March 14th, 2018
Post by dkpepper on Oct 17, 2018 12:40:32 GMT -5
NAME --Tess Tancer
GENDER --Female
AGE --16
AFFILIATION --Neutral
CLASS --Scientist
APPEARANCE --Tess is fair-skinned and small for her age, her abusive upbringing stunting her growth to just below 5’. She wears an indigo cap over her messy dark blue hair, which she keeps short to maintain a boyish appearance along with deepening her voice. She has hooded grey eyes behind a set of fake eyeglasses and a gaunt face with prominent cheekbones. The rest of her body portrays this same frailty, with bony arms, a small torso, and long, thin legs. She covers these imperfections with a bulky blue peacoat and dark, loose-fitting blue plaid pants. She also keeps a few ties in different styles around for formal occasions. Her winter gear consists of a heavy light blue snow jacket over a white hoodie, a set of gloves, and long scarf wrapped tightly around her neck and face. A more casual outfit would be a simple colored dress shirt and suspenders.
PERSONALITY --At first glance Tess comes across as cold and aloof. Her time with her mother has made her adept at reading the moods of others, and she spends most of her time in public warily sizing up the people around her. This gives her a serious air about her that belies her age. She keeps to shadows and back alleys, finding crowds overwhelming and preferring to move unseen in public. Being a runaway, she naturally avoids police officers and most people in general to lessen her chances of being recognized. She even goes so far as to pose as a young boy to prevent it.
All of this is not to say that she is confrontational or thorny. Quite the opposite, when actually spoken to she is cordial and eager to please, if a bit awkward. Pushing past the walls and locked doors she keeps for her protection reveals a shy and anxious young girl in way over her head. She’s had little social interaction for the last half of her life and struggles to connect with others in meaningful ways as a result. Her mother molded her into a perfectionist and she is constantly beating herself up about how much better she could be doing. She’s in the habit of hoarding food, money, and supplies and meticulously keeping track of what she has at all times. She also has a strong sense of empathy, and, despite her own fear, finds herself unable to not involve herself in situations where someone else may be in trouble. She also still has a bit of a childish side locked away deep down inside. A prankster that, when combined with her strategic mind, is rarely caught in the act.
HISTORY --When she was young, Tess swore her mother could fly. How else would a child describe the way the famous Mona Tancer flitted across the Ecruteak Dance Theater stage as easily as a hummingbird? How she twirled and leaped and pirouetted in a way that could only be called ethereal. And little Tess absorbed it all. Every move. Every persona. Every story. While her sister Rosa, seven years her senior, admired the technical production of each show, Tess fell in love with the history of the performances, and how her mother seemed to bring the past to life before her very eyes. When her mother took flight every eye in the room was on her.
And so, every eye in the room was on her when she fell.
The accident changed her mother. A simple misstep left her unable to dance again, and forced her legacy onto her young children. Tess was eight when she started her training. At first it was simple exercises, then practiced numbers, then full performances before she was even eleven. She took control of her children’s social lives, cutting out their childhood friends and keeping them too busy to form new connections. She monitored their diets to keep them “thin and pretty.” Tess and Rosa were pushed to their limits, and when it wasn’t enough well beyond them. Their shared suffering should’ve brought the sisters closer, but the competition for their mother’s good graces and attention only drove them apart.
Their competition drove each sister towards different skills for survival. While her sister used charm and wit to get what she needed, Tess took to the shadows; she learned every dark corner and creaky floorboard in their home; she memorized every path from her room to the kitchen and out the back door well enough to walk it blind; she found every nook and cranny of her bedroom that could hide food, water, and bandages. She was practically a ghost within her own home.
And she nearly became one literally.
It was eventually going to happen. The strain of her forced lifestyle was taking its toll, and it finally came to collect during what would be her final performance. She passed out onstage and when she awoke backstage the EMTs began to question her and her sister about her condition. Rosa remained quiet, and Tess fell mute under the pressure. They eventually gave up, and left her alone with the director. He expressed concern over her health, and told her it would be better for her safety to stay home and recover for the next few months. Tess knew he might as well have told her to never come back for all her mother would care. Fearing her mother’s wrath, she didn’t go home that night, and instead headed west out of Ecruteak City towards Olivine, where she boarded a ship to Torrenta. Upon arrival, she immediately set out find work, and happened upon an ad for an internship at the regional lab. After a month or so of busywork, she’s been asked by one of the senior researchers to go out and perform some fieldwork for the lab.
RP SAMPLE --Tess passed through the sliding doors leading into Torrenta Lab. The dull hum of machinery and an empty white room were all that greeted her. Not that she’d expected anyone to be here so early in the morning. She went to drop her bag down on the table near the door, but was stopped by a sudden mix of different noises coming from a side room. Suppose she wasn’t as alone as she thought. She listened for a few silent moments, before gingerly placing the tote down next to some-Ugh, paperwork.
The past month had been a blur of arriving in town, looking for work, finding an internship at the lab, and filing. So much filing. She’d not even had this job for a year yet and already knew she’d die of boredom before her 18th birthday. It paid well at least, enough to get three proper meals in her every day. It did not pay well enough to cover rent, unfortunately. Unsurprisingly, living space close to the largest lab in the region was in high demand. Which meant sleeping on park benches for a while.
Or camping in the woods, she thought, recalling the reason for her arriving before anyone else. One of the researchers, whose name she’d yet to memorize, had called on her for a special task. He’d asked her to go out and take some notes on the migratory patterns of different species of bird Pokemon. A task that would, naturally, require traveling all across the region. Apparently being young and already decently-traveled made Tess better suited for it than some of the older scientists or local assistants who’d never left town before. Or maybe he’d just sensed her growing displeasure and this was simply an act of mercy.
Still, to say she was even “decently-traveled” might’ve been an overestimation of her abilities. The offer immediately brought memories of her lone trek to Olivine; being chased by Meowth; sneaking around sleeping Tauros; tossing what little food she had to lure Rattata away. She shivered not from the chilly autumn evenings, but from the distant howls and cries of her beastly pursuers. She could still feel the Hoothoot watching her at night.
But anything was better than paperwork.
So, despite the little voice in her head begging her not to, she agreed to the job. On the condition that she was given a Pokemon of her own for protection. And maybe a little company. The researcher told her to speak with Professor Green about it and that the sooner she left, the better. Until now, she’d only seen the head of the lab in passing, so she didn’t have a good grasp on her personality yet. Tess just hoped she was an early-riser. She cleared her throat and adjusted her coat before announcing in a carefully deepened voice.
“Um, Professor? I’m here to pick up a Pokemon?”
