For myself and Kyubi, please do not post unless one of us. Thanks and have a blessed day! <3

Res for annotating plot/etc

[note: i was not aware i went so deep on my character sheet, you're for sure not obligated to do this much lol] childhood/growing up

Name: Salem Grace Howell

Nicknames and how much they like them: growing up in a very strict household with very little exposure to outside, Salem has no nicknames.

Nationality: this is also extremely unknown. Their appearances would point to middle eastern descent, but their actual nationality is completely unknown.

Birth City: also unknown, they were adopted when they were roughly five

How long did he/she live there: roughly five years, wherever it was Did they have a happy childhood: she would say yes if she were lying. She and her adoptive mother have never gotten along, and she feels like all of her rights and power have been stripped from her unjustly. That is partially what caused her to go into the military.

Schools Attended: Marianne forced Salem to homeschool until her junior year of highschool, while Grimm was allowed to do as he pleased, given endless freedom while she was kept under her mother's iron fist. Finally, she was able to go to Greenway High School as a junior.

Experiences with Academics: Salem hated being homeschooled, she always felt like there was something sketchy, not only with the favoritism shown between the twins, but also with the curriculum she was taught. When she went to highschool at GHS, she had almost no knowledge of history or the sciences. She soon stopped going and began sneaking around, killing time until she was 18, when she left home without a warning to her mother. Grimm snitched on her a few weeks later, though, and she was forced home. She broke out a second time without telling him a few months later, even with maximum security on her at all times, and joined the Army. She kept a relationship with Grimm and eventually reconciled with her mother as well.

Mother's Name: Marianne Howell

Relationship with mother: Salem always feels as though she has been rejected by her mother. She has always been very skeptical and suspicious by nature, and that seems to put her mother off. They will often get into heated arguments, and Salem is very aware that her mother knows how sensitive to criticism she is, and tries to push her buttons.

Father's Name: N/A

Relationship with father: they have no idea where they came from, and were adopted by a single mother with no intention of marrying.

Sibling's Name: Grimm Howell

Relationship with sibling: Twin brother, she and Grimm are extremely close and go everywhere together. They love each other very much and never go anywhere without the other.

Best friend's name: Grimm Howell

Relationship with best friend: above :)

Happiest memory of childhood: turning eighteen and finally being able to break out.

Most traumatic incident of childhood: almost drowning in a lake when she was seven.

Their one vital strength to team: diligence, willpower, self-control, perserverance, determination. These are all assets to her team. Her one vital strength, above the others, is that she has a basic understanding of weaponry and self-defense--she was trained by the FBI before some bad stuff happened that she refuses to talk about, and she was dropped. She is rusty, but still has that training, plus four years in the army before being released in the same mysterious way as the FBI. She is also pretty good with electronics, but not gifted at all, just above average. Their one vital weakness to team: Can be domineering and stubborn. Another is that she has a unique disease where she can feel things that are happening to others. For example, if someone touches their neck, she would feel pressure on her neck. It can cause her to lose focus and even pain.

Is drawn to people who: have lots of confidence, are extremely knowledgable but don't come off as 'better' or 'as good as' her, are physically fit, are sophisticated and well-rounded, allow her to take control of a situation but aren't turned off by her intensity--people that challenge her

*can give you the longitude and latitude of their current location *only tells time in military format

*rarely drinks alcohol

*requires excessive personal space

*extremely talented violinist

*very good liar

*very calm under pressure

*very good at strategy, and obsessed with chess

*mountaineering

-when she's in control and acing whatever task she's been given -she knows she looks good in formal clothing, but it typically makes her feel uncomfortable

-she could honestly care less

-she is however proud of how fit/strong she is and will flaunt that Hairstyle/Hair color:

-a reddish dark brown that is typical for those of middle eastern descent; her hair falls to her mid-back and is meticulously straight with even bangs in the front.

Eye color: olive green, very bright and eyecatching

Height: 5'7

Physique: very athletic and muscled, but very much a slim, runner's figure. She is very, very healthy in her care for her body, and it shows. She has long legs and an average-sized toro with defined abdominal muscles. She has long, slim arms and small hands and feet.

General clothing style: Salem wears a lot of black, especially leather pants, jackets, etc.

How pretty/handsome would the world consider them: 9/10 What kind of person would be drawn to him/her:

-people who are more submissive

-people who like intensity and passion

-people who like someone who knows what they want

-people who want to work for a relationship, not have it handed to them

-people who like adventure

How knowledgeable about history: very little, because her mother kept it from her. She has extensive knowledge of military conflicts though due to her time in the military studying strategy. How will their background help the team: military experience, being an impeccable role model and leader, bold fearlessness, knowledge of different kinds of weapons, being a quick learner, field experience, quick-witted and great reflexes

Any other pertinent info: she will not show weakness, so the others will have to watch her carefully to make sure she is not secretly injured

Sexuality: heterosexual

Attracted to: not moving too fast if she has feelings, or moving super fast if she doesn't--she is very extreme; intensity, 'not putting labels on things', people who are self-confident, people who are assertive, people who can keep up with her

They would show their interest by: challenging them, asking their opinion, taking their side in arguments, wanting to partner with them, actually speaking to them and not blowing them off, showing respect, having heated arguments with them, showing some level of vulnerability or weakness

Current relationship status: single, because very few people can 'handle' her

Do they miss anyone: not romantically, but her brother

Do they believe in soulmates: no, nor fate--she is not very artistic or creative in her thinking, she only believes in what is tangible and in front of her, and considers herself a realist

Are they interested in dating: not really, but if the right person came along, she'd be up for the challenge

Ideal job: FBI

Major in college: didn't go to college, went straight to the Army after dropping out of high school

Current job: a computer programmer at a local corporation, with skills she learned in the Army and FBI.

She stood on the brink of the abyss, the recollection of how she had gotten there as dark and obscure as the shadowy depths below her. Her toes hung off the edge, willing her to plunge to her death, yet she did not jump back. Fear coursed through her veins, but the confusion was paralyzing, forcing her to remain in place.

She stood perfectly still for what seemed to be a long while. She had not moved even a single muscle, but from her limited vision she appeared to be on a grassy plateau. The grass was the grass of the rolling plains that loomed in the distance, much beyond what the eye could see. A strong and mighty river sounded below the canyon, and instinctively she knew she had been trying to cross to the other side, though it was much too far. Suddenly, in the midst of the silence, a strong figure grabbed her hand gently. She shrieked, and if it hadn’t been for his strength, pulling her back towards him, she would have fallen to her death. Pebbles and dirt fell into the water below, deserting the ground she once stood on.

Without thinking, the woman instinctively performed a combative move that sent the man crashing to the ground on the plateau beside her. She had found control of her body once more, though it felt strange. She only felt partially in control of her body, as if it weren’t hers. Her form was sloppy and the movements she had performed were only partially effective--her arms were too short and her legs were not strong enough. Even her perception of the world was skewed, as if she had suddenly dropped to a lower vantage point. She was even dizzy because of this, but nothing was as concerning as the way the man looked at her.

His dark brown eyes showed great concern, but more than that, betrayal. Pain. Grief. He showed great love for her in his eyes, but with great love came an even greater fear. He remained on the ground, dumbfounded and terrified, watching the woman. Her intelligent gaze studied him, but she said nothing. She felt a strong tugging feeling from her chest, something she recognized as a primal instinct. A need to love, to protect, to seek. She heard one word resounding in her head, bouncing off of the walls of her mind. It begged her to remember because just the very sound of the name in her head caused her to be overwhelmed by emotion. Grimm.

She began to write the word down in the soil with a stick. She did not understand the curves or the patterns or the shapes she was making, but something deep within her understood quite well, as if she had written it a thousand times. The man watched her with that troubled expression and she understood him to be a husband or a brother, someone very dear to her. She wished she understood who he was, but her vision remained dark and loose and foggy, unwilling to grow sharp and tangible.

He mumbled something softly to her, his eyes gentle, saddened. She felt as though she had never heard the language before, yet she understood him. What is it?

She wished so desperately to reply, to ask questions, to communicate, for it resembled a connection to another being that she could not currently obtain. Her body tried to will itself to speak, but her mind was blank, unable to formulate her thoughts. She stared at him blankly, her expression doe-like. She stared back down at the letters she had written. Five in total, and the last two repeated one another. She didn’t understand what it meant, but she understood it was an important key to her past. She looked back up at him once more, studying him this time.There was a bow beside him, and she suddenly realized he had taken her there to kill her.

…

Christmas morning. The smell of the pines in the forest triggered an image. She was in a room. The walls were cream-colored and pictures of people she knew remained on the coffee table and the counter and the other surfaces around her. A smaller tree than the ones in this forest was placed beside her, decorated with shiny ornaments in red and green and silver and blue. Joyful music lulled in the background, and though she felt safe, she felt very alone. It was fairly similar to how she felt now, except in the vision she knew who she missed, and she knew who she was. She didn’t understand what it meant. This body was meant for silence. In a separate vision she had received two days prior, she saw an elderly woman dressed in the same type of clothing she wore now. She smiled down at her patiently, and said something in that beautiful language the man spoke. Again, she didn’t understand, but her body knew. Your mind is not made to speak, the woman said. Your mind is made to listen. The gods speak to those who choose silence. Let that be you, Talutah.

The young woman spoke the name gingerly, and since that moment, she had known who her body belonged to. Yet, her mind was someone else. She didn’t understand, because each rejected the other. For days she had been walking in silence, hoping for clarity. She grew more fearful with each day. She had been alone since she had been walking, and though she remembered the man from the first day she could recall, she didn’t remember what had happened to him--all she knew was that he was no longer.

Not long after her vision in the forest, the young woman approached a portion of the river that was shallow enough to cross. Her body had carried her here, and something deep within her had found purpose she did not understand. It had led her here, to the place in the river she could cross. For many moons she had been walking beside the river, letting it guide her path, but her legs stopped here. They told her to cross.

Turning, she heard noise in the bushes. She understood it to be an enemy of some kind, though she did not know what kind. Her body told her that the noise of her people was silence, and those who sounded noise were the enemy. Someone had told her that once, perhaps the old woman from the vision. She saw nothing. The water rippled at her feet. It was strong and the feeling of the current on her feet caused her body to tell her that she had once lost someone she cared about to the river. She did not fully understand, but she stood still, waiting for the enemy to pass.

The next movements happened very quickly. The cry of an enemy tribe sounded, three or four men came into sight from where they had been hiding. She had another vision--the man from before. Her brother--that was who he had been. It is not safe for us here anymore, he extended his hand to her. She was crying, she had tried to stay behind. He had gone back for her--winter was coming and he did not want her to die. For many moons, they had been walking to catch up to their tribe. That was when her memory had returned.

Sharp objects flew at her from every direction, each of the men blocking an escape. For the second time, her mind had taken over--it rationalized her options, it reminded her of training this body had not undertaken. She dove into the water, an uncoordinated and sloppy movement that seemed to control a body that she no longer inhabited. The men followed her a short way beside the riverbank but soon gave up when the river widened and the bank became craggy and difficult to traverse. Her relief was short-lived. Despite her mind’s attempts to teach this body to tread water, to sustain herself, to hold her breath--this body did not know how to swim.

She was cold. Freezing, actually, to the point where her appendages were too numb to even feel connected to her limp frame. She remembered very little of how she had fallen upon the land beneath her, but the water that seemed to envelop her lungs, stomach, and every inch of skin and hair told the pages of her story that seemed to have been ripped out. She coughed and coughed, releasing the earthy river water from her insides until her throat was raw. She lost a fleeting desire to speak--to ask questions that would elucidate her troubled mind.

She flexed her fingers, watching them with a silent yet tangibly keen interest. Something still didn’t feel right, something was terribly wrong. She felt a lack of belonging, though she could not make out exactly why. It was as if her soul was a square that had been forced into a cylindrical mold, disparate in dimension and angle and color and size. Her gaze trailed from her own body to the looming frame beside her. She vaguely remembered being held in his arms and she wondered if she had fought him for her own freedom, her own security. There were instincts deep within her that she acknowledged as her own, but completely not her own. As if, somewhere, in another dimension, she had been learned in ways that ceased to exist here.

“[Who are you?]” She jumped at her own tongue, hoarse and raspy as she had expected, but flowing with alien language she could not comprehend. It was like painting the right picture with the wrong brush: she knew she had said what she had desired to express, yet the language was not her own. It was something of this place, something unfamiliar to her.

He replied, but she could tell by his body language that he had answered her question with one of his own. His uniquely-hued eyes displayed a warmth that she clung to, a genuine concern that transcended the barriers between them. Yet, she hardly understood what he had asked, and thus, was rendered unable to answer.

It was something European, that language that he spoke. She recognized that somewhere in a hazy, obscure sea of memories that were too slippery to grasp, she had known a few words of it. Nothing enough to carry a conversation, just something she had picked up while somewhere else. She could barely make out a scene in her mind, something that felt as though it was entirely disconnected from where she was now, on a different dimension. She couldn’t explain the feeling of estrangement she felt between herself and her memories, but it was tangible and dysphoric. She felt so disconnected from her own being, from reality. She felt as though she was in a reverie, a dreamscape, a painting she had stared at for so long she had become apart of it.

A woman’s voice sliced through the foggy obscurity of her senses, causing her to flinch and move closer to the gargantuan figure that remained beside her. Her voice had been cruel and bitter, wishing harm upon the woman. She didn’t have to speak the same languages as these people to understand their intentions. Her eyes showed an intense fear that the rationality of her mind was annoyed to have to settle. Just as before, the feeling of having the right soul in the wrong body struck her conscious in a way that made her thoughts tingle. Again she drew nearer to the man beside her, feeling as though the security his concern had given her was the only security she could obtain in this moment. Unsure of what the woman had said, or what malice was indicated by her tone, she remained calm but frigid, blue-lipped and shivering as she hugged her knees, hoping to maintain the slightest bit of warmth. Her lack of comprehension of the scene before her left her delirious and dependent on her rescuer for safety and security, something she would have never otherwise allowed.

(This is a long-overdue response. Sorry about that. ^-^)

For some reason, everything encompassing him seemed to fade. The turbulence of the river, the friction of the mob, and the cold embrace of her skin simply evaporated. He couldn’t recognize whether it was the way she peered at him or the manner in which their eyes fastened. His sun-kissed fingers clutched onto her tighter but in a shielding fashion. Cane couldn’t help but recognize her, or perhaps the way she gleamed at him, even though he had never corresponded with her until this day. He huffed under his breath as the noise encompassing him seemed to dissolve back in. His jaw clenched as his orbs flashed around.

“Back off,” His eyes glinted as he grew pissed at the fellow villagers’ statements. They denoted bitterly with hostility laced across their lips. Were they regarding the same person? She was nevertheless human, a mortal that was in peril of drowning. Just because she emanates from an unconventional place doesn’t indicate she will provoke infliction. Did they anticipate him letting her drown just because of her ancestry? He didn’t belong here either, primarily with his skin, hair, and eye coloration variation. Does that signify they would allow him to suffer the predestination of asphyxiating if they were supplied the occasion? He was propitious to even be accepted in this community with the way he appeared. His teeth gritted as he overheard the crowd around him grow withdrawn. They had arisen closer in hopes to get a better peep at the youthful woman in his arms, but Cane was authorized to maintain them at bay with his foolhardy words. He could recognize that the feeble woman was uncomfortable in a dissimilar environment, if she wasn’t then she wouldn’t be stiff in his grip. His knees scraped into the unyielding dirt as he persisted kneeling on the ground, his hair and skin dripping, his cheeks crimsoned from the unfriendly water. “You are declaring that you would watch a helpless being die in a river due to the fact that they weren't a kin of this village?” His tongue seethed as he exclaimed. Cane had essentially bequeathed to their tingly words about not helping her. He was going to accommodate her and that was his terminal decision. He retained her confined in his arms, not caring for his clothes and skin to get tinged with exceeding cold water. His lustrous white hair glowed with water droplets from formerly drifting into the storming waters. Cane hoisted her further into his arms, his hands supporting her weak body. He allowed her to envelop her arms around his neck for mere support as he picked himself off of the terrain with a trivial grunt. Cane unwaveringly walked away from the overstimulating crowd.

He didn’t guide her to his place, with a fervent bed and fresh clothes. He apprehended the villagers would revolt even further at the mere reality that he trusted her enough to let her in. He alternatively piloted her to a sequestered area where hand-made wooden benches endured. The benches encircled a broad yet meager unlit campfire. Each bench was partially weathered but still suitable to sit on. He leaned over, planting her on one of the benches. Cane sauntered off, but he didn’t devise her to sorrow for long. He released a thick laced towel on her head, one that was unmistakably hand-made just like the bench and every other item in this village. He provided an uncomplicated tender smile and skimmed it off her head and around her shoulders. He knelt in the not-so-hot sun, his clothes continuously making him cold. His fingers fiddled but he was subsequently able to ignite a fire. He customarily didn’t light a fire during the day, underneath the blazing sun, but he and she were both frozen and soaked. Better yet, he didn’t even know how long she had been in the water.

“Warm yourself,” He described but it was undeniable that she didn’t understand his language. He loaned out his hand, proposing that he touch her. He didn’t desire to outright seize her and frighten her. He finally took her wrists, guiding her hands to rub together. It was a task he had learned to heat his hands, he doesn't grasp where or when, he just memorizes how. Cane enabled her to lean forward, opening her hands, palm open, towards the fire so she could explore the warmth but not burn herself. By no means was he seeking to teach her like he would a child, he was merely striving to allow her to understand. His heterochromia eyes gazed at the flickering flames, his lips slimming in deep thought.