Pup
Elle soupira, en courant une main dans ses cheveux, griffant facilement Fafnir alors qu'il perchait sur son épaule, comme la seule personne qui semblait avoir une prise sur ce qui se passait vient de sortir de la porte. C'est probablement pour en trouver d'autres. Il fut rapidement suivi par l'arrogant, Kaesar. Espérons qu'il ramènerait un groupe plus stable que celui avec lequel elle se trouvait actuellement, et qu'il laisserait Kaesar loin derrière. Elle n'a fait confiance à la plupart d'entre eux qu'un peu plus qu'aux Gris, et c'était seulement parce qu'ils n'avaient pas essayé activement de la tuer. Pour ne pas dire que ce n'est pas une possibilité décidée. Elle a noté, en regardant comme l'homme qui s'était déclaré 'Horus' semblait lutter avec la fureur soudaine, avant de déclarer des dibs sur le lit. Elle glissa les yeux vers l'endroit où la femme inconsciente était allongée sur ce lit, levant un sourcil en question. Comme si sur le signal, la femme s'est réveillée.
Comme Aries lui a expliqué la situation, Luci s'est évanouie avec le dîner de la soirée. Elle ne lui faisait pas confiance non plus. Il était amical, mais il n'avait jamais l'air d'atteindre ses yeux. Pourtant, il était pratique d'avoir autour de la cabine. Il avait déjà remplacé les charnières rouillées sur les portes dans la moitié du temps qu'il lui aurait fallu, et sa manipulation de métal serait un grand avantage si jamais elle avait besoin de plus d'ongles. Pup sourit rassurantment à Silence. Elle lui faisait un peu plus confiance, ne serait-ce que pour le fait que sa folie n'était pas aussi évidente que les autres. Tu n'as qu'à parler. Pup a broyé ses dents comme la voix de P est entrée dans sa tête une fois de plus. Il n'a jamais semblé rester silencieux pendant plus d'une heure de bonheur par jour. Obsédée par la création et la réparation de la cabine, comme si tu étais une femme à portée de main. Vous êtes le Créateur! Destiné pour mo-- Tais-toi. En haut. Je n'ai aucune idée de ce qui se passe, aucun contrôle sur ce qui se passe, et aucune idée si je vais devoir fuir les balles de nouveau bientôt. Régler les choses est la seule chose que je sais et contrôle, donc s'il vous plaît, arrêtez de parler. P est tombé silencieusement, à son grand soulagement.
Perdue dans ses pensées, elle n'a presque pas vu la bouteille d'eau s'envoler vers elle. L'avertissement trillé de Fafnir dans son oreille l'a alertée à la dernière seconde, et sa main gantée a tiré et a pris la bouteille juste à temps. "Merci." Elle a tourné son attention vers la femme, Jay, comme elle a demandé où était la rivière. Luci a raison. Lui ou moi, ou même Aries là-bas, on peut t'emmener. Bien que j'imagine que tu voudrais du savon, du shampooing et une serviette. J'ai fait de mon mieux, mais je doute que j'ai fait du bon boulot. Fafnir, sois chère et prends le shampooing et le savon." Son dragon s'est à nouveau essuyé, s'envolant vers l'endroit où son sac à dos était posé contre le mur et plongeant dans celui-ci.
Pup elle-même est allée à la cheminée et a pris sa serviette d'où elle l'avait lainée pour sécher la nuit dernière. Souriante, elle s'est déplacée et l'a remise à Jay alors que Fafnir s'envolait, une petite bouteille de shampooing dans ses griffes avant et une barre de savon dans son dos. "Soyez prévenus, ça va être froid et malheureux. La serviette aidera, mais pas beaucoup." Elle a jeté un coup d'œil alors que Kaesar initia des discussions sur leurs pouvoirs. Ses deux sourcils se sont levés dans l'incrédulité mineure, comme il prétendait avoir les pouvoirs de Cyclops, avant qu'elle ne jette dans ses deux cents. "Je m'appelle Puppeteer. Pup pour court. Je suis vraiment bon pour faire et réparer des choses." C'est réglé, elle a tourné son attention vers le silence. Si vous êtes prêt pour la première montre, silence, je vous serais reconnaissant. Fafnir," elle hurla la tête vers son dragon, volant dans des cercles paresseux autour d'elle. "n'a pas besoin de dormir. Donc tu ne seras pas seul."
Character sheet 
The voice in my head has some questions about you. No, I am not crazy.
Can't really call you crazy when my voice has questions too.
What is your real name?
Freya Mathews. My parents had a fondness for norse mythology.
Make sure no one learns it. So, have you thought of a good alias for yourself?
Puppeteer. Pup if you prefer. She glances away, talking to someone else. I'm not going to tell them tha-no, it's stupid, ugh, fine. She returns her attention. The voice, P, wishes to inform you of it's nickname for me. 'The Creator.'
How old are you, anyway? 
25.
How would you describe your own appearance? Height, hair, clothes, whatever.
I'm terrible at this. I'm about five foot seven inches with a little longer than shoulder lenght brown hair that has a streak of white in the front. Natural, I promise. I have murky green eyes and I typically dress in clothing that is half formal half work. Brown, thigh high, lace up boots with dark blue jeans. A green long sleeve button up shirt, a brown leather vest over that, and brown leather gloves. Here's a picture for a better idea.

Recently all of us are afflicted with these impossibly unreal abilities. Like Mystics. What is your ability?
I'm good at making and fixing things. Really good. If I have the proper tools I can create or fix basically anything I need or want to with a speed that would boggle the minds of most people. I don't even need to be taught how to use a tool, or what a machine is. I just grab them or lay a hand on them and know how to use tools and how machines work and how to fix them. Depending on how much I go 'in the zone' I could make something that should take years in a day. Though god am I tired after that. Sometimes I don't even need the tools, just the materials. Though that left me in a coma for a week, so I try to take it slow.
I can exert my will over machines and tools. Make pieces of a car engine stop working, draw a hammer to my hand, jam a gun, mostly little stuff like that. Though I have to be under two feet away or touching them for it to work.
I can also kinda, uh, give life to things. I'm not sure how far it goes, P assures me that it's only permanent things I've created myself, but that's how this little guy got here. She whistles, and a bronze mechanical dragon flies to her shoulder I call him Fafnir. Yes I can understand him. He's about as big as I can go for permanent, at least so far, life. Made me pass out and wake up in a hospital bed three days later.
Which, now that I think of it, was the beginning of the end. On the temporary side of things I can have a hammer or another tool do something by itself for a couple minutes, or have a bunch of tiny things like chess pieces move of their own volition for a game. It seems that their 'purpose' is whatever I deem it to be upon the 'blessing of life that I bestow'. P is very dramatic.
Fire and heat don't bother me. At all. I could stick my hand in a fire and be totally fine. I think I can't even get burned. I actually really enjoy blisteringly hot days of 100 degrees without breaking a sweat. It's why I hate this place, it's so cold. I think I can manipulate it too. Fire, that is. Like that guy from the Xmen movies you know, the one with the lighters. For example, fire reacts to my emotions some times. Flaring when I'm angry, dying out when I'm sad. From what I've gleaned from P, eventually I'll be able manipulate open flames to grow larger, burn hotter, or simply be snuffed out. It assures me that I can't actually create flames. Just manipulate them. So if you douse a flame, I can't make it spring back to life. Like I said, very similar to the guy from the X-men films. I think the whole affinity for fire thing has to do with the fact that my 'powers' are older than P likes to admit. From a time when all creating was done with fire, iron, and the strength of arm.
She hesitates
There's one more thing. Whenever I'm making things I get these...feelings I guess. They're like sensations of elements, or other supernatural traits like invincibility, breathing underwater, or never going dull, on the edge of consciousness. I think I could grab them and put them into whatever I'm making. Whenever I tried though, I passed out (I do that a lot when messing around with my powers don't I?) for a few hours and woke up with a killer headache. P insists that as long as I grow in power I could eventually do it.
What is your voice like? Has he told you anything aside to search for Elvarren?
P? Its current choice of voice is that of a woman right now. I think it just likes that sound for itself, since it tried male and small child of both genders in an attempt to cajole me. P rarely makes me do things, since I mostly prefer to stand frozen in place, locked in an internal struggle, rather than listen to what it tells me to do. It generally approves when I'm making things though.
Where did you come from, and how long have you been looking for Elvarren?
Rural Missouri. There were always things that needed to be made or fixed, so I was a blessing around the household. My parents told me to take it easy on hot summer days after I went into a coma for a week. The doctors and nurses, all looking noticeably more exhausted after I woke up, had said that was the problem. P convinced me that it was better to go along than it was too try to convince them that I had powers and a voice.
I left after P made me drain my mother dry.
Wandered around for a few years, eventually setting up in an autoshop. We became quite popular for fast, really good, service. I had taken to my current style of clothing, trying to keep as little skin to skin contact with people as possible. I only fed off of wildlife or idiots in clubs, gently drifting by until they were tired and had to leave. It was around that time that I made Fafnir. My coworkers found me and took me to the hospital. I woke up a few minutes before the Greys showed up. P screamed at me to run, and for the first time in a long, long time I complied immediately.
Raced back home, got dressed, grabbed everything I thought I'd need (yes, that includes this toolbelt) and I've been running ever since.
How did you end up here?
P said head north. North ended up here.
Anything else you want to get off your chest?
I'll get this ran down piece of crap liveable, ideally before the Greys show up. I hate half-finished products. Also, don't touch the toolbelt without asking.
It is good to meet you, friend. You’ll be safe here – for the time being…
Chuckles. Someone likes being ominous.
Misc. Details
Contents of Pup's Backpack:
-25 Weather proof matches, with a water-proof container
-A dozen small shampoos stolen from hotels
-A hatchet
-A 27x52in towel
-A sewing kit
-A dozen bars of soap
-Hydration pack and hose
-A sleeping bag
-Spare clothing (two extra button up shirts, one made of thick wool, one made of flannel. An extra pair of pants. Two pairs of thick wool socks. An extra pair of brown leather work gloves. A scarf.)
-First aid kit
-A 14x16 foot tarp
On Pup's person and in her Toolbelt:
-Claw Hammer (toolbelt)
-Multitool (toolbelt)
-Two dozen nails (toolbelt)
-Swiss Army knife (person)
-Knife (tucked into boot)
-Compass (person)
-Lighter  (person)