♠ THE BANDAGES WILL ALL COME OFF → { APPLICATION }
Name: Kinks/Kelly
LJ: revolter
E-Mail: kamikaze.girlxx@gmail.com
IM: x0GoggleGirl0x
Character's Name: Chidori Yoshino
Series: Persona 3
Timeline: Post-death (11/22 in game), pre-revival (available only in Persona 3: FES).
Canon Resource: one; two
Personality:
Chidori, to put in plainly, does not understand herself. She is not the type to endlessly analyze her actions, her likes and dislikes; while she is continuously seen sketching, she merely states that she enjoys drawing, and offers little other elaboration. She tries to avoid mulling over her motivations, however successful or unsuccessful she might be.
What Chidori is aware of, however, is her aversion to forming attachments with others. Wrap a red string around you and another, you run the risk of it fraying, of the eventual break. She is terrified at the idea of losing such an attachment, and so lives mainly in the moment, focusing on her unsavory activities as part of Strega and avoiding the long-term entanglements with others that she fears.
As it is, she puts a very conscious distance between herself and others, addressing those she encounters with a very cold, clipped way of speaking. Quite literally, physical touch is highly unwelcome by the girl. She has little qualms about being blunt to the point of rudeness, and dislikes when others butt their heads into her business. While she can occasionally find the concern of another for her to be merely puzzling, or even slightly humorous, Chidori usually expresses resentment at having her habits and actions be interrogated.
Despite her icy exterior, however, Chidori is very much an emotionally instable person. The one attachment she has had for years, with her Persona Medea, triggers a hysteria-tinged outburst when her evoker is taken away. She distraughtly verbalizes the pain and grief that such attachments bring to her, tying back to the fear she has regarding connections with other people.
This thick layer of fragility and vulnerability lurks underneath her numb affect, and while she attempts to maintain her stony outer image, her self-injury complicates the issue. She implies that her acts of self-harm make her feel alive; her innate healing powers, however, make this a fleeting sensation at best, and may even be part of the cause as to why she keeps repeating the act. Chidori in this sense is somewhat of a contradiction; she makes frantic efforts to avoid emotional pain, yet compensates for the emptiness with a physical hurt. Chidori herself probably does not fully understand the nature of this cycle.
Her frank attitude to her actions-and, similarly, to death itself- can unnerve others and cause her to come off as quite morbid. She insists repeatedly that she doesn’t fear death; in part, perhaps, because she has for the most part successfully avoided those attachments that would otherwise cause her to fear her end.
Chidori is stubborn, and while she can change her ways, this should not be expected to come easily. She has little problem shutting out external stimuli, including the chiding and criticizing voices of others. While not a natural leader type, she can also take initiative with some confidence, as witnessed by her taking of Junpei hostage.
Despite all this, she has a deep potential to be self-sacrificing and giving. Should one break through her firmly erected barriers (as Junpei does, for example), she is encouraged into opening herself up and being authentic with herself and with others. This is not to say she will become a social butterfly; however, she will not remain as confined to herself as she has previous, and can accept having feelings such as love for another person.
What your character can offer:
Chidori’s Persona, Medea, specializes in support. In particular, Medea can similarly radiate energy to obscure Chidori’s location from others. Offensive-wise, Medea focuses in fire and darkness attacks, known as agi- and mudo- skills. Chidori can also absorb the fire attacks of other Personas and be healed consequently by them. She has no overt elemental weaknesses.
The oddest element of Medea, however, manifests in how Chidori’s wounds automatically heal themselves: this skill is dubbed “Spring of Life.” Medea also has the capability to revive other life forms, though this bringing back of another from the dead will cost Chidori her life.
Outside of her Persona, Chidori carries a chained hatchet that she can use to attack enemies.
What items will they be bringing with them?
Her clothes (a white dress, resembling what could be described as a classic shiro Lolita outfit); her evoker; her hatchet; and her sketchbook, along with the appropriate art tools.
Third-Person Sample:
When she sketched his face, she avoided thinking about the green tint of the Dark Hour, the eely shade that skirted across his features that night she had held him hostage.
Instead, she focused on puzzling out such an earnest expression on paper, her eyebrows knitting together with the effort. Darkened lines unfurled on the page, not quite bold but not thin wisps of lead, either. He was gentler than he realized; she had curbed her usual attraction to sharp lines to draw him, softening her edges, his edges-
“Chidori,” he spoke, and she ignored the lurch in her stomach to lean more intently over her sketchbook. Junpei Iori, member of SEES, enemy of Strega: did he not understand the futility of it all? His visits were frequent, the time between them half bursting with his idle chatter and half spent in uncharacteristic silence as he watched her commit his likeness to paper. He had apologized for it, once: “Woah, sorry. Zoned out for a second!” That wide, dumb grin had broken across his face, and Chidori had let the silence linger a moment more before shrugging lightly in response.
“It doesn’t bother me.” And indeed, she had originally preferred it to his incessant babbling, the meaningless intricacies of his school life he reported to her with such vigor. Yet more and more recently she found her wrist bending at the junction of a pair of his anecdotes, curving over her outline of his face to adjust the wideness of his eyes, the eager twist of his lips. Her own mouth had begun to upturn at the sound of his laugh. It unnerved her.
And now it was the silence between them that had to begun to prick at her skin, so tangible the discomfort was. She almost thought she heard Medea humming, lately, like little tremors under the skin. Chidori did not know what to make of it. Solace instead came in the scratchy flitting of pencil against paper, the one sound that did not leave her uneasy.
“Chidori,” Junpei pressed more firmly, and she continued to ignore him, pushing the pencil harder against the sketchpad. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him biting his lip. “Can I-can I see-“
By the time he had reached a hesitating hand out, Chidori had snatched the sketchbook out of his grasp, pressing it tightly to her chest. The quick-fire fluidity of the motion left a bewildered look in his eyes, one Chidori answered with a heavy lidded, intent stare of her own. “It’s not done yet,” she replied crisply, resisting the urge to warily eye his hand that still lingered in the air.
He blinked, once, before laughing nervously, the hand shifting to rub the back of his head. Chidori exhaled. “Oh-I see. I mean, if it’s anything like your other stuff, I probably won’t get it anyway, right?”
“Then why are you so interested in seeing it?” Her voice retained its usual edge, her enunciation leaving her words sharp as the pecking of birds.
Junpei merely looked confused. “Because it’s-it’s you. It’s your thing, you know?” The smile returned. It left Chidori grasping all the more. “I mean, why shouldn’t I be interested in it?”
“I’m your enemy, aren’t I?” and the bluntness of the statement, the plainness with which she uttered it, left Junpei’s expression to falter in its enthusiasm. Takaya and Jin flashed through her mind at the reminder of her position in all this, their eyes leering at her, the skin beneath sagging in bags. The starkness of the image startled her-why imagine them like this?-before a slight prickling of guilt nagged at her mind. No; they could hardly blame her for fraternizing with the enemy, not when she was confined to this bed. The information she’d have for them would be valuable, if she ever escaped from this dreadful place. And yet-
And yet the eyes remained, staring at her accusingly: Jin’s as dark as opals, Takaya’s like two sickly yellow moons. She felt sick. The two were nearly brothers to her, a makeshift family of ragdoll children, tossed aside as they were. And yet they had rarely shown interest in her sketches, in her drawings wrought with abstract turns of the pencil. They had never once made her submit to a tirade of endless chatter, small talk, pleasantries-and she had never resented them for it, still did not. They knew their place as she knew hers, knew not to make clumsy advances towards her as Junpei did. And yet-
And yet, in the midst of this silence, Medea was humming again.
“Chidori?”
“Get out,” she nearly whispered, voice ragged with an unusual hoarseness to it. Junpei started.
“Chidori-“
“Leave.”
He stared at her for another moment, before standing up abruptly, seemingly unsure of what to do with himself. “I-I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”
No! she almost shouted, but didn’t (why won’t I?). Hands clutching the edges of her sketchbook, knuckles turning white, Chidori held her breath as the door clicked shut behind him.
The silence draped over the room like a curtain, but the humming left her skin twitching with a feeling she couldn’t name, nor wanted to.
First-Person Sample:
[VOICE // PUBLIC // JAPANESE]
[a burst of static resounds as she fiddles with the device, breath hitting the mic loudly. There is a moment of silence before she speaks, her usual cold voice marked with just a bit of disorientation]
Where-where am I? This isn’t the Dark Hour. This is-
[pause; she’s squinting at a street sign, here]
…Tch. These foreign letters are a nuisance. What use is such a wrecked city to me?
[but a minor note of awe colors her tone as she takes in the destruction, words spoken in a thin, quiet voice]
Is this…death?
[PRIVATE // HACKABLE]
Why do I feel alive? Death should be like sleeping. That’s what Takaya always said.
…It doesn’t matter. This is the way things should be. I’ve always known the day I was to die. But…
….Takaya, Jin? Did they-
[she stumbles over the uneven road, knees scuffed up; a minor cut opens on one leg and, for once, doesn’t begin to heal itself. Not yet knowing about the chip’s suppressing abilities:]
…Medea! She’s gone too? …Then she’s with Junpei. This is what I wanted.
But I-why does it hurt? I don’t like this.
[the device clicks off]
LJ: revolter
E-Mail: kamikaze.girlxx@gmail.com
IM: x0GoggleGirl0x
Character's Name: Chidori Yoshino
Series: Persona 3
Timeline: Post-death (11/22 in game), pre-revival (available only in Persona 3: FES).
Canon Resource: one; two
Personality:
Chidori, to put in plainly, does not understand herself. She is not the type to endlessly analyze her actions, her likes and dislikes; while she is continuously seen sketching, she merely states that she enjoys drawing, and offers little other elaboration. She tries to avoid mulling over her motivations, however successful or unsuccessful she might be.
What Chidori is aware of, however, is her aversion to forming attachments with others. Wrap a red string around you and another, you run the risk of it fraying, of the eventual break. She is terrified at the idea of losing such an attachment, and so lives mainly in the moment, focusing on her unsavory activities as part of Strega and avoiding the long-term entanglements with others that she fears.
As it is, she puts a very conscious distance between herself and others, addressing those she encounters with a very cold, clipped way of speaking. Quite literally, physical touch is highly unwelcome by the girl. She has little qualms about being blunt to the point of rudeness, and dislikes when others butt their heads into her business. While she can occasionally find the concern of another for her to be merely puzzling, or even slightly humorous, Chidori usually expresses resentment at having her habits and actions be interrogated.
Despite her icy exterior, however, Chidori is very much an emotionally instable person. The one attachment she has had for years, with her Persona Medea, triggers a hysteria-tinged outburst when her evoker is taken away. She distraughtly verbalizes the pain and grief that such attachments bring to her, tying back to the fear she has regarding connections with other people.
This thick layer of fragility and vulnerability lurks underneath her numb affect, and while she attempts to maintain her stony outer image, her self-injury complicates the issue. She implies that her acts of self-harm make her feel alive; her innate healing powers, however, make this a fleeting sensation at best, and may even be part of the cause as to why she keeps repeating the act. Chidori in this sense is somewhat of a contradiction; she makes frantic efforts to avoid emotional pain, yet compensates for the emptiness with a physical hurt. Chidori herself probably does not fully understand the nature of this cycle.
Her frank attitude to her actions-and, similarly, to death itself- can unnerve others and cause her to come off as quite morbid. She insists repeatedly that she doesn’t fear death; in part, perhaps, because she has for the most part successfully avoided those attachments that would otherwise cause her to fear her end.
Chidori is stubborn, and while she can change her ways, this should not be expected to come easily. She has little problem shutting out external stimuli, including the chiding and criticizing voices of others. While not a natural leader type, she can also take initiative with some confidence, as witnessed by her taking of Junpei hostage.
Despite all this, she has a deep potential to be self-sacrificing and giving. Should one break through her firmly erected barriers (as Junpei does, for example), she is encouraged into opening herself up and being authentic with herself and with others. This is not to say she will become a social butterfly; however, she will not remain as confined to herself as she has previous, and can accept having feelings such as love for another person.
What your character can offer:
Chidori’s Persona, Medea, specializes in support. In particular, Medea can similarly radiate energy to obscure Chidori’s location from others. Offensive-wise, Medea focuses in fire and darkness attacks, known as agi- and mudo- skills. Chidori can also absorb the fire attacks of other Personas and be healed consequently by them. She has no overt elemental weaknesses.
The oddest element of Medea, however, manifests in how Chidori’s wounds automatically heal themselves: this skill is dubbed “Spring of Life.” Medea also has the capability to revive other life forms, though this bringing back of another from the dead will cost Chidori her life.
Outside of her Persona, Chidori carries a chained hatchet that she can use to attack enemies.
What items will they be bringing with them?
Her clothes (a white dress, resembling what could be described as a classic shiro Lolita outfit); her evoker; her hatchet; and her sketchbook, along with the appropriate art tools.
Third-Person Sample:
When she sketched his face, she avoided thinking about the green tint of the Dark Hour, the eely shade that skirted across his features that night she had held him hostage.
Instead, she focused on puzzling out such an earnest expression on paper, her eyebrows knitting together with the effort. Darkened lines unfurled on the page, not quite bold but not thin wisps of lead, either. He was gentler than he realized; she had curbed her usual attraction to sharp lines to draw him, softening her edges, his edges-
“Chidori,” he spoke, and she ignored the lurch in her stomach to lean more intently over her sketchbook. Junpei Iori, member of SEES, enemy of Strega: did he not understand the futility of it all? His visits were frequent, the time between them half bursting with his idle chatter and half spent in uncharacteristic silence as he watched her commit his likeness to paper. He had apologized for it, once: “Woah, sorry. Zoned out for a second!” That wide, dumb grin had broken across his face, and Chidori had let the silence linger a moment more before shrugging lightly in response.
“It doesn’t bother me.” And indeed, she had originally preferred it to his incessant babbling, the meaningless intricacies of his school life he reported to her with such vigor. Yet more and more recently she found her wrist bending at the junction of a pair of his anecdotes, curving over her outline of his face to adjust the wideness of his eyes, the eager twist of his lips. Her own mouth had begun to upturn at the sound of his laugh. It unnerved her.
And now it was the silence between them that had to begun to prick at her skin, so tangible the discomfort was. She almost thought she heard Medea humming, lately, like little tremors under the skin. Chidori did not know what to make of it. Solace instead came in the scratchy flitting of pencil against paper, the one sound that did not leave her uneasy.
“Chidori,” Junpei pressed more firmly, and she continued to ignore him, pushing the pencil harder against the sketchpad. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him biting his lip. “Can I-can I see-“
By the time he had reached a hesitating hand out, Chidori had snatched the sketchbook out of his grasp, pressing it tightly to her chest. The quick-fire fluidity of the motion left a bewildered look in his eyes, one Chidori answered with a heavy lidded, intent stare of her own. “It’s not done yet,” she replied crisply, resisting the urge to warily eye his hand that still lingered in the air.
He blinked, once, before laughing nervously, the hand shifting to rub the back of his head. Chidori exhaled. “Oh-I see. I mean, if it’s anything like your other stuff, I probably won’t get it anyway, right?”
“Then why are you so interested in seeing it?” Her voice retained its usual edge, her enunciation leaving her words sharp as the pecking of birds.
Junpei merely looked confused. “Because it’s-it’s you. It’s your thing, you know?” The smile returned. It left Chidori grasping all the more. “I mean, why shouldn’t I be interested in it?”
“I’m your enemy, aren’t I?” and the bluntness of the statement, the plainness with which she uttered it, left Junpei’s expression to falter in its enthusiasm. Takaya and Jin flashed through her mind at the reminder of her position in all this, their eyes leering at her, the skin beneath sagging in bags. The starkness of the image startled her-why imagine them like this?-before a slight prickling of guilt nagged at her mind. No; they could hardly blame her for fraternizing with the enemy, not when she was confined to this bed. The information she’d have for them would be valuable, if she ever escaped from this dreadful place. And yet-
And yet the eyes remained, staring at her accusingly: Jin’s as dark as opals, Takaya’s like two sickly yellow moons. She felt sick. The two were nearly brothers to her, a makeshift family of ragdoll children, tossed aside as they were. And yet they had rarely shown interest in her sketches, in her drawings wrought with abstract turns of the pencil. They had never once made her submit to a tirade of endless chatter, small talk, pleasantries-and she had never resented them for it, still did not. They knew their place as she knew hers, knew not to make clumsy advances towards her as Junpei did. And yet-
And yet, in the midst of this silence, Medea was humming again.
“Chidori?”
“Get out,” she nearly whispered, voice ragged with an unusual hoarseness to it. Junpei started.
“Chidori-“
“Leave.”
He stared at her for another moment, before standing up abruptly, seemingly unsure of what to do with himself. “I-I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”
No! she almost shouted, but didn’t (why won’t I?). Hands clutching the edges of her sketchbook, knuckles turning white, Chidori held her breath as the door clicked shut behind him.
The silence draped over the room like a curtain, but the humming left her skin twitching with a feeling she couldn’t name, nor wanted to.
First-Person Sample:
[VOICE // PUBLIC // JAPANESE]
[a burst of static resounds as she fiddles with the device, breath hitting the mic loudly. There is a moment of silence before she speaks, her usual cold voice marked with just a bit of disorientation]
Where-where am I? This isn’t the Dark Hour. This is-
[pause; she’s squinting at a street sign, here]
…Tch. These foreign letters are a nuisance. What use is such a wrecked city to me?
[but a minor note of awe colors her tone as she takes in the destruction, words spoken in a thin, quiet voice]
Is this…death?
[PRIVATE // HACKABLE]
Why do I feel alive? Death should be like sleeping. That’s what Takaya always said.
…It doesn’t matter. This is the way things should be. I’ve always known the day I was to die. But…
….Takaya, Jin? Did they-
[she stumbles over the uneven road, knees scuffed up; a minor cut opens on one leg and, for once, doesn’t begin to heal itself. Not yet knowing about the chip’s suppressing abilities:]
…Medea! She’s gone too? …Then she’s with Junpei. This is what I wanted.
But I-why does it hurt? I don’t like this.
[the device clicks off]