Teagan/Introduction: Difference between revisions
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[[Image:TeaganLeanJacket.jpg|left|150px]][[Image:TeaganLean.jpg|right|150px]]''"To cut properly, you must continually self-annihilate when cutting. Your hand must become a hand that is cutting, your body a body that is cutting, your mind a mind that is cutting. You must instantaneously destroy your fake pre-present self. It is a useless hanger on." - Meti's Sword Manual'' | [[Image:TeaganLeanJacket.jpg|left|150px]][[Image:TeaganLean.jpg|right|150px]]''"To cut properly, you must continually self-annihilate when cutting. Your hand must become a hand that is cutting, your body a body that is cutting, your mind a mind that is cutting. You must instantaneously destroy your fake pre-present self. It is a useless hanger on." - Meti's Sword Manual'' | ||
''Mask'' | ''Mask''<br> | ||
Six feet tall, rangy, muscular, and Latin@: Teagan's skin is tawny, their black hair cut shaggy. Their shoulders are broader than one might expect from a woman but narrower than one might expect from a man. Androgyny on-point. What's in Teagan's pants? Wrath. | Six feet tall, rangy, muscular, and Latin@: Teagan's skin is tawny, their black hair cut shaggy. Their shoulders are broader than one might expect from a woman but narrower than one might expect from a man. Androgyny on-point. What's in Teagan's pants? Wrath. | ||
''Mien'' | ''Mien''<br> | ||
Most of the time, Teagan is tall -- about six feet tall -- with smooth black skin and short, shaggy-cut black hair. Their long black coat is new, made of some sort of rich, well-worked leather, and has a tough hood. They wear beat up black boots and jeans along with a ragged shirt printed with the words ''they/them''. Their eyes aren't actually eyes, but their eyepits are laid in with mosaics of broken mirrors, which reflect back strange fragments of whatever they're looking at. | Most of the time, Teagan is tall -- about six feet tall -- with smooth black skin and short, shaggy-cut black hair. Their long black coat is new, made of some sort of rich, well-worked leather, and has a tough hood. They wear beat up black boots and jeans along with a ragged shirt printed with the words ''they/them''. Their eyes aren't actually eyes, but their eyepits are laid in with mosaics of broken mirrors, which reflect back strange fragments of whatever they're looking at. | ||
''Mantle'' | ''Mantle''<br> | ||
Roiling blast-furnace heat, the scent of sun-baked asphalt cooling after sundown, and a distant crackling sound of milspec radios; the radios seem to forever be calling for help. | Roiling blast-furnace heat, the scent of sun-baked asphalt cooling after sundown, and a distant crackling sound of milspec radios; the radios seem to forever be calling for help. | ||
<center>"safe is a territory we fight our pasts for, sometimes we gain ground and sometimes we lose it" - Teagan, in texts with [[Jack Martingale]]</center> | <center>"safe is a territory we fight our pasts for, sometimes we gain ground and sometimes we lose it" - Teagan, in texts with [[Jack Martingale]]</center> | ||
Revision as of 21:44, 22 February 2023
"To cut properly, you must continually self-annihilate when cutting. Your hand must become a hand that is cutting, your body a body that is cutting, your mind a mind that is cutting. You must instantaneously destroy your fake pre-present self. It is a useless hanger on." - Meti's Sword Manual
Mask
Six feet tall, rangy, muscular, and Latin@: Teagan's skin is tawny, their black hair cut shaggy. Their shoulders are broader than one might expect from a woman but narrower than one might expect from a man. Androgyny on-point. What's in Teagan's pants? Wrath.
Mien
Most of the time, Teagan is tall -- about six feet tall -- with smooth black skin and short, shaggy-cut black hair. Their long black coat is new, made of some sort of rich, well-worked leather, and has a tough hood. They wear beat up black boots and jeans along with a ragged shirt printed with the words they/them. Their eyes aren't actually eyes, but their eyepits are laid in with mosaics of broken mirrors, which reflect back strange fragments of whatever they're looking at.
Mantle
Roiling blast-furnace heat, the scent of sun-baked asphalt cooling after sundown, and a distant crackling sound of milspec radios; the radios seem to forever be calling for help.