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Myra Stricken

Myra's hair is long, curly, and a beautiful auburn that somehow manages to go well with her robin's egg blue eyes. Her skin is the color of a not-quite-ripe peach, though in the summer and fall it is a lovely shade of light brown.

0 · 231 views · located in The Infinite Void

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by pantalimon

Description

Myra's hair is long, curly, and a beautiful auburn that somehow manages to go well with her robin's egg blue eyes. Her skin is the color of a not-quite-ripe peach, though in the summer and fall it is a lovely shade of light brown. On her back, a large red and orange butterfly tatoo spans from one shoulderblade to the other, and black spirals from the wings cascade down her arms to break off in to leaves along her fingers.

Ninety percent of the time, she is clad in a lacey dress with an open back, her hair pulled up in a perfect bun save a few winding strands that hang purposefully over the right side of her face.

Personality

She hates eggs. She always has, and always will, and anything she can get in their place is acceptable. She tends to get confused whenever she's talking, mostly due to her own sudden pauses and restarts. Half of the time, when she begins speaking once more, it's about an entirely different subject; In addition to that, also being begun mid-sentence to add to the confusion. Her short-term memory loss tends to get in her way, but when she's able to function properly over it she's liable to take charge of any bad situation, and possibly forget about it later.

Her sexual orientation is suspicious, as she sometimes says she straight, other times bi, and even sometimes lesbian. Most people just take her as bisexual if they meet her more than once.

So begins...

Myra Stricken's Story

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Myra Stricken finishes lacing up her shoes, and exits her room. She takes the stairs down to the bar, slipping in to a seat and ordering a can of beer. Her gray eyes scan the room, simply a bit interested to see what the other inhabitants are doing.

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Myra Stricken gets a tick coming from the left. She turns, finding two women and a knight involved in a bicker. She steps up, taking her can of beer with her, and tapping the Sir Master Draco on the shoulder. "Shouldn't we be doing something about that?" She asks, calmly observing. "It just doesn't seem quite right to let them..." She waves her free hand at them. "...do that."

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Myra Stricken narrows her eyes at her beer can, giving a "Uhumm." She chugs the rest of it, and waves a hand on top of it. She's now holding a dagger, and nudges Draco in the arm with her elow. Now that she's raised to her feet, her full 6 foot nine inches reveals itself.

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Myra Stricken raises both of her eyebrows so high they disappear in to her hairline. "Is this what you had in mind as a disctraction?" She waves the dagger around, holding it only with one finger on the end and spinning it in a perfect circle. "Eh, I'm not going to stab you. If I wanted to, I would have done so already." She flips it up in the air, and it does a few spins before coming back down to her palm where she catches the blade and offers the hilt to him.

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Myra Stricken shrugs as the man walks away, brushing off the incident and continuing to flip the dagger with her hand, as she strolls about the room looking for somebody to start a conversation with.

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Myra Stricken sits on the stool nearest to her at this moment, crossing her legs, and waiting for somebody intruiging to enter the establishment. She continues to fiddle with the dagger, absently changing it back to a beer can while it was at its peak of height and then transforming it to a blade once more as it neared her palm.

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Myra Stricken hears a voice from behind her, and turns to the man behind the bar counter. "Probably." She replies to Doryn Soulscar as she continues tossing the dagger/beer can up in the air and catching it. "Why else would you have pizza on your head?" She reaches over the counter and plucks the slice from his hair.

The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to Lectre Mansion Master Bedroom

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Myra Stricken sayes standing, eyes following her companion. "...around. I didn't really want you to get worried." She smiles, the upturned corners of her mouth wavering before falling back in to a flat, concerned line. "Besides, we both know what might happen if people know too much about you, and I have lots of friends. They like to ask questions. We're around each other way more than is safe for you, or the company you come from."

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 “ *stays ”

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Myra Stricken pads over to the ped, her ballet shoes striking up dust as she goes. She swings up on to the comforter, crossing her legs under her with a dry and dull sigh. "I'm not sure. You know how this works. I get called away for work, I come back..." Myra pushes some loose hair behind her ear. "...It's a rollercoaster, and I'm strapped in for the ride."

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Myra Stricken shakes her head slowly from side to side, the golden brown locks sliding loose again. This time, she just yanks the hairtie from her bun with a tug. "The point is, I am afraid I'm going to lose you. Not like you're going to die, or whatnot, but emotionally. Maybe I'll come back, and you just won't show up because you're tired of me leaving."

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Myra Stricken smiles softly. "I'm not going to go away forever. As long as you promise me you won't leave when I'm not here, that you won't go off with some dickhead guy...I'll always love you."

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Myra Stricken rested her chin on the top of Megan's head, lips curling defiantly. "Mmmmhmmm. What is that something else, exactly?"

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Myra Stricken places one finger on Megan's forehead, pushing her back gently. "No, no, I'd really like to talk to you first."

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Myra Stricken strokes Megan's bangs with her long fingernails, piecing them apart and braiding tiny strands. "How this is all going to work out."

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Myra Stricken leans back against one of the bedposts, an eyebrow raised skeptically. "Well, certainly. That's why I know I'm getting called back tomorrow, but have no idea when I'll return. What if you get evicted? What happens then? I can only afford to support myself, and I won't know how to find you if you've got to leave."

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Myra Stricken shakes her head, exasperated. "Get a cell phone. Something. I need to know I can reach you, no matter what."

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Myra Stricken bangs the back of her head on the bedpost. "Damn. I've created a monster." She chuckles. "Well, it will be more useful than not, so it can't be that bad. There are rules, however." Myra places a kiss upon Megan's nose, smirking down at her. "I'd never noticed how much shorter than me you were." With that, she unfolds her legs, and lies down.

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Myra Stricken shrugs, staring up at Megan. "You're cheating."

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Myra Stricken loosens one arm, and brings it up and around so her elbow hooks Megan's neck. "Mmmmhhmmmm," She drags her down 'till their lips touch.

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Myra Stricken gently nuzzled Megan's forehead, nose flattened due to how close they were. It was like static, a manditory attraction, almost. Myra's lips conformed to her partner's.

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Myra Stricken drew a deep intake of breath, and pulled away. "What did you do?!" Blood dribbling down her lip, she pulls her hand free, eyes dialated and horrified, as she feels the jagged gashes in her lip. "Megan..." The girl grasps at the bedspread, pulling an edge to her mouth. "I'm a hemohiliac!"

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Myra Stricken pushes away, getting up. She fumbles with her hairtie, pulling her hair back up out of her face in a messy bun. "I-I'm going to go." She was shuddering, as she cupped her lip with her hand, and speedwalked to the door.

The setting changes from Lectre Mansion Master Bedroom to Gambit's Bar

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Myra Stricken rubbed her hand over her forehead as she took a deep breath. When she let it out again, her fingers had moved to grip a glass of red wine already three-quarters empty. She lifted the rim to her cream-colored lips, took a deep sip, and then swished the contents around in small circular motions, a lipstick stain barely noticeable on the curve of the container's bowl. It was clear that the woman had been crying, her black liner was a bit too far down on the corners of her eyes, and she never made a mistake in applying her makeup. Two dark lines that looked almost like scars made themselves apparent on her bottom lip, and every now and then she would touch them lightly with whatever hand happened to be free at the time. Her brown hair was hanging loose in messy, unkempt ringlets, in some places spilling out from behind her ears to cover her face. Her long, fair legs crossed themselves under the table, switching in order of which was on top whenever she started to feel as though she was losing circulation.

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Myra Stricken moves her fingers back to the scars on her lip. She mutters something too low to hear, before picking up her wine glass and draining the rest of it delicately. She moves to get her keys, but finds them gone. Eyebrows scrunching, Myra looks from one side of the booth to the other, frantic in searching for her only way to get out.