Who Am I? || Week 11

[Joan]

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Do you enjoy creating new characters just because you can? Do you need a new character for your next story or roleplay, but you're not sure where to start? Do you enjoy using images to get the writing juices flowing? Do you just like hoarding character images? If so, this thread is for you, and anybody else who takes an interest.

Use the image below to create a character. You may use the optional form provided, create your own form, write an introduction for your character, or whatever else tickles your fancy or comes to mind.

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Optional Form

Name:

Age:

Gender:

Occupation:

Species:

Personality:

History:

Equipment:

Abilities and Skills:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Other:
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[esoteric]

Name: Lille Misner

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Occupation: Head Custodian of Sable Fleet

Species: Human

Personality: An average-Joe, Lille goes through life the same way window shoppers go through malls. He's participating but he's not fully there. It may seem pitiful but he's accomplished a lot through his estranged relationship with the rest of the world. He rarely experiences anxiety or other trifling emotions so he handles problematic situations with ease. This has made it relatively easy for him to move up the ranks in his employment. Lille isn't disliked, but he isn't particularly well-liked either. He's that friend that isn't really a friend and more of an acquaintance or coworker—which suits him just fine.

To go more in depth, Lille has fears and desires like everyone else. His sense of humor is not unlike a toddler's and he appreciates a good cup of coffee and a chat as well as the next person. It's just never been his precedent. Yes he may get a bit squeamish around tentacles or he might really really want to meet The Heliots, but he's always been able to categorize his emotions by level of importance. Lille is very much a man who thinks with his head before his heart and is prepared for any and all predicaments.

History: The human race has been dwelling in space for centuries at this point and it's no longer a tremendous deal to work on a spaceship, thus Lille felt no dubiety about applying for a janitorial job on one. If it was a dangerous or elite profession he would've hesitated as he puts his safety first and dislike for central attention second. Lille was diligent and resourceful when it came to his work which was noticed by all. This led his quick rise to manager, supervisor, and finally director.

Equipment: Mop and broom, but he also has a blaster in case of emergencies.

Abilities and Skills: Bilingual, Mind Palace (of sorts-he's not super intelligent, just meticulous), and Proficient at handling a Blaster

Strengths: Calm under fire, assiduous, possesses leadership skills, collaborative, and efficient at delegating tasks.

Weaknesses: Judgmental, stubborn when he believes he knows the best course of action, inept in diplomacy, and a weak combatant.

Other: The Sable Fleet mascot is a mink and that might've influenced his decision in joining them—he's weak for cute, tiny creatures.

 

[Jays]

March

Adam often said I looked like James McAvoy. I would reply, I don't know who that is. He would laugh and went right back to calling me Professor. I had always meant to finally get a straight answer out of him. I had always meant to do so much more with him. Always meant, that was the problem. Always meant, meaning "some other day", and never right now. And right now all I have left is regret.

Here's the thing about time. Everyone knows about it, everyone talks about it, everyone feels it passing by, but nobody ever understands. They talked about it like an emotionless thing, an objective concept, a resource to be harnessed and managed. Like they have any control at all.

Everyone has regrets. It's a side effect of time. Regret is one's hindsight, the feeling of time slipping through one's fingers. All of us are slaves to time, and regret the chain it yanks us with. Everyone wants more seconds in their minute, more minutes in their hour, more hours in their day, more days in their years. More years in their lives. Because we regret, because we are addicted to time, and regret is our relapse.

I once thought we were different. Adam and I, and all the others. The Chrono Telics, they called us. Time Thieves. Out of the flow that binds everyone else, out of reality, out of time. All of history was our playground, events our buffet, the past our prize. And we were glorious.

But everything, all of it, down to our being, the very concept of control was a mere illusion. Time's way of letting us know, it knew. It knew and it paid attention and it cared. Time was a kid with a needle, and us trapped in a balloon. The kid popped it, and just like that our control was gone. An accident, it seemed, one out of a hundred billion chances, the impossible. And I knew, Time was done humouring us.

Time is not a concept, or an object. Time is our enemy, our master, our maker. Time gives our lives meanings, by taking them away, one at a time. And there is not a damn thing anyone, anywhere, anywhen could do about it.

I am broken. We all were, even before the end. That's how we could slip through the cracks, that's how Time chose participants for its game. I am broken and I thought I was fixed. That is my regret. I regret being happy at all, so that when my deserved end finally found me, it hurts all the more for it. I regret not asking, for the last time, who James McAvoy is. I regret I never got to see for myself.