Potter
FulgrimLives
Lucid Dreaming
Expendable
Kero
Tim the Yeti
rush99999
Fading MemoryFinally finished.
Name: Jacqueline A. Galloway
Age: 28
Human Appearance: Jacqueline is about average in height at 5’6, has a pale but healthy complexion and is slim – she does casual but regular sporting to keep fit. Outside of work, where business attire is required, Jacqueline prefers casual to semi-formal clothing and may be seen in soft jeans, cargo pants, sweatpants, T-shirts, hoodies, jackets, simple dresses and sneakers or sandals. Regardless of what she wears, the articles in question are often more expensive than the average-salary earner could afford (or be willing to consider). Her policy on jewellery, makeup and similar accessory is minimalistic but elegant – and she may forgo such things entirely for situations where they aren’t strictly expected.
Personality: Not to brag, but I’m a good actress. No, really. No, I’m not a professional. I think my smile rivals some pros out there though. I know how to be pleasant, polite and kind to just about anyone. I’m mildly curious about people – in the same way one might be mildly curious about a stranger’s well-behaved dog. Do I want to train people? Where did that even come from? Oh, I’m sorry, my example must have been bad. That’s why I don’t joke; people always think I’m crazy when they are the ones who just don’t get it.
Do I love? Of course, I do. Sheesh, I’m not some psychopath. I don’t think everyone else is beneath me, I don’t treat others as if they were just tools, I don’t get enraged at the drop of a hat and I’ve never considered murdering someone. Isn’t that enough? Oh, please, everyone is pretending to some degree. Doesn’t make us all criminals.
Occupation: Judicial clerk.
History: I was born. My parents have always been well-off and concerned with reputation. If you ask me, they are the psychopaths. They let my older brother have “too much freedom” (their interpretation, not mine), so he rebelled and became an artist. Not a respectable job in my parents’ eyes. What the hell do they know? My brother is a cool guy. Sure, maybe he was in “bad” company occasionally, but so what? Anyhow, my parents decided to be stricter with me. Less freedom, more hard work. I’m not complaining, it toughened me up. So what if I never had the chance to follow my passion? It isn’t like I had any back then. Being a “good girl” has its perks for sure.
I think my life is better than my brother’s, he thinks I’m not even the one living my life. Screw him. I am the one who has to put effort in all sort of crap. Studying was never a problem for me. But ever since I remember, people have been telling me that I look too serious, asking me why I don’t smile and asking me if I am in a bad mood. I’d love to go back and tell them “This is my natural face, you fuckers.” It wouldn’t be polite though. Oh, well. This is how I learned to fake the best goddamn smile in the universe. No kidding. What’s the point in smiling when there’s nothing to be happy about? Apparently, those kinds of thoughts aren’t “healthy” and I’ve been once told they’re a sign of depression. I have nothing to be sad about either, so that’s not it. That’s beside the point though. The point is, I learned to smile fabulously. Not that anyone ever thinks it’s anything but a normal smile. At least I know.
What? Too much rambling, not enough facts? I’m sure a smart cookie such as yourself can find my CV easily enough.
Infection Status: Infected.
Miasma Abilities: Ever since I’ve gained a second form, I can do things that make me question the nature of my humanity. Even in my human form (yes, I feel strange calling “it” that, but what else am I supposed to call it?), I can morph my body to some degree (small fangs, patches of tough chitinous exoskeleton, spinnerets and presumably venom glands, silk glands etc.). I feel that I will be able to do even more with practice.
I can now produce various…substances. Confirmed: venom, hyper-healing blood (to the point of regeneration, given some time), spider silk (you’d better not underestimate this). Yes, I can liquefy my food, but at least in my human form, that is not necessary. Suspected, but unconfirmed: ability to infect other organisms.
After I managed to overcome my…reluctance…to make contact with regular spiders, I discovered that they can share their impressions with me. Via my hair. Don’t even ask. I guess I can even grow nerve tissue now. How exactly my technically human brain can comprehend an arachnid’s senses, I have no idea. I wonder if I could give them basic commands like this…
Miasma Appearance: This is one of those things that no-one knows, but I hate spiders (I avoid the term “fear”). And now I’m some kind of a monster-spider if I turn and a spider-woman as a human. What the fuck am I supposed to think about that?
(Add +4 legs and a visible spider's abdomen behind the legs to your mental picture of above)
Other: “Don’t even try to call me ‘Jack’ or ‘Jacky’. I will only accept ‘Lynn’ as a nickname, and you better be my friend and ask first. Otherwise, you will land firmly in my ‘disliked’ category. Consequences? Hmm…”
“Don’t criticize my smile. Don’t criticize my laugh. And even I have to rest my facial muscles sometimes, so do not, under any circumstances, ask or otherwise point to my lack of a smile. I’ll hate you.”
Age: 28
Human Appearance: Jacqueline is about average in height at 5’6, has a pale but healthy complexion and is slim – she does casual but regular sporting to keep fit. Outside of work, where business attire is required, Jacqueline prefers casual to semi-formal clothing and may be seen in soft jeans, cargo pants, sweatpants, T-shirts, hoodies, jackets, simple dresses and sneakers or sandals. Regardless of what she wears, the articles in question are often more expensive than the average-salary earner could afford (or be willing to consider). Her policy on jewellery, makeup and similar accessory is minimalistic but elegant – and she may forgo such things entirely for situations where they aren’t strictly expected.
Personality: Not to brag, but I’m a good actress. No, really. No, I’m not a professional. I think my smile rivals some pros out there though. I know how to be pleasant, polite and kind to just about anyone. I’m mildly curious about people – in the same way one might be mildly curious about a stranger’s well-behaved dog. Do I want to train people? Where did that even come from? Oh, I’m sorry, my example must have been bad. That’s why I don’t joke; people always think I’m crazy when they are the ones who just don’t get it.
Do I love? Of course, I do. Sheesh, I’m not some psychopath. I don’t think everyone else is beneath me, I don’t treat others as if they were just tools, I don’t get enraged at the drop of a hat and I’ve never considered murdering someone. Isn’t that enough? Oh, please, everyone is pretending to some degree. Doesn’t make us all criminals.
Occupation: Judicial clerk.
History: I was born. My parents have always been well-off and concerned with reputation. If you ask me, they are the psychopaths. They let my older brother have “too much freedom” (their interpretation, not mine), so he rebelled and became an artist. Not a respectable job in my parents’ eyes. What the hell do they know? My brother is a cool guy. Sure, maybe he was in “bad” company occasionally, but so what? Anyhow, my parents decided to be stricter with me. Less freedom, more hard work. I’m not complaining, it toughened me up. So what if I never had the chance to follow my passion? It isn’t like I had any back then. Being a “good girl” has its perks for sure.
I think my life is better than my brother’s, he thinks I’m not even the one living my life. Screw him. I am the one who has to put effort in all sort of crap. Studying was never a problem for me. But ever since I remember, people have been telling me that I look too serious, asking me why I don’t smile and asking me if I am in a bad mood. I’d love to go back and tell them “This is my natural face, you fuckers.” It wouldn’t be polite though. Oh, well. This is how I learned to fake the best goddamn smile in the universe. No kidding. What’s the point in smiling when there’s nothing to be happy about? Apparently, those kinds of thoughts aren’t “healthy” and I’ve been once told they’re a sign of depression. I have nothing to be sad about either, so that’s not it. That’s beside the point though. The point is, I learned to smile fabulously. Not that anyone ever thinks it’s anything but a normal smile. At least I know.
What? Too much rambling, not enough facts? I’m sure a smart cookie such as yourself can find my CV easily enough.
Infection Status: Infected.
Miasma Abilities: Ever since I’ve gained a second form, I can do things that make me question the nature of my humanity. Even in my human form (yes, I feel strange calling “it” that, but what else am I supposed to call it?), I can morph my body to some degree (small fangs, patches of tough chitinous exoskeleton, spinnerets and presumably venom glands, silk glands etc.). I feel that I will be able to do even more with practice.
I can now produce various…substances. Confirmed: venom, hyper-healing blood (to the point of regeneration, given some time), spider silk (you’d better not underestimate this). Yes, I can liquefy my food, but at least in my human form, that is not necessary. Suspected, but unconfirmed: ability to infect other organisms.
After I managed to overcome my…reluctance…to make contact with regular spiders, I discovered that they can share their impressions with me. Via my hair. Don’t even ask. I guess I can even grow nerve tissue now. How exactly my technically human brain can comprehend an arachnid’s senses, I have no idea. I wonder if I could give them basic commands like this…
Miasma Appearance: This is one of those things that no-one knows, but I hate spiders (I avoid the term “fear”). And now I’m some kind of a monster-spider if I turn and a spider-woman as a human. What the fuck am I supposed to think about that?
(Add +4 legs and a visible spider's abdomen behind the legs to your mental picture of above)
Other: “Don’t even try to call me ‘Jack’ or ‘Jacky’. I will only accept ‘Lynn’ as a nickname, and you better be my friend and ask first. Otherwise, you will land firmly in my ‘disliked’ category. Consequences? Hmm…”
“Don’t criticize my smile. Don’t criticize my laugh. And even I have to rest my facial muscles sometimes, so do not, under any circumstances, ask or otherwise point to my lack of a smile. I’ll hate you.”