Post by valkyrie on Jan 24, 2016 21:12:07 GMT -6
#Name ; Akiyama Katsumi
#Gender ; F
#Sexuality ; Bisexual
#D.O.B. ; July 15th
#Occupation ; Student
#Year and class ; 3D
#Height ; 5’3”
#Weight ; 108 lbs
#Physique ; Katsumi is slim, but she’s not overly fit - she doesn’t have any sports that she plays regularly, and her main source of exercise is leisurely walking, often including a stop at a sweet shop.
#Hair color and style ; Black hair worn in a single braid to her waist tied with a colorful scrunchy, with bangs that she tries to pin back but often fall loose into her eyes. When her hair is down it’s very wavy and can get out of control if it’s humid.
#Eye color ; Greenish blue
#Other appearance details (optional) ; She has dimples on each cheek that show up when she smiles or frowns, she hates them because she thinks they make her look childish. When she is nervous or embarrassed, she blushes and it's painfully obvious to the eye. If her hair is down, she keeps a her scrunchy on her wrist.
#Clothing styles ; At school she wears the uniform of course, but with slouchy socks in a kogal-style, and often on brisker days wears a a blue or red scarf that color coordinates with her uniform.
Some only-children are very happy in their own company, but Katsumi is not one of them. She craves company and feels uncomfortable being alone or doing things alone. Though she will do some things by herself if she has to, she prefers to be with someone, even if they don’t speak while they’re together.
She had a very good friend from childhood, they had been best friends since they were 5 and Katsumi hadn’t needed any others, fully content with one good friend and her father, and between the two of them, she was rarely ever alone. Right before she began her first year of highschool, her father had the stroke. Then her best friend, her only real friend besides her father, moved away a year later. She realized at that point that she knew no one at her school, or anywhere else, beyond a casual wave or hello in passing. She was truly alone, her most hated condition.
Akiyama Katsumi wants so badly to belong, but has no idea of how to go about it, and after losing her two strongest connections, she is afraid to, though she doesn’t quite realize that’s what the issue is. She has become very casual about lying if it will make her seem like the person she thinks she needs to be in order to fit in with whoever she’s with. One thing she and her mother share is a love of Western astrology, and the Japanese zodiac, and she also knows her blood type. She is a Cancer, born in the year of the Tiger, and her blood type is AB. She likes to know these details about other people, as well, so that she can know more about their personalities up front, and thus know how to behave to make sure they like her, so she won’t have to be alone.
She comes across as very friendly and personable, she’s fun to be around and she takes care of her friends, but there is only a certain level of intimacy that she is comfortable with; a level of companionship that doesn’t challenge her but also fulfills her need to not be alone, and makes her feel like she belongs, without any big risk or investment. As much as she may say it’s what she wants, she’ll shy away from anything beyond that. She will listen to others talk, be their confidant, go out of her way to help them out, be a really good friend to them, but she does not confide important things easily or ask her friends for help. In short, she’ll be their friend, but she won’t let them be hers. This always ends eventually, because the other person will eventually do one of two things; Either they will fade out of her life, frustrated or bored by the one-sidedness, or they will try to enter her life more and she’ll fade out of theirs. Either way, they become acquaintances she used to know. For the same reasons, she never has had a romantic relationship.
It’s not that she isn’t interested, because she is - both boys and girls have caught her interest, and she has sometimes painfully intense crushes that make her cheeks burn whenever she sees the object of her affection - but she isn’t ready to let someone know her that well. Her life is very compartmentalized between home and school, and nary the two shall meet, if she could have her way. So, she is lonely a lot of the time, even in the company of others.
She wants to be different this year, to have a friend, not just be one, but she hasn’t really made a friend since she was a little girl. She isn’t sure she knows how to change, but something has to. This is the year she’s decided to make something different happen.
Akiyama Katsumi is 17 years old but maybe a little older in some ways because of events in her family. She was a miracle baby, born after her mother and father had been told they’d never have children following a late-term miscarriage. She was doted on, the baby who was a gift. She grew up as an only child, but her parents were adamant that she not grow up to be spoiled, and though Katsumi usually finds a way to get what she wants, it’s not just given to her. She has always had to earn her privileges whether it be from helping around the house, or achieving and maintaining good grades.
She and her father were once incredibly close. They would do things together, whether it be building dioramas for school, or going for walks on balmy weekends. He had a stroke at the age of 50, which changed everything, and was the catalyst for a progressive vascular dementia. Her father, a proud man, was unaware, at first, of his declining cognition, but when he became aware of it, he did not want to leave the house anymore for fear of shaming the family should he have an episode. He could not work as an engineer anymore, but couldn’t bear for people to know, so Katsumi said, when people asked, that he worked in the next city and had received a good new position that he was succeeding in and that took up much of his time. When lucidity faded, he would sometimes wander, and Katsumi or her mother would track him down and bring him home- usually he listened best to Katsumi. Other times, he would sit in his chair and mumble, sometimes a dark expression on his face, and sometimes laughing gayly at a private joke in the tangle of his mind. Sometimes, he seemed so normal, only to inquire politely as to what Katsumi’s name was, and have they met before? He was once the smartest man she ever knew, the funniest with a dry wit that only the quick would catch on to. Now…Now he was different. They no longer went for walks on balmy weekends, nor built anything together. But sometimes, he would come back to himself for a little while, a few moments or a few hours, and he would look at her and know she was his daughter. Katsumi lives for those moments. She feels a confusing mess of feelings regarding his situation - grief, because in a way the man he was has died, shame at his decline and his worsening behavior, guilt at feeling shame, affection for the dotty man he’s turned into, who is sometimes combative, and sometimes so sweet. Sometimes she’s angry at him, as though it’s somehow his fault that this happened. As often as she is home to help-and she will always come home if he needs her- she also avoids going home when she’s not needed and often leaves her mother to care for him on weekends, and almost never brings people to the house.
Her mother works at an office as an accountant and often works long hours, so while they are both away, they have a nurse who comes to make sure he is taken care of. The nurse is a kind lady, but sometimes she can’t handle Katsumi’s father when he’s in one of his moods, and only Katsumi can handle him.
She and her mother have never been very close, despite both of them wishing otherwise. Her mother worries about her, and the worrying becomes constricting for Katsumi, and the way that her mother communicates her love - through high expectations and concern, doesn’t compute well with Katsumi. Her father used to act as an intermediary between the two of them, allowing for a somewhat easier relationship, since he sort of spoke both their languages, but since his accident they have both reverted to old ways and often end up frustrated with each other. Katsumi never confided in her mother much anyway, because her mother can be a bit harsh (otherwise known as “practical”) in her judgements. Katsumi is not a terribly practical person, and her mother is. Her father had a way with her that would guide her to reason without making her feel defensive or foolish. It’s difficult for her, at times, to be around him, and though she knows she’s selfish for staying away and increases the burden her mother feels, she finds herself doing it anyway.
At school, Katsumi enjoys science, especially biological science, and thinks she would be a good nurse because she isn’t squeamish, and she likes the idea of helping people. She loves to know how people work, and she’s infatuated with the idea of being able to help people heal. However, she has decided to pursue engineering following high school to honor her father, though she struggles with advanced mathematics and doesn’t particularly like the subject matter.
The Roleplayer's Corner
#Nickname ; Val
#Age (optional) ;23
#Gender (optional) ;F
#Ever roleplayed before? ;Yep, about 11 years off and on
#Other Characters (if any) ;None yet
#Seen the anime/played the visual novel? ;I’m on episode 6 of the show!
#How did you find us? ;Vivo invited me
#Sample Writing From a Very Different Genre;
A single bullet, silenced, whirred through the stillness of the night. A softer thud signaled the body hitting the ground. The blood spray was silent. The transition from life to death was instantaneous and silent. Shaw drew air in through her nose, letting it escape from her mouth in a drawn out breath - silent. She broke down the rifle and policed her casing, dropping it into an inside pocket of her black jacket. She was gone from her vantage point, with no trace of her presence left behind, within a minute of the body falling. Efficient. The silence would not last long, the body would be discovered in two and a half minutes, if the security guard did not dawdle, and then the compound would be in an uproar.
She jogged to the edge of the property and smoothly scaled the ten foot high concrete wall, using the wall to help her reach the edge and pull herself up and over with arms and legs. She jogged further, till she reached the road, then slowed to a quick but less suspicious walk. The sky ahead of her was pre-dawn gray, with the promise of a cloudless day ahead, much like the day before, and the day before. Columbian weather was predictable this summer.
Shaw pulled her phone, untraceable and lacking GPS (that could be tracked both ways), out of her pocket, and selected her only contact - blocked number, only the name “J Smith.” These guys were all so funny. She keyed in her message and hit send, not breaking stride. Her ride to Bogota should be a mile up ahead.
J Smith responded immediately, Shaw scanned the message. Her eyes closed in an extended blink. She drew in a deep breath. Her heart picked up its pace. There was no ride to Bogota. There was no extraction point. This was no longer a sanctioned operation. She was not recognized by the United States government. She was now just another murderer. Shaw began to run.
Three Days Later
Shaw ordered a local beer, because it would have stuck out in this shanty bar if she tried to ordered the gin and tonic she desperately wanted, and found a seat with her back to a wall, facing the entrance. There was a secondary exit directly to her right and within her peripheral vision. Two ways of escape and no one could get the drop on her. She knew she looked like she’d been through it - three days trekking through rural Colombia, catching rides with farmers and their chickens, sleeping in fields, did not do much for one’s appearance. She had made good use of her time since she made it to Bogota - she would be unofficially on a flight to the United States in an hour. This was the most dangerous part. She didn’t know if she was on a watch list, or if she’d gotten away clean. There was no way to tell how far the US government was going to take this - they might let her come home, or they might serve her up to the Colombian authorities. Difficult to guess. The beer was warm as she drank it, and did nothing to alleviate the oppressive humidity that made her hair stick to her forehead.
When it was time, she shouldered her bag, which held only the basic provisions - she had buried her rifle before entering the city, best not to be caught with a weapon that had ended the life of an upper echelon Colombian politician. The airport was only a few minutes’ walk away, and she moved casually, not in a rush, and certainly not on edge. But her eyes constantly surveyed her surroundings without seeming to. She noted the hunched man outside of a run down shop rolling a cigarette. He glanced at her without interest then continued his handy work. The airport was more of a long stretch of dirt with a small building that acted as lobby and only mild protection from the humid heat.
“Senorita, the plane is delayed!” The scrawny man she had contacted hollered from the doorway as she approached. Shaw’s jaw tightened for an instant,then she relaxed, keeping her eyes relaxed, too.
“Is that so? How much does it cost to speed it up?” This was the risk with booking alternative transport, people always tried to screw you over.
“That would depend on who is looking for you,” the man said, a sly look in his eye. “I do not think you can match their price.” She turned to run as he stepped aside, but knew it was already too late. She heard the gun pull up, felt the impact as the projectile caught her in between the shoulder blades. Her last coherent thought, between being struck and striking the ground, was at least it was a dart and not a bullet.
Her next coherent thought would come when she came to in a prison in a forgotten part of Colombia. Every thought after that was of survival, for people were not sent to places like that to live long and healthy lives, but to become another body in the mass grave out in the yard. But Rebecca Shaw was determined not to become a corpse in Colombia. She would survive, and when the time came, she would make the people who did this to her pay with their lives