[This is burnsbright's other account. Mostly complete app here.
Scout's a veteran here from Rules Lawyers to Dracula World. She was a fourteen-year-old Jedi Padawan working off a contract to get stronger in the Force, leaving her with a Hoojib-style energy-feeding apparatus on her forehead. She was highly independent, sunny and kind, and surprisingly calculating and intense whenever fit hit the shan, the kind of person who spends hours every day exercising and training and who'd happily discuss the Jedi in glowing terms.
Now she's seventeen or so and dressed differently in a greatcoat and simpler shirts and trousers, with heavy muddy boots. There are those small horns, the long-furred tail, those brass fingernails and copper-colored throat scales, but now there's a strangely curly lock of hair that's a little apart from the rest, and her face is more set as she takes things in.]
Doesn't look too different, huh. [Were you looking at her? Now she's looking at you. Suddenly, a smile!] Hey, where can I find the Ringmaster?
[OTHER OPTION: It's breaktime. Scout carries a box of darts, small balls, and miscellaneous small weighty probably not-valuable items up and sets it on a table, looking up with a wide, slightly forced smile. Totally not self-conscious or at all nervous here.]
Anyone want to help me with lightsaber practice? You wouldn't believe how hard it is to get a remote.
[OPTION THREE: Somewhere out of the way, Scout balances a long, heavy stick on end in the palm of her hand, her lightsaber held and unlit in her other. She stares intently at the stick, not moving except to breathe and blink for a long moment until, very suddenly, she tosses the stick up and lashes out with the blue blade in a quick motion. Three pieces of stick clatter down. Scout extinguishes her saber and scowls, tail lashing.]
Tallisibeth Enwandung-Esterhazy (Scout)
Scout's a veteran here from Rules Lawyers to Dracula World. She was a fourteen-year-old Jedi Padawan working off a contract to get stronger in the Force, leaving her with a Hoojib-style energy-feeding apparatus on her forehead. She was highly independent, sunny and kind, and surprisingly calculating and intense whenever fit hit the shan, the kind of person who spends hours every day exercising and training and who'd happily discuss the Jedi in glowing terms.
Now she's seventeen or so and dressed differently in a greatcoat and simpler shirts and trousers, with heavy muddy boots. There are those small horns, the long-furred tail, those brass fingernails and copper-colored throat scales, but now there's a strangely curly lock of hair that's a little apart from the rest, and her face is more set as she takes things in.]
Doesn't look too different, huh. [Were you looking at her? Now she's looking at you. Suddenly, a smile!] Hey, where can I find the Ringmaster?
[OTHER OPTION: It's breaktime. Scout carries a box of darts, small balls, and miscellaneous small weighty probably not-valuable items up and sets it on a table, looking up with a wide, slightly forced smile. Totally not self-conscious or at all nervous here.]
Anyone want to help me with lightsaber practice? You wouldn't believe how hard it is to get a remote.
[OPTION THREE: Somewhere out of the way, Scout balances a long, heavy stick on end in the palm of her hand, her lightsaber held and unlit in her other. She stares intently at the stick, not moving except to breathe and blink for a long moment until, very suddenly, she tosses the stick up and lashes out with the blue blade in a quick motion. Three pieces of stick clatter down. Scout extinguishes her saber and scowls, tail lashing.]
I'm getting sloppy.