Characters.

Hello, hello, absent me yes yes I am very bad, but it doesn't matter, no one's missed me and I've been poorly sick so its all good. Was most grim, to be sure. Flu shouldn't happen when its so sunny.
But anyway, I have a short mumble to post for you invisible people, I've been invited to play a game that I'm thoughroughly looking forward to and so have written bits and bobs about her to try and lock her down in my head so I can play her more accurately. Opinions are welcome, though random 'that's shit' with no explanations I will be cross with.
As for premise, think....similar to a mutants first show of power, really. It's more complex than that but it'll do for a quick explanation.



She still wasn’t sure what had happened, as she lay panting in the local park. Deserted at this hour, the cool, leafy darkness soothed her senses as she tried frantically to bring her hysterical pulse back to a more human rhythm. Shock was a factor, she remembered dimly, when you did something you couldn’t understand in a time of stress, and there was something about the bodies’ temperature dropping to dangerous levels when that was the case. She should probably get up off the wet grass. But the sky twisted and and stretched above her in a sickening pattern, and instead of heaving herself to her feet, she let her eyes slide closed, fighting the growing nausea.
Unbidden, her mind slid back into the room, and the whole terrifying scene played for her again, as her chest heaved with the exertion of the first performance.
She’d been staring at the clock for the last hour before, fully dressed, waiting vainly for sleep, knowing that because of the thrum of voices in the lounge it was never going to happen, so she was exactly aware of the moment he’d slid, snakelike, into her room with that revolting leering smile trained on her. 3.06. The time of fear.
The first time it had happened, she’d frozen, not quite sure what he’d wanted, but you’d never catch her making the same mistake twice. She had all but vaulted out of bed, her heart screaming a warning to the rest of her strained, sleep-deprived body, a burst of stars clouding her vision as she shot to the other end of the room, the wall nearest her parents bedroom. He tried coming any closer she’d scream so loud the windows would shatter, and they’d have to hear her this time. But either he didn’t know how the script ran in her haywire head or she’d got it all wrong, because he lurched into her room, and started to cross the room towards her, his eyes roaming the black clothed body pressed in between her desk and her easel.
She could see every contour of his face by the lurid orange streetlight, and hear his laboured breathing, bringing the stench of her fathers scotch into what was once her sanctuary. Fury blazed in her. She was cowering, that’s what she was doing. Hoping that someone else would save her from the big bad world, relying on mercy and justice that didn’t exist to save her from a threat that was all too real. Her hand searched the desktop desperately, time mocking her by making the whole heart-stopping journey work almost in slow-motion. She scrabbled through the things that during daylight were colour, hunting the scalpel she used to etch out a shape through the layers of acrylics or wax, but couldn’t find it anywhere. Tears brimming in her eyes in a mixture of terror and frustration, she grabbed a can that she remembered dimly contained black spray paint, the top already lost to the chaos of the world and drew it to her chest. He laughed, then, a sleazy, disgusting noise that made the bile rise into her throat. She panicked at the thought of being sick. That would leave her completely defenceless, on her hands and knees heaving she wouldn’t even be able to punch him first….taking deep breaths she fought to govern the feeling of the acid inching up into her mouth. If only she could spit that into his eyes, that’d knock him back a pace or two…
As he got to the end of her bed, barely twelve inches from her, the adrenaline reached an unbearable level, her body burst into life as if she’d been cross country running and she launched herself into his slightly unsteady frame, knocking him for six. Sliding to her knees as she overbalanced, Vais lifted the spray paint to point directly at her uncles flabby, disgusting, frightening face, and pushed the valve down, the paint leaving the can with the hurried pssssssssssssst that she loved so much, coating her uncles face in thick black matt paint. He’d shut his eyes when he’d seen her lift her hand, so she imagined that it’d just humiliate him being covered in paint, and she began to scream at the top of her lungs. They’d have to believe her now.
She’d been silenced when he’d started screaming too.
Her parents had heard her, or him, and when the bulb above them sparked into life, in the split second of perfect vision before the onslaught of light had bleached her sight, she’d seen why he was screaming. His face was dissolving under the black paint, his flesh blistering and smoking, the skin peeling away like melting plastic and his eyes being visibly eaten away as if by some serious heavy duty corrosive.
The next few moments were a blur of the vile scent of scorching flesh and her parents shrieking at her, at her uncle, at the telephone….but she wasn’t paying any attention. She was grabbing blindly at anything, everything she could reach, aiming the spray can at her parents, shouting gibberish, threatening them with…a can of paint, what kind of paint ate peoples faces!? But her parents got the gist, and didn’t even try to stop her snagging her rucksack and running the fuck away.
Vais opens her eyes, back in the park, her vision fuzzy with tears, her breaths coming in rapid, frantic gasps, and rolls over as her stomach finally fulfils it’s threat and vomits all over the grass.