Strengths: Nyte is relatively strong physically, though not superhumanly so. She also possesses an incredible knowledge of all things mechanical and has a deep love for the care and maintenance of automobiles.
Weaknesses: Nyte has no special physical or mental weaknesses...except for spiders, to which she responds with the same phasic reaction every time. Freezes, screams, vomits, and faints.
Abilities: Nyte can snap her fingers and instantly be wearing any hat that has ever been created, roar the most precise T-rex roar that you have ever heard, breathe underwater, but only for seventeen and a half minutes, and once she succesfully burped the entirety of Debussy's Clair de Lune, and while none of these are actually true, she claims that she can and will do these when the time calls for it.
In all actuallity though, she can speak three languages fluently, and two more conversationally; she can fix just about any car you put in front of her; she can climb trees with bizarre efficiency; and has trained more than one animal to do more than ordinary tasks.
First Person: [Nyte groans, her eyes stll closed, as consciousness begins to retake her. She shifts in her seat and finally opens her eyes. She looks around at the train, and her eyes grow wide. She sits up suddenly, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.]
Wh...Where the fuck am I?
[The last thing she remembers was being on a plane traveling from France to America. That’s right, there had been turbulence. She had been trying to find a cigare...]
My cigarettes!
[She looks down and begins to pat around at her hoodie. She then looks to her left, and there in the seat beside is her suitcase, and right on top, her cigarettes and lighter. She slumps back into the sit and stares dead ahead.]
What the hell is going on?
Third Person: The taxi slammed to a stop in front of the terminal, and the driver barely had time to tell her the fare before Nyte was throwing a pair of twenty dollar bills into the passenger seat and slamming the door behind her. Her roommate had blown a fuse the night before, and without a timely alarm, she was late, and at a very real risk of missing her flight. She barreled past other travelers, spinning one direction and then another on her way to the check in desk.
“Nom de réservation et d'identification, s'il vous plaît?” Nyte pulled out her passport and handed it to the tall blonde woman behind the desk.
“Amelia Thompson.” The woman smiled and responded in English this time.
“And where are we traveling today, Ms Thompson?”
“America. Nashville, to be precise. I am done with France for a while.” Nyte sighed. For all she knew, she was done with France forever, and she wasn’t even sure she was upset about it. The clerk smiled again and entered a few strokes on her keyboard. Her smile disappeared.
“Mademoiselle, I am afraid there is a, uhm, small problem with your travel ajourd’hui.”
“What kind of problem?” Nyte looked at her watch, “Because the flight is supposed to leave in twenty minutes, and I still have security to go through.”
“Je ne sais pas pourquoi, but your seat has been given away.” Nyte stared blankly at the clerk, unsure of how to respond.
”...so...what do I do now?” The clerk paused for a moment, thinking, and then tapped on her keyboard once more. As Nyte began to feel the hot embrace of panic gripping her chest, the clerk smiled again and looked up.
“Voila! Ms Thompson, I have found you a new seat in first class. I am sorry again for the brief inconvenience, but I hope you enjoy your flight. Avoir du plaisir en Amérique!” She handed Nyte her ticket and boarding pass and called to the next customer.
Seventeen minutes later, Nyte stood still in front of the airplane door taking deep breaths and trying to calm her nerves. She detested travel by plane, and not even this recent bump into fancy schmancy first class land was easing her anxiety. The man behind her coughed and embarassed, she took the step from the walkway into the plane. She quicly found her seat, a giant of blue leather, and stowed her bag in the overhead bin.
When the plane had filled and taken off, and the fasten seatbelt sign had been de-illuminated, the stewardesses began to come around offering complimentary snacks and beverages. When they arrived at Nyte’s seat, she was overjoyed to be offered a glass of champagne and quickly said yes. Over the course of the next four hours, she said yes and additional seven times, and by hour five was quite drunk.
Just as dinner service was being started, Nyte grew cold. She pulled her bag down from the overhead and opened it to retrieve her sweater. As she was pullling out the large warm black hoodie, an all too familiar smell assaulted her senses. Cat piss.
“Goddamnit, Pearl.” She cursed under her breath. Standing at her seat, urine soaked hoodie in hand, Nyte began in internal debate about whether or not to put it away or wear it. On the one hand, gross. Also rude. I am in first fucking class, I can’t willingly subject these people to the smell of cat piss...but...it is cold. And I am drunk...fuck it. They’re probably all assholes.
Nyte sat back down, her hoodie warming her instantly. Just then, the plane shook violently. It only lasted a moment, but everyone on board could tell it was no ordinary turbulence. The fasten seatbelt sign came on with a ding, and the captain asked the stewardesses to return to their seats. The plane shook again, more violently than before, but lasting just as long. The plane fell silent as everyone waited for another tremor. Several minutes later, it came again, only this time it didn’t stop. The shaking grew rougher and rougher and the lights began to flicker.
Nyte was a wreck of shattered nerves, and when people started to scream she just couldn’t control herself any longer. She shoved her hand in her hoodie pocket searching for a cigarette. She felt around, but all she could find was a rosary she had picked up in a local flea market the day before. She held it tightly as she undid her seatbelt and retrieved her overhead bag once more. She unzipped the outer pocket and began to search for her cigarettes. If she was about to die on this plane, she was doing it with smoke in her lungs. Nyte finally found her cigarettes at the bottom of the suitcase pocket, but before she had a chance to light up, the shaking worsened, the screams grew louder as more and more passengers joined in, and a box fell out of the still open overhead bin, bounced off of the chair in front of her, and hit Nyte square in the head. Her grip on the rosary loosened, and Nyte slowly lost consciousness.
Re: Nyte Thompson --OC--No Reserve--4 of ?
Strengths: Nyte is relatively strong physically, though not superhumanly so. She also possesses an incredible knowledge of all things mechanical and has a deep love for the care and maintenance of automobiles.
Weaknesses: Nyte has no special physical or mental weaknesses...except for spiders, to which she responds with the same phasic reaction every time. Freezes, screams, vomits, and faints.
Abilities: Nyte can snap her fingers and instantly be wearing any hat that has ever been created, roar the most precise T-rex roar that you have ever heard, breathe underwater, but only for seventeen and a half minutes, and once she succesfully burped the entirety of Debussy's Clair de Lune, and while none of these are actually true, she claims that she can and will do these when the time calls for it.
In all actuallity though, she can speak three languages fluently, and two more conversationally; she can fix just about any car you put in front of her; she can climb trees with bizarre efficiency; and has trained more than one animal to do more than ordinary tasks.
First Person:
[Nyte groans, her eyes stll closed, as consciousness begins to retake her. She shifts in her seat and finally opens her eyes. She looks around at the train, and her eyes grow wide. She sits up suddenly, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.]
Wh...Where the fuck am I?
[The last thing she remembers was being on a plane traveling from France to America. That’s right, there had been turbulence. She had been trying to find a cigare...]
My cigarettes!
[She looks down and begins to pat around at her hoodie. She then looks to her left, and there in the seat beside is her suitcase, and right on top, her cigarettes and lighter. She slumps back into the sit and stares dead ahead.]
What the hell is going on?
Third Person:
The taxi slammed to a stop in front of the terminal, and the driver barely had time to tell her the fare before Nyte was throwing a pair of twenty dollar bills into the passenger seat and slamming the door behind her. Her roommate had blown a fuse the night before, and without a timely alarm, she was late, and at a very real risk of missing her flight. She barreled past other travelers, spinning one direction and then another on her way to the check in desk.
“Nom de réservation et d'identification, s'il vous plaît?” Nyte pulled out her passport and handed it to the tall blonde woman behind the desk.
“Amelia Thompson.” The woman smiled and responded in English this time.
“And where are we traveling today, Ms Thompson?”
“America. Nashville, to be precise. I am done with France for a while.” Nyte sighed. For all she knew, she was done with France forever, and she wasn’t even sure she was upset about it. The clerk smiled again and entered a few strokes on her keyboard. Her smile disappeared.
“Mademoiselle, I am afraid there is a, uhm, small problem with your travel ajourd’hui.”
“What kind of problem?” Nyte looked at her watch, “Because the flight is supposed to leave in twenty minutes, and I still have security to go through.”
“Je ne sais pas pourquoi, but your seat has been given away.” Nyte stared blankly at the clerk, unsure of how to respond.
”...so...what do I do now?” The clerk paused for a moment, thinking, and then tapped on her keyboard once more. As Nyte began to feel the hot embrace of panic gripping her chest, the clerk smiled again and looked up.
“Voila! Ms Thompson, I have found you a new seat in first class. I am sorry again for the brief inconvenience, but I hope you enjoy your flight. Avoir du plaisir en Amérique!” She handed Nyte her ticket and boarding pass and called to the next customer.
Seventeen minutes later, Nyte stood still in front of the airplane door taking deep breaths and trying to calm her nerves. She detested travel by plane, and not even this recent bump into fancy schmancy first class land was easing her anxiety. The man behind her coughed and embarassed, she took the step from the walkway into the plane. She quicly found her seat, a giant of blue leather, and stowed her bag in the overhead bin.
When the plane had filled and taken off, and the fasten seatbelt sign had been de-illuminated, the stewardesses began to come around offering complimentary snacks and beverages. When they arrived at Nyte’s seat, she was overjoyed to be offered a glass of champagne and quickly said yes. Over the course of the next four hours, she said yes and additional seven times, and by hour five was quite drunk.
Just as dinner service was being started, Nyte grew cold. She pulled her bag down from the overhead and opened it to retrieve her sweater. As she was pullling out the large warm black hoodie, an all too familiar smell assaulted her senses. Cat piss.
“Goddamnit, Pearl.” She cursed under her breath. Standing at her seat, urine soaked hoodie in hand, Nyte began in internal debate about whether or not to put it away or wear it. On the one hand, gross. Also rude. I am in first fucking class, I can’t willingly subject these people to the smell of cat piss...but...it is cold. And I am drunk...fuck it. They’re probably all assholes.
Nyte sat back down, her hoodie warming her instantly.
Just then, the plane shook violently. It only lasted a moment, but everyone on board could tell it was no ordinary turbulence. The fasten seatbelt sign came on with a ding, and the captain asked the stewardesses to return to their seats. The plane shook again, more violently than before, but lasting just as long. The plane fell silent as everyone waited for another tremor. Several minutes later, it came again, only this time it didn’t stop. The shaking grew rougher and rougher and the lights began to flicker.
Nyte was a wreck of shattered nerves, and when people started to scream she just couldn’t control herself any longer. She shoved her hand in her hoodie pocket searching for a cigarette. She felt around, but all she could find was a rosary she had picked up in a local flea market the day before. She held it tightly as she undid her seatbelt and retrieved her overhead bag once more. She unzipped the outer pocket and began to search for her cigarettes. If she was about to die on this plane, she was doing it with smoke in her lungs.
Nyte finally found her cigarettes at the bottom of the suitcase pocket, but before she had a chance to light up, the shaking worsened, the screams grew louder as more and more passengers joined in, and a box fell out of the still open overhead bin, bounced off of the chair in front of her, and hit Nyte square in the head. Her grip on the rosary loosened, and Nyte slowly lost consciousness.