Post by Amoura Constantine on Sept 7, 2014 9:20:42 GMT -8
Name: Amoura Mykhaela Constantine
Age: Nineteen
Race: Human
Origin: Amoura was the only daughter and youngest child of two scientists who met, married, and mated during the course of rigorous testing done aboard one of the other ships that left at the same time as the Hyperion, making sure that it could weather other atmospheres, and manipulate them to create a safe environment for the people aboard it. In the beginning, they had never intended on offering Amoura up for the job – they had never really agreed with the colonization of other species’ planets, but who were they to argue? They were just the brains, and they just did as they were bid, to the best of their ability – it was a point of pride more than any enthusiasm for the project. How did Amoura end up there then? A simple reason that shouldn’t have held any sway over either one of them – peer pressure. Everyone else was happy to surrender a child, and Ben and Hayla didn’t want to be singled out as the only ones not helping the effort. Amoura was ten months old when she was sealed into the tank, too young to really understand what was going on. The one thing that her parents left her with was a tape attached to a solar battery, charged long enough to last the thirty year voyage, that cycled through every language the human race had managed to compile from other species.
Personality: Amoura is, first and foremost, friendly. She will attempt to find common ground with anyone, be they human or not, and will flatly refuse to enter into an argument unless there is absolutely no other alternative. She isn’t a doormat as such – she will stand up for things she believes in, but she’s happy for other people to win their petty victories, to score points; she’s not into all that. As long as the people around her are happy, she generally is too. She is very creative in that she loves art, music, reading, and dance, but she is also very clumsy, and therefore almost completely unable to dance with anyone or near anything for risk of breaking something – either of hers or theirs. Amoura is flighty, easily distracted, and completely restless. She always has to have several things on the go at the same time, because there is just no way she can focus on one thing long enough to complete it. That being said, she is also a perfectionist – she always believes that something can be improved upon, including herself and her work.
She is insecure for just one reason, but that reason hasn’t become apparent to her yet – it is because she was the child that was chosen by her parents to be shipped off into what was then the middle of nowhere, millions of light years away. She feels, completely abstractly, that she isn’t good enough to be loved, and that translates into her finding pleasure in making others happy – if she’s making people happy, she isn’t completely useless and, in that moment, she knows they like or at least appreciate her, which is more than she feels her parents ever did. Sometimes Amoura feels down and doesn’t know why. In these instances, she retreats to her cubicle and listens to music until she feels better.
Ethnicity: Caucasian/European
Appearance:
Role Play Sample: ”Kharant shkand unkil worunfsh” ”We mean you no harm.” Amoura intoned, along with the recorded voice on the tape. The next phrase was cut off when the earphones disconnected from the tape player and Amoura’s eyes flew open as she heard the glass retreat from a couple of feet in front of her. She sat up slowly, pulling her earphones out of her ears, and tried to remember the last things she had been told. Fragments came back to her, and she shook her head experimentally. Somehow, she knew that fragments weren’t how she remembered things. Out of nowhere, the word ‘eidetic’ entered her mind, and she knew immediately that it was correct – she had an eidetic memory, so she would recall it perfectly, or it never happened. The jolt had caused a momentary lapse in her synapse functions, but then the information came flooding back. She had been chosen to have the role of Linguist to whatever species were present on the unnamed planet the ship Hyperion was supposed to land at. Land? She thought, frowning. I’m sure I felt a crash. Are we there? … Or are we somewhere else? Has everyone been awoken by this? How long ago did it happen? She searched her memory, thinking back to which language she had been absorbing when she felt that sickly feeling in her stomach like something had gone wrong. It was almost a full language ago, which, according to the tape player, was five months ago.
For the first time, Amoura looked around the room she had been enclosed in for the majority of her life, and found that only one of the other pods in the room had opened, and it now revealed a bed with comfortable but basic linens. Wondering who slept there, Amoura untangled herself slowly from the wires, and stood up. Well, there was no thrumming underfoot from any engines, so they were either dead from the crash, or they had landed somewhere. The next order of business was to find out where in her life cycle she was compared to where she was supposed to be. She opened the nearest door to her, and found a box of clothing with her name on it, and a full length mirror on the inside of the door. At first, what she saw didn’t register, and then, with a squeak, she realised she was naked. Riffling through the box, she pulled on standard issue black combat pants and promptly rolled her eyes. Whoever had estimated what she was going to weigh and how tall she was going to be had got it a little wrong. Four inches and about twenty pounds wrong. Cinching the belt as tightly as she could, Amoura donned a black vest top and a khaki green shirt which she left open, then sat down on the floor to roll up her trouser legs. No doubt she’d have to fix those at some stage, but it could be dealt with later. Looking fashionable wasn’t important.
She looked back into the mirror at her face, and again found herself frowning. She looked nowhere near the age they had told her she should be when they landed. That settled one question – they hadn’t arrived at their destination; they were stranded somewhere potentially hostile, and she needed to find someone who had information. At a conservative guess, with nothing to guide her as to the year it would have been on Earth, Amoura would have put her age at somewhere in her late teens. The amount of tape she had reeled through suggested that she was nineteen, almost nineteen and a half. With a pang of annoyance, although there was nothing she could do about it, she realised that most people on the ship, herself included, hadn’t been able to have an eighteenth birthday celebration. Pushing herself back up off the floor, Amoura looked again in the box with her name on it and, beneath a windbreaker that she’d never be seen wearing, she found a map and what looked to be a communicator cuff. The map went into her pocket, and she slipped a pair of boots on her feet as she left the room, still attempting to fasten the cuff to her wrist. So engrossed was she in what she was doing, she didn’t notice a trouser leg unravelling, or the rather large man just crossing her path. So obviously, because first impressions are always correct, Amoura fell straight into the first one of her colleagues she had encountered and bounced, bemused, off him and onto the floor. ”I’m so sorry! She exclaimed, looking up, and up, and up at the tall man. ”I’ve only just… woken up, or whatever you want to call it… I’m Amoura!”
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Age: Nineteen
Race: Human
Origin: Amoura was the only daughter and youngest child of two scientists who met, married, and mated during the course of rigorous testing done aboard one of the other ships that left at the same time as the Hyperion, making sure that it could weather other atmospheres, and manipulate them to create a safe environment for the people aboard it. In the beginning, they had never intended on offering Amoura up for the job – they had never really agreed with the colonization of other species’ planets, but who were they to argue? They were just the brains, and they just did as they were bid, to the best of their ability – it was a point of pride more than any enthusiasm for the project. How did Amoura end up there then? A simple reason that shouldn’t have held any sway over either one of them – peer pressure. Everyone else was happy to surrender a child, and Ben and Hayla didn’t want to be singled out as the only ones not helping the effort. Amoura was ten months old when she was sealed into the tank, too young to really understand what was going on. The one thing that her parents left her with was a tape attached to a solar battery, charged long enough to last the thirty year voyage, that cycled through every language the human race had managed to compile from other species.
Personality: Amoura is, first and foremost, friendly. She will attempt to find common ground with anyone, be they human or not, and will flatly refuse to enter into an argument unless there is absolutely no other alternative. She isn’t a doormat as such – she will stand up for things she believes in, but she’s happy for other people to win their petty victories, to score points; she’s not into all that. As long as the people around her are happy, she generally is too. She is very creative in that she loves art, music, reading, and dance, but she is also very clumsy, and therefore almost completely unable to dance with anyone or near anything for risk of breaking something – either of hers or theirs. Amoura is flighty, easily distracted, and completely restless. She always has to have several things on the go at the same time, because there is just no way she can focus on one thing long enough to complete it. That being said, she is also a perfectionist – she always believes that something can be improved upon, including herself and her work.
She is insecure for just one reason, but that reason hasn’t become apparent to her yet – it is because she was the child that was chosen by her parents to be shipped off into what was then the middle of nowhere, millions of light years away. She feels, completely abstractly, that she isn’t good enough to be loved, and that translates into her finding pleasure in making others happy – if she’s making people happy, she isn’t completely useless and, in that moment, she knows they like or at least appreciate her, which is more than she feels her parents ever did. Sometimes Amoura feels down and doesn’t know why. In these instances, she retreats to her cubicle and listens to music until she feels better.
Ethnicity: Caucasian/European
Appearance:
Role Play Sample: ”Kharant shkand unkil worunfsh” ”We mean you no harm.” Amoura intoned, along with the recorded voice on the tape. The next phrase was cut off when the earphones disconnected from the tape player and Amoura’s eyes flew open as she heard the glass retreat from a couple of feet in front of her. She sat up slowly, pulling her earphones out of her ears, and tried to remember the last things she had been told. Fragments came back to her, and she shook her head experimentally. Somehow, she knew that fragments weren’t how she remembered things. Out of nowhere, the word ‘eidetic’ entered her mind, and she knew immediately that it was correct – she had an eidetic memory, so she would recall it perfectly, or it never happened. The jolt had caused a momentary lapse in her synapse functions, but then the information came flooding back. She had been chosen to have the role of Linguist to whatever species were present on the unnamed planet the ship Hyperion was supposed to land at. Land? She thought, frowning. I’m sure I felt a crash. Are we there? … Or are we somewhere else? Has everyone been awoken by this? How long ago did it happen? She searched her memory, thinking back to which language she had been absorbing when she felt that sickly feeling in her stomach like something had gone wrong. It was almost a full language ago, which, according to the tape player, was five months ago.
For the first time, Amoura looked around the room she had been enclosed in for the majority of her life, and found that only one of the other pods in the room had opened, and it now revealed a bed with comfortable but basic linens. Wondering who slept there, Amoura untangled herself slowly from the wires, and stood up. Well, there was no thrumming underfoot from any engines, so they were either dead from the crash, or they had landed somewhere. The next order of business was to find out where in her life cycle she was compared to where she was supposed to be. She opened the nearest door to her, and found a box of clothing with her name on it, and a full length mirror on the inside of the door. At first, what she saw didn’t register, and then, with a squeak, she realised she was naked. Riffling through the box, she pulled on standard issue black combat pants and promptly rolled her eyes. Whoever had estimated what she was going to weigh and how tall she was going to be had got it a little wrong. Four inches and about twenty pounds wrong. Cinching the belt as tightly as she could, Amoura donned a black vest top and a khaki green shirt which she left open, then sat down on the floor to roll up her trouser legs. No doubt she’d have to fix those at some stage, but it could be dealt with later. Looking fashionable wasn’t important.
She looked back into the mirror at her face, and again found herself frowning. She looked nowhere near the age they had told her she should be when they landed. That settled one question – they hadn’t arrived at their destination; they were stranded somewhere potentially hostile, and she needed to find someone who had information. At a conservative guess, with nothing to guide her as to the year it would have been on Earth, Amoura would have put her age at somewhere in her late teens. The amount of tape she had reeled through suggested that she was nineteen, almost nineteen and a half. With a pang of annoyance, although there was nothing she could do about it, she realised that most people on the ship, herself included, hadn’t been able to have an eighteenth birthday celebration. Pushing herself back up off the floor, Amoura looked again in the box with her name on it and, beneath a windbreaker that she’d never be seen wearing, she found a map and what looked to be a communicator cuff. The map went into her pocket, and she slipped a pair of boots on her feet as she left the room, still attempting to fasten the cuff to her wrist. So engrossed was she in what she was doing, she didn’t notice a trouser leg unravelling, or the rather large man just crossing her path. So obviously, because first impressions are always correct, Amoura fell straight into the first one of her colleagues she had encountered and bounced, bemused, off him and onto the floor. ”I’m so sorry! She exclaimed, looking up, and up, and up at the tall man. ”I’ve only just… woken up, or whatever you want to call it… I’m Amoura!”
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