Name: Casey
Nicknames:
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Birthday: 15 November 19
Pokemon: Carvanha
National #: 318
Title: Savage Pokemon
Nature: Bold- It doesn’t matter what the situation; if she wants to do something, she’s going to do it, no questions asked. She’s free-spirited and daring, and nothing phases her. Ever.
Height: 5’4”
Weight: 132 lbs
Hair Color: Golden blonde
Hair Length: Down to her waist and sheared off very unevenly
Eye Color: Light red (not pink, just a light shade of red)
Skin Tone: Fairly tan but not overly so
Build: Thin but muscular
Markings/Scars: There is a yellow star on his chest (crossing over her collarbone.
Appearance: She’s cute, but in an adolescent way. She’s clearly never going to grow up fully, not appearance-wise, so she wears an obscene amount of makeup. Two small versions of the head spikes on a Carvanha protrude from her hair.
Full Outfit: She wears skimpy outfits to establish more of a “womanly figure” than she will ever have. Her favorite includes a sports bra and a pair of short shorts, along with some four-inch heels (which she ditches when fighting and opts for barefoot instead).
Personality: She’s pretty tame most of the time, but when she gets excited, she can’t be controlled. She’s stubborn and brash, but honestly, she’s just excitable.
Family: Her brother killed himself at the age of 17, and her mother has been institutionalized for as long as she can remember. “Father” left before Casey was born.
Background: Casey didn’t perform well in school. She was always haunted by the whispers—the ones in her head and the ones of her peers. Her mental state was fragile, and she fought harder to keep it under wraps than she fought to score well on what she deemed “pointless tests.” But she was intelligent; she always was. She just had better things to focus on.
Her brother died when she was 12, and no one treated her remotely the same again. Her teachers showed pity for the practically-orphaned girl, and her peers sneered at her in the halls. Casey wanted none of it. So she stole the gun from her brother’s room—the same gun her brother had used—and fired it into the air a few times. The police were there in minutes.
And she claimed she would take it to school the next day to “show everyone what it could do.”
She was taken into care and assigned to a foster family. By this point, she’d accepted her insanity and sat in the corner, completely still, for hours.
Her foster mother didn’t know what to do, so when a nice man in a suit and tie showed up, claiming he’d been assigned to take her under his care, the woman thanked him graciously and sent the girl on her way.
On the way to his car, Gorfrey leaned down and whispered, “Were you really going to shoot your friends?”
“I don’t have friends.”
“Then your peers?”
“Of course not,” came her reply. “I was going to drown them.”
