Post by Artemisia on Aug 30, 2020 21:13:27 GMT -4
ARTEMISIA GENTILESCHI FRASER
BASIC INFORMATION
Hero/Vigilante/Villain alias: Mosaica
Player Name: Rhosmari
Faceclaim/Series: Yuri from Doki Doki Literature Club
Age: 15 years old
Gender: Female
Affiliation: Student
Height: 158 cm
Weight: 51 kilos
Hair/Style: Long and dark with blunt bangs.
Skin/Scars: Pale, covered from head to toe in knife scars.
Eyes: Cat-like, dark amethyst in color.
Notables: Black, ink-like blood
Player Name: Rhosmari
Faceclaim/Series: Yuri from Doki Doki Literature Club
Age: 15 years old
Gender: Female
Affiliation: Student
Height: 158 cm
Weight: 51 kilos
Hair/Style: Long and dark with blunt bangs.
Skin/Scars: Pale, covered from head to toe in knife scars.
Eyes: Cat-like, dark amethyst in color.
Notables: Black, ink-like blood
APPEARANCE AND PERSONALITY
Appearance:
For what it's worth, the pale, raised scars covering Artemisia's body from head to toe do not come from a place of clinical tragedy, but from the use of her quirk. They create a patchwork painting of her long history across her body, a figure that is extremely thin and lithe. Artemisia eats rarely, and this shows on how her skin clings to her bones and how her muscles shiver and shake with every step. It is clear she is an ailing girl, an individual tortured by childhood illnesses and made into a shadow of her former self. Her hair is long and straight, colored a deep purple and glittering beneath the sun when it touches her tresses. She cuts her bangs short and bluntly, and the sides of her head are decorated by long tendrils of hair which fall across her shoulders. She keeps her hair away from her glittering violet eyes with a small barrette, and her gaze is decorated by two dark circles clinging close beneath her lower eyelids.
Artemisia is evidently not of Japanese descent, holding foreign features compared to the rest of those around her. She is frequently dressed in dark clothing, and can often be found bustling from hallway-to-hallway with paint on her painter's smock.
POSITIVE
✔ Intelligent
✔ Clever
✔ Loyal
✔ Creative
✔ Determined
NEGATIVE
✖ Lonely
✖ Sensitive
✖ Stoic
✖ Prickly
✖ Self-hating
LIKES
✔ Painting
✔ Knitting
✔ Psychology
✔ The color black
✔ Cats
DISLIKES
✖ Alcohol
✖ Spider Lilies
✖ Sunny days
✖ Knives
✖ Authority
Personality:
In no short terms, Artemisia Gentileschi Fraser is a know-it-all who hides her very real resentment and pain behind huge canvases and splatterings of paint and ink. Truly outcast from the world as a whole, Artemisia is a loner hurt by the events of her past, content to sit in her room and paint her feelings away or vent her frustrations through the hits of her fists against faces. Suffering from Clinical Depression, she is willing to throw herself into danger and die doing something grand because she genuinely believes her contributions are minimal. She thinks that whatever she could bring to the table will never be enough to truly help and that her only real power comes from her quirk and it's applications. Artemisia is confident, heroic, and intelligent, but ultimately she is lonely, and she doesn't believe she will ever be worth anything.
On top of this, Artemisia is incredibly concerned with her image. Like her mother, she's very concerned with making sure nobody sees her bleed, and that she can be the only person to know her mind. She needs to be infallible, to have the answers, to always know the thing to do- it's her job, isn't it? In the end, Artemisia always wants to be right as well. She wants to be relied on, she wants to be immortalized and praised because she was never able to be relied on as a child. She grew up far too quickly, and though it would be healthy to work through these emotions without postulating and acting like she is someone she is not, Artemisia is instead eager to be someone to be relied on to make up for how she feels. Contrary to popular belief, Artemisia not the Paragon of sophistication and elegance, nor is she a meticulous manipulator or master of psychology. She's a girl. She's a fallible, relatable girl who doesn't have the self-control to not fall on stilts when times get tough, who overestimates her limits and makes stupid mistakes, who's incredibly genre blind and isn't nearly as clever as she thinks she is. She's a girl who misjudged her entire childhood and hides behind art because the world is scary without protection and because for all of the elegantly-wrought defenses she's made, she has skin of paper and bones of glass underneath, and without her armor she is vulnerable.
The facade Artemisia has created is one made entirely to give the image that Artemisia is much more clever than she truly is. While incredibly intelligent, she hides her true meaning behind purple prose and enjoys engaging in debates with those around her. She is erudite and stoic, but is not afraid of fun and frequently engages in strange pranks to rectify her issues with authority. She dislikes being told what to do and, while smart enough to pass every class with flying colors, she frequently spends her time in detention or squandering the disciplinary actions she has been forced to comply with. Nonetheless, she is frightened of individuals getting close to her even despite her incredible loneliness, and she hides her true nature with an obsession with art and prickly answers to innocent questions.
For what it's worth, the pale, raised scars covering Artemisia's body from head to toe do not come from a place of clinical tragedy, but from the use of her quirk. They create a patchwork painting of her long history across her body, a figure that is extremely thin and lithe. Artemisia eats rarely, and this shows on how her skin clings to her bones and how her muscles shiver and shake with every step. It is clear she is an ailing girl, an individual tortured by childhood illnesses and made into a shadow of her former self. Her hair is long and straight, colored a deep purple and glittering beneath the sun when it touches her tresses. She cuts her bangs short and bluntly, and the sides of her head are decorated by long tendrils of hair which fall across her shoulders. She keeps her hair away from her glittering violet eyes with a small barrette, and her gaze is decorated by two dark circles clinging close beneath her lower eyelids.
Artemisia is evidently not of Japanese descent, holding foreign features compared to the rest of those around her. She is frequently dressed in dark clothing, and can often be found bustling from hallway-to-hallway with paint on her painter's smock.
POSITIVE
✔ Intelligent
✔ Clever
✔ Loyal
✔ Creative
✔ Determined
NEGATIVE
✖ Lonely
✖ Sensitive
✖ Stoic
✖ Prickly
✖ Self-hating
LIKES
✔ Painting
✔ Knitting
✔ Psychology
✔ The color black
✔ Cats
DISLIKES
✖ Alcohol
✖ Spider Lilies
✖ Sunny days
✖ Knives
✖ Authority
Personality:
In no short terms, Artemisia Gentileschi Fraser is a know-it-all who hides her very real resentment and pain behind huge canvases and splatterings of paint and ink. Truly outcast from the world as a whole, Artemisia is a loner hurt by the events of her past, content to sit in her room and paint her feelings away or vent her frustrations through the hits of her fists against faces. Suffering from Clinical Depression, she is willing to throw herself into danger and die doing something grand because she genuinely believes her contributions are minimal. She thinks that whatever she could bring to the table will never be enough to truly help and that her only real power comes from her quirk and it's applications. Artemisia is confident, heroic, and intelligent, but ultimately she is lonely, and she doesn't believe she will ever be worth anything.
On top of this, Artemisia is incredibly concerned with her image. Like her mother, she's very concerned with making sure nobody sees her bleed, and that she can be the only person to know her mind. She needs to be infallible, to have the answers, to always know the thing to do- it's her job, isn't it? In the end, Artemisia always wants to be right as well. She wants to be relied on, she wants to be immortalized and praised because she was never able to be relied on as a child. She grew up far too quickly, and though it would be healthy to work through these emotions without postulating and acting like she is someone she is not, Artemisia is instead eager to be someone to be relied on to make up for how she feels. Contrary to popular belief, Artemisia not the Paragon of sophistication and elegance, nor is she a meticulous manipulator or master of psychology. She's a girl. She's a fallible, relatable girl who doesn't have the self-control to not fall on stilts when times get tough, who overestimates her limits and makes stupid mistakes, who's incredibly genre blind and isn't nearly as clever as she thinks she is. She's a girl who misjudged her entire childhood and hides behind art because the world is scary without protection and because for all of the elegantly-wrought defenses she's made, she has skin of paper and bones of glass underneath, and without her armor she is vulnerable.
The facade Artemisia has created is one made entirely to give the image that Artemisia is much more clever than she truly is. While incredibly intelligent, she hides her true meaning behind purple prose and enjoys engaging in debates with those around her. She is erudite and stoic, but is not afraid of fun and frequently engages in strange pranks to rectify her issues with authority. She dislikes being told what to do and, while smart enough to pass every class with flying colors, she frequently spends her time in detention or squandering the disciplinary actions she has been forced to comply with. Nonetheless, she is frightened of individuals getting close to her even despite her incredible loneliness, and she hides her true nature with an obsession with art and prickly answers to innocent questions.
HISTORY
Artemisia Gentileschi Fraser was born on December 25th to Roselyn Fraser in the United Kingdom. Roselyn Fraser was a famous artist, a woman known for her incredible, abstract artistic depictions of the emotional and mental struggles plaguing modern humanity, as well as exploring the relationship between quirks and the environment. Roselyn was a woman who sought fame from a young age, and by the time Artemisia was born, the woman had already found a sizable professional reputation and was lauded by artistic critics all around the world. Living in an isolated mansion on the edges of a mountain range, Roselyn was the model of modern artist, and wished the same life for her daughter. That is why Artemisia was named after Artemisia Gentileschi, widely lauded as one of the most famous female artists during the Renaissance period in Italy, and celebrated for her depiction of women in strong positions compared to the soft, weak, docile light most women were painted in. From a young age, Artemisia was surrounded by art and artistic culture, and she grew up finger painting and carving chalk into the driveway.
For as long as she could remember, Artemisia did not have a father. Roselyn, with fame, had her pick of the litter, and with a complete lack of commitment, she never settled down long enough to get married, and truly had no clue who Artemisia's father was. Artemisia never had a father figure, and with that came an incredible sense of loneliness as Roselyn was very rarely at home. While Artemisia connected with the babysitter Roselyn had assigned to her from a young age, once Artemisia grew up to a reasonable age, the babysitter was taken away and Artemisia was left to take care of herself. At one interval, while attempting to create a meal for herself, Artemisia accidentally cut herself and quickly discovered that her blood was entirely made up of ink. With enough practice and training, the girl was able to press this ink from her body and manipulate it in small, very brief ways. With this new discovery, her latest obsession had become cutting herself to attempt to control her blood, and after enough training, she was able to bind objects together through connecting the strings of her blood, much like a mosaic or a quilt. When her mother left for another gallery showing or high-society party, Artemisia brought out the knives and got through the pain just enough to continue practicing the usage of her newly discovered quirk.
Of course, her mother could have never known about this. She was simply too absent to know this intimate information about her daughter, and Artemisia refused to talk about the scars growing along her arms and legs, and tended to cover every ounce of her skin to prevent the deadly curiosity. In the end, her mother did realize that Artemisia was lonely—although she interacted with her mother on occasion, and was taught alone by her personal tutor, she spent most of her days alone and was clearly longing for individuals to interact with. In Ms. Fraser's infinite wisdom, on one night, Artemisia was introduced to a tiny kitten that Ms. Fraser had bought just two hours prior. It was a gift, a living being that Artemisia could interact with when her heart longed for company. Immediately, Artemisia was obsessed. The cat was promptly named Athena, an affectionate black cat with wide yellow eyes and perky ears. Athena would follow Artemisia everywhere, and Artemisia never minded. She slept with Athena, ate with Athena, and cared for Athena every day without fail. Finally she had found a friend, someone to share in her thoughts, feelings, and emotions, and someone to listen to her struggles. It was an idyllic existence, but it didn't last forever.
One night, a year after Artemisia had received Athena, Ms. Fraser came home late. She was drunk—her face was red and her breath stank of alcohol, and though Artemisia did her best to draw her mother to bed, she stumbled near the stairs and fell, and once Ms. Fraser had landed, there was the crushing sound of bones breaking and the screech of a cat in pain. Artemisia panicked and immediately forced Ms. Fraser up to her feet, only to find Athena had been crushed beneath Mother, and all four of her limbs were broken into pieces. Artemisia rushed the poor kitten to the nearest veterinary hospital, and though the doctors did their best to save the kitten's life, she was engulfed in convulsive seizures and died later that night. Artemisia returned to the mansion with a heavy heart and her hands holding the urn containing Athena's ashes. Her mother was asleep by the time Artemisia had returned, passed out on the couch, and Artemisia fell asleep on her own, sobbing herself to sleep as she clutched the urn close to her chest.
At this point, Artemisia refused to speak to her mother. Not a word came out to the woman, and this strained relationship was obviously taking a toll on Ms. Fraser as well. She was drinking more, and sometimes, when Artemisia dared to exist in the same area as her mother, she could see the woman engaging in all sorts of recreational drugs. This went on for a year, while Mother promised that she would get clean or go to rehab, she always relapsed, and she always fell back on her promises. Her art became spotty, taken over by the whims of the drugs she was abusing, and thought the critics praised her new style, Ms. Fraser was slowly dying. This all came to a head when Artemisia woke up in the middle of the night to find her mother convulsing on the kitchen floor. Although Artemisia did her best to save the woman, her mother eventually perished as the result of a drug overdose. Throughout the night, Artemisia sat next to her corpse, staring into the darkness and wishing she were anywhere else, wishing that she had spoken to her mother, wishing her last words to her hadn't been "I hate you".
The funeral for Roselyn Fraser was a large one, and while Ms. Fraser's closest friends and allies in the art world offered their condolences to Artemisia, Artemisia did not respond to any of them. She merely looked into the casket and let it go into the ground, wishing the ground would swallow her. In her will, Ms. Fraser had entrusted the entirety of her fortune to Artemisia, and Artemisia used this money to enroll herself in the nearest Catholic boarding school, knowing the structure would be good for her. The aged nuns hated her, demeaning her for her moody attitude and hatred for authority, but no one could argue that Artemisia was nigh-genius in her intellect, and she passed all of her classes with flying colors. Although she was an outcast, it was in this structured schooling that Artemisia quickly became obsessed with the idea of heroism. She had become used to being unable to make a difference in the world around her, wallowing in the tragedy of being unable to keep the people around her from dying, and in a spark of self-hatred and disgust in herself, the girl finally decided to throw herself into training herself to become a hero, and training to enter one of the top-rated schools across the country. It was a new concept, heroism, and although few nuns approved of her choice to throw her life away into a new career that was looked down upon by modern society, Artemisia was determined to forge her own path. If she was going to throw her life away, it was best that she did so by trying to make the world a better place.
It was with this that Artemisia locked her sights on the distant shores of Japan, and as soon as she graduated from middle school, she made the long trip to enter into the illustrious hero program that had been established there, one of the first of it's kind. With little fuss, she was enrolled into U.A. High School. Now she roams the halls as a vagabond, hoping to become someone her mother could have never been.
For as long as she could remember, Artemisia did not have a father. Roselyn, with fame, had her pick of the litter, and with a complete lack of commitment, she never settled down long enough to get married, and truly had no clue who Artemisia's father was. Artemisia never had a father figure, and with that came an incredible sense of loneliness as Roselyn was very rarely at home. While Artemisia connected with the babysitter Roselyn had assigned to her from a young age, once Artemisia grew up to a reasonable age, the babysitter was taken away and Artemisia was left to take care of herself. At one interval, while attempting to create a meal for herself, Artemisia accidentally cut herself and quickly discovered that her blood was entirely made up of ink. With enough practice and training, the girl was able to press this ink from her body and manipulate it in small, very brief ways. With this new discovery, her latest obsession had become cutting herself to attempt to control her blood, and after enough training, she was able to bind objects together through connecting the strings of her blood, much like a mosaic or a quilt. When her mother left for another gallery showing or high-society party, Artemisia brought out the knives and got through the pain just enough to continue practicing the usage of her newly discovered quirk.
Of course, her mother could have never known about this. She was simply too absent to know this intimate information about her daughter, and Artemisia refused to talk about the scars growing along her arms and legs, and tended to cover every ounce of her skin to prevent the deadly curiosity. In the end, her mother did realize that Artemisia was lonely—although she interacted with her mother on occasion, and was taught alone by her personal tutor, she spent most of her days alone and was clearly longing for individuals to interact with. In Ms. Fraser's infinite wisdom, on one night, Artemisia was introduced to a tiny kitten that Ms. Fraser had bought just two hours prior. It was a gift, a living being that Artemisia could interact with when her heart longed for company. Immediately, Artemisia was obsessed. The cat was promptly named Athena, an affectionate black cat with wide yellow eyes and perky ears. Athena would follow Artemisia everywhere, and Artemisia never minded. She slept with Athena, ate with Athena, and cared for Athena every day without fail. Finally she had found a friend, someone to share in her thoughts, feelings, and emotions, and someone to listen to her struggles. It was an idyllic existence, but it didn't last forever.
One night, a year after Artemisia had received Athena, Ms. Fraser came home late. She was drunk—her face was red and her breath stank of alcohol, and though Artemisia did her best to draw her mother to bed, she stumbled near the stairs and fell, and once Ms. Fraser had landed, there was the crushing sound of bones breaking and the screech of a cat in pain. Artemisia panicked and immediately forced Ms. Fraser up to her feet, only to find Athena had been crushed beneath Mother, and all four of her limbs were broken into pieces. Artemisia rushed the poor kitten to the nearest veterinary hospital, and though the doctors did their best to save the kitten's life, she was engulfed in convulsive seizures and died later that night. Artemisia returned to the mansion with a heavy heart and her hands holding the urn containing Athena's ashes. Her mother was asleep by the time Artemisia had returned, passed out on the couch, and Artemisia fell asleep on her own, sobbing herself to sleep as she clutched the urn close to her chest.
At this point, Artemisia refused to speak to her mother. Not a word came out to the woman, and this strained relationship was obviously taking a toll on Ms. Fraser as well. She was drinking more, and sometimes, when Artemisia dared to exist in the same area as her mother, she could see the woman engaging in all sorts of recreational drugs. This went on for a year, while Mother promised that she would get clean or go to rehab, she always relapsed, and she always fell back on her promises. Her art became spotty, taken over by the whims of the drugs she was abusing, and thought the critics praised her new style, Ms. Fraser was slowly dying. This all came to a head when Artemisia woke up in the middle of the night to find her mother convulsing on the kitchen floor. Although Artemisia did her best to save the woman, her mother eventually perished as the result of a drug overdose. Throughout the night, Artemisia sat next to her corpse, staring into the darkness and wishing she were anywhere else, wishing that she had spoken to her mother, wishing her last words to her hadn't been "I hate you".
The funeral for Roselyn Fraser was a large one, and while Ms. Fraser's closest friends and allies in the art world offered their condolences to Artemisia, Artemisia did not respond to any of them. She merely looked into the casket and let it go into the ground, wishing the ground would swallow her. In her will, Ms. Fraser had entrusted the entirety of her fortune to Artemisia, and Artemisia used this money to enroll herself in the nearest Catholic boarding school, knowing the structure would be good for her. The aged nuns hated her, demeaning her for her moody attitude and hatred for authority, but no one could argue that Artemisia was nigh-genius in her intellect, and she passed all of her classes with flying colors. Although she was an outcast, it was in this structured schooling that Artemisia quickly became obsessed with the idea of heroism. She had become used to being unable to make a difference in the world around her, wallowing in the tragedy of being unable to keep the people around her from dying, and in a spark of self-hatred and disgust in herself, the girl finally decided to throw herself into training herself to become a hero, and training to enter one of the top-rated schools across the country. It was a new concept, heroism, and although few nuns approved of her choice to throw her life away into a new career that was looked down upon by modern society, Artemisia was determined to forge her own path. If she was going to throw her life away, it was best that she did so by trying to make the world a better place.
It was with this that Artemisia locked her sights on the distant shores of Japan, and as soon as she graduated from middle school, she made the long trip to enter into the illustrious hero program that had been established there, one of the first of it's kind. With little fuss, she was enrolled into U.A. High School. Now she roams the halls as a vagabond, hoping to become someone her mother could have never been.
