sucre'd fiend’s
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(group member since Jul 03, 2013)
sucre'd fiend’s
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from the The Last Of Us group.
Showing 1-17 of 17
I don't have any particular preference, but Micah's in New York, and I haven't posted with my othe character yet.
Sure
I have two people open for groups.
↥ Cᴏɴᴛ'ᴅ Fʀᴏᴍ Aʙᴏᴠᴇ➥ Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ғɪᴇɴᴅ
© Aʟʟ Rɪɢʜᴛs Rᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ Fɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ Iɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs
(view spoiler)
Dɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: (view spoiler)
↻ Pᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ
what was important was her sister.
«Noises I play within my head
Touch my own skin and hope that I'm still breathing.»
↝▆
▆↜▐█ █ ▌║ Once again, the family was on the move.
You could say that they were moving because of the convenience of the change, but it was more so to get away. Get away from what, you ask. Simple; charges. Jeremiah Celeste had been charged with multiple accounts of sexual assault, and his escape was only going to lead to further prosecution.
Well, Jeremiah didn't seem that concerned when he forced his wife and two children onto the plane in a rush. No, the consequences should have lead to only him, but with the gathered cooperation of the family in moving out of the country. It was a big step for them, and they were only aware of the excitement of being somewhere new, not the charges he was escaping.
At any rate, they were criminals, especially Tallulah.
«You show the lights that stop me turn to stone
You shine it when I'm alone»
↝▆
▆↜█ █ ▌║ Amity doesn't know the truth.
She wasn't there when her sister did what she did to get arrested before the outbreak. She was only there for the end of the trial, the very end. She was there when her sister was being hauled off in a jumper.
There was a commotion outside: the walkers. She helped her sister escape and get new clothes, and they've been together since.
||☳|| [ Rᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ]
♠║▌╯x ┊ Sister ↝ Tallulah Celeste
▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
➥ Alive ▌ Amiable Factor: 100/100
♠║▌ ╯x ┊ Mother ↝ Iga Celeste
▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
➥ Deceased ▌ Amiable Factor: 85/100
♠║▌╯x ┊ Father ↝ Jeremiah Celeste
▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
➥ Deceased ▌ Hostility Factor: 75/100
«Ｔｈｅｒｅ ｉｓ ｎｏｔｈｉｎｇ ｙｏｕ ｏｒ Ｉ ｃａｎ ｄｏ,
ｅｘｃｅｐｔ ｇｅｔ ｔｈｒｏｕｇｈ.»
↥ Cᴏɴᴛ'ᴅ Fʀᴏᴍ Aʙᴏᴠᴇ➥ Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ғɪᴇɴᴅ
© Aʟʟ Rɪɢʜᴛs Rᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ Fɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ Iɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs
(view spoiler)
Dɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: (view spoiler)
↻ Pᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ
||☳|| [ Mᴇɴᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ ]
⊱ Trait
⊱ Trait
⊱ Trait
⊱ Trait
⊱ Trait
«Squirrel!»
Following the lead of her mother, Amity is a very outgoing young female. She has a tendency to elicit similar responses from those around her. She's a little firecracker of excitement that isn't easy to escape. No, there isn't really a moment that she isn't quite happy with her life, even if it has gone to shit. She mostly sees the upside that she has one family member left to be with, and it happens to be her favorite family member. Her degenerate parents aren't things that make her happy, really.
While being a great big ball of excitement and energy, Amity isn't the brightest bulb in the house. It's not to say that she's entirely stupid, it's just that she doesn't get certain concepts as quickly as others, and can be confused by some forms of chatter. There are moments when she spaces out, and seems to be in a different reality. She usually does this during great times of stress, and it hasn't been that helpful for her. She's managed to get herself caught in some sticky situations because of this. Being the spacey one of the two sisters, she isn't always ready for the combat that she should be. It's a wonder she's made it this far.
Like most small creatures, Amity is easily frightened. The current situation where the dead get up and walk around as ravenous beasts isn't a helping factor in her not pissing her pants at every turn of the corner. In connection to this easily frightened part of Amity, there's the irritation. She has a short fuse when it comes to things that annoy her. With the situation she is in, just about everything could make her moody. This sometimes contradicts her bubbly facet, but the fun always seem to triumph.
Amity is not the person you want to hand a gun, or any projectile weapon for that matter. She's not one to be coordinated enough to use any of those weapons without injuring herself in the process, or someone else that poses no threat at the present moment. She trips over herself all the time, and it's only worsened in terrain that has many roots or things that can stick out and trip her. She doesn't do well with coordination, in general.
As already mentioned, Amity is a bubbly person. In addition, she can become easily excited- be it negative or positive. She has a problem with excitement, as she tends to get very loud. Being loud in the situation at hand can draw all kinds of danger, from both the dead and the living. That being said, she's also incredibly impressionable. It doesn't assist her much that she's not the sharpest knife, so she pretty much is open to any manipulation around.
【 Aᴅᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 】
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
▌✓║ Flowers; Tullips and Lilacs
▌✓║ Small Animals; bunnies, puppies, chicks, mostly baby animals
▌✓║ Sweets; lollipops
▌✓║ Cartoons; Tom and Jerry
▌✓║ Art; Contemporary
▌✓║ Music; Pop mostly, country may be acceptable if the right
▌✓║ Rain Showers; the light stuff
【 Aʙʜᴏʀʀᴇɴᴄᴇ 】
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
▌✗║ Thunder Storms; phobia
▌✗║ Tight, dark spaces; not fun to be in
▌✗║ Dogs; like full grown ones
▌✗║ Walkers; they're dead and they smell like rotting flesh, forgive me for having taste
▌✗║ Fish; they've got creepy faces, okay?
▌✗║ Scary Things; stories, Walkers, movies, books, etc..
【 Sᴜᴘᴇʀɪᴏʀɪᴛɪᴇs 】
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
☰Cerebral☰
▌▲║ Simple Calculation
Amity can put the simple things together, rather than the complex works that others could be able to do without much of a problem.
☷Corporeal☷
▌▲║ Energetic
Amity is a ball of energy, and it usually helps her. It helps her to be quick on her feet, should she have any need to be so.
▌▲║ Quick Reflexes
Being energetic gives her the advantage of moving rather quickly. While this speed may not last for a while, it can come in handy when she gets into certain situations.
【 Iɴғᴇʀɪᴏʀɪᴛɪᴇs 】
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
☰Cerebral☰
▌▼║ Slow-Witted
Yeah, Amity isn't the brightest of the bunch of survivors left. That being said, she can't comprehend things as easily as others do. It takes her some time to work out certain things.
▌▼║ Easily Distracted
She can get distracted very easily.
▌▼║ Impressionable
It's easy to find herself under the influence of other thoughts, as she's very easily manipulated. That being said, it can be easy to get her to believe just about anything.
▌▼║ Easily Frightened
This is pretty self-explanatory
☷Corporeal☷
▌▼║ Stamina
She doesn't have the best stamina, so occasional breaks are needed for her to be able to keep up with others.
▌▼║ Asthma
Amity has acute asthma, so she is easily winded, and certain particles can trigger the attacks. It's usually dust, and the following dust mites that can come with it.
Σ||Bᴇ ↭ Bʀɪɢʜᴛ
◤Aᴍɪᴛʏ Fᴇɴɪᴀ Cᴇʟᴇsᴛᴇ◥
↝▆
▆↜█ █ ▌║ Before Amity came into the world, she would be apart of a family more twisted than the eye could see.
Her sister had already been three years ahead of her in the world, and had been wrecking havoc when her mother went into labor. The exertion of running after a bubbly three year old was the sole factor in sending her into labor. The doctors that were supervising the labor could tell that it would be a difficult child in the making, coupled with the girl they'd birthed three years ahead of the tiny specimen that was weeding its way out the mother.
The labor lasted for quite the time, and the pain was just as lasting. The child that was to be born wasn't great in size, and the doctors were very surprised to see the baby girl was being such a pain in regards to the mother birthing the child. What the doctors wouldn't see would be the pain that she would cause with this older sibling of hers in the years after her birth.
They would also miss the behavior of the father, who in time deteriorated with the usage of narcotics and alcohol, and how he would influence his wife in later years to come.
«But I really really wanna thank you
For dancing till the end
You found a way to break up
You're not afraid to break out»
↝▆
▆↜█ █ ▌║ Ten years later, and the family had moved.
It was clearly breaking parole on the father's behalf, but most of the officers were being bribed to overlook the movement of the family. Amity's father had been a notorious gambler, drunk, and addict in the bustling city of New Orleans. He'd always talked about moving to a city where he was less known, and where he'd be able to cheat. The lack of drugs was enough to put him in a sour mood on most nights, but the sight of his growing daughters was enough to put him in a slightly better mood.
What their mother and the two girls didn't realize was that the man who stepped out of their home every night to attend the needs of the casinos - mainly helped by his losing- wasn't concerned for them. He was truly more concerned with his addictions. It was all he thought of, wanted to be apart of, wanted anything to do with the powdery substance or the bitter liquid that burned the back of his throat on the way down.
There was a night when he returned home from this drunken losing at the nearest casino, vision blurry and steps faltering. He watched his two children play in the comfort of the home they'd been able to afford. Surely, it had been the better idea to move them to this bustling center of attention.
Las Vegas is known as a site for great things. Hell, Elvis wrote a damn song about it. Aside from being great, Vegas was known for crime. Rape, murder, prostitution, fraud- all of it was just part of Vegas living. Their father stared at the thirteen year old, imagining the things that she could be getting into when neither parent was around. The idea of her turning into a hooker infuriated her. There was no way she'd get through with it. As for the ten year old, Amity and Tallulah had been known to get along famously, and that the younger child would do anything her sister did.
So, he set down the older of the two in a separate room, and they had a "talk". This talk pertained of molestation that was induced by a mixture methamphetamine and top shelf whiskey, and the surfacing of pedophilia. Usually, a pedophile would divert their tendencies outside of the family, to save from being discovered by members of their family from finding out and shaming them indefinitely. Their father had no such intentions, otherwise his molestation would limit to a certain time frame as opposed to the frequency and random they proceeded in.
A single night change the family molding, and their father had not a care for what he was doing to his eldest daughter. The results was a closer bond between the two girls and a streak of defiance. With that defiance came the rebellion that would follow both girls as they grew older, within a meager time frame of two months.
At ten and thirteen, you still believe that your parents are your superheroes. Amity lost one of hers, and gained a new one in her elder sibling. Her father had never once considered touching her, but he could always see that look in his eyes before he would push out his urges onto her older sister Tallulah. It sounds incredibly stereotypical, but it's what happened.
No one could understand why the younger child was untouched. Maybe she was undeveloped, and the father didn't like it. But, that would defeat the point of pedophilia. So, why was only one girl being molested, and the other safe? Amity didn't let those thoughts bother her much,
↧ Cᴏɴᴛ'ᴅ Bᴇʟᴏᴡ
➥ Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ғɪᴇɴᴅ© Aʟʟ Rɪɢʜᴛs Rᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ Fɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ Iɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs
(view spoiler)
Dɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: (view spoiler)
↻ Pᴀʀᴛ Oɴᴇ
«Ｔｈｉｓ ｉｓ ｏｕｒ ｆａｔｅ,
ｗｅ ｃａｎｎｏｔ ｅｓｃａｐｅ.»
【 Aᴍɪᴛʏ 】 Fᴇɴɪᴀ Cᴇʟᴇsᴛᴇ
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
『 〓 』 Pronounced ➺ | AM-ih-tee | feh-NI-ah | cee-LEHS-t |
↬ Amity is of Latin origin, and the meaning of Amity is "friendship, harmony". A virtue name. Amity is not a popular first name for women and an equally uncommon surname or last name for all people.
↬ Fenia in Scandinavian mythology, a giantess enslaved by the Danish king Frodi, who reigned peacefully for thirty years. Fenia is not a popular first name for women and an equally uncommon surname or last name for all people.
↬ Celeste, despite how odd it is, is indeed a surname. It is of Latin origin, and the meaning of Celeste is "heavenly". Anglicized form of Céleste (French), from Latin Caelestis, a popular name among early Christians. The masculine form Celestin was the name of five popes, the first one in AD 422. The name may be associated with Queen Celeste, wife of Jean and Laurent de Brunhoff's children's book character Babar, the Elephant. Actress Celeste Holm; casting agent Celestia Fox.
【 Aᴍɪ 】 Fᴇɴᴅɪ
Both nicknames were given to her by her older sister, Missouri. The girls were always one for nicknames as they were so very close to one another. In fact, the law enforcement usually go to her should her sister have done something.
░▓░Gender Femme Fatale ⇝ Female
♀┏━━━━━━━━━┓
Derived from the chromosome
┗━━━━━━━━━┛『xx』
░▓░Sexuality Heterosexual
➥ Heterosexuality is romantic attraction, sexual attraction or sexual behavior between persons of opposite sex or gender in the gender binary. As a sexual orientation, heterosexuality refers to "an enduring pattern of or disposition to experience sexual, affectionate, physical or romantic attractions to persons of the opposite sex"; it also refers to "an individual’s sense of personal and social identity based on those attractions, behaviors expressing them, and membership in a community of others who share them". The term is usually applied to humans, but it is also observed in all mammals.
░▓░Relationship Status Single
░▓░Age Sixteen ⇝ 16
░▓░Blood Type A- ⇝ A Rh negative
░▓░Place of Birth New Orleans ⇝ Louisiana
⊱ Nationalities American, Armenian
⊱ Ethnicities Creole, Armenian, Dutch
░▓░Date of Birth August 6th ⇝ 12 PM
⊱ Zodiacal symbol ♌ ➠ Leo ➠ (view spoiler)
«Take a deep breath,
suck the water in my lungs.»
[ Cɪᴠɪʟɪᴀɴ ]
Yes, Amity isn't some skilled soldier sent out to see to it that there are some survivors above ground. She's just a teenager trying to survive with an older sister is admittedly a convict. She aided her sister in her escape, because that's what sisters do, yah know?
It's not hard to think about family in a situation like this, but it really depends on which family member you're looking to save in the long haul.
░▓░Weaponry Mace
Maces are generally medieval weapons, but Amity and Missouri had found a way to recreate them without having to break into anywhere serious.It was the simple addition of some weights to the end of a pole and a baseball bat. Simple, right?
░▓░Residency Nomadic
Unlike those who happened to find themselves good places underground, Amity and Missouri have spent their time above ground and on the constant move. They are, however, making plans to stake out an area for themselves.
Tʜᴇ Bᴇɪɴɢ
▐▒ Face Claim Elsa Holmgren
▐ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▐
▐☸▒ Amity is quite the creature to look at. Describe her as calmly as possible without have some form of affection for her? It's not likely to be possible. She has an aura about her is can usually elicit some affectionate responses to the viewers. She isn't made to be the dominant female, nor the subservient one, for that matter. She's that classy in between that most guys can't get enough of.
Standing at a point of five feet and nine inches, she follows in the footsteps of her sister and parents in the height factor. She weighs around a hundred and thirty-five pounds, which is a cross of healthy, and not so healthy. She doesn't force herself to vomit or anything, it's just her metabolism and the current zombie apocalypse that's done a number on her weight. She happens to be a frail girl, and it doesn't always work to her advantage. Ovoid in shape like the better half of her family, Amity has quite the face to look at. Topping her slender neck, and somewhat bony shoulders, it fits right there.
Originally, the specimen before you had raven black hair, much like her family members. The dark haired beauty of the family is definitely fit to produce envious stares. However, Amity took after her sister to separate from the familial dark hared exposure, and died her curly locks blonde. Since then, the dye has been fading, and Amity hasn't had much time to find more dye to redye it. Her curls frame her face and stand out against the relatively pale visage. The other factor known to stand out are the florescent blue oculars. They're an icy blue that contrast with the shell pink of her somewhat chapped lips.
The last thing to note is her voice. It holds all the tang of her New Orleanian birth place, and she holds it to her advantage in the recent times. It's light and airy, but in a way that seems kind of attractive to a number of masculine dominants. In certain instances of excitement, her voice cracks exponentially, and her sister is usually there to make some sort of fun of it. Should she be angered, her voice, again, cracks to a certain extent and degree.
||☳|| [ Dᴇᴛᴀɪʟs ]
⊱ Hair Pigmentation Originally, her hair was raven black as was hereditary, but modern dyes aided to make a light blonde colour. And, at that, the dye is fading.
⊱ Eye Pigmentation Amity's oculars are of the icy blue hue, and have a tendency to project the opposite of what she is feeling.
⊱ Altitude A rather tall specimen, Amity is five feet and nine inches. She follows after her parents and older sibling in that respect.
⊱ Ponderosity Weighing in at a hundred and thirty-five pounds, she is quite nicely weighted, but at the same time not. The amount doesn't seem to meet the standard of a healthy girl her age, and she isn't much for caring. The current zombie outbreak isn't helping her much.
⊰⊱ Distinguishing Marks
♠ Tattoos
(view spoiler) Done by her sister
♠ Eyes: They, uh, they pop
♠ Body Mass: She's very skinny
||☳|| [ Sᴛʏʟᴇ ]
Amity has a style that reflects how pure she could be, if the situation of the world was entirely different. That being said, she also dresses in an appropriate manner for the setting.
↧ Cᴏɴᴛ'ᴅ Bᴇʟᴏᴡ
The generic resonance of a bell ringing gave Micah cause to halt all observatory actions. He lifted his head to the conclave mirror positioned just above his cranial reach to see a dark figure entering the store. He slid his hand into his bag to pull out the pistol that rested just inside the lip of the bag before.quietly ducking down behind the counter and retrieving the last trace of his existence in the store.
Micah, gorging himself in the recesses of the convenience store he had entered, paused to look up. There appeared to be a gathering of sorts going on, preluded by the earlier exploitation of profanity. He moved quickly back to the counter, where he had left his bag, and dug through it for the pair of binoculars he had picked from a fallen colleague.
Steps echoed through the silent streets, a lone figure clad in black hurrying off to the safety of a cleared out building. The space had once been a relic of human convenience, the perishable foods having already been ripped from their shelves. Green oculars scanned for any sign of life aside from the rodents that scampered past dark boots. There appeared to be none, and the male let out a soft sigh of relief that would be the breath he never had been aware of holding. Removing his hood, Micah set the bag of electronics and ammunition down at the counter that held a beat up register. Whomever had found the place to be a haven had certainly wanted to make the most of it.
Micah could join a group ^-^
↥ Cᴏɴᴛ'ᴅ Fʀᴏᴍ Aʙᴏᴠᴇ➥ Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ғɪᴇɴᴅ
© Fɪᴇɴᴅ(view spoiler)
Dɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: (view spoiler)
↻ Pᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ
on that day. He strode into the boy's bathroom without a care and went as he would without the hindrance of the pretense of being a female. Unfortunately for him, a student from the neighboring classroom had also had the mind to use the restroom as well.
The act in itself was innocent to both parties, but in respect to the young man, he did walk into the bathroom to find a seven year old girl with suspected cooties lifting up her dress and holding something he thought only little boys should have. The look of panic that crossed both boys faces was to result in a stern put down on part of Micah by his school's principal. No, they didn't believe what he was doing was right, but he'd gotten so adjusted to this way of life, that it'd begun to seem right.
It was a choice he made of his own sound judgement to continue portraying a female, and restrain himself to the confines of feminine areas, especially when puberty decided to gift him with even more feminine features.
For six more years he was burdened with the hopes and crushing blows of ever being what he truly was: male. It was hard on him and his family, but they endured. His mother was the most reverent about sticking with what they'd decided on, even if his father began to grow disgusted with his only son.
↝▆
▆↜Ⓜ▐▐ Micah's first friendship was something other than that to the other party.
Micah had begun a friendship with the young boy that had ratted him out to his principal at the tender age of seven. The two had split when Micah had moved schools, but when they had reunited in the eighth grade, both weren't the same.
Puberty had not given Micah the chance to be much of a male in appearance, especially not with the growth of more feminine indicators. Albeit they were rather minuscule, they were noticeable to draw attention from the same gender with the guise of being the opposite one. He had been flirted with quite endlessly by hormonal and prepubescent boys who would later discover that the she was actually a he, emphasis on the masculine indicator dangling between his legs when he used the restroom.
Micah's mother had been able to get him into a educational institute that allowed for him to dress as a female, but use all the male facilities with ease. This, of course, was done in a manner that included a number of scandalous pictures of the principal and underage girls in compromising positions. Yes, it would otherwise be known as blackmail, but Micah's mother wasn't one to be technical when it came to her children, and didn't waste her breath with bargaining unless she had some leverage.
Now, the young man who'd previously gotten Micah removed from school had forgotten about the ordeal with a year or two of therapy. His name was Richard, which he had shortened to Rich towards amiable presences. Having forgotten, when he'd laid eyes on an older Micah, he saw only the feminine exterior. The process of them even becoming friends was a rocky one, as Micah wasn't someone who forgot very easily, and that Rich had been persuaded to befriend the young male through a bet.
At any rate, they became friends, and the opposing party began to develop something else entirely. The question of sexuality was further clouded by the question of sexual identity, and neither party was quite sure of how to answer either of those questions without disrupting the peace of each party. One assumed that the two of them were dating, which would be rich. He bought Micah gifts that were rather expensive with the pretense of courtship, which was not seen as so by Micah.
Micah called off the confusing affair before it could go much further, which it had almost done so when Rich attempted to make lip to lip contact with Micah on numerous occasions. It was clear to say that Rich later wanted close to nothing to do with him for the better part of their middle school career. However, after the first couple days of the ninth grade in the confines of all the same classrooms, they settled the differences and became the friends that they should have been before.
↝▆
▆↜Ⓜ▐▐ The decision for change was everything that Micah needed, but didn't want.
His mother had always been a floaty type of person, someone who wasn't very easy to find in true times of need that involved people other than his younger sister or himself. She would just disappear for a few hours, leaving in a huff and coming back in a far better mood.
Micah's father suspected her of cheating, but had never seemed to have the heart to confront her about it until a drunken night in August that he followed the woman to her usual hunting ground for her variance.
The children had been strapped into the backseat of the truck that had been used as a familial transport for the better part of their lives. The swerving of the car gave them no reassurance that they would be walking out of the car in the next half our breathing or intact.
They attempted to persuade the man to pull over and let the next designated driver take over, which would be Micah as he had turned seventeen the year earlier. His father just continued on with his drunken mess of driving, endangering every single person on the road. The trio arrived at a bar that Galina Tsar had pulled into not minutes before.
When they stepped inside, what they had expected to find was a flirtatious mood with their mother in the midst of adultery, but what they found could have been far worse. The lone blonde stood in the midst of a sea of blood, her own hands covered in the life essence. The expression of pure ecstasy that had been placed over her face was more than confusing to all the members of the Tsar family.
The look of pure hate filled the next moment as his father stared out at the creature before him, who held a pleading expression as she began to steadily back up. In the moment that Micah blinked, he lost both his parents. His mother ran out first, and was followed closely behind by his father. They went out the back, a shot ran out, and his father returned to the bar in a haze of adrenaline and anger. There was no blood, but he appeared as if he wanted blood to be spilled. It seemed that the knowledge of her being a variant was something worse than her cheating.
Micah suspected that his mother was dead, but his father wouldn't be so angry if she truly was.
↝▆
▆↜Ⓜ▐▐ With aging, came a knowledge unknown to most.
Micah made the decision to leave the home and comfort he'd known for a very long time to pursue his mother. It took a toll on his father, who had slipped in and out of disowning his only son to settle for regarding him as a disgrace for ever having been born. He understood that his genes were a good deal of the reason why his son was the way he was, but it didn't bother him in the least bit.
The two had never gotten along, and there wasn't ever a possibility for the two of them to. No, to his father his genes were tainted with that of a thing that had whittles its way into his life. It took the best years of his life, and he was not one to be happy about it.
The entire family knew how he felt about that kind. To say what they were was like raising Satan from his sleep.
So, unable to stand what the disappearance of his mother had created, Micah left for a career that would bring him closer to finding her. He resolved that he'd find her, get his young sister, and leave the anger of his father behind.
||☳|| [ Rᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ]
Galina Tsar
(☰) ╯x ┊❝ Mother / Missing ▍▍▍▍ ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ 10 out of 10
Mikhail Tsar
(☰) ╯x ┊❝ Father / Alive ▍▍▍▍ ♥♥♥ 3 out of 10
Astrid Tsar
(☰) ╯x ┊❝ Younger Sister / Alive ▍▍▍▍ ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ 10 out of 10
↥ Cᴏɴᴛ'ᴅ Fʀᴏᴍ Aʙᴏᴠᴇ➥ Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ғɪᴇɴᴅ
© Fɪᴇɴᴅ(view spoiler)
Dɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: (view spoiler)
↻ Pᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ
⊱ Trait
⊱ Trait
«Something like the holocaust»
Micah is more of an introverted person, and tends to keep to himself as much as possible, even during missions. He isn't one of the introverts that is shy and timid, but simply doesn't believe in human interaction being of any benefit to him. People aren't his favorite things in the world, and he doesn't feel that he needs to speak with them. In this sense, it makes him a quiet person.He's fine with being called as such, but isn't a label to place on him that works effectively. Just be careful of how you intend to break him out of his reservation, as it can result in some form of violence if not done properly.
Calculation is only reasonable in Micah's field of work. What he does requires quite a bit of calculation, and a meticulous nature only further advances any advantage already gained. Micah has a knack for being exceptional calculative, and it is both a strength and weakness. Taking his time to take in every detail shows how much he has to observe, and the meticulous side of him won't allow for any fine detail being missed, even if it's as small as can be. Micah would simply dismiss it as part of his job when confronted on how well he does, and will make no move to correct statements of genius unless they are more far-fetched than he's willing to allow it to go.
Micah will most definitely tell you if he doesn't have a particular liking to you. He doesn't have the mindset to withhold such information, especially if it will get in the way of later interactions, or avoided interactions. In a sense, he can be seen as cruel because of how blunt he is, and the way he often delivers the truth of the situations at hand. This cruelty is just about as far as it extends to, and he has no real intention of turning it into anything else. Should it get past the avenue of truth, it's likely that you've done something to anger him in some way, or you've made the mistake of touching his equipment.
If one were to break the reserved exterior of Micah in a haphazard manner, it would elicit the appearance of a more violent side of him. He will raise to a level of aggression in a peculiar manner that would be similar to the anger of a mother towards her child in some instances. He would present a calm facade that snaps just before he displays violent tendencies linked to an elevated aggression. Micah doesn't normal display such a temperament, and can be kept calm in most situations. He finds that there are some triggers that are far more dangerous to pull than that of a gun.
As a result of Micah being a quiet and reserved soul, he's naive to a great deal of the world. His lack of participation in what goes on outside of a mission leads to the lack of him having any experience of the things around him. This also leads him to be quite curious. It contradicts his reserved nature, but has a tendency to stray out from his usual sideline activity. This could often get him into situations of trouble that he can sometimes get himself out of without much help, or assistance.
░▓░Adulation
✓ Silence
✓ Thinking
✓ Chess
✓ Being able to not have use of a gun
✓ Rain
✓ Storms
✓ Technology
░▓░Abhorrence
✗ His equipment being touched
✗ Being flirted with by the male population
✗ Sunshine
✗ Loud places
✗ People
░▓░Fortitude
☰Cerebral☰
♦ Calculation
To be able to calculate anything faster than a computer could is indeed a strength, and there have been a number of speculators who believed that this might be a sign of variance.
♦ Comprehension
Micah displays an ability to comprehend things faster than most subjects would be able to. This is again considered part of some form of variance, but it's usually dismissed.
♦ Memory
Micah has an eidetic memory, meaning he can recall sounds, images, and smells with complete precision without the requirement of some form of repetition.
☷Corporeal☷
♦ Precision
Micah has a knack for hitting things on the mark, even if he doesn't shoot too often. It's probably the only reason they allow him to be in the field.
░▓░Decrepitude
☰Cerebral☰
♢ Emotional Control
Micah has a good time keeping most of his emotions in check, but there are a few that slip more often than most. Anger, for one, and the absolute disparity that can sometimes be found in the tone of his voice is another than he has yet to become to the master of.
♢ Concentration
Yes, Micah can keep himself concentrated if he works hard, but he often gets bored of the tasks he's been assigned to, and strays from what he needs to do.
☷Corporeal☷
♢ Strength
No, Micah isn't the pillar of strength, and it's a wonder he even passed the examination to become a soldier at all.
♢ Stamina
Micah doesn't do well with stamina. It has to be one of the downsides of his physique being so haphazard, even if he doesn't put on weight. No, the act of weight gain may be hard, but staying in line with everyone on a morning run is just as difficult for him. It's not that he's at all out of shape; he just wasn't built for running the distance and speed required of him.
Σ||Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ↭ Gᴏ
◤Mɪᴄᴀʜ Mɪᴋʜᴀɪʟ Tsᴀʀ◥
↝▆
▆↜Ⓜ▐▐ The day before Halloween, and the only activity buzzing in the halls of a Russian hospital after midnight was the labor of a young woman, or someone who appeared to be so.
The night had brought forth a storm like no other, and it shook even the sturdiest of buildings. The power had gone out, but the generators had failed to start up. The lives of many in the hospital were at stake, even the small child that was currently attempting to enter the world whilst his mother's screams contributed to the frantic panicking of doctors, nurses, medical aids, and more. The patients had even lifted up complaints of the woman's terrible wailing.
One old woman in particular had requested that the husband deal with the woman's irritating suffering in some manner, and it gave pause to the doctors. The woman had come in on her own, and assured them that the father of the child would arrive after her. That had been declared nearly five hours ago, and the speed of her labor had not once progressed past her excruciating pain.
The concerned both doctors and nurses involved in her delivery, and they sought an answer by means of the woman herself. The one moment that the noise had died down was by far the most troubling for them, and would eventually lead to a decision on the woman's part. A decision that would change the lives of many in the hospital at the time.
The true beginnings of labor began as they questioned the woman, to which she didn't answer a good deal of them. There was also the factor of most being deceptive answers that would turn up no results in future searches, aside from her name.
"Ma'am, I need to ask you your name," was the first question to leave a timid doctor as he stared at the blonde in labor before him. Her eyes were a hazy blue, but at this moment they almost appeared to be violet. Her gaze turned incredulous, like she hadn't given the information upon her arrival.
"Where is your husband," the doctor managed to get out over the terrible wailing of the woman. Her skin glistened with the sweat of the effort she used to straighten herself up on the hospital bed, reaching over to the doctor asking her the questions. Hand clasping around the collar of his shirt, she pulled him forward roughly, and began to state her claims.
"I have been in labor for the past five hours," she started, "I don't need your questions unless they help me get this baby out. He's been waiting for eight months, and I really think he's ready now to see the world. Now, if we could get on with this, I'd like for my hormones to get back in check, and see my son."
The doctor, thoroughly intimidated by the hormonal woman in the process of giving birth to her first child, nodded in response and set about aiding a new life into the world.
However, as the labor progressed, something began to happen to the woman. The pain of labor wasn't uncommon, but the pain she experiencing wasn't the usual sort. The doctors were concerned that something was wrong, very wrong. The child was too small to be causing the trouble that it was at this point, and they didn't know what the problem was.
In the time it took for them to even think about what went wrong, the woman gave birth on her own. She'd ruled out the possibility of help from any of the doctors, although she had already been very far along in the labor.
When the doctors turned back to the where the woman was supposed to be lying in bed, what they instead found was an empty hospital bed with bloodied sheets. The first thought was that she was somewhere in the room giving off her last breaths of life while still in labor, and so they searched the room. When the woman didn't seem to turn up in the confines of the hospital room, they panicked.
The same woman they sought stood out in the cold, her baby boy in her arms. The expression that covered her visage was inscrutable, and gave off a distant feel, as though she were in some other place and time. The look would haunt both mother and child throughout both lives, and things would change far more drastically.
↝▆
▆↜Ⓜ▐▐ The first sign of Micah's unusual predicament was when he was six.
He began to take on feminine features, starting with the growth of his hair and the shaping of his face. Being six, he didn't much take notice of it, and thought that it was natural. His mother, doctors, and peers of his kindergarten class thought otherwise. Now, his mother had always been understanding and what mother isn't supposed to love their child? She treated it as any other appearance of his, and began to register him in school as a female. The action wasn't in a means of choosing what he was supposed to be, but was a means of protection that a young Micah didn't quite understand.
He didn't understand why he was being forced into girl's clothes, or going with the girls when it came time to change clothing.
The first happening of his exposure in school was an innocent trip to the bathroom. He'd become used to sitting down when the need for the emptying of bladder came, but something was telling him otherwise
↧ Cᴏɴᴛ'ᴅ Bᴇʟᴏᴡ
➥ Tʜɪs ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ғɪᴇɴᴅ© Aʟʟ Rɪɢʜᴛs Rᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ Fɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ Iɴᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs
(view spoiler)
Dɪsᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: (view spoiler)
↻ Pᴀʀᴛ Oɴᴇ
«Ｕｎｄｅｒｎｅａｔｈ ｔｈｅ ｆｅｍｉｎｉｎｅ ｅｘｔｅｒｉｏｒ,
ｔｈｅｒｅ ｉｓ ｍａｓｃｕｌｉｎｉｔｙ ｔｈａｔ ｆｅｅｌｓ ｉｎｆｅｒｉｏｒ»
【 Mɪᴄᴀʜ 】 Mɪᴋʜᴀɪʟ Tsᴀʀ
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
『 〓 』• Pronounced |muh-ee-KAH | mee-khah-EEL | Zz-AR |
• Micah is the name of several people in the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament), and means "who is like God?". The name is sometimes found with theophoric extensions. Suffix theophory in Yah and in Yahweh results in Michaiah or Michaihu (Hebrew: מִיכָיְהוּ, Modern Mikhayhu Tiberian Mîḵā́yhû), meaning who is like Yahweh? Suffix theophory in El results in Michael (Hebrew: מִיכָאֵל, Modern Mikha'el Tiberian Mîḵāʼēl), meaning "who is like God?"
• Russian form of MICHAEL, and a variant Bulgarian transcription of MIHAIL. This was the name of two Russian tsars. It was also borne by the former Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev (1931-).
• Tsar (Tzar, Czar, or Csar; Bulgarian, Serbian and Ukrainian: цар; Russian: царь [tsarʲ] (help·info)) is a title used to designate certain European Slavic monarchs or supreme rulers. As a system of government in the Tsardom of Russia and Russian Empire, it is known as Tsarist autocracy, or Tsarism. The term is derived from the Latin word Caesar, which was intended to mean "Emperor" in the European medieval sense of the term - a ruler with the same rank as a Roman emperor, holding it by the approval of another emperor or a supreme ecclesiastical official (the Pope or the Ecumenical Patriarch) - but was usually considered by western Europeans to be equivalent to king, or to be somewhat in between a royal and imperial rank.
Occasionally, the word could be used to designate other, secular, supreme rulers. In Russia and Bulgaria the imperial connotations of the term were blurred with time, due to the medieval translations of the Bible, and, by the 19th century, it had come to be viewed as an equivalent of King.
【 Mɪᴋᴋʏ 】
Mikky isn't his favorite nickname, and he doesn't like nicknames in the least. He does make exceptions to who can call him what.
░▓░Gender Masculine ⇝ Male, with tinges of female
♂┏━━━━━━━━━┓
Derived from the chromosome
┗━━━━━━━━━┛『xy』
░▓░Sexuality
[Relationship Status] Single
░▓░Age Twenty ⇝ 20
░▓░Place of Birth Abakan ⇝ Russia
⊱ Nationalities Russian, American
⊱ Ethnicities Russian, German, Austrian
░▓░Date of Birth October 30th ⇝ 1:32 AM
⊱ Zodiacal symbol ♏ ➠ Scorpio ➠ (view spoiler)
«I have a special set of skills»
Sᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ
Micah is tasked with the job of gathering intelligence on whatever mission that they have been assigned to. He can do it through the field, or through his trusty computer and hacking abilities. Yes, he was spotted by the militia primarily because of his hacking abilities. He is, however, perfectly capable of working assault. No one seems to understand that he is capable of firing a weapon, because most have never seen him do it. He prefers to keep that skill of his hidden in case someone should try to use him to their advantage, and he really doesn't like being used by anyone- doesn't matter who they are. He's kind of a free spirit.
Tʜᴇ Bᴇɪɴɢ
▐▒ Face Claim Rooney Mara
▐ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▐
▐☸▒ Micah isn't a male with many masculine features, save the lone indicator between his legs. Born with ambiguous genitalia, he has the exterior appearance of a female from the waist up. It's a struggle he's had to deal with for much of his life, and it has come to the point where he no longer finds it to be much of a bother. Now, to move on to a more detailed description of his current medical dilemma.
Micah isn't exactly the tallest person, reaching the maximum altitude of five feet and six inches. He's just above average, and doesn't much care for the comments that can come with the knowledge of his combined height and medical condition. He weighs a solid hundred thirty pounds, which is all thanks to his fast metabolism. He doesn't put on much weight due to the constant burning of fat. With a slender frame, he quite thankfully has little to no noticeable curves. Being a male as opposed to a female has lead him to some turmoil that he can't often single out to solve. Despite being small in stature, he has a rather long torso with proportionally long arms that aren't muscular whatsoever.
Upon a triangular visage sits a rather fair complexion. There have been a number of comments that link him close to porcelain dolls, and he's no fan of them. His raven black tresses stop just by his shoulders, and although this presents him to be more feminine, he hasn't had the motivation to cut it. His eyes often have the appearance of being sunken in or sleep deprived, but it's mostly the latter. His oculars are a dark blue color, but can be regarded as a darker green in certain lights. Another thing to note is that he does have eyebrows; they've simply been dyed blonde. His lips are thin, and rather pale, even against his skin.
The last thing to focus on is his voice. It's just as feminine as the rest of him, but has the faint tinges of masculinity. It is heavily accented, and he prefers to keep it that way, without any dilution.
||☳|| [ Dᴇᴛᴀɪʟs ]
⊱ Hair Pigmentation Raven Black
⊱ Eye Pigmentation Turbulent Blue/Shadowed Green
⊱ Altitude 5 ft 6
⊱ Ponderosity 130 lbs
⊰⊱ Distinguishing Marks
▶ Tattoos
(view spoiler) The rest can be seen in the pictures.
▶ Piercings: also seen in the pictures, as he sticks to the facial area for his piercings.
||☳|| [ Sᴛʏʟᴇ ]
Micah has a peculiar style that normally consists of black clothing, and pants that are made with the sag in them. His hair is a mess of styling most of the time, and he never has a clear idea of what he wants to do with it. Moving down to his feet, they are perpetually clad in combat boots until whenever it is that he is scheduled to die. He prefers that over the option of women's foot wear.
||☳|| [ Mᴇɴᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ ]
⊱ Trait
⊱ Trait
⊱ Trait
↧ Cᴏɴᴛ'ᴅ Bᴇʟᴏᴡ
Call me what you want. It was your decision to see my statement as an offense, when it wasn't. And I'm fine with your characters not going near mine. I don't have a particular need for them to.
Just an idea, but could we have a face claim list? I have characters I want to make, and I want to draw out their creation over a period.
{Part II}would procure her coveted butterscotches. Being eight could only get you so much money, and there was only so long before the candy was gone.
She decided to take a risk for the better, and began shoving butterscotches into her pockets. Now, butterscotch wrappings are quite the noisy little devils, since they're made from plastic and tightly wrapped at that. In shoving them in her pocket, it seemed that Anja was starting up an alarm that had the children turning in her direction. The clerk was still busy chatting away still, but she had the attention of her peers.
Walking quickly to the door, she started up yet another alarm of screaming children. The clerk disrupted his call only for a moment, but it was long enough for him to become aware of the situation. There was a tad bit of arguing with a splash of haggling and pleading, but in the end, Anja failed.
She left the candy store sullenly, and reported herself to her mother upon her arrival home.
▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▀ ▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▀ ▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▀ ▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▀ ▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
We march all around til' the sun goes down night children
Broken dreams, no sunshine, endless crimes, we long for freedom
You're free but in your mind, your freedom's in a bind
┣ ▇▇▇ ▇ ▇ ▇▇ ▇
♚ ▌▌▌Anja's mother became very sick the year she turned fourteen.
With the fresh start of the "rebellious stage", Anja didn't much think that her mother would be sick for long. No, she believed it would pass like all the other sicknesses she'd ever had, and they'd be back to screaming at each other in no time.
{Part I}Presenting a template brought to you by ⤹
( ♠ ) Ｐａｒｏｘｙｓｍａｌ Ａｓｐｈｙｘｉａｔｉｏｎ
【A 】ɴɢᴇʟ? Sᴏғᴛ?
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅ ▅▅▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
I ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɴᴏᴛ, ᴀssʜᴏʟᴇ.
Anja Lafayette Metzger
『 〓 』• Pronounced |ahhn-JAH | lah-fah-YEHT | MEHT-zer-ger |
• Anja means Grace. It is one of the most exotic of several ethnic versions of Ann/Anna now being imported, also including Anya and Annika. Anja is heard in several European cultures, including Germany, Holland, and the Scandinavian countries--and it has a variety of pronunciations.
• Lafayette is of French origin. May derive from "foi", meaning "faith". Historical: the Marquis de Lafayette, a French nobleman, was only 20 when he came to serve four years in the American Revolutionary cause. When he returned to America, he was welcomed as a hero. A similar baby name is Fayette.
• Metzger is a German word meaning "butcher". It's not as evil or threatening as it may sound.
Age: Seventeen {17; Ten-and-Seven} May 17th; 1:13 AM
Blood Type: O Rh Positive [Universal Donor]
Gender: [/glances into shirt] "We both know the answer to that"
♀ ┏━━━━━━━━━┓
Derived from the chromosome
┗━━━━━━━━━┛『xx』
⊱Born in Dinkelsbühl, Germany
⊱ Nationalities are German, Russian
⊱ Ethnical background includes; German, Russian, Welsh
Sexuality: Ambisexual
Relationship Status: Single
⊱ Zodiacal symbol: 猪 ➠ (view spoiler)
⊱ Zodiacal symbol: Taurus ➠ ♉ ➠ (view spoiler)
A: PPARITIONAL APPEARANCE
██████████████████████████ ██████████
▐ Physique (view spoiler)
▐ Clothing Style (view spoiler) Don't let her style fool you.
▐ Marking(s): Light burns on her inner wrist from a fire, and light strangulation marks that didn't seem to fade over time.
▐ Tattoo(s): (view spoiler)
|| ♛ || Describe this mess of emotion and history in the physical form? It can be attempted, but no guarantees are made to how pin-point this will be, seeing as she has tendencies to drastically change the way she looks, well more so what her hair looks like.
With at stopping point of five feet six inches, Anja isn't the picture of height. She doesn't much care for this, and would greatly appreciate if people held back their comments on it. She weighs a standard hundred forty pounds, and is very content with the outcome of her extension activity. She was never one to stay in one place for a while, and it seems to have paid off. Slenderly framed, save the chest and posterior area, she doesn't pay much attention to her inherited curves. No, she prefers to focus on the thing higher than her shoulders, because she believes people should be looking up there. Femininely narrow shoulders, followed by a slender neck, leads to an ovoid visage that is framed quite nicely by her hair.
Golden strands of hair cascade down to her shoulders. At some times, they will be radiant curls and other times, they are a mix of black and brown locks threaded into the sea of blonde. She doesn't stick with either for very long, as she much likes to diversify her hair. It would appear to be her only girlish habit, and will stay that way. Upon cursory examination of her eyes, they appear to be green. However, her oculars are quite actually a maze of hue. In bright lightings, they're a hazy mix of a green coloring and flecks of hazel light in a color close to her hair. In the darker setting, they appear to be a clouded pale blue. They particularly pop out against her moderately tanned complexion. Her lips, which usually hold a pouty sort of formation as a default of reason she doesn't know, are a peachy hue that's close to the inside of a shell. She prefers not to dwell on that fact, as she wants people to focus on her words, rather than her lips.
The last thing to work on when describing this female is her voice. It has a husky sound to it, the more appealing kind of husky that is more commonly exhibit in the gender counterpart and widely sought out. It holds a low soprano, high alto octave. It's similar to the tinkling of little metal objects together, if not more pleasant. If she were exhibit any form of rage, it deepens exponentially into a feral and harsh sound as opposed to the previously pleasant one. Should she be delighted, her voice hitches ever so slightly. The change isn't very noticeable unless you've been listening to her for a while.
Hair Color: Golden strands of hair cascade down to her shoulders. At some times, they will be radiant curls and other times, they are a mix of black and brown locks threaded into the sea of blonde.
Eye Color: Upon cursory examination of her eyes, they appear to be green. However, her oculars are quite actually a maze of hue. In bright lightings, they're a hazy mix of a green coloring and flecks of hazel light in a color close to her hair. In the darker setting, they appear to be a clouded pale blue. They particularly pop out against her moderately tanned complexion.
Height: With at stopping point of five feet six inches, Anja isn't the picture of height.
Weight: She weighs a standard hundred forty pounds, and is very content with the outcome of her extension activity. She was never one to stay in one place for a while, and it seems to have paid off.
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❝ Some will pull the gun because they want to be stars
Snatching up your life into the blink of an eye ❞
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×◞ ⇡ Tʜᴇ Dɪsᴘᴀɪʀɪᴛɪᴇs
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♚ ▌▌▌No one ever said the miracle of life had to be pretty, or that it didn't cost something.
Anja's mother certainly hadn't considered that. There's always something to happens to a person when they've gone through eight hours of labor, and had yet to see the father of the child in the hospital. Her first thought was that she'd been bailed on, and that the father of the newborn baby girl was just another deadbeat father who'd have made their child become someone entirely different than what they should have been destined to be.
What had actually happened to make the father miss the birth of his first child was an accident that should never have happened. He was taken from his family just minutes away from arriving at the hospital. The emergency room had been filled that particular morning after a protest had gone terribly wrong. The hours he lay bleeding out were nearly parallel to the labor of his wife only floors above him.
He'd died around the same exact time that the baby, Anja, had been born. Her mother found the news to be the turning point of her spiral to the depths of instability. Rather than stay in the place that should have been the child's home in honor of her father, she moved her to Moscow.
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We're dancing free but we're stuck here underground
And everybody trying to figure they way out
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♚ ▌▌▌Anja and Moscow went together like peanut butter and jelly.
She loved her first thirteen years of life there. They were some of her best memories, and her mother seemed content with her manner of escaping the reality of her child going on without a father. She'd never bothered to remarry, to stuck on the love she had lost, but the child it'd produced had been a motivating cause for her to find some sort of comfort.
In the Russian spring that she turned eight, the first felony to land on her mental record occurred in a candy store. The clerk wasn't particularly bright, and wasn't paying any sort of attention to the cluster of children basking in the sugary glory of the wares. Snotty fingers smeared little green and white fluids on the glass while Anja stood fixated on the butterscotch assortment.
A simple glance in the direction of the counter told her that the teenage boy behind the counter was more concerned with chatting away with whomever had been on the phone with him. She felt her throat grow dry after she rooted through her pockets for the quarters that
