Author Games Compilation [Cycle 2]

Nora Belasco [Character Form]

Synopsis: She has walked five-hundred miles and she will walk five-hundred more, just to be the girl who lived without ever being found, truly, ever again.

Name: Nora Belasco

Alias: With no need for an alias, she's never come up with one; perhaps someday she'll be drawn to stitch falsity over her own name, but that day has not yet come.

Age: 28

Gender: Female

Nation of Origin: United States (specifically from the mysterious state of Arizona, but it's been some time since she's returned to it)

Appearance: Though young, Nora has undergone the physical changes of a fresh start to aging. While her skin doesn't sag, faded creases stick into the deep shade of her forehead (though one of these creases is deeper and more relevant than the rest), and a few gray stragglers have sprouted at the roots of her hair, which she covers with a deep hue of blue, each chopped strand brushing softly against typically bare shoulders. She's an attractive woman, still, but the navy puts others off, alongside the confidence she holds in what she wears, and the traces of ink that wearing what she wants provides the human eye. Tall in stature and muscular in the arms, she unintentionally comes across as a rather imposing, grungy figure. Oh well. If the shoe fits.

Personality: Nora is a corkboard of complexity, where the pins keep popping out and rearranging themselves so often that she has a hard time figuring out what to do or where to go next. She's a wanderer, to start, and has lived a nomad's lifestyle over the course of nine years, travelling from city to city by bus and working in bars and pubs and more bars and more pubs to keep herself afloat. Staying in one place leaves her with a heavy sense of discomfort, and being around the same people for too long invites a sense of dread and panic that she solves by, well, fleeing again. While she's there, though, she allows herself momentary comfort, making small talk with coworkers or temporary alcoholics at the counter, sarcasm and humor lining the saliva on her tongue. She carries on with a guise of constant carelessness and irritation, an eye roll here, a huff of exasperation there. When she goes "home," she likes thinking she misses the conversation, but the truth of the matter is that she enjoys the loneliness quite a lot, actually. It's peaceful. Steady. Grounded.

Superhuman Abilities: Her greatest and most glorious talent is one that she can never use. No, not the flying - though she can do that at any time, and often takes advantage of it when certain no one's looking. The gift of flight is perhaps the only thing she'd admit to having, because the other is much worse. See, any function that can be thought of to a realistic extent is at her fingertips - but there's a catch. In order for such functions to work, someone else must be acting as a "host" to her; essentially, she must allow another into her head and relinquish her own freedom to act as she pleases. Any regular Joe on the street is capable of this, for the connection she can form with a passing stranger is immediate, so if John Doe said to lift a car, she'd be entirely capable of doing so, and if Shirley Temple told her to bring life back to her wilted flower, it'd be possible. These commands have their limits - a car is the greatest weight she can lift, and a flower is the furthest she can go in the way of resurrection, etcetera, etcetera. And remember that very specific forehead crease? When a host enters, that crease opens as an eye, blue and bright, through which the host may watch. But why is this power so horrible? It is easily taken advantage of and could very well kill her if treated badly; a certain incident has left her with a crippling distrust of others, and she hasn't tested the power since.

Equipment: Not much, unless you count a cheap little ring she twists around her finger during fits of uncertainty and a pistol she keeps locked tight in a small rectangular box in the closet of wherever she chooses to stay. Also, several boxes of hair dye, all blue, and a pair of gloves that can make a connection with strangers harder to develop out of the blue - see that? That's a pun!