A Thaven with purple-pink hair, vibrantly pink skin, and rarely seen blue eyes. She stands closer to average human height than most of her species does. The large, eel-like tail that trails behind her almost seems too big for her. She works almost exclusively in Engineering, with occasional side shifts in the Service department when she needs a break from her usual power-related woes.
Adores a nice pair of boots and much prefers them to shoes, though a pair of fancy heels would make her even happier. The silver piercings adorning each of her ears are extremely important to her. Hates the feeling of latex, even aside from her allergy. When given a choice, she'd pick a comfy skirt over a pair of pants, every time. Loves to accessorize her hair with flowers, but doesn't often have a chance to do so. Her eyes are typically hidden behind a pair of meson goggles. She's a self-trained multi-instrumentalist, but has a strong attachment to playing bass. She's an avid poet and writer, but is deeply embarrassed about it. Girly at heart, but feels shackled by her interests.
Has traditional mood swings, in addition to her Thaven brain mood swings. She often comes off as either a polite, albeit somewhat crude woman, or a massive bitch. Doesn't consider herself to be very witty. Prone to feeling overwhelmed when more than one person is trying to get her attention. Loves her kin more than anything, but often feels like she struggles to fit in and is only accepted because of nebulous "familial ties". Would never use a borg for nefarious purposes, and treats them with proper respect. Is a deeply struggling alcoholic who often finds it tough to get through a shift without emotional assistance from a stiff drink.
She dislikes NT considerably but has ended up working for them anyway, thanks to a series of her own grave mistakes. Tries to make the most out of it, but really doesn't want to be there at heart. Chooses to remain willfully ignorant as to whether she has been cloned at some point, because the deeper implications would cause her to have an unparalleled existential crisis.
Alexander Pope wrote:Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
Man never is, but always to be blest:
The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Takes her name from an ancient Earth poem, to remind her that no matter how bad things seem to be, you should never give up entirely. May take it too literally and face lethal consequences, someday.
Art Gallery:
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