Plucked
MIOSOTIS
| Human 157.5 cm | 50 kg Mid Thirties | Pronouns She | Her | |||
| Evil Alignment | Also Known As.. TBD | |||
| Force Sensitivity Forceful | Skill Ranking Apprentice | |||
| Affiliation TBD |
| Proficiencies Empathic - Able to intuit others feelings through the force Hypoalgesia - Diminished physical sense of pain, body-wide | Distinctive Features Striking red hair Deep green eyes | |
| Deficiencies Frail - Physical exertions both exhaust and harm her Hypoesthesia - Diminished sense of touch, body-wide |
Relationships
| Father Unknown | Mother Unknown | |||
| Siblings Unknown | |
BACKGROUND
Whether she was orphaned or simply abandoned the result was the same, nothing was a permanent fixture in Miosotis' life. There were familiar faces that came and went, regular enough for her to commit them to memory, but none that stayed long enough for her to bother remembering their names. Home was also a foreign word to her, something so rarely said that it hardly sounded right in her own voice, because living was closer to surviving and survival was dependent on finding someplace safe to sleep - and safety for someone who had no one and owned nothing was rarely the same place the next night. At first it was different buildings along a street, and then streets in a city, but it quickly snowballed into cities.. and then planets.
It wasn't every night at that point, sometimes she'd go a few days without sleeping by that point, but she wasn't ever on the same world for long, never more than a couple of weeks, and nearly every day between coming and going was filled with the struggle to eat, bathe, sleep and repeat. Plenty of planets were.. less than welcoming of people like her, whether it be the homeless or the destitute, but whatever it was that she went through made her as quiet as she was now. Her experiences were sketched into her eyes, a certain weariness that suggested a longing for sleep, but the pencil was set aside for a hammer in how brutally it was beaten into her senses. Simple things, like knowing the fine sensations of texture, were an enigma to her by the time she was in her teens, and while perhaps it was a mercy that the pain was gone by then too she'd gained an almost supernatural sense of what others felt nearby at the same time.
PERSONALITY
Deeply introverted, a woman of few gestures and fewer words, she is nonetheless still deeply expressive of whatever cocktail of emotions she is found spiked with at any given moment. Be it a curl of a lip, a twitch along her brow, or even an exaggeratedly slow blink it will be clear on her face how she feels even if the words to describe them never reach her rosy lips.
In a word: Melancholic
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