Zoey Boey

World of Light

Kasugano Sakura

Level 3: 23/30
Location: The Atomos. Talking to @DracoLunaris and @MULTI_MEDIA_MAN and @Lugubrious
Word Count: 981
Points Gained: 2, +8 EXP Bonus
New EXP Balance--- Level 4: 03/40 (LEVEL UP pending)

Sakura figured Geralt didn't know what rice was. He looked like a European knight, not a samurai. They didn't have rice over there as far as she knew. He also mentioned his difficulty keeping up with modern technology. Sakura wiped the last of the tears from her eyes and face. The healing, plus her ki, meant she was feeling pretty good already.

"Yeah, I bet it's tough for you! Like the Atomos and these harnesses- they're something out of science fiction! But y'know, I see them, and I can just kind of understand how they work because I've seen them in movies and TV shows. Like, those screens you saw at the bar? They're all over the place where I'm from. But, I don't really understand how they work at all. So all this fancy shmancy tech is just kind of like that for me." Sakura explained, trying to ease Mister Geralt's worries about not understanding tech.

"Also- are you telling me you sang karaoke? That was invented in Japan! I've done it a million times! Aw, man I wish I could have been there to see you and Isabelle do it." She laughed at the totally absurd image conjured in her mind.

"But hey- I bet you know way more about magic than I do! And plus, monsters aren't real where I'm from! So you must know a TON about them considering it's your job to kill them! Which sounds super awesome by the way." Sakura listened intently to the rest of his story. He mentioned several things Sakura didn't know anything about, but she got the gist of what he was saying.

"You're a wayward warrior, just like my master-" she interrupted herself, glumly adding, "-sorry, my friend-" before picking back up with her usual enthusiasm, "Ryu! He travels the world looking for good fights and helping people. And he sort-of lives in a castle, too! I bet sometimes he gets paid in candies, too," She giggled.

At Geralt's question about specialties, she put a finger to her chin. "Hmm! There's SO much delicious food where I come from. Ice cream, hot dogs, pizza, hamburgers, tacos, burritos, curry, french bread. For Japan there's orange chicken, tempura...tofu? I love food. I know a lot about it. I'm a competitive eater, you know!" She bragged, crossing her arms. Sakura gasped, coming to a realisation. "And a cook! I could make you some sushi myself, if you wanted! I know the secret Kasugano family recipe!" Sakura clenched her fists, very excited by this prospect.

She looked over to Ranger, who properly introduced herself. "Ranger! Yoroshiku onegai shimasu! Pleased to meet you!" She took Ranger's hand and shook it vigorously. After that she briefly rose to bow politely before grunting and falling back into her chair.

"Owie. You're a teacher, huh? That's so cool! I want to be a teacher when I grow up! I mean, uh, when I get older. I mean, when I graduate college. I'm an adult now. Not a kid- I dunno why I said when I grow up because I'm an adult. I turned 18 three months ago so- anyway, hey!" Sakura re-directed the conversation away from her needing to explain that she definitely wasn't a kid anymore. She also figured there was something more important, and that was the guest that had just arrived onboard the ship. Sakura smiled brightly. She felt like she understood the Water Princess quite well, having fought her hand to hand.

"Hey! Good to see you-" She put a hand up to her mouth to surpress a giggle as the Water Princess fell over. Sakura's own face reddened, feeling a little ashamed for laughing at her new friend's misfortune. It's not like she could help it. Sakura stood up, ignoring her injures, and skipped over to the Water Princesses' fallen hat. She scooped it up and extended it out to the Abyssal ship girl.

"Of course! We'd love to have you onboard!" She turned over her shoulder, smiling and nodding for Blue team's approval. She turned around, taking the Water Princess' hand to steady her. Physically and emotionally. "And again, it's not your evildoing. It's Galeem. Remember? I know I was talking to Ranger but I was also talking to you. I just, y'know, that was kind of a crazy moment. Sorry, I'm not really good at, uh, saying important things." She smiled sheepishly.

"Here, here, take a seat, take a seat. Let me help you! You can sit next to me, Miss Tender!" Sakura began to drag the Water Princess onboard. Sakura would take the woman's full weight, if need be. With the Kamek clone healing her, the pain was only temporary. She would be insistent in this regard, blowing off any potential concern. When the Water Princess was seated, she sat down right next to her.

Coughing a few times, she glanced over to Ranger who was voicing some pretty serious concerns. Fortunately, Sakura had the answers.

"Don't worry, Miss Ranger! I know this awesome biker lady called Princess Peach! She has the ability to remove spirits from people. If we can just meet up with her on the Atomos, she can take that Abyssal stuff off you. Then your friends won't get you confused." Sakura explained cheerfully. Not many things better than being the bearer of good news.

After all this talking and moving, the teenager inhaled, sitting back in her chair. Listening to everyone else talk, she went to her hands and untied the fighting gloves. Clenching her fingers she tied them together at her hips. Their bright red color contrasted with her newly blued up sailor fuku. Buckling her seat belt across her lap she leaned back and waited to be flown back to Limsa town.

How The Leaves Fall

...I feel bad for whoever's teaching this class, lol.

How The Leaves Fall

Emily Dawson

Emily Dawson

"Live, laugh, love. Or, don't, I guess. Up to you, really, I mean, that's just generally my rule of life but I guess some people think it's kinda cheesy I guess, I dunno."

Name: Emily Dawson
Gender Female
Age: 18
Sexual Orientation: Asexual
Position Applying For: Standard Character
Personality:

Emily is talkative. A chatterbox. When there's no one around to talk too, she talks to herself. Or she'll just talk to herself right in front of someone else if the other person isn't being receptive. It's an unbreakable habit. She'll talk about literally anything for way too long.

An extrovert, she likes making new friends, even if she can be bad at it. She's genuinely a friendly person with a compassionate heart. If anything she can come off as too friendly, too quickly, having declared best friendship on multiple occasions. A quirky sense of humor does or doesn't help. Either way, Emily gets attached to people and concepts very quickly. This leads to her being overemotional in certain situations and extremely attached to the fictional characters of the fictional books she loves reading.

Emily is also extremely curious, and she loves to learn about people, events, anything. It's why she wants to be a journalist and historian for the Westcliffe newspaper. Or a librarian. She's trying to put her words down onto paper, where they won't be forgotten. And also where they won't annoy people so much.

Despite being quite intelligent, Emily is also dumb. The difference between "book smart" and "street smart" has never been so obvious. Common sense is something she lacks entirely. Usually this results in an entirely unwarranted self-confidence. Perhaps it's just her unyielding optimism. Emily only has uncommon sense. Weird sense. Highly specific and rarely applicable sense. And fiscal sense- too: she's good with money.

History/Bio:

Emily was born to Dave and Sarah Dawson. She's the youngest of two brothers and one other sister, all only a few years older than her. Dave, June, Mark, and then Emily, from oldest to younges.t One might think this fairly large family is the reason she's so talkative. Perhaps in order to get a word in edgewise she developed this tick? Nope. If anything, she's the reason people get talked over. Some part of her brain had it's wires crossed during development.

Emily still grew up loved in her house, and she often ended up being the mediator of family conflicts. Her brothers and sister often picked on each other but they quickly decided she was off limits. She was far too easy of a target and they all just ended up feeling bad about it.

Emily took an interest in reading, writing, and exploring. Much to her parents chagrin she would head off into the woods by herself to climb around. That, or diving into the library to learn so many useless factsshe could fill the "dead spaces" in conversations with. Eventually she tried developing a few ideas of her own.

Given her athletic nature she ended up founding a cheerleading club. As of today she is the only member, but she got the uniforms designed and everything. She also founded the Crown of Dragons club and the Journalism club, for her favorite book series and one of her favorite hobbies. She's the only member in both of those, too.

Most everyone around town knows about Emily and her strange proclivities. She has no real close friends, but it's not like she's entirely disliked. People just decided she was harmless. She has acquaintances galore, which is good enough for her. But a real best friend is what she really wants. That, or a boyfriend, or a girlfriend. Emily doesn't quite yet realise she's asexual and doesn't understand why some of her classmates kiss each other so much, but it seems like the thing to do so she's been attempting to emulate.

She graduates soon and she'll have to find a job. That'll mean doing a job interview, which she's sure she'll nail the fourth or fifth or eleventh time she tries it. Or maybe she'll just make up her own job? She doesn't really know.

Gif the User

Steelbird Landing [STILL ACCEPTING. 2/4 SLOTS TAKEN]

Pretty sure it's not gonna be on discord, lol.

《 H. E. R. O. 》

Pandora smirked as Hugo utterly outplayed her. Wobbling her head at the 'convenient placement' of the croquet area, she followed Director Powers to their intended location. The two of them looked quite ridiculous in a way that pleased her. Hugo in his flower print shirt and her in her bikini top and open-fronted dress bottom.

Pandora nodded and made her way to the sniper post. After a few moments of walking she sank halfway into the earth and leaned forward, zooming silently along the ground. Hugo seemed to be casual about this whole thing so she figured it wasn't a big deal. Just some unsuspecting , overpaid goons. More used to chasing off tourists than X-200 infected mutants.

The sniper was totally unsuspecting. He was watching Powers as he approached through a scope. So when Pandora arrived and tapped on his shoulder, he was taken off guard. He gasped, turning around just as she slammed her fist into his face, knocking his hat clean off. She stepped on his rifle, turning it into goo. Then the summer-dressed woman grabbed for his hands, pushing them together. In a matter of moments she had bound his sleeves together with his own sleeves, and then sunk his coat into the wall.

"What the hell?" He said, confused, lip bloody from the sucker punch. She put a finger to his lips and then reached for his hat, stuffing it plainly into his mouth.

"Hush." She combined his shoelaces together for good measure. "Someone'll come along and get you unfucked. Just be quiet. If you make me regret this I'll come back and turn you into a pair of sunglasses." She threatened. She then lowered her sunglasses to the edge of her nose and looked at him pointedly. That seemed to shut him up. Just in case she put a toe up against his radio and fiddled with the circuits, disabling it, too.

As she slid her way down the hill back towards Hugo, she was rolling her shoulder. "Ugh. Been a while since I punched someone." She complained.

"If you may," He said, directing her towards the door.

Pandora lifted a finger towards him. "In a minute, hold on." She stretched left arm to the right, holding it in place with her other arm. She repeated the process with her right arm. With a groan she leaned down and touched her toes. Her back popped. "Oof." She rose to her full stature once again and twisted her upper body from side to side.

"The goo I'm made of gets bubbles in it. Have to pop 'em, y'know." She explained casually.

Pandora approached the door. Placing her foot on the concrete, her intentions travelled the short distance. The pavement moved slightly out of place, like someone had smeared it with their thumb. "Hup." The smear contacted with the steel doors and then turned into a hole. The hole grew and grew, the metal dripping off like glue. Though there was no increase in temperature. Soon there was a gap large enough for them both to easily fit through.

"I'd say age before beauty, but..." Pandora shrugged. With that she headed inside the base to see what was what.

zoey's characters

The Oilburner

Belly Button

Me (looking cute) and my MACHINE GUN! It doesn't work yet but it will! Don't tell anyone that it doesn't work, or else I'll shoot you with it when it's fixed.

---

¤ Age, approximately.
NINETEEN! I'm Nineteen. I counted. I remember the very m-m-moment I was born, y'know! I was there th-the whole time! I can say, without a doubt, one HUNDO percent, that I am Nineteen, Three Months, and TWO DAYS...young.

¤ What Are You?
The Oilburner.

Someone who needs heat, and casts away shadows with light and flame alike. Always trying to "burn the midnight oil" as much as possible.

¤ What defines you?

Sharp. With a capital S.

¤ Who are you?
Hmm...well...I don't even know where to start! At the beginning, I guess. Nineteen years, three months, and two days ago, I was squirted from a vagina. You probably already guess that, that's true for everybody. Unless you got cut out? Anyway my mom's name was Braid and my dad's name was Who-Gives-A-Fuck, I dunno, he wasn't there.

I was actually born in Steelbird Landing, wouldn't you believe it? Back in the bad old days! Braid, my momma, she was a good lady. Real pretty, if you ask me, and smart as a c-c-cookie. The only thing I don't like about her is that she named me Belly Button. I wish she woulda named me Ponytail or Bun, or...Piercing. Something. Belly Button...I guess she thought it was cute? She was that kind of lady, my momma. She wanted me to be smart, she did! I am. Lucky I was BORN smart, pretty sure. Most people in this world are just born dumb idiots, but me, I was born smart, real smart. A f-f-fucking genius. But I still had to learn, just like everyone else!

Now my momma she had it bad. While I was born in S-s-steelbird Landing, she wasn't. My dad, Who-Gives-A-Fuck, (momma never told me his name) was a bad man. A real bad man. Let's j-j-just say that little old Belly Button wasn't a mistake, but she sure as shit wasn't intentional, either. Least not on Momma's part. But she loved me anyway because Momma Braid was the best woman to ever live. Now Gives-A was the leader of a bunch of pricks up north. Holed up in a couple of old city blocks. Anyway they hated everyone and everything. E-e-even each other! And the leader thought he owned everyone. Everyone believed him. S-s-so I guess that means he really d-d-did own everyone? Anyway my momma decided to run away from his DUMB ASS and she took books from the library with her, and she took me with her, too, and I was inside her because I was just a gross little fetus lookin' thing at the time. (I know, because I remember!)

Well he hated that. But fuck him, he's probably dead by now. She ran ran ran, with a few others, and most of 'em made it to Steelbird Landing. And my momma decided I was gonna be the SMARTEST boy that ever l-l-lived! But I was a girl, but she said that's okay, because, again, best person ever.

Aaanyway, so I grew up here! And I read those books every day, e-e-even if I didn't understand them. Momma taught me the few words that she knew. She found picture books for me, alphabet books. And I loved loved loved it, almost as m-m-much as I loved her.

My childhood was lots of books. I r-ran off by myself to scavenge more books. I traded for them, did tasks and favors. Y-you'd be surprised how many people still have books! They just use them as doorstoppers and table-evener-outers and plates or toilet paper.

M-m-my favorite was ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS engineering! Science fiction inspired me! Old pictures of beauty beautiful things that we forgot how to build. Steelbird itself is built on the remnants of an airplane! People u-u-used to get in 'em and, and, like, fly all over the world! Like birds! Once I figured stuff like that out, there was no stopping me. I wanted to be just like those people. I wanted to make great things! So I did! I DID make great things! I'm REALLY REALLY GOOD AT IT! Engineering and CHEMISTRY and MATH and LITERATURE! There's SO MUCH! INFINITE KNOWLEDGE! My appetite for discovery has never been not whet. My momma gave me a book about a caterpillar who ate and ate and ate, until it became a beautiful butterfly and flew away.

That's gonna be me someday.

A-a-anyway, where was I? Oh yeah! I started making toys! Simple ones, out of wood. Then I added m-moving parts that the other kids could move with their hands. My goal was to make things that if you pushed a button something happened, and I d-did that, too. Because, y'see, I'm really smart. And I learned to be smarter.

SOME kids thought they could take advantage of me and take and steal the toys but I set them straight by setting their hair on fire. NO ONE messes with Ms. Button.

That's when I discovered I'm, uh, a bit of a fire bug. It's not that big of a deal, really, nowadays I g-get it out of my system when I'm welding or heating metal. B-but sometimes I need to find a nice secluded spot and j-j-just raze something. Just an itchy itchy itch in the back of my head, I guess, sometimes. I've always liked blowing things up almost as much as I liked making other things. N-now making things to blow up other things up? W-well, THAT IS THE DREAM, IS IT NOT?

Wasn't all fire and brimstone! I looove chemistry. Very necessary for blowing things up. Not quite as good at it, YET. I made a water purifier! It was really shitty and it broke but I'm making another one. I also make bear traps and regular traps and, I guess, uh, infrastructure! I love making things. This post-apocalyptic world makes for g-g-GREAT challenge. Y'know? So many things to learn and do and see- it- it it- it's all too much! I can BARELY CONTAIN MYSELF! Sometimes I just wanna--- EXPLODE! But I can't do that, so instead I blow up other things! Sometimes. Like I said, it's not a big deal, really.

Naturally, as all great women of science do, I wish to SHARE my knowledge with the rest of the civilized world! Unfortunately most people in this backwater town are too dumb. But but but that's okay. My momma helps organize things. I would LOVE LOVE for there to be a library in Steelbird Landing! Best d-day of my life, that would be. I'm working it! Plus, that means everyone would give me their books for FREE! As long as I got to put them back. And I would put my books there, too! And if anyone tried to steal from it- I would just set them on fire!

And I FARM! I try too, anyway- I got help from some of the local subsistence farmers! I made little pulley systems that increase the farming, so you just pull one thing and all of it gets watered. And rainwater collectors! Potatoes! I love potatoes. Potatoes are the best thing in the world, second only to books, second only to Momma. You can use them to eat! And you can use them to make ALCOHOL! And alcohol can be used to set things on fire. And also trade! And also BATTERIES!?!? God isn't real but potatoes are evidence that he really really is!

...I hate the jungle. And all those monsters. Those freaks and savages in the woods like my biological father. And those people who believe in fake gods. Makes me sick sick sick to my stomach. Everything would have been FINE if nobody went crazy. But no! The disasters weren't enough. One day they're all gonna be dead and gone and only the sm-SMART people like ME will still be alive!

I have followers! Friends! They like me! I'm trying to teach people how to r-r-read. Improving literacy rates is vital for the growth of any society! I'd love to get it at at least 10%! The more people who knows how to read, the more people can teach other people how to r-r-read! It's like a disease! But a good one. The vaccination for literacy would be brain trauma, I guess. And I'd be a super spreader! Watch out, I'm contagious! Haha! Wait, no, maybe that's not the best metaphor. Did you know cholera spreads from dirty water?

But yeah anyway, I think people like me. Well, they haven't tried to kill me in a while, anyway. I'm a regular en-en-entrepreneur! I mean I wanna work on cars and everything but..there's too much! Right now I'm focusing on literacy rates! The Steelbird Public Library will take over the world! All the little kiddies will be even smarter than me. Well, maybe not, but st-st-still.

Anyway yeah that's me. You asked who I am and you got me!

By the way...you can just call me Bell, or Button, or Ms. Button. It's- it's fine, r-really.

---

¤ What do you want?
Some day...some day I wanna burn that whole damn jungle to the ground.

After that, I wanna build a car.

Then...? I wanna make a new Steelbird. An airplane! I wanna make a new Steelbird and fly, fly, fly away, far from here. Then I'll return with treasures and knowledge! There's gotta be someplace out there for people like me. I've seen pictures of places where there IS no jungle. They can h-h-help us.

¤ What do you believe?

Truth. Truth truth truth. I think the truth is that we had something really good going and then we all screwed it up. Nature threw a little temper tantrum and all the weak-minded l-l-LUNATICS took the opportunity to go on murderous rampages. Steelbird Landing, and places like it, are the ONLY hope! Every where else is full of BRAIN DEAD MORONS! One day things will get back to how they used to be. I'm probably not gonna live to see it, though, but SOMEONE will, and they're gonna look at a big statue of me and say "Gee thanks, Belly Button, you really had something good going on."

¤ What do you follow?

If you're anywhere near as smart as I am, you probably g-guessed it. That's right! My kneecaps. No HAHA, no, it's my NOODLE, of course! My brain, my mind, that wonderful p-p-pile of electrified grey matter rattling around in my noggin! It's NEVER lead me astray. It IS me, actually. I'm my brain! What else would I follow, if not me my brain?

¤ A scarcity embodied:

(Time. Button has so much she wants to do and not enough time to do it. She was born in the wrong time. She yearns for a time that has past. To her, everything moves so agonizingly slow.)

¤ Basic Instincts:

I always have goggles and a mask. If not on my face, then on standby! Never know when a bunch of small particles are gonna fly in your face.

I always return to my garage.

...And I've got a lighter or a flint and tinder or a matchbox or a tinderbox on me. Just a little something to start a little fire.

¤ Spill Your Guts

¤ What do you most regret doing?

One time one of my fires got out of control. Someone had built a homestead on the outskirts- I didn't see it there b-b-because I was so excited, I really had the itch that time. I don't think there was anyone inside. At least I hope there wasn't. I didn't check. =

¤ Who do you owe?

I owe my Momma everything.

¤ What/Who are you addicted to? What are you willing to do to acquire it?

I'm addicted to...knowledge. Books. Stories. Scrap. I NEED a project to work on. I need to be DOING something, otherwise why am I even alive!?

¤ Who's intentions do you question?

There's a w-woman named Vineleaf that comes around to my garage. She says she only wants to learn how to read but she looks at my gadgets and my toys and my engines. And she looks at me when she thinks I'm not looking. I don't know what she r-r-really wants from me, but sh-she really creeps me out.

¤ Who wants you all to themselves?

People in faraway places. Who-Gives-A-Fuck, probably. They hear about my hands and my brain and they want to get at me but I'm a solo operator! I'm a WOMAN OF THE PEOPLE! NO GODS NO KINGS!

---

Hear the Whispers...

S-s-sometimes, when one of my fires goes REALLY, REALLY HOT, and it's really really dark, and I'm really really all alone, I feel like it talks to me. I know it's not real. I know it's just that nasty nasty nasty l-light, up over my head. But it tells me to keep burning. It feels like I go on fire, too, and it feels good. I feel like I can turn into the King Midas of the inferno, and everything I touch melts away in my hand. I'll drown in the ashes. When it's over, there will only be cinders and peace. A Great Phoenix will rise and rule and soar and look upon my finest work and respect me. The Great Phoenix- that's what the fire says to me sometimes.

It's scary. I don't want the Phoenix to come h-h-here. Only SOME things need to be destroyed. Other things need to be BUILT. And I get to choose. Only me. Only Button.

So I usually bring a book to read while I'm setting fires. Just in case I need to get my mind off things.

---

¤Your theme song goes here, if you are so inclined.


TUSK!

zoey's characters

Waverly DeWinter

Waverly DeWinter

"Nothing burns like the cold."

Name: Waverly DeWinter
Gender Female
Age: 18
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Position Applying For: DeWinter Heiress
Personality: Waverly is an assertive young woman with an expertise in social graces. She is chipper, polite, and knows her manners. She is amiable and humble. However this is somewhat of a front. Waverly is an introvert who is a master at prending to be an extrovert.

She puts up this facade because she knows more people will like her that way. Waverly is manipulative and likes being in control of every situation. Especially social. She feeds off the admiration of others. A perfectionist, Waverly can be very harsh and domineering.

When things don't go her way, a volatile temper reveals itself. She can become wrathful, and she holds grudges long past other people might have forgotten them. She wants everyone to respect her and like her. She is a fierce believer in the traditions and values of Westcliffe. Any threats to the DeWinter family or her own social status are absolutely unacceptable.

Beneath even that is an insecure woman who has always failed to live up to her own expectations. Waverly loves cats, plants, knitting, the theater, and soap operas. As well as fashion and art. But one rarely, if ever, gets to see Waverly DeWinter with her guard down.

History/Bio: Born into the DeWinter family as it's heiress, Waverly took the task to heart. She wanted nothing more than to fulfill the expectations of her parents. She wanted to live up to the long and proud legacy of the DeWinter family. When she was done, Westcliffe would be a shining small town beacon, beautiful and perfect, just like herself.

To that end she began 'developing' herself. Everything she thought people would like and respect, she adopted that into her outward personality. Charisma, business, her academics. She created a loyal group of followers. She organized charity events and fundraisers. Her true self, flaws and quirks and all, receded. Eventually, the mask became her face, as it were. Her reputation preceded her. Behind the scenes her perfectionist ways had people calling her a 'witch' behind her back in more ways than one. School plays, school baking events. It all had to be perfect. It didn't matter if there was hardly anyone in the town. The majority of the small class of students were under her thumb. Perhaps a few annoying stragglers or forgotten ones or broken toys who didn't fit in, anyway. Everything and everyone had to be just right.

Most of all, most MOST of all, the Halloween festival had to be IMMACULATE. Somewhere, Waverly's genuine love of Halloween propels her ever forward into making sure it all goes exactly to her 'parents' plan.

Emily Dawson

Emily Dawson

"Live, laugh, love. Or, don't, I guess. Up to you, really, I mean, that's just generally my rule of life but I guess some people think it's kinda cheesy I guess, I dunno."

Name: Emily Dawson
Gender Female
Age: 18
Sexual Orientation: Asexual
Position Applying For: Standard Character
Personality:

Emily is talkative. A chatterbox. When there's no one around to talk too, she talks to herself. Or she'll just talk to herself right in front of someone else if the other person isn't being receptive. It's an unbreakable habit. She'll talk about literally anything for way too long.

An extrovert, she likes making new friends, even if she can be bad at it. She's genuinely a friendly person with a compassionate heart. If anything she can come off as too friendly, too quickly, having declared best friendship on multiple occasions. A quirky sense of humor does or doesn't help. Either way, Emily gets attached to people and concepts very quickly. This leads to her being overemotional in certain situations and extremely attached to the fictional characters of the fictional books she loves reading.

Emily is also extremely curious, and she loves to learn about people, events, anything. It's why she wants to be a journalist and historian for the Westcliffe newspaper. Or a librarian. She's trying to put her words down onto paper, where they won't be forgotten. And also where they won't annoy people so much.

Despite being quite intelligent, Emily is also dumb. The difference between "book smart" and "street smart" has never been so obvious. Common sense is something she lacks entirely. Usually this results in an entirely unwarranted self-confidence. Perhaps it's just her unyielding optimism. Emily only has uncommon sense. Weird sense. Highly specific and rarely applicable sense. And fiscal sense- too: she's good with money.

History/Bio:

Emily was born to Dave and Sarah Dawson. She's the youngest of two brothers and one other sister, all only a few years older than her. Dave, June, Mark, and then Emily, from oldest to younges.t One might think this fairly large family is the reason she's so talkative. Perhaps in order to get a word in edgewise she developed this tick? Nope. If anything, she's the reason people get talked over. Some part of her brain had it's wires crossed during development.

Emily still grew up loved in her house, and she often ended up being the mediator of family conflicts. Her brothers and sister often picked on each other but they quickly decided she was off limits. She was far too easy of a target and they all just ended up feeling bad about it.

Emily took an interest in reading, writing, and exploring. Much to her parents chagrin she would head off into the woods by herself to climb around. That, or diving into the library to learn so many useless factsshe could fill the "dead spaces" in conversations with. Eventually she tried developing a few ideas of her own.

Given her athletic nature she ended up founding a cheerleading club. As of today she is the only member, but she got the uniforms designed and everything. She also founded the Crown of Dragons club and the Journalism club, for her favorite book series and one of her favorite hobbies. She's the only member in both of those, too.

Most everyone around town knows about Emily and her strange proclivities. She has no real close friends, but it's not like she's entirely disliked. People just decided she was harmless. She has acquaintances galore, which is good enough for her. But a real best friend is what she really wants. That, or a boyfriend, or a girlfriend. Emily doesn't quite yet realise she's asexual and doesn't understand why some of her classmates kiss each other so much, but it seems like the thing to do so she's been attempting to emulate.

She graduates soon and she'll have to find a job. That'll mean doing a job interview, which she's sure she'll nail the fourth or fifth or eleventh time she tries it. Or maybe she'll just make up her own job? She doesn't really know.

zoey's characters

O'Kay

Name: O'Kay or Kay (Previously: Whispered Child)
Age: 17
Gender: F
Race/Species: Human
Student/Teacher: Alpha Student
Inspiration: Cassandra Cain, DC. Nebula, Marvel.
Physical Description: The first thing someone might about Kay is her height. She stands at 6 feet, 2 inches, and unlike most girls her age doesn't show signs of slowing down. She is of Chinese Descent and has short black messy hair and dark brown eyes. She is muscular but lithe, giving her a powerful yet spindly frame. Her body is marked by scars in several places. Her limbs can and do bend unnaturally, being double jointed and reinforced.

Beneath her ribs are two grotesque flesh plated openings that can vibrate with warm breathe. Her body is extremely calloussed in places and very rubbery in others. Several surgery scars are on her chest, back, and legs. Around her navel is an intricately designed tattoo of an eye. Her hair hides surcery scars, as well. Her eyes have a second pair of vertical eyelids, and they can dilate into a line like a cats.

Personality: The only place Kay can blend into is the shadows.

Kay is a shy, gentle girl with low self-esteem. She wears her heart on her sleeve and is extremely overemotional. She is also the most compassionate and empathetic person in any room, caring deeply about strangers, let alone people she's actually forged a connection with. She is very slow to anger and quick to forgive. She dislikes bullying and abuse of any kind and will nervously go out of her way to stop it, if she can. She hates violence of any kind. It is extremely easy to hurt her feelings. Especially about her abnormal body structure, of which she is extremely insecure about.

Kay despite all this, is not an introvert. She loves being around new people and making friends, and hates being alone. The problem comes in actually accomplishing this, as in her limited experience a vast majority of people are skeeved out by her. When she is around someone she trusts she becomes very intrusive of personal space, with lots of hugs and picking up and resting on.

Kay loves hiding and feeling safe in cozy places. She also enjoys movies and stories of all kinds, and she loves practicing her martial arts. Kay is a perfectionist, which is the source of a lot of her anxiety. If she can't do things perfectly right she grows frustrated, disappointed, and sad. She is also very competitive and thus doesn't want to play games or participate in sports on the chance that she loses and makes a fool out of herself by getting upset. On the flip-side she draws pleasure from executing things perfectly. She wants to cover up her face and dislikes the school uniforms bright colors as it makes it harder to blend in. When she gets the chance she wears face masks or scarfs and hoodies to conceal as much of her body and face as possible.

Finally and perhaps most importantly, Kay is illiterate and cannot speak any language at a functional level. She can read and write but not at a level that is considered literate, outpaced by small children. She can understand those around her quite well, but big words can go beyond her understanding. She mostly relies on body language for communication. Though she can speak small sentences, she stutters greatly and usually relies on mimicry and replication when she does speak. Instead she prefers to use her own body language to communicate, with which she is unusually effective.

Backstory:

The Whispered Child

The Whispered Child was born to be molded and crafted into the perfect weapon. Its father was a Warlord, a leader of a tyrannical zealous cult in a faraway land. its mother was an assassin, devoted only to the cause of lethal perfection. Out of some misguided belief that their child would inherit both of their talents and predilections towards evil, they came together in an unholy union. And so the Whispered Child was created, its destiny laid out before it by its parents.

The Warlord and the Assassin had no love for each other but they raised the child together, both of them united in their interest to see the progress of their spawn. They had two distinct philosophies that blended nicely together. The Assassin would teach the Child to turn its body into a weapon. The Warlord would turn the Child's body into a weapon for it.

A unique draw of this vile experiment was the utter deprivation of spoken and written language. The Assassin's idea. Instead, the Whispered was taught to communicate entirely through body language. The parts of the brain responsible for communication was nurtured in a different way that would make pediatrics everywhere roar in outrage. They never spoke around it. They communicated silently but effectively. It learned to read muscles and twitches instead of the alphabet. It spoke with its eyes and its posture instead of its mouth.

It was not the only Child, but it was the favorite. It was not the first Child, but it was the most special. Indeed the Warlord had kidnapped many boys and girls from different places in hopes of turning them into his perfect weapon. All of them were moderately successful, sure, he was a master warrior in command of a loyal league of black operators. But he held no attachment toward them. The Whispered Child, however, was of his own flesh and blood. The Assassin felt much the same way. It became their obsession. Though the two had cared little about anything other than themselves, in their own twisted and cruel way they came to truly care about the Whispered Child and its upbringing. They wanted to see how far they could push it. It was to be their legacy. A new bloodline of born, silent warriors. As long as they remained in control, of course. Never would they give it too much agency.

While the Assassin perfected the teachings of its martial artist, the Warlord saw fit to augment the Child's body in unimaginable ways. He forced it to battle the other Children, his other soldiers. He calculated every weakness and contrived surgical solutions. Its body was twisted by occult science, flesh that was not its own was bound into its. He made stretched the Child. Inserted vertebrae where none were previously. He made it able to twist its own form in ways that would make contortionists blush. Some experiments that were not a success were remedied with removal or improvements. How many times did he open up the Child? It lost count.

The Whispered Child was given no chances to develop a personality. Its individuality was to be cleansed out of it. The Warlord purposefully weakened its mind against psychic defences so he could assert his will over itss with mind control. It would be his obedient weapon, an extension of his own will.

But there was a flaw in his plan. The Child kept its truest, darkest thoughts to itself. It came to master the understanding of human emotion in ways not even the Assassin could have predicted. The more it learned, the more it learned. it saw the Warlord's inner weakness, his gnawing fear of mortality and dread. It saw the Assassin's desperate, cloying attempts at wealth and security. It saw the others Children's fear of failure, their stunted souls. It saw the way the soldiers looked at it, with fear and with pity. It saw the way some of them cared deeply for those who were far away. Even in the darkest, cruelest of places, humanity existed in some form. The Whispered clung onto those scraps. It found the most interesting soldiers and watched them intently. When they did, and didn't know it was there. The Child began to outpace its mother and fatits. It could elude their detection and return before they realised it was gone, if it timed it just right. It heard its first word when it was 12, a soldier asking another for a smoke. A simple act of kindness. They existed, even itse, and they were alien to it. The curious Child wanted more. But it kept its cards close to its chest. If their perfect Child was not given a soul, then it would create one for itself. It became obsessed with finding any clues to the outside world. Art, music, stories. Not the false things the Assassin created that were really just training manuals in disguise. True things created out of passion for more than just violence.

The experiments and training continued for years. It fought and battled the other Children and constantly bested them. It knew their frustration, their hatred of it. Their digust of her twisted form. The Warlord and the Assassin were enthralled and proud of their creation, their abomination. As it matured, its mind developed, and its spirit grew. Not fast enough. The time had arrive. It was sent on its first mission when it turned 16. The Warlord placed a spell on it, compelling its return.

It completed it flawlessly. It killed the target in the middle of an armed compound, and the alarm would not go off until morning, for nobody knew the target was missing. It killed no one else. It knew little about the target, but in the brief moment it ended his life, it got a picture of the stranger. 46 years old, balding, a developing cancer in his prostate not even he knew about yet. Brusque, business oriented. He had killed before both directly and via orders, and the death of his men weighed on his conscience. He was tired that evening, and looking forward to going home to those who loved him. He never would. As he felt its lithe, long arms wrap around his neck it literally felt his terror, his fear. The sorrow ached. It felt it, too. It could see his own death. It might as well have experienced death with him. There was a snap, a struggle to breathe and a horrible agony, and then a final stillness. Then it was over. It was terribly anti-climactic and impersonal. His life was over and it was responsible. Tears streamed down its face and its heart was heavy. The Assassin and the Warlord never expected their monster to have a soul. In their arrogance they failed to realise how granting a weapon the ability to truly understand those around it would affect it.

On that day forward, it...no, SHE, began to plan her escape. The plan would need to be carefully executed. Being discovered by the Warlord would mean mental domination and re-evaluation. Her kindness could never be discovered.

Needless to say, her plan worked. She was no longer under the control of her malevolent creators. They created the perfect weapon and lost control over it, as so many had before them in so many different ways. Only she was determined not to become some cautionary tale. She travelled alone in the wilderness and eventually found a town, and then a large city.

The place was a joy. She loved it. She wanted to be there and live amongst it, forever. She yearned to be so casually accepted, but her social graces were non existant. She would have to learn to replicate how they walked and talked. The light was beautiful, but it hurt her eyes. She consumed as much visual media as she could.

She was homeless, and used her skills to not survive, but thrive. All it took was a bit of investigation and the city became her playground. She couldn't read the signs but she could smell the food. The crowds were overwhelming but provided ample opportunity. She made friends with the animals, but the other homeless were afraid of her.

Eventually she crept into a place she had deduced to be a place of learning, the library. There the kindly old librarian, her eyesight fading, was nice to her. This was a place known as a community outreach center. In this strange city even someone was bizarre as her could be welcomed with the right mindset.

The lost child found great pleasure in exploring the city. But one day, there was a terrible car accident. She heard a bay, crying. She knew the car was going to explode, and she knew those around her were too scared to act, and unsure of even how to help. So she helped. And it almost went bad. There was an explosion, but the baby, the mother, and the father, all survived. As she cradled the crying baby, she understood it's fear and resonated with it, and he quickly stopped crying.

But it didn't go fully as planned. The flames had sheered off some of her clothes. Her torso platelets opened and closed, exhaling clouds of moist air into the city's cold night. A piece of metal had lodged itself in her back, and her blood flowed freely down it. The people nearby, who came to check up on her and the baby , saw her wounds. Most of them were naturally repulsed by her disgusting form, she knew. But all of them cared for the baby by instinct. And they saw her wounds and though some of them shied away, most of them came to help. They checked up on her. They kept repeating a word, over and over again. She didn't understand english perfectly, but she got the gist.

"Are you okay?" They asked her. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she replied. "Yes. I'm...I'm... o...kay."

Not long after that, White Wood academy used it's extensive resources to locate the mysterious girl roaming the streets late at night. They offered her a position there, a new life, a chance at something...normal. Of course she knew they were telling the truth, even if some of them were insecure about it. They asked her questions. Tried to gauge who she was, where she had come from.

"I'm o...kay," she replied with a nervous smile. "I'm okay."

The name stuck. O'kay was born that day. Given her weak knowledge in the spoken languages, she is pleased that she was able to craft such a pun so quickly. People called her Kay, for clarity's sake.

Powers/Magic:

The Rituals

Body Modifications: The Whispered Child is a cyborg of twisted flesh and knotted bones. O'kay has had many invasive surgeries that grant her powers.

Eyes Like a Cat: O'kay posesses the ability to see in the dark. She has a third, translucent eyelid that she can use to see while protecting her eyes from particles and damage.

Subdermal Weave: Many parts of her body have been implated with a subdermal weave that grants resistance to damage, even allowing her to resist bullet penetration.

Strengthened Skeletal Structure: As well as being more flexible thanks to additional joints, chemical compounds were added into her bones to make them heavier and more difficult to break.

Adjusted Muscular Composition: To accomodate for her many "additions" to her bone structure her muscles were changed. Her grip strength is particularly impressive. If hanging upside down, she expends no extra energy.

Extendable Talons: Her finger and toe nails look normal, but upon closer inspection are actually extendable claws she can use to attach herself to otherwise solid objects.

Secondary Air Intake: Armored flesh platelets grant enhanced protection to her ribs, but they can also partially open up. She can breathe directly into her lungs this way. She also has extremely enhanced stamina beyond just her advanced cardio training, able to hold her breathe for an hour. They also naturally filter out harmful substances like poison.

Advanced Hearing: Kay can hear extremely well, especially when she limits the input of her other senses. Her ears are more resistant to damage from shockwaves and loud noises. This, combined with Secondary Air Intake, allow her to use echo-location to scan her environment. As well as doing a discombobulating shriek.

Full Body Control: Every subconscious routine of the human body, O'kay can manually override. From adrenaline production to pain detection to even her own heartbeat, she can stop and start them at will.

Joint Hypermobility: Surgery has granted her the ability to manipulate her body in creepy but versatile and useful ways. Contortionism is already one of her natural talents but the re-alignment of her skeletal and muscle structure allows her to take it to the next level, with double jointed arms and legs.

Advanced Regeneration: Kay regenerates from wounds far quicker than most people.

Emotional Trigger: The Whispered Child has the ability to give off 'vibes' with her body. Her body language is expressive on a subconscious level that cannot be easily explained. The main application of this, however, is that Whispered Child can trigger the fear reflex in people that look at her, should she so choose. Even brave, courageous, or hardened people will find their minds afflicted by fear should she undergo the invisible transformation.

Abilities:

The Training

Most Lethal Martial Artist: O'kay has been prepared since the moment she was concieved to be a killing machine. She is fluent in too many styles of hand to hand combat to count. She has already surpassed some of the worlds most lethal assassins and her potential has yet to be even close to fully tapped. With further training, discipline, and focus, she could become the most dangerous fighter, ever.

Master of Stealth and Speed: O'kay sticks to the shadows like a bat. She can be completely, 100% silent when she walks. In combat she can be hard to trace with one's eyes, like a mosquito in a dark room. She can hide in places where there should be no place to hide. One could mistake her for having the ability of short range teleportation, but this is just her talent for decieving the mind and eye.

Master Markswoman: Kay can aim ranged weapons, of all kinds with impossible accuracy.

Above Her Weight Class: It may be tempting to think that one could overpower Kay with weight and sheer strength, but one would be wrong. While she is already very strong, her techniques allow her strikes and throws to hit with power that seem superhuman.

Like a Book: The keenest and most unique advantage Kay has, the one entirely exclusive to her. The ability to read body language in a fight. With this ability she can anticipate her opponents moves and intentions, their feints and their follow throughs. She can gauge their prowess in a matter of moments, and learn the strengths and weaknesses of their techniques. This skill is so keen she can be aware of her opponents next move before they are. The subtle, imperceptible give-aways of the human body. Even beyond the human body- the same skill applies to animals. Everyone and everything is communicating it's true intentions to her, especially when in the middle of combat. As a result she can accurately tell what other people are feeling. And she is a nearly infallible human lie detector. In this same way she is able to mask her own intentions and tells, making her immune to someone attempting to mimic her techniques, and making her all the more unpredictable, uncanny, and inhuman in a fight.

Potential Character Arcs:
1. O'kay learns to read, write, and speak English at a useable level with the help of the staff and her new friends at White Wood.
2. Bad guys from her old school come to find her.
3. O'kay finds a cause worth fighting for and discovered her passion for being a vigilante or other defender of justice.

And Kay needs a found family and emotional anchor of some kind in order to survive. But that will be up to the other characters!

Gif the User