P R I S M
Il n'a pas fallu longtemps pour que Prism ait le numéro de la barista dans la poche arrière de son jean et une tasse de café noir sur la maison. Avec un clin d'œil à la barista, dont elle avait déjà oublié le nom, Prism a fait son chemin à la table que son groupe avait choisi. Il était assez spacieux, assez pour s'adapter à tous et ont encore une certaine salle de coude. Elle prit une gorgée du café qui lui fut donné, grimaçant légèrement le léger soupçon de sucre qu'il contenait, et regarda le reste de ses compagnons.
"Donc, d'après les sons de cela, nous devons frapper un marché de l'artisanat et un centre de jardin après cela."
Le prisme se tourna pour regarder Sera et s'inclina. Un marché de l'artisanat pour Sling et un jardin pour elle. Ils auraient besoin de trouver ces endroits d'abord avant de créer leur plan de transport, mais Prism espérait qu'ils trouveraient quelques-uns à proximité. Ils avaient passé par de nombreux magasins sur le chemin du café qu'elle aurait aimé visiter. Peut-être même qu'elle trouverait quelque chose pour aider ses nouvelles capacités de conjuration, quelque chose qu'elle avait gardé secret. Elle n'était qu'un sage druidique, en ce qui concerne tout le monde, et elle l'aimait comme ça. Elle aimait avoir une carte de prime dans ses manches pour quand elle se retrouverait dans un endroit serré.
"Nous pourrions d'abord aller au magasin d'artisanat et regarder autour de la région. S'il y a un centre de jardin à proximité, je suis sûr que je le sentirais », a-t-elle proposé, en regardant la carte que Mikkish avait. « Je ne suis pas très pressée d'obtenir des fournitures puisque j'en ai apporté avec moi, mais ce serait bien de sécuriser un endroit pour quand mes bébés ont besoin de quelque chose. »
Elle s'est accommodée, comme si sa déclaration était définitive. Une autre gorgée de son café et elle en avait fini avec ça, prenant ce temps pour regarder autour du café à la place. Ce n'était pas bondé, en soi. Il y avait quelques mécènes en dehors d'eux, mais aucun d'entre eux ne semblait tout cela accessible.
Elle a eu l'occasion d'un autre regard sur ses compagnons avant de se pencher sur la table et enfin de se poser des questions sur quelque chose qui l'ennuyait depuis un moment maintenant. "Alors, cette pancarte devant. Tout le "Blood Mages n'accueille pas les affaires", de quoi pensez-vous qu'il s'agit?" Elle regarda par-dessus ses épaules pour s'assurer que personne n'écoutait leur conversation avant de continuer : « Il n'y a pas de'mage de sang' ici, n'est-ce pas? »
Elle a braqué les yeux sur le plus silencieux de leur groupe. "Et toi, Veste? Tu as été très agité là-bas. Pas un mage de sang, n'est-ce pas?"
Name: Alexandria Prism Morton
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Appearance: Prism stands at 5'5 with a lean body build. Her naturally brown hair had been cut to fall just above her shoulders and is dyed a bright blue with yellow streaks. Her hair color changes nearly every month, depending on her mood. Her pale skin has been littered with different tattoos of various sizes, but the most prominent one is the thread of intertwined rose vines running from the back of her left hand, up her arm, across both shoulder blades and down to the back of her right hand. Her murky green eyes - the color of moss - shines with a somewhay devilish grin when she's about to pull a daredevil act.
Personality: Prism is, in a word, free. She's not the type of person to be bound to the earth by either material things or even interpersonal connections. She tends to do things her own way, which often gets her in more trouble than she can handle. She's a daredevil by nature, and this form of spontainity and recklessness has been the reason of broken bones and semi-healed scars. Prism can also be seen as a bit detached, making her unable to form life long connection with people. For her, nothing lasts so she never makes the effort to forge relationships in the first place. This doesn't mean that people who have been drawn by her very nature haven't tried getting closer to her. They just never succeeded.
Magic:
Healing: 4
Druidic Magic: 5
Conjuration (Inanimate objects/weapons): 1
Non-Magical Combat:
Guns (Handguns): 3
Knives/Daggers: 5
Hand-to-hand: 2
Support Skills:
Wealth: 4
Charisma: 4
Street-smarts: 2
History: There wasn't one person who mattered that did not know who the Mortons were. At least, that was what Prism's family had always claimed. While boastful, there still rang a certain truth to their statement. After all, who didn't know about the family owned film company that constantly produced Oscar award winning films? Directors, actors, screenwriters... You name it, the Mortons have it. Art seemed to flow as freely in their veins as blood.
Prism wasn't any different. Her art took the form of theater - of acting and charming people. Her parents had thought her to be the next bright star of the family, the one to wear beautiful gowns as she walked down the red carpet on her way to accept her next award. She had done as expected of her and became a child star, raking up a few trophies and awards for herself. Unfortunately, the curse young stars almost always fell under took her as well. No, it wasn't drugs or alcohol that dragged her away from the bright lights of Hollywood. It was magic.
Prism first discovered her affinity for magic when she was the age of seventeen and shooting a commercial for a feminine product. The shoot had her in the middle of a garden and during one of their breaks, Prism found that if she concentrated hard enough she could hear the plants and flowers speak. No, theirs was not the tongue of man. Instead it was something that pierced into her heart and sung within her. She had hidden it at first, knowing even at a young age that such things were considered strange and was frowned upon by most people. No, she held herself back and only pursued her study into the arcane in secret. Eventually, her time was spent inside greenhouses and gardens instead of at acting lessons and shoots like her parents wanted her to. Rumours spread that she had began to be involved with illegal drugs and her parents had fuelled the thought. Bad publicity was still publicity, and there were still plently of people who favoured Prism despite her steadily growing bad image. It didn't help that even before discovering magic, Prism had begun to throw out frilly dresses and replaced them with tank tops and ripped jeans. Foster the image, was what her parents thought. Every family needed a black sheep, after all.
After graduating from high school, Prism received a letter inviting her to a school where she could further train in the magical arts. There was no hesitation to her decision and soon she found herself on a small ship to a mysterious island.
Notable Items:
• An small dagger she had stolen from the set of her father's fantasy series
• A terrarium necklace
• A black beanie from her signature look