Location: Rome Senshi: Sailor Thoth, Kamet-Ka Senshi of Knowledge Name: Mischa Khmyrov Meaning: "Crybaby Delivered from God" --'Mischa' can be derived from Hebrew or RRussian roots, depending on the gender. In either language, it means 'gift from God'. --'Khmyrov' originates from the Russian veerb khmyrit, which means 'to grieve' or 'to pout'. Some argue that it comes from the term khmyra, which means crybaby. I chose the one that satisfied me the most. Age: 23 Birthdate: January 8th Astrological Sign: Capricorn Blood Type: O Family: Gregory Khmyrov: Began his life as a young, unimpressionable carpenter who grew up to be an old, unimpressionable fogey with a not-so-subtle hairpiece. Cantankerous and driven, he believes that sweat and toil are essential as the foundations of a satisfactory life. He has retired early with his fabulous little nest egg, earned from mentioned sweat and toil, and now sits back and complains to his second wife (and daughter, on the rare occasions she stops by) about what a shifting black hole the world is becoming. Loveable? Hardly. Jean Peters-Khmyrov: Aka Gregory's reason for his divorce, she is a meek listener and a welcome change for him, considering his last wife was opinionated and forceful. Short, stout, and grey-haired, she hardly ever voices her opinion, not because of supposed abusive consequences--of which there are none--but because of the inhospitable environment of which she is accustomed to, where nothing she says is ever taken into consideration. Her brash husband allows her to decide dinner once in a while, a welcome change from his neverending barking. It is puzzling why such a shy mouse would ever agree to spend her life with a bulldog like Greg, especially under the withering eye of his equally tough wife, but certain signals were made during the relationship between wife and mistress. It was soundlessly agreed that if Jean wanted Greg as a significant other, by all means she could have him. The wanted divorce would be quick, painless, and easy on every party. School/Occupation: She is currently an out-of-work masseuse who attempts playwriting every week, then denounces it forever/for five days or so. Skills: She has an extensive knowledge of muscles and brain lobes, knows the wives of Henry VIII and their offspring, can tell you a timeline of villains in the Batman comic strips, plays the slidewhistle rather fluently, has been known to dabble in observational humor, and can read upside down. When tempted, she can also handle the dreaded jalapeno pepper. Likes: Marvel and DC comic books, the history of the house of Tudor, Plato's The Republic, swimming in pools but never in lakes, framing pictures, the clacking noise the keys from a typewriter makes, movies with deep plots that you need to watch a few times to decipher, wine coolers, little bread pockets filled with ham and cheese, dreaming, painting birdhouses, cooking shows, home devices and their informer, bacon, and the echoes made in a large library. To name but a few. Dislikes: Standoffish, cocky people, sudden noises, eggs, small things she must hold on to for others, an unwinnable argument, competitive sports, particularly sweet things, people who rush, and ignorance. Fav. Food: Spicy things, but to be more specific, beef stew. Hated Food: Mostly seafood in general. She abhors fish most of all. Fav. Subject: Though she's no longer in school, she loves studying philosophy and psychology, especially concerning the works of Grecian scholars. Hated Subject: She dislikes working out in strenuous activities, especially in hot, muggy weather where the education of being physical is key. Color: Burgundy and cream Hobbies: Writing, growing cacti, listening to operatic and new age music, attempted and unsuccessful meditation, looking up horoscopes and birthdates, taking IQ tests, and buying fabric for unfinished sewing projects. Aspirations: To become a celebrated playwright, or at least a known one. Gemstone: Garnet History Mischa was born in a small hospital in Moscow around the same time her father decided to switch wives. The old one was getting too big for her britches, you might say, and he carried on an extensive affair with a friend's sister. Her mother, looking for an excuse to unattach herself from this malignant and insensitive man without drawing judgement from her own happily married friends, threw her husband's things into a suitcase and sent him away. Much to the giggling amusement of her loved ones. Mischa was taken with, for a few reasons. One, her new stepmother wished for something to occupy her motherly side as her husband worked on dressers, vanity tables, doors, and the like. To be wed to a man who was an obsessive workaholic with set goals and a rigid schedule would make her suffer dreadfully from ennui and she would probably start to drink like a fish. Believing in home values without the sex part, she took a stand and pleaded with the Ex-Wife until her throat was hoarse. This brings me to Reason Number Two-- Mischa's birth mother was driving to the courthouse when she collided with another car and was six feet under before child custody could be finalized. Raised in an upper-middle class setting in Venice, Mischa attended good schools and received an above average education, excelling in science and English courses. Her stepmother, who had looked upon her as something of a way to pass the time as the years yawned on, discovered she had bitten off more than she could chew with the whole child-care thing, and her life was fully occupied with this budding child who seemed to always have skinned knees and/or a reptile to bring home. Her cooking suffered, her anger bloomed, and the precocious child she had always wanted was turning into some sort of responsibility. And this she had never expected. The stepdaughter herself took no heed of her stressed mother's tribulations and presided over reading with rapture. She was given books to get off her mother's back once in a while, and she cracked one open whenever she had the time. It was enchanting to read and gave her a feeling she had become accustomed to by the time she reached high school. Still unsure of her goals in life, and with little to no suggestions from her frazzled stepmother and distant father, she plunged into psychology, ravishing the joy from learning about the workings of the mind. She had always been somewhat ignorant to her family's growing resentment--and I use it in the nicest way possible--towards her and subconsciously, she would have probably analyzed that she delved into thinking because her own parents could not express their own feelings in words. Her father was much too wrapped up in his work to say much to her and her stepmom hadn't voiced a truly astounding argument since the day she was conceived. Something pressed Mischa, and it kept on telling her to get the hell out of that house before her mother cracked her on the head with a wrench in the observatory. She grabbed a career as a professional masseuse, because relaxation was beneficial, and she wished to understand people in some way, be it physically or mentally. Personality However you word it, Mischa has a fault for being altogether too careless. She was unable to notice her stepmother's stress, and she was unable to determine her father's emotional unattachment. This was probably a good thing for her, believe it or not, because it gave her a chance to move on and think about other things, instead of dwelling on what she could not control or even change. Every signal received that her family was not a family, but rather something forced and horribly fake, flew right over her. Not to say she was thick- headed. She shut herself out from her parents' problems, even thought she was the cause of most of them. Surprisingly, her father never expressed an opinion on her living with them. Children in general were of little concern to him, even his own. He was not to dense as to deny that his wife had a problem with taking care of the child, he just flatly refused to get involved. He wouldn't hire a babysitter or send Mischa to a daycare. She herself was too absorbed in her own little devices to recognize the signs of traumatic emotional abuse. It was with this set way of life that Mischa grew up the way she did: She saw the things she only wanted to see and could not be persuaded to see them any other way. To her, this was the way it always was, and when it progressed, she mistook severe signs of a nervous breakdown for her stepmother as day to day activity with a little bit of an overactive nature. This could explain Mischa's forgetful nature and her infrequent fugue. It's her way of blocking out what she believes should not exist. Outside and in, Mischa is compassionate. She has a zest for learning and theorizes nearly every issue of her life. She enjoys being able to analyze everything because it makes it seem more real and near to her. Picking everything apart does not make her compulsive or insecure; rather, it relaxes her. She prefers to move along easily than in a mad rush to get things done, and slowing down to observe and note others gives her peace of mind. When involved fully, she talks frequently and gestures with her hands often. She can, however, be stubborn and vindictive when someone tries to prove her wrong, but hours later, she'll start to see things from their point of view and make it up to them with gifts and favors. She doesn't mind being far away from her family, though she longs for the warmth and unrelenting love of a full home, she doesn't mind being alone most of the time. Appearance Mischa doesn't care one whisker about her face and only feels that it looks best without cosmetics. She has high, full cheeks that slope to a narrow chin on lightly tanned skin. Her nose is long and sloped, narrow on the sides and rounded on the end. It is broken slightly in the middle from an accident on the teeter-totter that wounded her as a child. Her eyes are large and almond shaped, light hazel on the inside but bordered by a circle of green. She has thin lashes and long eyebrows that curve up and make her always look surprised. Her bangs are pulled up by an offwhite headband, which covers a thick mass of rich auburn hair. Several strands fall freely down her face, curled at the ends. Oddly, her hair is perfectly straight halfway down her neck, then sticks out jauntily in a kinked bush that she never bothers to deal with. She has a strong neck that is sleek but not long, and well-rounded shoulders. Moving down, one notices that for all the fatty foods she eats, Mischa is only mildly rotund and inherited her short stature from her late mother--at most, she's 5'5". She has a less-than-ample bosom that she conceals with shirts that are much too large for her and allow her to appear thinner. On her left arm near the elbow she has a jagged scar of pink flesh from an attack by a weed whacker. Her hips are full and extend to curved legs and small ankles. Her feet are rather large and her middle toe is longer than her big toe, which her stepmother said is a sign of intelligence. She has a leisurely stride and has eliminated slouching altogether to make her appear taller, which is her one believed fault. Her arms appear toned, but they are only sheathed in a layer of fat. Thank God for even partial metabolism. Fuku From the top! Sailor Thoth's head is adorned in a cream-colored headband with a large stone of garnet embedded in the middle and two smaller stones on either side. The headband itself is made of polished marble. Her choker is a ribbon of identical color to her headband and tied in the back, so the two ends hang to the end of her neck. Her top is also an offwhite color and is sleeveless, nearly sheer, and hangs loosely down to mid-hip. Entwined with this are several thin scarlet ribbons that slip over her bare shoulders and hang over her chest. On the back of her shirt is an enormous bow of identical color, the ends cut short and hanging loosely over her thighs. Her pants match her shirt in color and flow down her legs to her ankles On the left side is a tied knot of ribbon, with five strings extending from it to wrap around her hips and along her right leg above the knee. Covering her hands are clinging white gloves that only reach the wrist before stopping. On her feet are soft brown leather sandals that weave around the back of the heel and over the toes. Finally, a sanguine velvet mask covers her eyes and ties behind her hair, reaching up over her eyebrows and bridging her nose. Transformation Thoth uses a thin white marble bookmark to transform, about six inches in length with black hieroglyph engraved on the front and a burgundy tassel at the end. After she yells, "Thoth Ka Power, Make Up", the bookmark changes into the headband nestled into her hair. Scarlet cords wrap around her body and, in a burst of white that breaks the cords, her long shirt and pants fly out and settle on her body. Her top is pulled back by the formation of the large red bow, wrapped and tied up in satin. Identical strands wrap around her feet and tighten as sandals, and another clings to her neck and becomes her choker. She covers her face as shards of light slide between her fingers and as they slowly pull down from her face, her mask is clearly visible. She stands with her feet apart as the leftover ribbons fly over her shoulders and settle, while a knot of ribbon settles on her hip and extends its five strings around her upper leg. Lastly, she takes the gloves hidden in the bow on the back of her shirt and pulls them on her hands, then rests the splayed fingertips of her right hand on her lips, while her other arm moves protectively over her right elbow. Thus, the pose is made! Powers Divine Judgement In her first and only attack, Thoth reaches for her glowing white headband and plucks it out, turning it upside down to form a horseshoe shape. She grabs it by the end and stretches it out so it becomes malleable and yielding. She may then proceed to throw it at the enemy, where it wraps around them and hardens. The strength and length of time of this attack depend on her own experience, but if it does work, the enemy will not be able to perform attacks, or their attack power will greatly decrease. The aim is not always accurate and it nearly drains her to use this power for now, so she may have to wait hours to regenerate. Guardian None at all. Explanation The Egyptian god Thoth was celebrated in his knowledge and recordings of science and mathematics, and also his invention of the hieroglyph. He wrote the Book of the Dead, a collection of spells and formulas to aid the deceased when they died and went to the Afterlife. In addition, he weighed the hearts of those who had died in the Hall of Maat, his wife, and wrote down everyone who had passed through there and the results. He created himself at the beginning of time and was the chief advisor of Osiris and was the patron of scribes. Thoth appears as a man with the head of an ibis, a bird. Writing Sample Every day, Mischa praised whoever invented the word processor. For all the mistakes she had made on her play, for all the misspellings and bad ideas and two-dimensional characters that had no purpose, she was glad she just didn't need to start over on a typewriter. And the way her play was going, a typewriter would be Sin Itself. It started out as something fun. A dark comedy about a man descended from Dr. Frankenstein, but unwilling to accept his genealogy and going so far as to allow everyone to mispronounce his last name. And then a not-so-close friend brought the movie directed by Mel Brooks over and the whole idea ended up in the crapper. If there was one thing Mischa hated more than writer's block--which she now feigned to everyone as a transparent excuse not to continue with that horrid play--it was when a perfectly good idea came along, only to be stamped with a copyright label and an FBI warning. It was enough to drive someone mad. She hadn't touched the computer in almost a week. Last time, she wrote her father a letter about how trying it was being both unemployed and with no muse anymore. She had requested (okay, pleaded) for some financial backup. She couldn't go so far as to pile on the compliments and hitch up her pants--for they would get high--because whatever relationship she had begun with her distant father ended as soon as she learned to speak. He pressured her to not quit her job. Even though he didn't like it in the first place, he reasoned that anything was better than nothing. For a moment she almost relented, but the idea of becoming famous without plunging her hands into someone's backfat intrigued her and she blatantly told him to save his decisions for his wife. Now, she regretted this insult deeply. The letter had been sent and the response awaited for, though deep inside, she had a grim idea of what it would say. She would be on her own, making her own decisions. As requested. It made her want to pull her vile tongue out. She sat down at the computer and turned it on. At least she could start thinking about her play characters instead of what might or might not happen with the letter. After a glance over her play, she realized it was undeniably sucky. All the characters denounced conformity and ironically, that made them all the same. With their unrealistic trials and tribulations, it made her think she was staring at something that not only could it not be acted out, it wouldn't even take off as a cult classic. She typed a little more. Then erased. And shut the computer off again. There was simply nothing to be done to save this bombshell. Might as well let it go. What she needed was a second opinion, but she didn't have an inner circle of friends to ask. After she was determined to isolate herself from everyone to work on the Dud Play, it was rather surprising that there was no one she could ask to critique her. Dialogue from movies ran through her head, and she hoped to get inspired, but only succeeded in being vaguely entertained. Repeated lines annoyed her and there was absolutely nothing she could do to pass the time. It occurred to her that she might be... anxious. How unlike her. Frustrated, she threw on a sweatshirt and went out to see if anyone could hire her back. This whole playwrite thing might be the biggest mistake of her life. Questionnaire Your Name: Ashley Clarke Your E-mail: foo_macabre@hotmail.com Your Homepage: None so far, but I plan to have one sometime soon. Other RPGs: This is the first RPG I have ever been in, to be honest, and one of the best I can find on the web, with extensive resources on research for my character. Just please don't make me do a bibliography. Killable Senshi: I believe that killing senshi is acceptable, if it is with the owner's consent and is partial to the storyline. If not, and the owner is a frequent member with a good record, then I wouldn't recognize it as a killing, or much of anything at all. View Application: You may indeed post my application, even if it is rejected with scathing comments! :) I do enjoy being an example for others.