Full Name: My name is Robyn Angelita Diaz-SakamotoNickname: Rob, Robby, Lita, Bunny (when in disguise as an airhead)True Name: My Name is TrustedPartner's Name: Karasu Kobayashi<--link
Gender: I am female.Marital Status: I am not looking for any relationships.Age: I'm twenty-three years old.Birth Date: I was born on August 8; the year is unimportant. Occupation/Grade: I was an exotic dancer, and i am a college second year. I major in Photography.Dreams/Life Goals: To be the one behind the camera capturing everything instead of the one in front of everyone's eyes.Hair: My hair has been prematurely silver since I was twelve years old. It reaches my waist when loose; shoulder length when worn in my usual twin tails.Eyes: My left eye is pale blue-green, while my right is pale lilac. I wear colored contacts when I wish to blend in or fit a costume better.Height: I stand right at 5'6" (or about 167.6cm).Build: I have a decent handful for my chest; thin, muscled abdomen, arms, and legs; a decent handful of ass and hips as well.Name location: It's on my bottom lip. I cover it up with either flesh-toned lipstick, or one of several shades of red or pink; it takes a ridiculous number of layers.
She is jaded when it comes to the people around her. She acknowledges that her body is what most people pay attention to and uses it to her advantage. She plays innocent and coy when the need arises. While she might seem cruel or loose, she has her own moral code she sticks to strictly, but she does admit to breaking some of her own rules every now and then. She has no sense of self-worth and has thrown away most chances to improve herself; some almost as quickly as she rejects any religion. She hurts herself in an effort to cleanse herself of the blood she perceives on her hands; the guilt never goes away, though. She only allows herself release through her photography. She has no hope and trusts no one, nor does she believe in love or anything lasting forever. She rarely seems depressed, and doesn't agonize over what she really feels, since emotions are only tools to be used. When she feels something that she can't control, she feels it deeply and painfully, and she hides it in the darkest corner of her soul where it can not be found and can not be used against her. She adjusts her reaction to each situation, and thinks of people in terms of usefulness. She doesn't think of herself as cold, but she chokes off any warmth that may creep into her heart. Her moods are only masks, and she changes them as often as she can get away with; this keeps others from getting too close to her.
The place was Chicago, IL, USA. The year was 1976, and a certain Fighter hadn't found her Sacrifice. Some thought she never would, but she never lost hope. She wouldn't bond with anyone in place of her missing half, though it was painful. Then one day, her link to her partner was cut off and went limp. She was surprised and left feeling empty. Her Name was Serenity, but she lost her serenity when she realized what had happened to cause her link to be severed. Her Sacrifice had died, and now she'd never meet him or her. She became listless in her depression, void of all her hope. During this time, she did as she was told by anyone with authority over her.
Fast forward to 1980, Serenity had become a whole Unit with the addition of a Blank; the Fighter didn't even remember when it had happened, or what his name even was. She simply obeyed him, never feeling any connection; no need to be with him or protect him. She no longer felt listless, but her serenity was a mask, the glue holding her together as the void in her soul continued to grow. Eventually at his insistence, they married.
Fast forward to 1992. They now have two children, a boy named Colt, and a girl named Robyn. The children looked like the blending of their ancestries: Japanese and Latin American. They each had their father's coloring, but their mother's body type. The only problem with the girl was her eyes were not only two different colors, but neither were common in either Japanese or Latina coloring. They raised the children the best they could, but in typical American fashion, the children were in the care of others as the marriage fell apart.
The first memory that Robyn has is of her parents fighting. She was supposed to be asleep and couldn't have been more than four at the time. The calm, cold voices that slowly raised in volume before objects started flying and crashing. Something had gone wrong, and somehow, the girl knew she was the cause. That was the first night she cried herself to sleep. The next day she had slipped on an emotional mask so that no one would know what she'd heard.
Her next clear memory is one she forces herself to forget, but she remembers in her sleep anyway. She was five, and it was summer time. The child was spending the night at her Grandmother's house. Now, in this house lived one of her male cousins and two of her uncles. One night, towards the end of her visit, one of her uncles crept into her borrowed room. This particular uncle had always been creepy in her opinion, but she'd always been nice and tried to treat him like normal. There's not much to say about what happened afterward. Her nightgown was a feeble barrier against him at best. She woke up halfway through, but by then the damage was done. In the morning, her ears were missing.
The family came up with some half-assed story to hide what happened. It was never spoken of after the story had been spread, and she lived in shame and fear for the next three years of her life, until he was sent to jail for the rape of another young girl. He died two years later, but there was no relief for the girl.
Strangers hadn't heard the lie or knew the truth of the matter; when they looked at her, they just saw the lack of ears and assumed the worst about her character. So, the girl covered everything up with a mask and shoved it all down to the darkest part of her mind so that it wouldn't hurt anymore. Soon, her parents divorced, and she blamed this too on herself.
As she grew older, there was always the feeling of eyes on her, and she hated every second of it. Her mask was more firmly in place than any emotion could ever dare dislodge; everything inside was rejected and pushed away until she felt nothing at all. She scorned who she was and who she had to be. She sank further into herself and pulled away from those around her, but the saddest part was that no one knew. No one cared enough to try.
She was shuffled from father's house to mother's house, and suffered from insomnia. Every time she fell asleep she had one of two nightmares; either way she woke up crying. It was in her sixteenth year that she realized what she had done: added to her guilt for everything real and imagined, the divorce, and her own rape, was the fact that she'd killed the girl she was; there was blood on her hands. The fact that she was the only one to know didn't lessen the crime. She'd forgotten how to cry, but she felt she had to do something to lessen her guilt, to atone even a little for her trespasses.
She grabbed a knife; it didn't matter if she was careful or not. No one was home to witness it. The blade was cold and dull, but it was a relief when it finally pierced her skin. She watched as the wound seemed to cry for her, and she smiled brokenly when she felt her guilt lessen just a bit. It didn't bleed much or long, and the wound was gone without a trace in two weeks. Her only proof that this was to be the price she paid was that her guilt hadn't returned to its previous level.
It wasn't always a knife, and sometimes it was deeper than it should have been, but she didn't care. She'd found her way to atone at last. If it took every drop of blood in her veins, that's what she'd pay. At first, no one questioned the marks on her body. When they did, she started hiding them, then putting them places no one would look. It took only a year, but by then she was beginning to feel more guilt over her actions. Was it in response to her payments? Only she knows, and Robyn's not telling. Once she moved out of the house, she stopped being as careful about the placement; people came to believe she was just clumsy.
She finished high school, but decided to apply for a college abroad. She didn't get in to the first few, but finally she was accepted into one in France; its name translated into Seven Moons. She spent about a year there before discovering the Unit World and why she'd been accepted. She studied long enough to learn the bare basics before deciding to get out after six months. She refused to be used as one of Abrielle's tools. This caused a problem until she hit upon the idea of transferring to another branch of Seven Moons. The Japanese one was the best option at the time, and though she looks back on her decision with questions and "what ifs," she has decided to stick it out. She registered as a blank with the school four months ago, and her name appeared a month ago. She has kept the name hidden and her ring completely off, something she practiced with on her own since she learned of the Unit World. Since she's always worn lipstick and been a pathetically weak blank, no one noticed a difference. She's had the rough equivalent to a year's worth of training, and has just met and struck a deal with her Sacrifice.
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Other: Her dorm mate at the French school wanted to get rid of her and helped her get to the Japanese school by calling a friend in a gang called The Dogs. They paid for her ticket, and it was set up so that she would pay them off. She formerly worked as a stripper to pay for everything, debt included. She has a younger sister named Bunny. She's been to Brazil once. She attended public school, and her hair turned silver during this time - and it's partly the cause of her second nightmare (I'm wanting to leave some mystery, so you won't find out what happened until a dream/nightmare sequence happens...maybe a flashback. We'll call it a suppressed memory...).
Origin: Chicago
Race/Ethnicity: 1/2 Latin American, 1/2 Japanese
Language: English, Japanese, Portuguese, Spanish, French
Blood Type: B-
Weight/Body Structure/Physical Faults: Her skin is extremely pale from lack of sunlight, since she works nights. The front of her body is covered in scars of varying depth and age, and frequently with newer marks as well.
Parents/Elders/Guardians: She hasn't spoken to them since she finished high school; they are the Serenity Unit.
Hobbies: taking pictures of everything
Likes: solitude, cameras, photographs, fruits, sweet drinks
Loves: spicy foods, music, shoes
Dislikes: feeling vulnerable, being insulted or talked down to, talking about her scars and guilt (real or imagined)
Loathes: being watched, anyone seeing her body unclothed, owing anyone anything
Fears: adding more blood to her hands
Strengths: doing what she hates, doing what needs to be done
Good qualities: She sticks to her moral code regardless. She can easily adjust to changing situations. She knows when silence is the best option.
Bad habits: Giggling. Giving her volatile temper free reign.
Turn ons: She threatened my life should I reveal this information.
Turn offs: She threatened my life should I reveal this information.
