i wonder if your therapist knows everything about me - open

[DYLAN,]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 450px; color: black; text-align: justify; margin-top: 5px"][color=black]The Councilman had found his beloved bike a few hours ago. He had left it in an alleyway the night of the fire before going to bed, so the piece of black metal and two wheels had survived the flames. Although his rib was still in the process of healing, he was still using the bike, crawling down one of the main streets with a blank expression on his face. It kind of tugged at the graze every time he used a long leg to pedal but he was getting used to it - in a minute he'd have a break.

Things were finally looking up. Although being shot twice in the raid, the grazes were healing quickly and Trevor had managed to salvage as much of his hand as possible. The Badlands now had more supplies than they did before, and the coyote or fire hadn't killed them - they were lucky, incredibly lucky. As far as he could tell, none of the other groups had suffered as much as them, meaning they were indeed some sort of stronger force in this small community. Like phoenix's rising from literal ashes, or some poetic shit like that.

There was a small twinge of pain from his rib that sent the bike into a halt. "Ouch." He muttered in annoyance, climbing off and then dropping onto the curb. Dylan didn't bother checking the bandage - he knew it wasn't re-opened because the pain wasn't too much, but he definitely needed a break from riding his bike around. Dammit.

[Deleted Characters]

[align=center][size=8pt]Something that perhaps they didn't realize was that Trevor wasn't around often, because he was up, instead. He'd found that the rooftops kept him from being bothered constantly, and the sun kept him nice and warm. He'd made friends with a bird, but after a while he'd had to kill it to eat...that'd been a dark time. The thought made him frown; he'd named it after his brother, so it had been extra difficult for him to do...

On the other hand, the sound of a working bike made him poke his head out from over the ledge of one of the buildings, spotting Dylan. Oh, he knew his name, he knew that name. "Ouch?" It was small and quivering, but he was always around to help with problems...okay, but the bike. "Where'd you g-get that?"

[clover.]

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DON'T MISTAKE MY CHARITY — INFORMATION

clover's gaze was sympathetic when she spotted dylan. she had seen him get shot, seen the blood and everything that had taken place after that. "hey dylan." the woman's greeting was soft, as well as her smile. obviously smaller because she didn't know him too well, she still offered trevor a smile, too.

as the young boy asked about the bike, her eyes flitted to dylan's side and showed that her mind was elsewhere. she moved to sit next to dylan, stretching her legs out in front of her on the crumbling street. "are you holding up alright?" that was a start, if anything. she was close to lecturing the teenager about how horrible for him it must be to bike with that wound; but dylan was a tough nut to crack, and she hoped that he was smart enough to know his own limitations.
[spoiler=✨ TAGS | AUGUST EIGHTEENTH]GENERAL ·ﾟ★
— clover neraida maryam / cis female / she/her pronouns / prefers to be called clover; won't object to any nicknames used by friends
— created may 27th  / twenty-three years old / mentally and physically an adult
— the badlands / chamber

MISC INFO ·ﾟ★
— never takes off the silver ring engraved with roses and vines on her middle finger as it was given to her by her best friend.
— a lover of fashion and a passionate seamstress. will reassemble her clothing to create new outfits, and despite how impractical it may be she'll pay money for new fabric and cloth for her clothing.
— loves horror and romantic literature.
— enjoys gardening and creates gardens whenever she goes.
— speaks in a very articulate and verbose manner.

PHYSICAL ·ﾟ★ x.
— physical health: 100% / mental health: 95%
— upright posture / walks with a graceful gait  / smells of dyes and cloth
— she is 5'9'', which is considerably taller than most woman so she tends to tower over many others. she has short and sleek black hair that sweeps onto her forehead, olive black eyes, and caramel brown skin that is typically covered with long sleeved clothing but from time-to-time she can be seen with a t-shirt. often, she is wearing a black hijab and lipstick. clover's ears are pierced, and she wears silver studs. a scar stretches across her stomach. she has swirling tattoos over her back, shoulders, and upper arms but they are never seen due to her outfits, which she conveniently cuts to cover herself.

PERSONALITY ·ﾟ★
— positive traits: motherly, patient, humble, worrier, friendly
— neutral traits: perceptive, natural peacemaker, serious, mature
— negative traits:[/color] literal, high self-expectations, judgmental, awkward
— ravenclaw / amity / mbti type
— clover is an amiable and patient person, born with mother-like instincts. she is prone to keeping tabs on people, but she means no harm by it; if she cares about you, she does it to be sure that you're alright. at times, it's difficult for clover to relax, and her serious attitude can sometimes put people off.

[b]RELATIONSHIPS ·ﾟ★
— bisexual / single / not necessarily looking or interested
— virginia maryam x unnamed father
— older biological sister is priscilla (npc)
— pm to mentor / prev trained by her sister

INTERACTION ·ﾟ★
— hard physically / hard mentally / knows self defense
— usually doesnt start fights / shows mercy (often) / will kill; will maim
— has no issues with the necessity of violent bloodshed / the type to execute decisions for the greater good regardless of their personally unsavory nature
— attack in bold underline
— powerplaying nonviolent/healing actions is allowed
— in a fight, clover is accustomed to fighting with her fists and will not hesitate to hurt anyone who threatens her. she is familiar with how to fight with daggers and blades, and conceals one on the inside of her thigh as well as in her sleeves or pocket. her secondary weapon, as strange as it may be, is a chainsaw. it had once been used to help with her landscaping but when she decided to leave, she knew that a simple dagger wasn't going to be enough. along with that, she'll typically carry an automatic pistol on her hip.

OTHER ·ﾟ★
— heartchart / pinterest / bio / pm this account for plots
— lowkey based off of kanaya maryam from homestuck[/spoiler]

[DYLAN,]

[align=center][div style="text-align: justify; width:475px;font-size:9.3pt; line-height:15px; color:black;"]His gaze flickered up from the cracked concrete to meet Trevor's curious eyes - ah, it was nice to see the familiar face, especially one who had proven their worth by patching up his hand. He still had some of the bandages attached to the right hand, which was propped against his knee and resting comfortably. "Hey Trevor." He greeted with a smile, until he asked the question about the bike. After repainting it with a can of spray paint a few weeks ago, the thing looked as good as new. The only problem would be to find a tire if one popped or broke, but he always seemed to manage. "Oh, that? I've had it a while now. I found it in an old bike store a few blocks away from here, if you want one?"

His attention turned from Trevor towards Clover. "Hey." He greeted with an equally large smile, relieved to see the older girl out and about after her recent return. Although it was close to a ghost town, maybe things would start to look up. He could only hope. "I've been worse. The graze on my ribs isn't even painful, just... Annoying. It's taking ages to heal and until then I'm practically walking with a target on my back." He nodded towards her, "How about yourself? You okay?"

[charlie luciano]

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CHARLIE "LUCKY" LUCIANO

face to face with the man who sold the world

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The raid had done good things for the Badlands, but at the same time, bad things had come from it as well. They got their supplies, but not in the way that Charlie had hoped for. They had barely escaped with their lives, most of them suffering some sort of injury, and now the Badlands were written in fat, black ink as an enemy on the list of the Northstar District's foreign relations. It provided excitement and something to do for once, but only if they all knew what the fuck they were doing. Charlie, as soon as they were mostly healed from their injuries, was going to start prepping the grunts for some training.

He had been leaning up against a wall, a lit cigarette in between his fingers. The Italian took a drag and let the wispy smoke stream from his nostrils, his chocolate colored eyes flickering towards movement out of the corner of his vision. It was Dylan riding down the street on a bicycle. Huh. Charlie remembered finding one of those when he was a kid, but never knowing how to ride it all that well. He never bothered to teach himself. When Dylan had stopped, though, and everyone started to gather around him, that's when Charlie decided to put out the cigarette onto the ground and walk over. "You oughta' teach us how ta' ride one a' those things. It wouldn't hurt." It could provide faster transportation, and perhaps they could attach a wagon of sorts to the end of it to faster carry supplies back and forth through the city and even from raids.

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BIOGRAPHY — JOIN THE BOARDWALK EMPIRE