YORK – The Public X-Men – Philosophy: Coexistence

Jean Grey (Field Leader), Magik, Rogue, Gambit, Iceman, Wolverine (Part Time), Kitty Pryde (Part-Time // Columbia student), Dazzler (Part-Time // Public Relations)

GENOSHA – Mutant State ‘Strike Team’ X-Men – Philosophy: Sovereignty

Cyclops (Field Leader), Emma Frost, Nightcrawler, Bishop, Beast, Cannonball, Forge

SAVAGE LAND – Mutant Assistance X-Men – Philosophy: Independence

Storm (Field Leader), Sunspot, Exodus, Polaris, Warpath, Mirage, Wolverine (Part Time)

ASTEROID M – X-Force – Philosophy: Supremacy

Magneto (Team Leader), Mystique, Selene, Sabretooth, Archangel, Fantomex, Sage (Support)

Mutant Summary

With the world’s mutant population in the millions, with a mutant youth culture vibrantly emerging all over the world, with large mutant settlements emerging on several continents, even off world, the old age of mutants had ended, and thus began the new age: Charles Xavier, Magneto, Cyclops, Emma Frost, and Jean Grey began discussions in secret, hidden in psychic conference by three of the most powerful telepaths on the planet.

What emerged was a shared vision of mutant nations and institutions, linked by mutual support and defense, anchored by the five mutants who would soon adapt an informal but widely spread name: the Quiet Council. The system allows for ideological conflict, cooperation against external threats, and free movement between factions for mutants. The structure of what would become their society was laid down during the early days of their conference, settling into natural roles in unsurprising places.

The Psychic Conference & Quiet Council

Charles Xavier, optimistic but politically naïve, has made the transition from secret mentor to global civil rights leader. He has decided to take a step back from active leadership, declaring, “the dream no longer belongs to just me.” Recognizing that the generation of Scott, Jean, Storm, and even Emma have come of age as mutant leaders, Xavier has instead busied himself with rebuilding his school from X-Mansion to a sprawling series of facilities spanning acres and several levels, both above and below ground, welcoming in a far greater number of young mutant students at one time than ever before.

The next stage is being coordinated with Emma and Jean; to turn The Xavier Institute into a global network of mutant education, research centers studying mutant biosciences, and diplomatic outreach programs. Charles has begun to plan a secret interstellar mutant enclave in Shi’ar space.

Emma Frost took the psychic conference from a philosophical debate into something that began to resemble a real governing structure. Emma brought something the others did not: economic power, political ruthlessness, and institutional strategy. She immediately began to cooperate and coordinate with other wealthy or technically talented mutants to harness their gifts into economic power. The results speak for themselves; Charles has already begun relinquishing the global Xavier Institute network to her stewardship, giving Emma mutant education academies, mutant research and business development organizations, global telepathic networks (though to Emma’s irritation these still wholly depend on Jean Grey to continue to operate efficiently), and intelligence operations (coordinated with Magneto and Cyclops).

Cyclops has had a rough decade or so. Emotionally traumatized by possession from Apocalypse, and a long list of other likewise soul crushing experiences. What began as psychic therapy with Emma Frost quickly began a psychic affair between the two. The fallout from Jean finding out the truth is still, in some ways, going on: the two have separated, their friendship intact but uncomfortable with the emotional distance between them, his relationship with Emma more complicated than ever. Struggling with identity outside being the X-Men’s soldier, Scott is starting to see Genosha and his emerging role as strategist for mutantkind defense as new opportunities for something truly different.

Magneto is the ruler of the Genoshan nation, a controversial but legitimate political leader with millions of mutants migrating there, quickly developing into a powerful new state, on a fast track for UN recognition. He is more absent from the island nation these days, having reformed much of what was Asteroid M anew, though set further from Earth. While his friendship with Charles is re-connected, though strained, it is Magneto’s relationship with the others that define this new era of mutantkind; with Cyclops on Genosha and strategic mutant defense, with Charles on the science and grander cultural designs at play, with Storm on mutant relocation and resettlement.

Yet the defining relationship of the new age of mutantkind is that of Magneto and Jean Grey.

Jean Grey has emerged as a natural leader of mutantkind in the new age, in the way only a mutant can; by growing in power to unseen levels and doing so while retaining the core values of coexistence and love. Recognized by even Emma Frost and Charles Xavier as the most powerful telepath on the planet by far, with telekinetic power that rivals the skill and reach of even Exodus, Jean Grey is the bedrock of this new age, her telepathy underpinning nearly every major coordinated effort as Emma continues to establish new, supporting, telepathic networks in key mutant locations to take psychic ‘weight’ off Jean.

She has grown into something like a cosmic paragon of mutantkind—a figure whose authority is moral, symbolic, and occasionally cosmic rather than administrative, especially as her connection to the Phoenix is visibly, and obviously, returning in strength with ambient cosmic fire sometimes accompanying her power use. She has begun to explore and understand her connection to the Phoenix Force at a deeper, metaphysical, level.

Magneto understands the burden of leading mutants, understands immense power, isn’t intimidated by her. Both of them have spent their lives asking the same question: what does it mean to wield power responsibly? Jean leads the heroic X-Men presence in New York City. Magneto represents the hardline mutant destiny ideology. With Charles retreating from leadership, Jean and Magneto meet frequently to prevent conflict between factions, and over time they develop mutual respect. He sees in her the power to rule mutantkind, moreover, to do so easily…and yet to choose not to, and restraint has always impressed Magneto. Jean, for her part, sees his ideology as not about domination, but about ensuring mutants are never victims again. On this, they begin to agree more and more, though in ways far different than Magneto could ever imagine.

Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay

Diana of Themyscira, Goddess of War

WIP

Resurrection Star

You're only given a little spark of madness. Lose that, and you're dead.

In the grey matter between logic and reason, she found herself, braced and prepared for the weight of all that was going to drift into her reality. Strangely, she found herself grinning at the opportunity.

You ask yourself some pretty strange fucking questions, man, like—why me? No, really, of all the people out there, why me? Make that make sense. I dare you. You think back on yourself, all the little private moments of your own private worlds. What great magnitude of the universe looks down upon those times and goes, ‘Yep, them!’

Make it make sense. I dare you.’

That surge of warmth and serenity reached out and took him by the hand as it blurred by in gold, as she walked by and snatched his hand into her own. The heavens. The back alley behind the Circle K on Sampson Ave. The mall food court. The International Arrivals halls of the airport. The bass and thump and sweat of a crowded nightclub doing what she always loved to do best.

Feet sliding, hips hopping this way and that, shoulders pivoting in unison as she danced all on her own. In the sunlight, in the dim wattage of the living room table lamp at midnight all alone, spinning, hopping, bouncing back and forth. Except now she wasn’t alone, as reality twirled fast as she could dance from scene to scene, a living trip of time and space, at every age she had ever been; it was the little girl who finally stopped the dizzying display of perceptual bending, who stopped at the metallic government gray doors, and whispered in his ear with devious, playful, intent:

The whisper of a child, within the scope of a goddess, “They’re going to be confused, and very, very, upset.”

To music only she could hear and beats that were infectious and undeniable, the very costumed golden girl he’d met on a battlefield and took him to the beach, hip-bumped through the door and nodded her head in repressed dance down the hall, as faces shocked and unbelieving started to take notice…but that tended to happen in the cavernous control room of his home agency.

There and back at the start, next to him, she stood, in duplicate, full sized and fully aged grinning in his ear, “I don’t mean any harm. But let’s not pretend I don’t know where you all are, who you all are, and if you want to know the first thing about me? My mom and dad would tell you it’s just me, dancing, alone, together, everywhere we ever were.”

Her face glowed as warm as the gold shine of her eyes as she sat, Indian style, as she looked at him, where he sat, cross-legged like her, smiling at him with the undeniable charm and magnetism of someone who certainly knew how to have a good time. Even as she sat, mostly still, her shoulders did the slightest shimmy to the left and right. The pale milk white glow of the moon on one side of them, the blue and white swirl of the earth on the other, the former far closer than the latter as they sat in the dark vacuum between, blissfully unaware of the solar radiation or crushing vacuum of space.

Like they were just sitting on the living room carpet, sharing a secret, “Loneliness is a disease of the spirit, I just finally figured out how to come back to life: I’d just stop being lonely. I’d just start sharing my spark with the world. Afraid? Why? It’s easier than it seems at first, you just put one foot in front of the other, and dance. So, here’s the deal,” she said, reaching across, taking his left hand in both of her own, tracing fingertips along his palm like a palm reader, golden eyes hidden under long, black, lashes, as she looked downward to his palm, “tell them not to get too upset guessing at everything I’ve said and done. It won’t make sense right now, but I’m just…learning to love again. I’m just coming back to life, spiritually. The world will decide I’m a god,” she admitted, pressing the bottom pad of his palm with one finger, while delicately tracing the bottom edge of his index finger with another, “and others will declare I’m the end of things, and yet more will look at me dance through their control center, and fear and control will flash through their eyes because they don’t understand, and it scares them,” she said as her thumbs wiped across the upper width of his hand, her lips cocking in a small grin, “but look at the whole of it,” she finished, her flattened palm pressed against his palm, both hands meeting midair between them, “and it’s just meeting someone new.”

“Demons will want their pound of flesh. The ghouls will come out to play.” Her voice remarked, more distant, as they stood beside each other in the entrance of his government agency, watching men and women in suits and jumpsuits carefully, like she was watching them from thousands of feet in the air, invisible to their eye, “Tell you a secret? I think the high will be worth the pain, but we’ll let them play out their game. It won’t always be fun…” she shrugged, gilded lips almost coming to a giggle, “screaming, crying…but that’s life, hon. I’ll see you later.”

Lights dimmed, lights brightened, and she left him in the entrance to his agency, suddenly alone, and fully visible, the ride over—for now.

Resurrection Star

There was little reaction, until he touched her. Her body froze like a sudden snap freeze in the coldest winter; just immediate stiffness in her entire being, from her face to her body to her very heart, at least, it felt to her.

Are ya STUPID?

It surprised her, it very nearly shocked her. Reaction was delayed, but once it happened, it happened with the same photonic speed of light; she was there, where he put his hand on her, the sudden sensation of warmth and the overwhelming sensation of calm, like touching her was some kind of emotional anesthetic—but she was also behind him, untouched, literally a blur of motion and being.

Once he looked behind him, she’d be gone in front of him, as if she was Shrodinger’s metahuman. Both there, and not there, depending on the observation. Her eyes were big, their golden color shining and shadowing as she moved, the very human emotion of slight anger very present, though, it was closer to irritation.

“What if touching me was dangerous? What if I was dangerous? What if I…” her eyes darted, searching for the words, finding only things she did not want to say out loud. There was an underlying truth, and she knew it: she wasn’t used to being touched. The last person to hug her was her mother. The last person to touch her was her dad, handing her a drink as they settled into the car that night after the restaurant, and the drive back.

She re-lived it. She re-lived it every day, in one way or another, and the sadness could creep in like a fog before the dawn light of a new day. “Don’t do that,” she half-whispered at him, just shaking her head, slowly, absently. He was staring into her eyes, and it was the easiest moment, she just…knew. So she moved them.

To the beach; where the distant drum and roar of waves could sooth her, where the sun shined bright as any gold upon her being, where the warmth could soak into her. She liked the sun. It was that it was a star. She knew that, somehow…it gave her power. Like the star, itself, brought her back to life and gave her purpose.

And because this stretch of beach on the Massachusetts coast was not fluffy sand, but darker, browner, harder stuff that crabs used for burrowing, and the shrubs of the dunes nearby were used by thousands of birds. It was a bird sanctuary; one her father had taken her to for bird watching when she was a little girl.

There was no one nearby. She was no fool, she understood what happened now. Just as a scientist made describe the chain reaction of a chemical compound as it lost a carbon here, broke an atomic bond there, so she started to describe what would take place: “Your people will want to know. Finding me won’t be easy. I don’t appear on satellites. I don’t have metadata to mine. I have a phone, but I can just…make myself a digital ghost. I’m not sure how, exactly, I just…will it. Like flying. Like healing that variant. Like saving those families. Like saving that woman.”

She shrugged, looking back at him, briefly. He was cute, at least, for an old guy. “So, good luck, anyway.” She looked away for a moment, a long one, before finally starting to talk, turning her head to look at him, as if she couldn’t just bend the soundwaves to him no matter which way she turned, “Don’t call me that. I’m not that. I don’t know what I am, exactly, but I’m not that. Just…call me Dawn. It’s my ‘name’…at least the one I want to answer to. I’m tired of watching, being afraid of getting involved…so, I’m coming. I’m not a bad person. I’ll do what good I can do, just don’t try to ‘help’ me.”

Awkwardly, she paused, and looked this way, upward, than back his way, “I’m, uh, gonna fly off now. We’re in Massachusetts. Your people know where you are. They’ll come get you soon. Sorry about the long flight back.”

Resurrection Star

Her red lipped mouth only tugged at the corners; the apparition of a smile, not even quite a full hint of the thing. She heard the scramble of his handlers and superiors, but not from the earpiece—she could just see them, hear them, like she was in the corner of the control room, even as she stood before Agent Knight.

“It wasn’t always gold,” she said in pure afterthought, remembering her dark hair, her dark eyes. Mom and dad were both dark haired. That she was gold-haired and gold-eyed would have made them laugh. Sometimes it made her smile, just imagining them making fun of it, “I know who you are.”

Despite the cave and the wooded surroundings, there were signs of life and chaos all around, trash flittered about the mouth of the cave, old tarps, as if someone had thought to use the area for hiding…from soldiers, from drones, from each other. She could smell the fear and the metallic stench of blood, even if it had been at least a year since it was spelled, from the faintness of it.

She walked around him like he was little more than a tree. She had been stabbed. She had been shot. The thing about dying is that dying again didn’t hold the same level of fear, so you were a little more adventurous, especially if you were likewise depressed, or racked with survivor’s guilt. No knife pierced her, no bullet she’d ever seen lacerated or broke any surface of her body. She’d let them get close, too.

Very close. It didn’t matter.

“Who do you help with knives and guns, Agent?” Her sing-song tone held bitter undertones, her head turning sharply to regard him as she stopped to give him a slight glare. “I’m scared you’ll try to help with those weapons. If you want to help, call in a medical team…but I imagine they’d have better things to do out here, anyway.”

Again, she just sounded sad as she walked into the cave, towards the variant, the grotesque ‘reject’, whatever numb buzzword or cruel label you wanted to throw on them. Dawn just thought of them as poor souls. The screeching scream came echoed and blasted from the cave minutes after Dawn went in, the ghoul finding a new target.

Then the light came. First, gold, bold, and brilliant. Then brighter, and brighter…and warm, without ever threatening to become hot. When it went white in its pure brightness, the screech became a woman’s scream. Over the span of a minute, the light died down, until the golden girl in the white suit with the gold shimmer cape and the fine, delicate, gold line details upon both suit and part of her skin just walked out.

“She’ll rest. Try to get her to a place where she can emotionally and psychologically recover. Preferably away from the corporation that failed her.”

It all came so matter-of-factly. She had considered healing variants before, but she knew so many of them either didn’t want saving, weren’t sure, or would struggle just as much either way, that she couldn’t bring herself to do it. The Ghoul was one of the very few that she knew, in her heart, would be better off.

If the poor woman wasn’t plucked up and studied. Dawn pitied the people who did that, if they did.

What Are You Listening To?