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[abbr=nessy made this <3]©[/abbr]
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#2
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[abbr=nessy made this <3]©[/abbr]
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#3
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[abbr=nessy made this <3]©[/abbr]
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"the study," character muse
#1
[table]
[div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 18px; color: #FFF; margin-top: 105px"]PLAYLIST ・゚✧
[div style="width: 250px; height: 225px; overflow: auto; padding-right: 27px"][div style="width: 250px; height: 225px; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; text-align: justify; color: #584a62; "]"YOU DON'T OWN ME" SAYGRACE

"I'm not just one of your many toys."

"MONEY ON MY MIND" UPSAHL, Absofacto
"I don't want no enemies,
Don't get in the way of what's mine."

"PSYCHO" EMM

"You act all high and mighty,
like you're the sane ones"
[div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 18px; color: #FFF; margin-top: 105px"]CANONS ・゚✧
[div style="width: 250px; height: 225px; overflow: auto; padding-right: 27px"][div style="width: 250px; height: 225px; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; text-align: justify; color: #584a62; "]✧ Crow enjoys dancing, but she gets irritable if her partner cannot match her tempo, making her not the partner for everyone.
✧ Crow is how she introduced herself when she came to The Badlands.
✧ She got this nickname for her pull to 'shiny' things by her previous sham of a group.
✧ Jewelry, tinsel, and any material that pertains to making clothes can be used as items of trade or gifts.
✧ She showed up with a rolling suitcase of clothes, materials, and two sewing kits.
✧ Her weapons stem from arts & crafts, tools, and accessories, generally always having something on her to defend herself or attack. She has only used a gun once in her life point blank.
✧ social vices; anything with watermelon liquor & Mexican candies, hookah
✧ confident, selfish, opportunistic, not afraid of the spotlight, dancer, dramatic, critical, blunt
✧ MO.I appearing to do something harmless, casual, mundane, prior to going in for an attack or kill. Opportunistic, sudden.
✧ MO.II unexpected, drastic, over the top, crazed.
[div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 18px; color: #FFF; margin-top: 105px"]SAMPLE ・゚✧
[div style="width: 250px; height: 225px; overflow: auto; padding-right: 27px"][div style="width: 250px; height: 225px; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; text-align: justify; color: #584a62; "]✧ She wished she could say she believed her mother, that someone would help them. Walking down a highway, cars abandoned every twenty or so meters. They were as worthless as her mother's failing positivity. It didn't matter what the cars looked like; a truck, a Civic, a Lamborghini, what they lacked was fuel and batteries. The same lack she found in her mother. Her only energy found when a crisis occurred, having them run from whatever threatened them. Because that's what dear dad said to do. But daddy's dead.
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