Age :: 24
Date of Birth :: December 21st
Number :: 178 (Ciento Setenta y ocho)
Class :: Pilot
Agent Ship :: Oracle Unit aka "Hermes"
Weapon :: CZ-75. Hand gun.
Equipment :: Emergency Flask and Spare Ammunition Clips.
Orientation :: Claims Heterosexuality. But when you wear beer goggles as often as she does, lines vanish pretty quickly and all together.
Kotodama aka “Soul Language” or “Spirit Speak”
This ability enables the agent to conjure an inanimate object by tapping into her body's energy and stating the object's name. Objects with mechanical functionality can be used by stating its action or onomatopoeia (sound fx). She also has slight non-verbal control over objects conjured - a bit of telekinesis but to only that which she summoned. Such as, she can materialize a flurry of daggers and send them flying in any direction with a simple hand gesture.
It should also be noted that bullets, fragments, or shrapnel that is conjured and pierces/wounds an individual and is embedded in their flesh has an extended "life span" due to the wounded's own energy. These will dematerialize within the usual allotted time when removed from the individual.
- The obvious disadvantage : Can't speak = Can't use. In other words, if she is gagged, unconscious, or voice stripped away, the power is useless.
- Emotional instability in battle can put agent in a frenzy, lost in the attack.
- Overuse drains the body of energy, when nearing depletion the body automatically shuts the outlet of the agent's energy. Further use after this point Kotodama requires more intent focusing. The attacks become progressively weaker and conjuring much harder. When energy is tapped out, agent will pass out, going into a comatose state. On rare and extreme cases, agent can push pass point of depletion - much like a berserk mode -which forces the user's biological cells to age - Permanently makes the agent age by (at most) a year
- The ability only works on inanimate objects, nothing living or organic, and nothing that provides subsistence.
- Cannot conjure anything bigger than a tank. It is possible, but exasperates 75% of the user's energy supply to do so
- Can summon vehicles, but requires the use of onomatopoeia to operate it. And frankly, she doesn't (only rarely and absolutely needed) because it is downright annoying. It is hard to have conversation or discuss plans when chasing baddies or running away from them when the driver is going "vroooooooooooooooooom" the entire time.
- Cannot conjure/use things she has never seen or anything that she does not know how it operates or its purpose. I.e, she can't suddenly conjure an alien spacecraft from the fifth planet of some solar system located in whatever quadrant of the universe; or if locked up, she cannot conjure the exact key for the cell door unless she has seen it. And seeing an object does not correlate with knowledge of it's function or purpose - she can conjure foreign machinery, but unless she knows what it does, its useless.
- Only has control over the objects she herself have summoned. Cannot use Kotodama on objects already in existence, such as an enemy's weapon, an ally's weapon, or a weapon she already possesses through means other than Kotodama - i.e if it were given to her by another agent.
- Objects summoned with mechanical functionality is only functional with her since she must speak to use it. They are physically unfunctional to anyone else.
- Her words is what gives the objects existence. Object with mechanical functionality degrades on a molecular level within 5 minutes of inactivity. Objects with no mechanical functionality, such as baseball bats, knives, forks, spoons, etc, degrades within two minutes of being conjured.
- Final obvious disadvantage: Constant use over a short period of time will make her lose her voice for a few days, which leads back to disadvantage #1.
Often times when under stress or mental/emotional trauma, things can be summon against the user's will - especially in ordinary conversation. Tread carefully when this becomes an issue.
At first, one finds it really hard to grasp Morrigan. She comes with two settings – drunk and sober. The former often, the latter rarely.
When sober, she is usually a model Agent and subordinate, she always seems either distant to strangers, or a bitch to those she knows well. But when you only ever lost anything you cared for, one is not expected to act differently. She follows rules and regulations of the Agency rather strictly.
If she likes someone she tends to have a typical tsundere attitude, but all the best of intentions. She can be a tad short tempered. Unfortunately, it is that same tsundere attitude that misleads people into thinking she is cruel and possibly heartless and incapable of a good time.
With Morrigan, there is also a thin veil between modesty and indecency. She finds nothing wrong with being in a towel or underwear when she has guests at her room. Oddly enough, when sober, she is a bit slow to catch on to sexual innuendos.
When drunk, which is often, she is quite the social butterfly. She can be quite touchy and promiscuous, and can say some off colored things all in good fun. But she also becomes far from the model Agent, rebellious, and often times resulting in careless use of her Kotodama. Modesty is thrown out the window, and lines between sexualities are all but gone.
However, despite those flaws, anyone can tell you that Morrigan drives/pilots twice as good when drunk. No one is sure as to why. Maybe the alcohol has cleared her mind of any restrictions/inhibitions/distractions; others think it’s just plain stupidity that has taken over with luck being on her side. Chances are, it is the latter.
Regardless, one is guaranteed to have a good friend and ally in Morrigan.
Morrigan was born in a small town outside of Dublin. She was the younger of two siblings, the other being her eldest brother Donovan. Her parents were good parents, Donovan never spoke ill of them, but sadly Morrigan cannot remember them. They were both killed in a mysterious car accident where Morrigan and Donovan were the only ones to survive. They are nothing more than faces on photographs, blurs in her memory, and characters in Donovan’s stories. She was only two years old when they were taken in by their grandmother.
So all Morrigan knew was her older brother. She followed him everywhere and loved him dearly. Around the time she was five and Donovan was ten, he was trying to do what boys would normally do, and leave his obnoxious younger sibling behind while he would play with all the local kids such games as cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians, and other such variations of playful violence. Morrigan was stubborn, and followed her brother. The events of what happened were unclear to the authorities and media. It was simply called The Pied Piper Massacre. All the local children were gunned down and killed during their games, the only survivors being Morrigan and Donovan as they were found curled up in each other’s arms, among the blood, bodies, and bullet casings. Young Morrigan was in shock, and naked, strips of cloth still attached, and cannot remember; Donovan claimed to not have seen anything because he was hiding - atleast he claims.
The two were soon rumored to be cursed children – always surrounded by death, but never its target. Since then, Donovan grew increasingly more protective of Morrigan, and Morrigan increasingly more reliant on Donovan. During these times, there have been strange occurrences; things suddenly would be there, then be gone the moment one turned their back. Morrigan, Donovan, and their grandmother spent these years close. Her grandmother played the piano, and taught Donovan the same. Morrigan was too impatient, but made up for it with song. She had a knack for singing, even as a child. These were moments, Morrigan cherished. Sadly, a few years later, death reared its head again and claimed their grandmother’s life. There was no contactable family member left. Donovan, 15 at the time, swore he would not be separated from Morrigan and pinky-promised her just that.
He took her, and ran away, becoming nothing more but street urchins for the next few years. The streets were hard, but her big brother did a good job taking care of her. The tough life made Morrigan "hard", and tomboyish. Into her teens, she began stealing cars and drove from the authorities often. It was then she developed a love for cars and all things fast, but particularly she just enjoyed the thrill of a car speeding off. She always got away, but it was a lifestyle Donovan did not approve of, so scolded her often. Unlike Morrigan, Donovan focused on studies and school. He managed to get a full-time job and use his earnings to scrape a livelihood for the two of them. And Morrigan was always grateful. She was just troublesome, and couldn’t escape the fascination with cars and chases. But Donovan understood how she felt, although does not approve of her means for such thrills. He has been saving money aside so he can take flying lessons. The sky was his dream, and flying his thrill. He promised Morrigan that one day they will take a plane and fly across the ocean, leaving Ireland and its memories behind. Fate had other plans.
One thundering night, in search of her thrill, Morrigan came across more trouble than she liked. She tried stealing a car from local thugs outside of Dublin, She was caught, and they took a four inch blade and rammed it through her left arm. She retaliated by taking a chunk of flesh with her teeth from the one holding her. They chased her through the woods as it began to rain. She was getting muddied, losing blood, and becoming exhausted. She finally came to Dublin’s city limits and tried to make her way home, somewhere safe. But she could still hear them chasing her. She was so close to home, but couldn’t lead them there. What if Donovan got involved? She hid behind a dumpster, and prayed whispers for help. If only she had a gun, if only she had a pistol. As she whispered, her tongue felt a tingling sensation then a spark that shocked her. She yelped in surprise, and floating before her was a pistol. She didn’t hesitate and grabbed the gun. She turned to face her attackers and pulled the trigger. Nothing. As the thugs smirked and began to pull out their own weapons, a figure came barreling down on them. Donovan. How could she be so dumb, her brother worked around the corner from where she was. He fought hard for his sister, landing several blows, but he was no match. And the same blade that wounded Morrigan, had a more fatal blow on her brother. There was that same sensation on her tongue, and Morrigan can feel the link to reality severed. She was nothing more than a spectator in her mind’s eye. She raised a steady arm at the attackers, now murderers, as her tongue slipped through between her lips. It buzzed and sparked, as she simply said one word. “Pistols” A flurry of pistols surrounded her – aimed and steadied. And soon, another word escaped her breath. “Bang”
The events are still a blur to Morrigan; she woke up in the rain, hair considerably longer, and a slightly bigger bust. She seemed to age a year overnight. It is then she came to realize her power of words. Years pass, and in her brother’s memory she finished school, and even began to take flying lessons so she can take her love for speed and her brother to the skies. But her hardships had more consequences, and she developed a drinking habit as a result. A way to delude the pain of memories.
But one day, there was a strange man waiting for her in the cockpit of her plane with promises of a life where she can achieve her full potential, and make Donovan proud. How did he know of Donovan? And did he really fully grasp what she was capable of? But then again, one would be surprise how much A-gents really know. . .
- Thinks automatic transmission is for wussies.
- Drives better when intoxicated
- Gets a bit defensive when people call her drunkard or alcoholic
- Talks in her sleep which leads to misuse of Kotodama.
- Has an older brother complex
- Has a locket she wears at all times.
- Sings pretty well, but is far too self conscious to do it in front of others.
- Has a fetish for mechs, planes, ships, and cars.
- Thinks her short hair is sexy and convenient as a driver/pilot.
- Has a tattoo of a clover behind her neck, and wings on her lower back
- Neck is far too sensitive.
- Fears: Bugs, needles, lightening.
- Can't cook
- LOVES potatos
- Has a soft spot for plushies, and has quite a few.