One x One You won't even Remember my Name -Character sheets

[BlackDove]

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[BlackDove]

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General Info​

Name: Maracolla Brielle
Nickname: Marco
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Age: 24.

Appearance​

Height: 5’5
Weight: 175.
Hair: caramel brown. Dyes it to have electric blue and purple highlights. Often kinky curly 3c/4c type texture, when they dye it they also perm it or chemically relax it as well. Hair reaches a Lil below their shoulders in thick waves.
Skin: caramel Latte brown, has vitiligo with a patch that covers her left eye and more hidden under their clothes. Small nicks and burn scars litter their long slens=der, calloused hands.
Distinguishing marks: the vitiligo patch over her eye.
Eyes: cinnamon brown with thick short lashes and slightly purple bags under them.
Clothing: if not dressed in their usual uniform for work, they wear very slouchy baggy clothes like large knit sweaters and hipster jeans. A bit fond of leather jackets as well.

Personality​

Temperament: usually slow to anger, but also slow to forgive. Mostly the relaxed collected type, but definitely a thrill seeker on the side.
Moral/ethical beliefs: “Everyone deserves a chance or two. Kindness is learned, not a given”
Religious beliefs: not religious, but believes in a higher power. they just happen to believe that that higher power doesn't care.
Political stance: Antsy with the current war going on. Doesn't truly have a political opinion on whos right or wrong.
Hobbies: Parkour, baking, and costume design for their dnd club.
Habits: Chews on their lip when deep in thought, often looks away, and avoids eye contact. Makes coffee or bakes when stressed.
Quirks/eccentricities: maladaptive daydreams, talks to themself when unsure or stressed about a decision.
Likes: fantasy novels, DnD, parkour, baking, coffee, tea, chocolate, cinnamon, weather jackets, spicy food, the color blue, beards, dogs, jazz music.
Dislikes: snobs, dark chocolate, the color green, secrets, alcohol, lying
Fears: losing their twin, tight spaces
Strengths: keeping a cool head in dire situations, making quick decisions, mediating, sneaking, climbing, hiding
Weaknesses: gullible, trusts way too easily, willing to delude themselves if it means not facing a terrible outcome, slightly reckless for loved ones, willing to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.

Short-term goals: survive, pre-shitstorm; travel with their brother
Long-term goals: save their brother, pre-shitstorm; spend their life in a wondrous adventure traveling the world like in her fantasy books
Hopes and desires: to go on an adventure and escape their dreary life
Occupation: owns a local bakery and coffee shop called “ The Busy Bean”
Skills: sewing, crafting clothing and impromptu weapons, sketching/designing, baking,
Secrets:

• Killed their mother.
• depressed.

Gear​

Always has:

• Sketchbook
  Pencils
  Scissors
  Sewing kit
  Lighter
  Knife
  Hair ties
  pads

Sometimes has:

• Baked goods or snacks
• Spare cloth
  chewlry

Events and History​

Recent notable events

• Father died in the war
  Brother got a “secret” new promotion

Bad events in the past

• Their mother or childhood
• That one time they nearly drowned

Good events in the past

• Opening up the bakery
• Being admitted to college

History and background details

• Nationality- French
  Ethnicity- Black and Italian/french.
  Has a twin named Marco Who looks nearly identical to them.
  
  
• Background:
• Marco and Maracolla grew up middle class in France. With their father being a high-ranking military officer they were well-fed and well-educated. Their mother was a stay-at-home mom who held more traditional values and principles. Life would have been good. Their father, while not always home, made sure to send letters of love and encouragement to his family as well as grand stories of his adventures while serving overseas. Life would have been good. The stories their father sent them slowly led to Both Maracolla and Marco's desire to enlist and explore the world as well. For Marco that meant training up to prepare for enlistment and for Maracolla that meant…finding out the harsh truth.
  
  Maracolla was 10 years old when they learned what it meant to be a girl. It meant to sit with your legs closed; to walk with your head high and your shoulders back; to smile and nod and not be heard; it meant no more roughhousing with the boys; it meant no more grass stains and ripped dresses; it meant wild hair must be tamed; it meant harsh grips tight on small shoulders and whispered threats; it meant pretty gold bars to house a pretty bird.
  But most importantly, to Maracolla it Meant being trapped.
  While their Twin Marco would be free to love, free to travel, free to leave.
  While Maracolla would be stuck listening to stories and living vicariously through fiction.
  
  By age 15 Maracolla was a shell of her former self; Quiet, melancholy, and kept mostly to herself and to her twin. Her high school years were spent with her head firmly in a book or sneaking out late at night to stargaze or play DnD. It was bittersweet and relief from the inevitable dread that awaited her once high school ended. Her mother, in her strict values, had long since arranged a marriage for her once an outspoken child. her mother often made it clear she should be grateful to have gotten a match at all, what with her dreadful patch face. But at least her face and body were otherwise shapely, so her future husband would at least be pleased with that.
  
  
• But despite the ridicule and the names, despite the feeling of hopeless pressure and despair, there was a bright spot in all that muck. A golden Beacon in the form of her twin. Her twin, would often take photos or sketch scenery for his sister to enjoy. Her twins whisper of encouragements and promises late into the night under the stars whilst their mother slept
  
  “We’ll run away,” he said, softly as if he spoke too loud the promise would tear like wet paper.
  “ it’ll be just the two of us… we’ll go anywhere and everywhere, and far away from here” he swore. Earnest and kind and eyes full of love and choking sort of desperation buried underneath.
  
  
• “Where will we go?” she whispered back, all sad smiles and tired eyes. Willing to entertain the idea; to hold on with both hands and eyes squeezed shut.
  “Anywhere and everywhere, I’ll enlist, and take us away from here” he’d reply. Large hand wiping tears and snot away.
  
  She held onto that promise, stupidly, foolishly. Just like she held onto the letters from her father, the costumes of her club, the sweetness of the stars at night, and the warmth of her twin.
  
  But as they say: nothing Gold can stay.
  
  
• It wasn't dramatic or loud. Or said over tears and hugs, But it still numbed her to her very bones.
  “Your father has died while on deployment.” Said her mother. Brown eyes furrowed and mouth tilted into a frown. Then she tossed the letter away and moved on with her day.
  
  But Marco, both Marcos, stayed silent like stone, and quiet like clouds. Maracolla had once thought that that was the beginning of the end (oh how she could not have been more wrong). What followed in the months after was neither accident nor malicious intent. Some might say: she had it coming” or that it was pure inevitably. For on a sunny summer morning one day in July, The house caught fire. And For one Natasha Brielle, meant being trapped, coughing, and wailing for help inside her bedroom. And for one Marcolla Brielle, to have heard her plea, and simply walked away. It happened without fanfare, without tears, and without hugs goodbye.
  
  “Your Mother was killed in a fire,” they said. Eyes solemn and downcast. Their will was read and their inheritance was given over a somber funeral.
  
  
• But Marco, both Marcos stayed silent like stone and quiet like clouds, and then…they smiled.