Realistic or Modern Extinction Event; Ancient Whispers: Character Sheet

[Prizzy Kriyze]

This is only a list of the required parts of your character sheets. How you wish to code or display them is up to you, but make sure you touch on all the following parts. Before posting your character in the Character Sheet section it should be sent to me in a DM for review, where we can discuss what kind of powers your aspect might grant you and what you'd like to achieve in the roleplay.

[Appearance]
(Image and description. Over time, as your powers quickly mature, your appearance will start changing to fit the tone. What once was human will soon look fantastical.)

[Name]


[Profession]
(The carriers of Soul are all exceptional individuals, and their standings reflect that. Typically, they are drawn to positions of power or violence, but exceptions exist. They are Corporate Directors, Politicians, Gang Leaders, Secret Agents, Religious Leaders, Celebrities, Socialites, Special Forces Commanders, Judges, etc. This part of the CS deserves extra thought, as the nature of both your character and your eventual powers should thematically inspire what profession they've been in.)

[Age]
(A carrier of Soul is no less than 20 years old, but there is no upper cap. Consider, however, that if they're past the age of 30 to 40, people around them might have noticed that they don't seem to age.)

[Personality]
(Take creative freedoms, but consider that your character is likely to feel superior to others, or to feel disconnected with the rest of mankind.)

[Biography]
(The history of any carrier is as varied as any human's, but clearly shaped by the presence of Soul in their lives.)

[Ambition]
(Regardless of what the Soul has made of your psyche and mortal form, you are a human at heart - a human with friends, family, and dreams. What is your character's deepest ambition?)

[Aspect]
(A theme of powers that your character embodies either through history or symbolism. It should be a single word with a wide meaning to allow for as wide a range of interesting powers as possible. Keep in mind that abilities that have definite qualities (i.e. "always works", "always hits", or are otherwise difficult to write against) are discouraged unless particularly interesting. Remember that all carriers of Soul grow in physical might and speed over time, and that they're all capable of sensing other carriers as long as they aren't supernaturally disguised or hidden.)

[Artifact]
(Leave empty, for now.)

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Kyros Echnaton
“Darkness covers all, the world is silent
For the creator rests in her horizon.”

General Information

Gender
Male

Age
Twenty Eight

Height
Six Feet

Profession
High Saint of the Temple of Sol

Appearance
White hair, pale skin and grey eyes. As if to offset the albinism, Kyros dresses extravagantly in black, red and gold to add a few colors to his palette. His frame is slender but powerful, as it is often accentuated by rigid elaborate suits and jackets; the quality of which betrays the money and resources he has on hand. He strides with confidence and authority, elegantly weaving through the room or commanding attention as he sees fit. The mask he shows the world is one of theatrical emotions and convincing lies, and when he is with people of little consequence, his trusted few, or by himself, his apathy shines through.

Biography & Personality

Biography
Life in the lap of luxury. Even if Echnaton was a chosen name originally, the family had made it their own and given it the respect it was due by coercion and manipulation. Several hundred years ago, its progenitor established the Temple of Sol: a religion drawing inspiration from ancient Egyptian teachings and modern messages of love, life, and the nurture thereof. After a rigorous marketing campaign it took hold in several small, undeveloped countries, and further provided their miseries by siphoning every single dollar out of their pockets and into the family's vaults. The greed spurred its early leaders to spread further, prey on the weak and vulnerable by offering a community, and creating a hierarchy within the organization itself. Of course, the Echnatons were at its center, the patron saints of the entire religion - said to be closer to the Sun God than any other. The central members of the Temple of Sol resemble a cult, and its members can be driven to fanatic frenzy at only a command from their masters.

It's old, old money by now. Kyros was raised in the lap of luxury, conditioned and educated with centuries of social manipulation. His early childhood was little more than indoctrination into the family. His position above the men and women who worshiped the ground he walked on, and the core tenets of the Temple were driven into him. Unfortunately, before he had the opportunity to fully integrate, someone had finally had enough, and the entire family was executed for heresy on a routine visit to a smaller country. Everyone except Kyros, who was deemed too young to travel at the time. The rest of his upbringing was in the hands of his church, with priests and important religious figures as stand-ins for his mother, father and many siblings.

And he was, in fact, divine. The masses following him found themselves riled at his speeches, his educators marveled at his mental aptitude, and the inner circle of Temple of Sol leaders were impressed by how aptly he organized to maximize profits. These days, cups with the Temple's logo on it are nearly just as plentiful as "I love Jesus" t-shirts throughout Alpha Terra. Still, Kyros wants more. He just knows fate has picked him, and he's patiently awaiting the day he can commandeer his army of followers into the glorious light of the sun, to fight for a cause he has not yet understood.

Personality
Kyros is calm and calculative, a schemer at heart. The value of those around him is only a measure of how much they can do to further his own goals. Thanks to the worship he's experienced from a very young age and the Soul's powerful effects on his body and mind, he has a very realized God complex. He knows that he can get whatever he wants, and it leaves him disinterested in anything that doesn't feel like a challenge. This has lead him to obsessively chase a perceived state of physical and mental perfection that always seems just out of reach. Little excites or fazes him, but he finds comfort and pride in his control and power. So much so, any perceived slight against his position is met with disproportional consequences, as his pettiness is just as great as his ego.

Power

Ambition
Total domination. Kyros wishes to spread his influence to every corner of the world, have every major leader in his pocket, and control everything - or destroy everything, should the world not bend knee.

Aspect
The Sun
Sol is a fickle mistress, giving and taking life as she sees fit. Rays of light scorch or nurture life at her behest, and the entire world revolves around her. Without her light, we are lost. Without her warmth, we will freeze. Without her grace, we are nothing.

Artifact
N/A

 

[CaptainSully]

sh2 reprise - myuu

artist

scourge

R

equisite.

name

Robert Gascoigne

a.k.a.

Rob / Gaz / The Boogeyman

age

32

hair c.

dark brown

eye c.

blue

p

syche.

Rob has

no empathy

and makes no attempt to hide it. He is an extremely

torturous

individual, equally enjoying torturing an elderly women as much as he does a terrorist. That is his key personality trait, the sheer enjoyment of inflicting pain on his victims.

Beyond his love of torture he is an entirely

unassuming

individual with no real quirks that would seem out of the ordinary. He takes enjoyment in

banter

even if it does pale greatly in comparison to his need to torture.

He is fully capable of

loving

someone and has had relationships in the past but only the most depraved have ever lasted more than a few weeks when they truly understand him.

b

iography

Robert had a very normal, basic and standard upbringing with the perfect home environment. He wanted for nothing and had all the support and love anyone could hope for. It wasn't until he was eight that he began to display signs of his penchant for torture, first starting with small insects. By time he was in high school small mammals were the victims of his wrath.

Throughout high school he excelled in sports and also academically but not for a single moment did anyone know what he was doing behind closed doors to defenseless animals. Even his parents were totally oblivious to his behaviour.

After his exams he was approached by MI5, his grades amongst the highest in the whole of the country. They offered him a position within their organisation and he accepted without question. He was stuck behind a desk for a couple of years before he had an opportunity to move into an operational role. It wasn't long before his ruthless and remorseless edge was identified and he was put onto the most covert operations.

His life since then has been one of torture and murder, the perfect occupation for his urges. Terrorist suspects disappear to never be seen again, tortured and killed over days at a time. Even complete honesty and transparency to Rob's questions gave no release, he simply continued until their bodies were broken beyond repair. The effectiveness with which he can make people disappear has earnt him the nickname of the Boogeyman amongst not just his peers, but terrorists and other spy organisations around the world.

Currently he is in Alpha Terra to dismantle a highly dangerous terrorist cell by any means necessary...poor bastards.

a

mbition

While he would love to settle down with someone and have a family, what he really wants is to torture and kill until his death and hopefully...beyond...

a

spect

scourge - The Aspect of Scourge lies in the suffering and perversion of human morality. The Scourge tortures, maims, and harms in whatever way it can; it is fueled by its very desire to cause pain and misfortune. Your pain, its power. Your death, its purpose.

a

rtifact

None

g

allery.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Sega]

Souta Yamamoto

Profession: Yakuza leader.

Age: 32

Personality

Souta is a patient, calm, yet dangerous man. He doesn’t need to yell: his men listen. He upholds tradition and values order above everything else. When things are according to order, there are no surprises and chaos. Uphold the order. Respect the order. Become the order. Those are his greatest ideals in life. He tries to rule with reason and mercy rather than endless killing and bloodshed… but he is not a stranger to it. His unique magnetism makes people choose the reason too - rather than dying.

But under his polished appearance he holds a secret: he is an alcoholic. Ever since he was young he has seen “shadow people” at the corner of his eyes - strange figures coming to him in the night. He regularly suffers from sleep paralysis, so he avoids sleep as much as possible. He can go for nights without sleep until his right hand man, Arata, forces his boss to sleep. Arata is actually the only one who knows what’s going on behind the scenes. Sees his boss in his dark moments: broken bottles and smashed glasses in a fit of rage, while he pours another shot of liquor. He isn’t a stranger to some drugs either. Yet, despite usage of heroin, he’s never become an addict or a junkie. Never had to beg for it. But sometimes it’s easier to put in the needle and drift off to calm bliss than fight and fight with his own mind.
The shadow people were always there, but recently they’ve started becoming more and more prominent, driving him crazy, into schizophrenic fits he can’t fight but with alcohol. On outside he looks cold and calculated, but on the inside he is a mess, fighting with the only enemy that scares him: himself.

Biography

He joined the yakuza clan while he was still a teenager, but due to his ambition and skills he climbed the ladder very fast, soon ending to be the right-hand man to the clan leader, an old man named Hayashi. However, when Hayashi died, two sections of the clan started fighting for dominance. Souta on one side, Fumihiro on another. Souta gathered the elite members, while lower-ranking supported Fumihiro, and the war started. He was quick to attack and murder most Fumihiro’s men. To his followers he offered a choice: follow or die. They chose to follow. He later got engaged in other fights with other clans, trying to protect his property.

Ambition

Souta isn’t satisfied with only protecting what is his, but wishes to expand his influence. Of ruling the underground of Alpha Terra. Subduing other clans and gangs to him. Connecting the underground. And not only the underground, but his ambitions expand to politics. However, he wants to rule from the shadows: keeping his face and persona private, and no matter how much digging has been done, Souta doesn’t really exist. There are no records of him, all leads police have lead to the dead end, or more often: right into his hands.

Aspect

Shadow
A man hiding in the shadow is a safe man. Safe from everything except: his own shadow.

​

 

[Merciless Medic]

Reginald Burkhardt​

• General
• Persona & Profession
• History
• Ambition, Aspect & Artifact

• Age:
  28
  
  
  
  Hair Style:
  Short

  Gender:
  Male
  
  
  
  Hair Color:
  White

  Eye Color:
  Grey
  
  
  
  Skin Color:
  Pale

  Outfits:
  Black Suit Attire,
  sometimes with white lab coat
  
  Height/Weight:
  5'10" (177.8 cm)/145 lbs (65.77 kg)
• Personality
  Nothing felt like what science felt to Reginald. The world felt so chaotic, so distorted, so different from how he viewed it initially. The people were confusing and unpredictable sometimes, but the one thing he found solace in was science. In fact, he's so wholly devoted to it he'll make sacrifices to better his knowledge and that of the scientific field. He is callous and cruel under his intelligent and heartwarming gaze and while he may seem weak, the man has no fear. He just knows the probabilities and seeks to exploit them to further his survival. He lives with a powerful hunger for knowledge, compelled to learn and think too much but it has never once satiated the hunger for what and who he is. Due to this and because of his disconnect with society, he feels as if the lives of those around him mean nothing in the end. The only thing that is to live for is science.
  
  
  Profession
  Head Scientist of a Top Security Research Facility, Delta-23 Omega-00 - designations given to the secret facility within the lands of Delta numbers and under the ground. Incredibly intelligent, observant, and with barely anything holding him back like a family, he's married to his job and will die by it. Stand by it. He's done just about anything for science and the reason he's in the top security section is because he can keep a tight lip while working on dangerous things relatively safely. He's seen some interesting things unfold and wouldn't bat an eye encouraging or convincing someone to take the fall for an experiment to test his hypotheses.
• History
  He found out fairly early on that he didn't injure as badly as the other kids did when he was in school and he found out that simply asking kindly for others to stop bullying him simply led them to just... Stop. Like they were taken aback by his kindness despite what they did and did what he said. It was a strange feeling, and people were confusing. He didn't know if it was his voice that compelled the weaker minded to listen or if he tugged at their emotions in their hearts when he was kind or if it were both, but it happened. And he was left oddly a void within himself. What was he? Normally, existential questions didn't start until one was in their twenties or thirties, but he matured faster than most and started when he was eleven.
  
  But when he was taught science in school, everything began to click together. He was so lost, but now it was like a gateway had opened up to him. Lost within the vast mathematical formulas and the chemical DNA of the universe left him finding more and more ways to piece together what he felt he was missing throughout all of his life. Meaning. Or a semblance of such, as he didn't know if he'd ever achieve the full meaning or purpose as nobody else did in their life.
  
  It became later known that he was advancing quickly, hitting college level science and maths by the time he was a sophomore in high school. And even further than that, he started his course on getting a Ph.D. and got the degree as soon as he was 20. It was an amazing time to be alive, he had so many things to do, so many things to see, so many things to piece together. He began working on machines, creating them to do simple tasks before realizing he can combine these into an amalgamation of Goldberg machines and then giving them computer chips to make them more compact and functional. Everything he touched, he took apart so he can reverse engineer it and put it back together, making it far better than it was.
  
  But then as he learned of space and of the darkness that laid betwixt the stars, he felt pulled towards the voids, his own soul feeling as if it belonged with how empty and incomplete it felt. It was enough to make one man go mad with want and knowledge. What secrets laid within the universe? Black holes, wormholes, portals that led to different dimensions - he wanted to find them all, learn about them all. His drive for knowledge was immense, fueled by his inner turmoil of emptiness, and he couldn't get enough of it.
  
  His creations had led him to be sought out by the government. Wanting to see where this will lead him, he was set to work in a private lab in a top secret facility. It didn't take long for him to hit head scientist either, as he began to make the calls, disguising it as the military wanting to see these amazing ideas he had.
  
  And with a bit of convincing, they too will agree.
  
  He, of course, found the military men oafs who did not understand the intricacies of the universe that they were breathing in and he was furious by how little those same people and those he worked alongside or over cared about his ideas. While he can make them care, it was always their families, their friends. While he had a family of his own, mainly parents and siblings and some friends growing up, they melted away as he began to get lost in his work. He didn't need them. Nobody needed them. Science and the advancements he was making was all he needed. All they needed. Why didn't they see that?
  
  Sacrifices for the answers he needed was uncommon, but still happened. He'd always get them alone, play on their dark desires or enable their curiosities. Or maybe convince them that there is a higher purpose beyond the stars, and all they needed to do was take that leap of faith.
  
  The leap of faith that ended in their deaths.
  
  It was when he felt the pull. The urge. Heard the voice. It was like the stars or some cosmic otherworldly being spoke to him. He felt it. He craved it. He would go mad if he surely didn't have it. All that was left was to kill all the rest so he may unlock the secrets of the universe. Maybe finally he can understand himself and why no matter how much knowledge he absorbed, he couldn't find the answers as to why he felt so empty.
• Ambition
  Reginald wants to be the one people looked up to. Wants to be the one people will recognize as a leader in his field and hold him up on a pedestal. And, most of all, he wants science to thrive. His one big goal is to find the world's best power source, unlimited in not only the energy it provides but insight on the meaning of the universe.
  
  He is a void of all knowledge. It will fall unto his mind eventually.
  
  
  Aspect: Void
  Shadows that can be morphed and be used by the individual. Instead of merely giving refuge for those who need it, it can be a powerful weapon once morphed, copying the characteristics of the forms and powers based from the constellations above, only limited by one's imagination and understanding of physics. If light were to cast shadow on an object, what would happen if shadow were to eat the light? Or perhaps become the object the light hits? Clearly, the light can't be all superior. The shadow can simply consume all, it merely became the void.
  
  This is the unknown. This is what people call the boogeyman. This is what people call unholy or ungodly. This is what people call eldritch or fantastical. This is what we call fear.
  
  And fear brings knowledge.
  
  
  Artifact
  
  ERROR ERROR
  UNKNOWN
  ...
  FOR NOW​
  
  

The meaning of the universe is just within my grasp... I must not dally... I have to know. Reginald Burkhardt

Spoiler: Music

I'll add more when I find them

 

[Meredith]

Bellamira Orison 5'8" & 112lbs | Socialite | 32 Years Old​

Appearance
Long black hair, braided into itself, thick eyeshadow and mascara leaking down her face. Bella’s taste is extraordinarily expensive. She has a love for platform boots and facial piercings; the sparkling of her silver tongue and teeth infectious in the light. Her blue eyes are always bloodshot. She often slurs her words, but those closest would remember her differently, sober and lucid and gloomy. It’s been several years since Bella has last stayed well through the day. The woman is no less alluring when inebriated.

Aspect: Oracle
There was always a chance Mira would “freak out” in public.
She called it ‘seeing light’ for as long as she could remember. Sometimes, the dread closed in, imposing, threatening, grabbing at her throat and plunging her into darkness. Sometimes, it was more subtle, the intense urge to get the fuck away from wherever she was or to ditch an item or person as soon as possible. None of these things are easy to comprehend from the outside.
Her trance-like speech, though, grabbed attention like nothing else. Mira is divine; her eyes pools of depressed consciousness and half-clarity, tears dripping down her face like a mother in mourning for the universe she created. It was poetry; Oftentimes, it was knowledgeable, though not always correct.
It was bearing down on her. It wasn’t something she had wanted, but it was a gift in a way, something bestowed upon her like a cancer eating through her body. It was too much to be relied on for advice. It was too much to choke on words of death and destruction.
At the least, it wouldn’t be long, she was certain.

Biography
Bellamira has sashayed through life with a justified sense of hedonism.

In the most distant recesses of her mind, she could remember struggling. As a child she faced constant rejection - she and her brother Salem never had the chance for an ordinary upbringing with ordinary parents, instead they passed between a seemingly unending stream of relatives both close and distant throughout their childhood. Although Salem was mild-mannered and polite, Mira was decidedly “hard to handle” and few put up with her for more than four or five months. The only exception was their great-Aunt Mildred – the pair’s first guardian – but she was killed in a home invasion when they were nine, and the children had been quietly ushered away before anyone could ask them too many questions. She hadn't believed Mira when she said they should all go back to her son’s house for the night. Nobody ever seemed to.

The core of the problem was that Bellamira could always perceive the seemingly inevitable rejection from the first moment she was introduced to new people. Therapists called it anxiety, but the visions of suffering and loss seemed so real to her - and they always came to pass. It forced her mind to focus on endings instead of beginnings. The isolation grew as the pair were shuffled from setting to setting. She slipped into obsessions about the horrific acts people commit against each other, war atrocities, crime. While Salem tried to keep the peace and stay in school, Mira spent their little money on alcohol and pot, sleeping through the days and getting too inebriated at night (when nobody was awake to disturb her) to suffer from the acute knowledge of her (seemingly imminent) demise. The girl had predicted deaths before. Her own seemed completely unavoidable. What was the point of long-term goals?

They were kicked out for the last time when they were sixteen or so – it was hard to remember that far back. Salem got a job. He never spoke to her about any sort of necessity for her to do so; Mira’s brother had been the one at her bedside while she held her head cradled against her knees, body covered in sweat and quivering like a newborn deer, and he understood that nobody was going to hire her as strung out as she always was. Not even in the shadier circles he'd come to find himself in, and Bellamira knew better than to pry into dangerous affairs.

They shared a studio for a few years. Without the external pressure of chronically disappointed guardians, Mira got better. She began to paint, to exercise, and even to sing. She took up shooting with Salem on the weekends. He’d been at the hobby ever since his time in the boy scouts, but she surpassed his skill in months. She felt safer outside once he gifted her a pistol on their birthday. Most things were easy when she really tried. It became hard to relate to the idea of struggling even if she could remember it, as Mira found that most of her problems disappeared overnight when she came of gambling age and bought her first in a series of many dozen winning scratch tickets. She'd noticed the trend before, how her gut feeling seemed to predetermine the future in ways seemingly impossible. Luck, one might call it. She kept meeting the right people at the right times, and they kept paying attention whenever she opened her mouth. Becoming a socialite within Salem’s criminal circles became quite easy with the funds to present herself.

It became a sort of game. The world was full of beautiful and lovely things: if she was destined to die young then surely she was meant to see as many of them as possible before that time. Doubt was fading in the rear-view mirror, but every so often it reared its ugly head. She came to wonder why her brother had taken care of her throughout the difficult years, when getting out of bed seemed an insurmountable task. It was difficult in success to remember why her brother had supported her in her failure, and when she had asked Salem why he had abided her uselessness for so long he’d only replied that it was “hard to live without a soul”. She never understood what to make of that.

So it remained in stasis. Gala-gothic aesthetic and a two-bedroom apartment with full amenities carried Salem as he moved from a simple drug runner to a sort of street surgeon. Mira’s reputation intermingled with his; the pair were known to others as eccentrics good at ‘what they do’. What they did, within the actual mob, always seemed up for contention. She was an artist, an aristocrat; he was an urchin and surgeon. The pair became a sort of dilemma. There was a price to collaboration with Salem - the price of closeness to his sister among others - but he was good, and she was better, quick hands in times of crisis.

But she had no delusions of power. It seemed that the compassionate thing to do would be to die quietly, she thought, and to avoid inflicting this anxiety on anybody else. But her brother, she felt, did not need to die in the same way. He deserved better; if she was doomed than he was the cause to which she would be a martyr. To make a place for him with her death would make her feel peace, somehow.

Ambition
There is nothing Mira would not do to protect her brother.
Their fates were intermingled, she was certain, but Salem had never put much stock in it. His gentle words superseded his disbelief; Bellamira trusted that he believed her, in the end, even if he doubted her like everyone else. He’d spent half of his life so far taking care of her when she was unable. He deserved to live the rest of it, after her demise, even if she fixated on the idea of his death. He deserved to be correct in his doubt.
It came with the understanding that her own death was inevitable. It would be worth it to die, she thought, if she could only set up her brother to survive and succeed: to pay him back for all of his wasted energy. The time he could never get back from her.
He would survive if fate would allow her to make it so.

​

 

[NecromancerNight]

Levi Empedocles

[Appearance]
With a small build, chubby cheeks, and the child-like innocence in his eyes, Levi seems to be much younger than he actually is. His brown hair is lazily tied into a ponytail, and his blueish green eyes are always vacantly staring into the distance.

[Profession]
Psychology Major

[Age]
22

[Personality]
An absolute airhead with extreme trust issues. With a privileged upbringing, Levi is very entitled, but this trait rarely shows since his charm makes others follow his every whim. He has also a superiority complex. Levi is unable to hate anyone, any negative feelings means disregarding them as a lesser being.

The only time he is wholeheartedly nice is when he is focused on crafting. Crafting is the only harbor where he can take a rest from the messy outside world.

[Biography]
Born with a sliver spoon in his mouth, Levi grew up completely spoiled with riches. But with his parents rarely coming home, his caretakers completely disgruntled by the brat, Levi longed for connection. Living in a mansion didn't allow for him to make friends, and even if he did meet anyone, his entitlement drove them away.

One day, Levi realized everyone became infatuated with him. He didn't undergo any personality change, so Levi thought he must be doing something right. He doubled down in his annoying behavior, and everyone loved him even more. There was no way for him to know this had nothing to do with his behavior and everything to do with his Soul. Alas, Levi slowly became completely unbearable.

One thing that Levi noticed was everyone around him seem happier once they loved him. The butler stopped arguing with the chef, the driver smiled more often, and the maids always hummed a cheerful tune while cleaning. Yet the world outside was full of pain and strife. Levi wondered if love can make the world a better place? To find the answer, Levi studied for the first time in his life.

Levi learned everything exceptionally quickly, except for how human minds worked. He became obsessed on finding the answer, and perhaps a solution to fix the mind of those who lack love. This is the reason he choose to study psychology. Levi always felt he lacked a part of something, which hinders his abilities to understand humans, and his gut told him he is closed to finding the answer. Or maybe that feeling is an indication for something bigger, something much bigger than he ever could've imagined.

[Ambition]
To fix the broken minds of humans, and create a utopia where there is no strife, only love.

[Aspect]
Love--
Eros, Ludus, Storge, Pragma, Mania, Agape, Love comes in all different shapes and sizes. Love is the force that unites things, that brings them together. Love mixes and blends and combines. Love can make us greater, or lead to our ultimate downfall.

[Artifact]
(Leave empty, for now.)

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

• Basics
• Psyche
• Power
• Gallery

• 
  
  
  [Name]
  Nastasya Pashkevich
  
  [Profession]
  None; mistress to the head of a government affiliated think tank
  
  [Age]
  33
  
  [Height]
  5'7" (170 cm)
  
  [Appearance]
  Nastasya is a beauty, tall with a somewhat athletic build and unmarked skin (with any blemishing having been covered); good enough in the looks department that the upper-class won't take a second glance, despite her refusing to touch up her unkempt brown hair. She maintains a mellow countenance that can easily morph, having a regularly sharp gaze and an unsettling grin. Nastasya isn't terribly picky about her outfits, accepting whatever fancy garments are available.
  
• 
  
  
  [Personality]
  Nastasya comes across as kind and soft-spoken. She talks to assist with something minor or to help someone out in a minuscule way, yet never going out of her way to do something too remarkable. She knows her place is at the sidelines; where the eyes don't usually wander. Behind her exterior, however, Nastasya has always sought control over something, whether it be an underperforming business model or the people she meets. Always the one to come up with ideas, but never able to fully execute them herself. However rational and calculating she keeps herself, naturally coming up with schemes at every turn, it all remains in her head.
  
  To get her messages across, she needs a foil—as of now an heir-turned-figurehead. Nastasya realizes she can get away with a lot more by pulling strings from above. By using others like puppets, she can shape the world as it needs to be shaped, and all she needs to do is stand to the side as other people sully their hands for her. Though she won't admit it, she likes the image of the quiet partner who only serves to make the other happy.
  
  [Biography]
  Nastasya Pashkevich always had a way with people. Tell someone to do something, and they'd do it regardless of consequence; that was the only privileged part of her lower-class life. In her youth, she somehow found herself with a select few becoming infatuated with her, when all she did was stick around to chat with them for a while. Not that she complained, receiving free food and money from these people so she could share with her migrant family.
  
  Unable to afford college even with the generous few donating some funds, Nastasya lived a simple life for the longest time. The "attached" people from her childhood had gone away at some point, replaced with others at the same token. It was during this time of idleness that she found herself traveling around, diving into the messy world of politics and the upper-class world. She'd attend fringe rallies decrying the statuses of politicians and the rich; focus on the ugliness of what money could sweep under the rug.
  
  At some point, she felt that the money-run rules of society were responsible for the poor livings her family went through.
  
  Nastasya still had her knack from childhood, she knew that much. She'd kept in touch with this one barista; he'd give her free coffee every time she stopped by since their initial chance meeting. There was also her landlord, who after chatting with, had agreed to not have her pay rent. Those were only a few cases; something was going on, and no matter what it was, Nastasya gradually felt she could aim even higher.
  
  Higher, being a socialite that happened to drive past en route to a party that she knew was taking place. After catching up and "convincing" the invitee to let her tag along, Nastasya found herself amid a high-class party reserved for the rich.
  
  This is where she caught the eye of one Bowen Heath, heir to the government-backed think tank organized called The Fountain. In recent days, he came under fire surrounding controversial decisions and opinions surrounding something his organization put out. He'd arrived at the party with his wife and had temporarily separated when he and Nastasya crossed paths.
  
  She made her move first. He fell under a spell, and reciprocated. He appeared more confident with his plans than earlier—spoonfed by the woman he'd met not too long ago. He responded to the controversy the day after... and generated a much worse response from opposition. This time, though, it did not seem to phase him.
  
  With Bowen under her thumb, Nastasya has only been testing the waters with her newfound influence: cast a rumor and bolster it through the think tank until everyone believes it's fact; name some prisoner as framed an innocent, and they go free; all by Bowen's decisions of course. He's simply had a "new perspective" to help out.
  
• 
  
  
  [Ambition]
  Nastasya believes in a better world; one that needs radical change for it to happen. However, she also realizes that she is not ready to handle the responsibility of such a task. Perhaps, she wondered, all everyone needs is a gentle nudge in the right direction, with her pointing the way.
  
  [Aspect]
  Shoulder Devil - In a person's darkest, stressful moments, their savior appears to show them the path, whenever and wherever. A desperate person is more likely to see an angel rather than a devil disguised as one...
  
  The devil infiltrates their rehearsed memories, altering them to insert herself where it'll live on most. They accept Her help, they become Her pawn, unable to escape the knot tied around their heart. She is with them in every thought and decision they make. Once in bed with the devil, there is no escape.
  
  [Artifact]
  N/A
  
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