| Information |
| Home Page: |
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| Birthday: |
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| Location: |
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| Interests: |
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| Sub Accounts: |
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| Last Post: |
Nov 25 2014, 02:42 PM |
| Last Activity: |
Nov 27 2014, 01:29 PM |
| Player's Alias |
Callisto |
| GIF link |
http://i564.photobucket.com/albums/ss86/Yatterouse/JERStuffMe/3020318y6s7KX4L.gif |
| Shipper Link |
No Information |
| Application Link |
http://thecityofjericho.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=84 |
| Nicknames |
Osprey |
| Character Age |
25 |
| Class/Usergroup |
Class E |
| Occupation |
Military - Advanced Level |
| Sexuality |
Heterosexual |
| Marital Status |
Single |
| Mother |
Lorraine Gisley - B |
| Father |
Jacob Lewis - B |
| Siblings |
N/A |
| Bio |
i.
I wake up to the sound of my alarm. How many years has it been now? The same alarm. Same breakfast. Same ten years of torture and barrage of punches and stabs and jabs and shucks and jives.
I can't stand it anymore.
They lead me to a training room and place me inside a small half-cylinder. My hands are tied behind me, then to a wall. This is how it always starts. Day after day. It's beginning to put my ten year old mind into a certain state that I've been warned about.
The punishment - or trails, as the scientists like to call them are starting now. Punch after punch, I'm repeatedly told to block them. Repeatedly, I fail. Today they are especially hard. A small needle goes into the back of my neck. I stiffen as it happens,
"STOP!"
The word ripples up through my throat. I can feel the pressure build as it tears up around my vocal chords and out through my lips. The man who's punching me flies back. When I see him get up, he's wiping blood from his already blackening nose. The rims of his eyes lined with purple bruises and his lips fat.
They tell me I've done it, but I can't exactly figure out what they mean as they scrub my bruised body down with cleansers and send me off to my room to start the whole thing over again tomorrow.
ii.
The years pass by as they try to teach me how to control this gift of mine. They tell me I'm special and that people will be grateful to have me "on their side." I wasn't aware up until now that I was on a side of anyone. Who am I useful to? I just want to have ownership over my own body.
They explain to me the ways of telekinesis, and how I'm able to manipulate my own energy into different parts of my body.
I wake up on the morning of my 16th birthday to no alarm, just the sound of carts and people walk by outside my small bedroom. I prepare my morning routine, meticulously working through it. The years have not been kind to my mind, as I now suffer from something the doctors call Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. They give me medication, and tell me it's useful when you're supposed to be a soldier to have routines such as this.
They're probably just lying like the rest of them.
iii.
Training again. I feel the jab of a wooden arm on a cylinder spin and hit me in the side. The force from the blow resonates in my skin, and I feel it stop inside my body, leaving a dark bruise on my rib. I channel all my force into my fist and thrust it into the wooden arm. The arm drops to the floor; splinters fly everywhere, and become stuck into my hand.
"Are we done yet?"
I look up to the mirrored glass that I'm fully aware the handlers are standing behind. More pillars with wooden and metal arms are lowered into the small arena, giving me a clear indication that, "no," is the handler's response.
iv.
The past few months before my 24th birthday, I've been learning how to interact and be sociable. It's extremely interesting, but poses me the question: Why weren't myself and the others in the facility treated the way they're teaching me how to treat people?
It all seems a bit strange, but the constant testing and drills are over with for now, so I think I can handle a little bit of learning how to be an acceptable member of society.
v.
They've integrated us into the military. I've been on three missions now, and they've all ended in bloodshed. The outsiders are sadly stuck with no resources, and in that respect, I feel okay to put them out of their misery. Life inside the facility might have been bad, but the outsider conditions are deplorable. They have no structure, no government.
I feel bad for them, but it's not allowed, so I keep my feelings to myself. I hope there are others who have found safe havens.
I'm afraid of what might happen if they notice my sympathies. |
| Extras |
1. Octavia is extremely agile - She moves with superhuman agility and grace, practically dancing across battlefields when she's in combat.
2. Octavia can control her energy levels inside her body using telekinesis. Like stretching muscles, she can force her own muscles to extremes. She can channel the energy inside of herself into concentrated amounts, forcing them out through different areas of her body. She's a fan of screaming to knock people down with concussive force, which is where she got her code name, "Osprey".
3. Although she's telekinetic, she has a hard time moving objects outside her own body. She had to be fairly familiar to move even the smallest of things, so she prefers to keep it inside herself.
4. Octavia is a huge fan of even numbers. Radio is on? even number volume. Offering her a coffee? Two milk, two sugar. Everything is even, largely in part to the upbringing she received in the labs.
5. Octavia always has a routine. Morning, noon, and night. She even has sub-routines within her routines to makes sure they're done completely proper. |
| Age |
22 |
| Timezone |
-4:00 GMT Atlantic Time |
| Playby |
Delta Goodrem |
| About Me |
No Information |
| Character Image |
https://fbcdn-sphotos-g-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xfp1/v/t1.0-9/10409751_524471777699613_5394561224743124198_n.jpg?oh=8ee866e535774f190322db1c93bde801&oe=5470A520&__gda__=1417175977_992616ae3116e1dbed6893a3f57086f5 |
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| Posting Details |
| Member Group |
Level E~ |
| Member Title |
No Information |
| Avatar |
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