Futuristic 𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗮 〄 pomme & solarsaphia

[pomme]

andromeda

 

[solarsaphia]

quinn alexander

name

quinn alexander

goes by

quinn, q

age

21 years

birthday

december 31st

gender

male (he/him)

sexuality

bisexual

race/ethnicity

black

2:01

Friday, October 30th

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face claim

désiré quadjo mia

height

5’5"

weight

117 lbs

body type

short, especially for a guy his age, and nothing but lean muscle. he hasn't had much choice when it comes to his body type, having lacked the proper nutrients to grow to what he would have otherwise.

eyes

dark brown and intense. people say it feels like he's looking into your soul.

hair

black and curly. he likes to keep it short-cropped at the sides.

skin

an even, warm brown. there are some scrapes and lasting scars from fights and accidents during his time in the wasteland.

@quinntheq

likes

snow, writing, reading, horror movies, cities, the moon, chemistry, companionship, order

dislikes

hot weather, radiation, fighting, the wasteland, leaving, naivety, bright colors

extra

moderate case of rbf.​

he's not short, you're just tall.​

constantly exhausted older sibling energy.​

weirdly good at hiding from people.​

his favorite color is green.​

'cause you're the last of a dying breed, write our names in the wet concrete

personality

A young man with the gaze of someone far beyond his years, Quinn can often seem like he’s holding the weight of the world upon his shoulders. He’s a

reserved

individual, anxious around strangers or acquaintances, but he's not unkind. In fact, he's most irritated when he’s worried about someone, telling them off because he knows that they can’t afford to play fast and loose with their life.

He

seeks stability

, though it’s rarely given to him. Loyalty isn’t something he can always guarantee, stuck in situations that force him to make decisions for the greater good, but he cares deeply about the scant few he lets close. He’s terrified of the consequences of people leaving him,

skeptical

when they make promises, but his stubbornness usually gives way if they're persistent enough.

Quinn is

intelligent

, and most of his strength comes from his patience and awareness. He sees the reality of how things are, how life fits together. It’s this kind of existential knowledge that makes him such a wise person. He’s an exclusive

realist

, though it borders on pessimism at times due to his careful nature. But when it comes down to it, he’ll try his best. He’s just another kid tired of the world and the pain it brings.

history

Quinn Alexander grew up in a world of smog and blood. He was born in Ciyelo, a metropolis once famous for its innovations in interstellar travel. Centuries of corrupt leadership and the failure of nearly every city on the planet had left it running on scraps of radium and long-buried fossil fuels, filling the skies with black smoke that required its citizens to wear masks in their daily life.

Of course, even this didn’t last. By the time Quinn was just four years old, his father was inducted into the government’s most desperate plan yet— the Aegians. Ciyelo had become isolated over the years, only the internet allowing for inter-city communication, and the area between hubs of activity was a barren wasteland. The Aegians were a randomly selected group of 15 eligible citizens that would be sent out to look for radioactive material with no protective gear. This, as the horrified public expected, killed every last person on the expedition. His eldest sister faced a similar fate a year later, and citizens quickly came to realize they had to hit the ground running or die trying.

Getting out of Ciyelo proved an easy task, but an onerous future. Nearly three hundred people left when the lack of resources caused a city-wide power shutdown, and Quinn’s family was among them.

Quinn was always on the run during his childhood, choking on the fumes of toxic metals and watching as faces, new and old, vanished from his life. The few who lived to see another day were viscerally paranoid, ready to break out into a brawl at the slightest provocation. Trust no one, people liked to whisper when the moon was high in the sky. Hold a hand in your own, and it will snap your neck and leave you lifeless in the dirt.

And so, he learned. His heart hardened like a volcano’s crust, his need to survive winning out over whatever specks of joy remained. The only solace he could find was the words written on the cavern walls and the rare stories the elders would tell. They spoke of somewhere new: a paradise, a city far kinder and safer than the one they had left all those years ago. It was just over the water, the wide-eyed children would say. It was only a matter of time before they’d finally have a home.

code by valen t.

 

[pomme]

• i
• i
• fille
• i
• i

• SLOANE EMRYS
  class 3

  name: sloane blaire emrys
  nicknames: none, though her parents occasionally call her blaire.
  age: 20
  gender: female
  sexuality: heterosexual
  occupation: currently assisting some of andromeda's leadership.
  faceclaim: kristine froseth
  
  
  
  basics
• hair: a soft chestnut that falls down just past her chest.
  eyes: hovering on the line between blue and green.
  height: 5'6
  weight: 123 lbs
  build: sloane has always had a willowy figure, with long legs and a narrow frame. thankfully, it's not from deficit of food, just her active nature.
  wardrobe: the unofficial uniform of andromeda, some variation of plain-colored pants and a simple top depending on the weather.
  distinguishing features: both her eyes and hair deviate from andromeda's standard — nearly all of the residents have pure green eyes and hair a few shades darker than hers.
  body modifications: when she was 6, her friend told her about something called "ear piercings". excited at the idea of having something shiny in her ear, she told the friend she could give her them, who then proceeded to stick a needle through her ear. sadly, she wasn't allowed to talk to her after that, but she was allowed to wear a small stud in the ear to prevent infection and still does. of course, sloane doesn't remember this, and neither do her parents.
  
  
  
  appearance
• filler tab
• For her whole life, Sloane's loved nothing more than people. A spirit of outgoing nature, she's made friends with almost everyone she's met, her sunny smiles a glimpse of fresh air. At her core she's an optimist, someone who believes that the highest goal in life is to help others. That much is clear from the way her eyes light with every smile, or the way she always knows its someone's birthday before the words can leave their mouth.
  
  But despite her innate warmth, Sloane's never been one to do well in the face of conflict, her constant calmness only fanning the flames of anger and annoyance. Sometimes, it's even enough to make her snap, sending her into episodes of hot-tempered pettiness. The worst part comes after they end — the constant apologizing and clinginess — but it's the only way she knows how to deal with it. However, it's not much she has to deal with apologies, as she's always been a favorite of her teachers and mentors alike. She's undeniably bright, at least in terms of books: it's served only with a heaping counterpart of vicious naivety. And while it's never something she's realized, she's manipulated easily, especially by those she already trusts.
  
  likes: Sunny days, helping out in the lab, freshly harvested fruit, meeting new people, small children, sewing
  dislikes: Conflict, the bleached-sterile smell of Andromeda's only real infirmary, her nosebleeds, cooking
  
  
  
  persona
• Snap.
  
  Sloane's first memory, her first kept one, was breaking her wrist at age 8. She remembered the bruise, the way she had to look down at her limp hand and the circle of pulsing, pale red writhing its way to the surface before she started crying. The tears were the worst part, the hot wincing behind her eyes almost worse than the pain. When her parents scooped her up and ushered her to the small clinic, the one with the door that jingled cheerfully whenever someone stepped it, she was told it was the first time in three years someone had broken a bone in Andromeda. And, as the sticky-smiled nurse lit a candle to drive away the smell of rubbing alcohol and plastered a smiling sticker on the purple wrap, she told her it was special.
  
  In a week, she was back out on the playset that she'd broken it on, the bandage gone and only the peeling sticker worn over the barely visible bruise.
  
  Later, she would remember sitting in her father's lap, furrowing her brow as he weaved beads into the braids in her hair. "Daddy, why are people scared of needles?" she'd asked, kicking her legs up in the air, impatient with the gentle warmth behind his touch.
  
  "Silly Blaire," he'd smile, "nobody in Andromeda is scared of needles." Even in the moment she'd frowned at the half-answer. But it was enough. She knew he was right, that nobody in Andromeda was scared of needles. They didn't have time to be. Looking back, Sloane never remembered the first time she had a shot, just the same way she didn't remember her first step or the first time she went to school.
  
  Sloane, Blaire, and everything else of the girl had always been good, good in a way that ebbed and flowed like the fountains she'd splash in minutes after stinging words told her not to. Her parents warned against it, that one day she'd wish she had been good. You have to behave, Sloane, if you want to live like you do now. Eventually being a kid won't be an excuse. She had a routine for the moments where they said that: stick her tongue out and dash away, leaving them to only sigh and look at each other knowingly. Because, as far as she'd ever known, she was good.
  
  Of course, she remembered almost nothing of before she turned 15, but whenever she'd look at the pictures and fret over it her parents would tell her she was good then too. It was true, somewhat. And, while neither she nor her parents knew it, her files reflected that too.
  
  Perfect student, they read, penned in hasty red ink from the teacher who would always have to remind her of his name when she walked in. Especially hard-working considering her retention. Each grainy, pixelated picture said it too, the ones captured from the odd angles of the security cameras. If Sloane ever saw them, she'd insist they weren't her, mostly because she didn't remember. Jumping into the lake to save a stranger she thought was drowning when she could barely swim herself. Missing her birthday party to help a toddler who'd lost his parents.
  
  Sloane was good, so when she turned 16, her placement reflected that. The Emrys had been a family that always ran parallels to the leaders of Andromeda, though never officially. When she was 11 and the old leader came around for dinner with her parents, he'd patted her on the head and gave her a shiny bracelet when she stepped in to say hi. Her whole life, her smiles and wits had placed her at the top. Favorite. Best student. That was Sloane, always. The girl so sweet it was like she glowed.
  
  When she was 18 she was taken in for an internship, learning everything from the programs that ran Andromeda's systems to the tools in the medbay. Though she was never destined to be at the top, she was always there, ready to assist. Everything in her indicated that, no matter the circumstances, her instinct was to help. To learn, to befriend. It's what she had done every second of every day. Why would that be any different when the newcomers arrived?
  
  After all, there's only so much you can learn with the same people.
  
  
  
  
  bio