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Dawn Memoli

"Tomorrow will be a better day."

0 · 417 views · located in Helton

a character in “The Age of Gifted”, as played by Miss Echo

Description

Image

Full Name: Dawn Evelyn Memoli

Nicknames/Aliases: Dawn

Age: 17

Gender Female

Gifts: Mind Manipulation, Dark Elemental


Loyalty: The Wanderers


Description: Being a teenage girl, Dawn isn’t the most physically formidable, standing at around 4’9” in boots and without much muscle mass to speak of- aside from her legs, which have been strengthened through years of running. She is quite pale, as well, with soft grey eyes and black hair that falls to her hips.

Dawn has a habit of dressing in loose-fitting clothing, preferring to wear jeans and long sleeved shirts. Previously, she also donned a white hoodie over her ensemble, although she has recently lost it and replaced it with a dark grey jacket. She has a habit of slipping her hands into her pockets when nervous or excited, and tends to fidget.

Personality: By nature, Dawn is a gentle soul, trying to resolve most conflicts without resorting to violence. She’s very maternal and kind, and tends to be protective over the people she cares about. In spite of this, however, she has a tendency to be vengeful, keeping grudges close to her heart until she has an opportunity to right what has been wronged in her eyes. Otherwise, she serves as a sort of peacemaker, trying to make sure that everyone gets along.


Skills: In spite of her age, Dawn possesses impressive power in regards to her mental manipulation Gift through combination of her own raw talent and quite a few training sessions. Her abilities range from basic telepathy to the control of one’s body, although to do the latter requires extreme concentration on her part. While several of her powers are broader, they require her to focus on the individual instead of the group. Currently, while she does have an Elemental Gift, she is unable to consciously use it for things other than basic parlor tricks.

Asides from her Gift based abilities, Dawn is also rather diplomatic, and makes attempts at keeping the togetherness the Wanderers. She is intelligent as well, and through practice, has developed some skill in reading others’ emotions without relying on her power.

Weaknesses: Given the fact that she relies more on flight and her Gift in a confrontation, Dawn is physically weak and can be overtaken easily without her ability. She has a crippling fear of fire as well, and will lock up when near larger flames. Along with this, Dawn also has a tendency to bottle up her emotions and feelings in favor of assisting the groups’ problems, and is a bit of a control freak when it gets down to it.


Brief History: Dawn’s earlier years were spent living with her parents and brother in a nice, developing town. She was raised into her now-prominent pacifism, and was genuinely happy. However, when her family refused to swear allegiance to one faction or the other, their home was destroyed, and her parents killed in the blaze that followed. At the age of eight, she began her life in the wastelands, soon finding herself alone after being abandoned.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for another to find her- a fellow orphan, Seth- and together, both survived for several years. The two eventually parted as well, leaving Dawn alone until the age of sixteen, where she met another wandering soul and joined him, forming the early Wanderer group. Currently, she is still very much a member, and works with the group to provide some sense of stability during the war.





Other:
  • Self conscious of her appearance.
  • Fond of cookies and cream ice cream.
  • Although she won't admit it, she takes after her older brother in more ways than one.

So begins...

Dawn Memoli's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dawn Memoli Character Portrait: Seraphina Iclosis Character Portrait: Larke Sterling Character Portrait: Talin Melardos Character Portrait: Reith Character Portrait: Gale Eden Character Portrait: Toby Schippers Character Portrait: Mina Aldridge
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Toby's eyes locked skyward. The closer the Erubescan flew, the more accurately Toby could track the movement, almost imagine a sillouette through the haze. He half-nodded at Talin's note. I thought the same. I thought there might be an aircraft, maybe, but...

There. A shadow, just for an instant, through the clouds. Like an angel of death. Maybe a bit of a clumsy angel of death.

Toby lined the beam of his arm to the tip of his .357 up to his eyeline. The heavy artillery, the rifles and submachines guns Montana had provided, lay back at base. With one shot of the .357, Toby could reliably shatter a bottle at 100 yards. Semi-reliably at 150. If he was lucky, 200. Larke would be a lot farther than that when he passed at his closest, but he was, even without his broad wingspan, a lot bigger than a bottle. Plus, Toby couldn't link his Gift to a bottle.

He felt perspiration on his forehead. What if he was a defector? Dread at the idea of feeling Larke spiral down leeched into his mental announcement: I think I have a shot.

He broadcast it as though he would ask for permission, wanting someone else to make that decision, wanting to defer like Sera. As if there was any time for permission or any authority from whom to get it. The stranger would only get farther out of range and closer to the others at the base. Toby had learned by now to somewhat detangle his emotions from others', but if he did that, he would have to disconnect entirely, and then his aim would suffer from the poor visibility. So Toby sent out more mental fibers instead, until he could feel exactly where Larke was - and could feel the pressure of the air under his wings and the moisture of the clouds, the nervousness, determination, and that heady soul-wrenching fuel that could only be loyalty. This man wasn't a defector.

Toby's lip quivered, but his hand didn't. Aiming a few feet high to adjust for the distance, he pulled the trigger, emptying his five remaining hollow-point rounds at a steep angle into the sky. He would be happy to make even one hit.
If happy was the word for it.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dawn Memoli Character Portrait: Seraphina Iclosis Character Portrait: Larke Sterling Character Portrait: Talin Melardos Character Portrait: Reith Character Portrait: Gale Eden Character Portrait: Toby Schippers Character Portrait: Mina Aldridge
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Larke blinked hard as a bright flicker crossed his vision— a flash of light from below that seemed to originate from nowhere. He squinted through the film of his goggles, but found nothing save for rubble and Ash in the streets of Helton beneath him.

The stillness of it was chilling: It cut through the layers of his flight jacket and traveled over his skin until the hair on his arms prickled as if caught by a static cling. Rushing wind dampened any sound for miles.

He did not hear the shots leave the gun. He did feel one burry itself in his defensive vest, casting him back with a thunk. A rush of air whizzed past his head, and another somewhere near him.

And then something far more direct: A sharp, fervid pain ripped through his right wing, setting ablaze nerves he never knew he had. Feather, skin, and muscle were all ravaged into meat, and his hollow humerus shattered like a clay pigeon. As the shot crumpled inside of his body, spidering cracks splinted from his shoulder blade to the very tip of his wing.

The wind stole the scream from his lungs.

Reflexively, the wing pulled into his body just as the compromised bone snapped from the sheer air pressure rattling against it. It mangled itself in the blustering squalls, folding and twisting into a gore-splatted work of modernist origami. As Larke plummeted toward the ground, his vision swam with black and pain. There was no differentiating between his spinning vision and spinning body as he tried his damned to show his descent.

The air pressure changed, and he was sure one of his eardrums burst.

He did not know whom he was expecting to answer his cry, nor what he gasping for as his arms flailed in search of anything to hold, but his instinct to live disregarded this logic; a bird beating its wings even as the snake gobbled its head. There was no directing this fall, but rather a shallow hope that his remaining wing could provide enough air resistance to break it.

In a horrid moment of clarity, he was struck by the sudden realization that he was going to die.

And then he was struck by the ground.

More precisely, it was the pavement of a road twenty or so yards behind his shooter.

His body stone-skipped across the fractured earth, the concrete ripping flesh and clothing alike his skeleton bashed against it. While the goggles had shielded his face, it was evident that not much else on his body had been spared damage in the ordeal.

Blood flesh flecked the Ash around the Erubescan’s unconscious form, and his backpack had split open to reveal a load of partially broken medical supplies.

A shower of wayward blonde feathers still floated on the breeze, settling long after the man who had shed them

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dawn Memoli Character Portrait: Seraphina Iclosis Character Portrait: Larke Sterling Character Portrait: Talin Melardos Character Portrait: Jake Vale Character Portrait: Reith Character Portrait: Gale Eden Character Portrait: Toby Schippers Character Portrait: Mina Aldridge
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Toby contorted with the scream the wind had stolen from Larke.

His spine arched with the explosion of pain in the wing he didn't have, then reversed in a fetal curl as desperate panic flooded in, twisting like a werewolf just before its first full moon. For a few seconds, he felt everything his target felt, plus a pinch of standard-fare guilt. Dizzy, Toby tried to untie his consciousness from the Erubescan before he hit the ground with same urgency he'd try to untie himself from railroad tracks in the face of an oncoming train. He didn't have time to unsnare himself completely. He watched Larke plummet and felt the crunch of the landing, and very nearly blacked out. Repressing a whimper, Toby forced his shaking limbs to understand they had not in fact been crushed after a drop from the equivalent of a small skyscraper and that he didn't need to limp, before he started walking through the snowfall of feathers.

Like any good dog on a bird hunt, Toby moved quickly toward Larke's crumpled body.

Though he didn't know whether he intended to ensure death for the wretch or to see if there was any life left to save.