Name: Angie

Email: shortcakegreen at gmail dot com

AIM: Sappho13

RPG Experience: You're kidding me, right? Tee hee.

Mundane

Birth Name: Fia Devony. Fia is Irish and means "dark of peace." Devony is also Irish (yes, this girl has serious green genes) and means "dark-haired." Not that either thing had much to do with her naming; she was named after a great-aunt. She hates the name Fia and only answers to it when her mother uses it. Otherwise, she's just Devo and don't forget it.

Angelic Identity: Shateiel, angel of silence. Ironic how the angel of silence has a wicked and very non-idle tongue, huh?

Place in the Spheres: Devo is in her final year at Greenwich Community College with a maths concentration. She is also a part-time barmaid at her family’s pub, The Feather & The Frog, slightly outside of the more popular areas of Greenwich. She lives with her mum, brother, sister, and cat in the flat above the pub.

Age:18, just turned 19 in-story

Birthdate/Astrology:Born on September 7th, Devo is a pre-autumn baby with a sun sign of Virgo, a moon sign of Cancer, and a rising sign of Scorpio. On an amusing side note, this day is also the birthday of Gloria Gaynor of "I Will Survive" fame and Chrissie Hynde of The Pretenders, another kick butt lady. But what do these zodiac signs mean, I hear you ask. Good question. Her Virgo nature comes across as highly practical and detail-oriented and not above handing out the snark when criticizing. Cancer as her moon sign results in a very private person with a tendency to mood swings and protective urges. At her core, as her rising sign Scorpio, Devo is determined and forceful, willing to ride rough-shod over anyone or anything to protect what is hers. Simply put, they all factor together to make a girl you would do better to not upset.

Likes:

- Twilight: Devo loves the moment just after the sun has set when the sky has gone pale violet and all of the buildings around her home have faded to simple black shapes. In a soft, reflective moment, she has been caught remarking that, at that moment, it is like the whole world holds its breath for an instant. Silence inside and out for the span of a heartbeat.

- Music with a heavy bass line: Given that she has trouble hearing high-pitched sounds, Devo favors heavy rock with a driving bass line. She likes the link between audio and physical when she turns the stereo up loud enough so that she can both hear and feel the thump of the music. It also doesn't hurt that Devo quite often has the childish urge to piss people off and blasting this sort of music works wonders in that direction.

- Leicester Square at night: Quite simply, the noise and bustle and lights and people appeal to Devo. For all of her love of silence and alone time, she still enjoys being around people and enjoys it even more when it is a crowd of complete strangers who are free and loud and fun. The weirder, the better seems to be her philosophy and you don't find much weirder than Leicester Square at midnight. There is something about the freedom of being yourself with no repercussions that appeals to her.

- Cigarettes: Yes, it is a dirty, filthy habit. Ask Devo if she cares. Short answer: no. She started at age fourteen and she is now well and truly addicted to her smokes. Let's face it. She named her -cat- Benson after her favorite brand of cigarettes, Benson & Hedges. Up to a pack a day, Devo likes the repetitive action of inhaling and exhaling and she actually likes the taste. We here at the Fia Devony Foundation also would like to point out that this just strengthens our case on her oral fixation.

- Pub games: If you can find it in a pub and it can be played with, Devo adores it. Darts, pool/billiards, quiz games. Put it in front of her and watch her go. This is the result of a very busy mother and older brother and growing up in a pub. Despairingly, her mother agrees with her declaration that the pool table was her babysitter from ages eight to fourteen. She knows the angles and how to work all of the games for maximum pay-off. The mathematical calculations and inherent geometry in things like pool intrigue her the most even if she would never admit it. Don't look for an easy game from Devo; she has the skills and doesn't much like losing. Besides, she loves how everyone gets oh-so-quiet when she prepares for a shot or a throw.

Random Likes: dark colors; Doc Martens; licorice all-sorts; Guinness with Tia Maria; shandies (lager and lemonade); bubble and squeak; Hammer films; Randall & Hopkirk, Deceased; ankhs; leather; silver; mosaics; Christopher Lee; big mugs of tea and Hobnobs; torches (flashlights)

Dislikes:

- Hospitals and needles: Thanks to her medical history, Devo has seen more than enough of both and despises them thoroughly. While she won't break out in a sweat and cry at the threat of being sent to a hospital, she will not visit friends or family if they are patients and she only barely suffers being taken to a clinic periodically for a check-up. She isn't overly keen on doctors or nurses either but can tolerate them better. Probably because she can tell them to "bugger off". Inanimate objects steadfastly refuse to obey commands like that.

- Pratical jokes: It isn't that Devo doesn't have a sense of humor. She does and, in fact, it's the sort of broad and sarcastic humor prevalent in much British comedy. She just detests any sort of slapstick and, since most practical jokes deteriorate to that eventually, thus practical jokes. It also doesn't help her like them any better when she is keenly aware of appearances and vows to avoid looking stupid at all costs. As far as Devo is concerned, Rowan Atkinson should be slapped smartly for doing Mr. Bean and sent off to do more Black Adder with an additional scolding.

- Romantic comedies: They just annoy the hell out of her. In her opinion, they are trite and cliche and far more surreal than any kind of science fiction or fantasy. I'm sorry. Did I hear someone say jaded? Jaded is far too simple a word for the cynic that is Devo.

- "Toffs": Devo uses the word widely and with little discretion but, near as anyone can understand, the definition in her mind is that type of person who behaves in an artificially elitist and educated manner. She herself is very secure and comfortable in being a working class girl and living the pub lifestyle. She believes that, in mimicking posh behavior, you show yourself to be ashamed of your roots. Such a thing disgusts her completely and she is far from sweet to anyone she deems a "toff".

Random Dislikes: those in positions of authority; having to clean and rinse the pipes for the taps; breaking shoelaces; schedules; Agatha Christie (especially Poirot); candles; heights; ringing ears; music done by flutes; people talking where they shouldn't be talking

Is Neutral On

- The abstract concept of social responsibility: Devo firmly believes in protecting and doing duty by those who are “hers” but she’s less than concerned with protecting strangers or the average Joe on the street. She recognizes the need for structure and police forces but doesn’t think much one way or the other. Keeping their peace and worrying about the safety of strangers is there job. Her job is to mind her own business. Selfless altruism is just a fancy crossword answer to her; it doesn’t factor into her life at all.

Hobbies:

Making hodge-podge mosaics - To do her mosaics, Devo haunts charity shops and boot sales and buys plates and crockery by the bag. It doesn't matter if it is in good condition or not; she throws it against the brick wall behind The Feather & The Frog to shatter it into interesting pieces, anyway. That done, she gathers up the bits and then uses grouting to cover just about any flat surface with the pottery shards. She says it's for the color; her mother swears it is for the noise and mess.

Taking long and involved walks during and after sunset - These walks give her a chance to think and a chance to be alone; no one tends to approach her when she is stomping around, black jacket pulled tight around her except for the Big Issue people and she is always nice to -them-. Any day of the week, just around sunset, you can find Devo slipping out the back door of the pub, hands in her pockets, for a walk. Her mother lets her get away with it if things aren't too busy because, frankly, she always comes back much more personable.

Sharking at the billiards table - One thing that must be said about Devo is that she plays to win and she is ruthless at her games. It is rather unfortunate, though, that she utilizes these skills to fleece poor men out of their money at the pool table. It is never a lot of money and she would argue that they deserve it for being so sexist as to think that a girl can't play pool but... She has to go to other pubs to do this now; she is far too well known at The Feather and her mother and brother spill on her to prospective victims.

Aspirations/Dreams:Her self-proclaimed aspiration in life is to take over management of her own pub somewhere in London, preferably down-at-the-heels-comfy and not at all posh. There have even been jokes of her taking over The Feather eventually. Secret aspirations? Don’t count on it. She’s not a secret romantic, dreaming of picket fences and 2.5 kids.

NPCs

Kiera Devony - mother, 40 - A second generation Irish-girl in England, Kiera sounds more English than Irish most days, a convenient fact sometimes over the years when anti-Irish sentiment was high. Even more useful if you are a mother of three who runs a pub and gets squat from your deadbeat, AWOL husband. Fit in and fade out might as well be Kiera's motto for life. She has spent her life working hard - first for her parents and siblings and their pub, next for her husband and their pub, and now for her children and her pub. Notice a trend here? Ah, England. The place where people come and go but the pub stays constant. Deep down, she is a very sweet and warm woman who loves her children very much and worries about them almost constantly. However, her day to day activities (hiring staff, placing orders, paying bills, etc.) has turned her curt and hurried most days and she never seems to be focusing all of her attention on you. Falling under the near-mythic category of Black Irish, Kiera has wide brown eyes, fair skin, and a shoulder-length bob of black hair that has gone liberally grey at the temples. She stands a slender five foot four and moves quickly, never staying still for too long.

Gerald Devony - father, 46 - Gone and good riddance and we mean that. Exceedingly charming and possessing of the gift of gab, Gerald swept Kiera off her feet at the tender age of seventeen. In and out of her life, he had her pregnant by twenty and married at twenty-two. Now, eighteen years later, he is completely out of the picture and has been since Devo was nine, leaving Kiera glad that they had never signed joint-ownership for the bar. A thorough slacker, Gerald trusted to his charm and tongue to see him through life and it is highly doubtful he did a single day of honest labor ever. His son has a rather better memory of his true character but the two girls think of the departed man as fun and cheerful and always with a moment for them. Which he did. Because he left all of the hard stuff to Kiera. Gerald was a drop-dead handsome specimen of Irish Romany manhood. An even six foot with a slim build, he wears his black hair cut short. He has a charmingly hawkish profile, tan/olive skin, and dark grey eyes... No, we're still glad he's gone.

Kirwin Devony - brother, 20 - Grown up too soon, Kirwin is a quiet-speaking, serious young man who took up an apprenticeship with a local plumber as soon as he was sixteen. Much like his mother, he works hard and you would not be able to find a more steady soul in all of London. You also wouldn't be able to find a more introverted soul either, unfortunately. While he is responsible and loyal unto death to his mother and sisters and can boast an open and talkative relationship with each, he zips up the moment he is confronted with the outside word. He isn't stupid; he is simply both so shy and so painfully grown-up for himself that his social skills amount to discussion of home repair and football scores. Kirwin is that vaguely melancholy lad that sits at the end of the bar surrounded and counted on by friends but never making the slightest peep himself. He and Devo have an awkward system of dual protection between them, trying to guard each other from the world's nastiness. Kirwin is a skinnier body double for his father, Gerald, with black hair pulled back in a ponytail to the bottom of his shoulder blades, softened by a few flyaway pieces for bangs, a hawkish and angular face, and dark grey eyes set in a tanned face. He also sports the patriarchal physique of six foot tall and lanky.

Brenna Devony - sister, 13 - Somewhat spoiled due to her position as the baby of the family, Brenna cultivates a few airs and pretensions to money that her sister tries to discourage. However, it is hard to truly control a girl when you've spoiled her and Brenna can usually get away with murder when it comes to Devo and Kirwin; her mother is far stricter and has less patience with her youngest daughter's demands for money/clothing/etc. Trendy and giggly, Brenna has just entered the socially conscious stage of her life and so, while her base personality is open-hearted and accepting, her inherent selfishness and low self-esteem has taken center stage in most cases. Unfortunately, this also means she has taken to copying some of Devo's less admirable traits, seeing them as cool and mature. Hence the sarcasm and the dismissal of authority figures. Brenna is a pretty little creature, favoring her mother with softer features and a slim 5'2" frame. Her dark brown hair falls just short of her waist; she keeps it neatly braided by Order Of Mum weekdays. She has her mother's fair skin and wide brown eyes. Summary? Cute as hell and knows it.

History

Born the second child to a couple who still believed themselves in love (or at least to a mother who still loved her husband enough to put up with his slipshod ways), Fia Devony came into the world a big-eyed, solemn baby. She was sickly for the first few months of her young life and then, apparently feeling ashamed of herself, started to perk up and put on weight. Unfortunately, she also discovered her lungs and, suddenly, their previously quiet child was wailing like a banshee. Soon enough, though, things settled down to normal with father Gerald sticking around more to throw a hand in around The Feather & The Frog, their pub in Greenwich, London, so that Kiera could look after the two children, Kirwin and Fia. By the time the third little Devony, Brenna, showed up, Fia was five and well-settled in school Though she was an obstinate child, she managed to avoid pushing things too far and rarely received any kind of severe punishment. Admittedly, they had to rush her to the hospital when she was six because she ate an entire pot of paste on a dare but that was the extent of her serious mishaps for a long stretch of years.

Blissful to her parents and their increasingly uneasy marriages, Fia tagged after her older brother, worshipping him and copycatting him until he was ready to push her into the Thames River. Her teachers soon discovered that the surest way to teach her a lesson about proper behavior was to make her write lines, copying out over and over the same sentence until it was driven home; little Fia detested sitting still under a wary eye. She still had a quick tongue and a stubborn streak a mile wide but she was learning how to control it. She even showed patience with her little sister and would willingly help out their mother by reading to Brenna for hours. Even if she had to make up half the words and was holding the book upside down. Whatever Fia lacked in english skills, though, she made up in her mathematics; she was a bright child with numbers and well ahead of the others.

Then, when she was eight, disaster struck. Fia was sent home from school with a fever and complaining of nausea and a sore throat. Before long, she had broken out in a violent rash and flinched every time the light was turned on. Worried, her mother took her to their GP. He spent five minutes studying the small girl before ordering her to the hospital. There she was diagnosed with meningococcal meningitis (oh, the joy of a spinal tap) and promptly kept. She was in the hospital for ten days, four of them in complete quarantine. Scared and lonely and miserable, Fia often cried herself to sleep. She was smart enough to know that something was very badly wrong but her child mind couldn't grasp what. The deadly fever didn't help the situation either. Eventually, after endless rounds of medication, IV drips, needles, and tests, she was released to her family. A week later, though, Kiera noticed her daughter tilting her head and screwing up her face when others spoke to her. She would often need to repeat herself to get Fia's attention. Worried once more, they went back to the hospital only to learn that her meningitis had exacted an additional price; Fia was now partially deaf. She could still function easily and hear well enough to stay in her proper school. However, she picked up the habit of tilting her head slightly to the left so that her damaged right ear had a better chance of hearing properly. As well as she seemed to take this new development, there was a subtle change in Fia's personality, a return to the days of mule-headedness and quick-tongue. We think it would be safe to blame some very cruel children who took to copying her new mannerisms and teasing just a little too much.

No one noticed too much, though. Not until she was nine and her behavior became much more obvious after Kiera and Gerald finally called it quits and Gerald went off into the... Wherever he always went before. Interesting fact: They are still legally married, something which is more economically savvy in some cases thanks to the high divorce fees charged by the government. Fia, already a bit put out over her recent loss of hearing, was far from understanding of why Gerald left. Sadly, it was more of a principle thing for her than a genuine attachment to the man; he simply hadn't been around enough to identify as a proper father. She acted out more, more sarcastic and disobedient in little ways. The worst stretch was from ten to fourteen. Kiera frequently counts her stars that Fia, or Devo as she now wanted to be called, made it through those years without being arrested or expelled. It was bad enough that she picked up smoking.

Somehow, Devo managed to pull herself back together and passed through school. We can thank a particularly forceful teacher and a very near brush with the police that Kiera, to this day, has no knowledge of. Devo is a would-be rebel; she isn't stupid. In fact, she opted to continue with school and is now in her final year of a maths concentration at Greenwich Community College. She also works part-time at The Feather as a barmaid. She might not have the best people skills in the world but no one can pour a pint neater and faster than Fia Devony.

All in all, she is fairly content with her life. She is less than pleased with this angels gig.

Personality

First thing to get set in your head about Fia Devony is that she is in no way, shape, or form a fluffy kitty kind of girl. She is angry and, if not actively so, she radiates a feeling of vaguely miffed. Whether it be human stupidity or a broken shoelace, it all adds up to aggravate the cranky old hermit that hides away deep in Devo's soul. Unfortunately, the little rat is vocal as well as aggressive and so Devo regularly gets on the wrong foot with people with her blunt and forthright manners. She is capable of holding her tongue but she has a decided limit as to how long she can do it. When that line is crossed, we can only hope small children are not present; Devo has a very colorful way of expressing herself and she is not particularly gracious about suffering fools.

Her cynicism is remarkable in one so young and we can probably blame Gerald and growing up a bit too fast in an unusually grown-up environment. The concept of rose-colored glasses makes Devo laugh dryly and shake her head. For her, "happily ever afters" exist only in fairy tales and Disney movies. Deep down, there is a part of her that would -like- to believe in them but this single cell of chipper optimism is steadily smothered by the rest of her. As far as Devo is concerned, there is no such thing as fate or destiny and your future is of your own making. Too often in her mind, this also means that you're screwed quite regularly by life and those in charge of things. As such, she is usually on the look-out for the hidden meaning in words and deeds. It is far too easy for Devo to doubt a hand offered in charity; she usually busies herself craning her neck to see if the other hand is readying itself for a slap.

Devo is a protective soul on her best days and a possessive one on her worst. You hurt her family at your own risk. Even if she fights with them - defying her mother, snarking at her sister, ignoring her brother - they are still irrevocably hers and she loves them deeply. For them, she will hold her tongue or let loose the dogs of war. For them, she overworks herself at college and at the pub. Hey, if pushed, she would even give up the cigarettes for them. Keep in mind, though, that her father Gerald is blatantly left out of what she terms her family. Dear old Dad has neatly removed himself from her protection and, in a way, his abandonment has only spurred her to be more watchful of the others. She fears losing them or letting the Big Bad World get at them more than necessary. Directly at odds to her own cynicism and "Bugger me, Life" attitude, she wants them to get happy endings and she would do anything to give that to any of them. No, she does not register the hypocrisy in this situation. She is far too busy scaring her sister's boyfriends and sniping at her brother so he doesn't overwork. All she wants is for them all to make it through life knowing who they are and feeling no shame over it.

Sarcasm is her shield and weapon in this battle of surviving with self-respect and she brings it to bear mercilessly when necessary. Possessor of slangs, slurs, and insults, Devo usually gets the last word in a fight. Ironically, she tends towards non-combative unless actively angered. Usually, though, her sarcasm leaks out in amused and droll observations on life with only the barest hints of what she is capable of. Devo doesn't -try- to be malicious; she would never stoop to gossip or rumors. If she has a problem with you, she will tell you straight out, no hidden meanings.

With a quick mind for logic and numbers, Devo has some definite hard edges to her personality. Devoid of most things viewed as "feminine" (a concept she snorts at, in fact), she infallibly heads straight for the heart of a problem, not pausing to sugar coat her words. She firmly believes that you sometimes have to be cruel to be kind. The quicker you can handle something, the sooner you can move on; it makes perfect sense to her. Practicality overrides fancy in her ninety-five percent of the time. If she has a project to do, it -will- get done and in a neat, tidy manner. She plans her chores and schedules her life so that she has plenty of time to slip off and wander London. Her inborn streak of efficiency is truly a wonder to behold, making her Friday and Saturday night shifts behind the bar at The Feather much less stressful for her than anyone else. Set her in a room with two dozen half-drunken footie fans screaming for pints and she is in her element. Nothing will ruffle her as she listens carefully and then systematically memorizes faces and orders (she has set the bar menu to numbers in her head in order to better remember) to deliver with the speed and calm of someone who has been bartending much longer than she possibly could have been. Thick-skinned and sharp-tongued, few patrons have ever been able to get the better of her, especially after a few drinks. Even those new customers who don't yet know better and try to flirt with her do not make a dent. For all she cares, they could be offering her ten goats in exchange for her virginity. Which, by the way, is gone with the dodo and she has no qualms of sharing this fact outside of her mother's hearing.

Not promiscuous or flirty by any version of either word, Devo tends to fall in with small crowds of like-minded individuals and her social calendar is far from full; she dates about as regularly as Millwall makes Division One. She doesn't appreciate being bothered about it either, being a very private person, and will tell a well-meaning friend to sod off in no uncertain terms should they mention it or, worse yet, attempt to set her up on a blind date. As you might guess, her friends are relatively few but, once you make that circle, she will stick by you no matter what. You could never fault Devo for her loyalty. In point of fact, it is from her collection of friends that she'll choose her kissing company. They are the ones she trusts enough to lower the infamous walls in front of.

More stubborn than a mule about what she will or will not do, there is more than a drop of compulsive in Devo. She refuses help and insists on doing everything for herself. If she did not hear you, she won't ask you to repeat; she despises bringing attention to her small disability. She doesn't think it is all that important, anyway. She checks and rechecks things before leaving the house because heaven forbid she find herself without her lighter for her cancer sticks. She doesn't like to be taken off-balance and off-guard and will reward the offender with a downright surly reaction. Word to the wise? Don't spook her.

Playing things close to the chest, few people are allowed to find the Devo beneath the cool and sarky public persona. If you dig deep enough, you will find someone who actually does care a hell of a lot and wants to protect those she loves. You will find a sly sense of humor and a quick mind. You will find an addiction to detail that is downright uncanny. Go on and be persistent. I swear she makes a -really- good friend. Eventually. Keep in mind that you will have a better time with her if you are honest, level-headed, grounded, and, well... Middle class or lower. She will never be perfectly comfortable with those above her position in life. However, grab yourself a pint at the pub, pick up your pool cue, and you'll have one foot in the door. Then you merely have to be patient for at least a month of close contact before Devo will consider you anything like a friend.

Pros: responsible, loyal, independent, intelligent

Cons: cynical, emotional retard, sharp-tongued, sarcastic

Appearance

Eyes: Dark and serious, Devo's eyes are her only true beauty. Ironically, given that old chestnut about eyes being the window to a soul, they are also the only thing that will ever give away her emotions. Such a dark brown that it is nearly impossible to distinguish the pupil from the iris, they are large and slightly hooded, lending her a sultry look. They are finished off with sinfully long and thick and dark eyelashes and topped with thin, dark, arching eyebrows. If it helps cheer you, though, she has to worry about dark circles under these intense and mesmerizing eyes.

Face and Skin: It would take a skilled liar to call Devo beautiful; someone with less ability might squeak by with a "pretty." The best that can usually be said for her is that she is attractive and interesting, damning her with faint praise. On the up side, though, it is interesting enough to qualify as a magnetic intensity that earns her the occasional second glance. Her face is angular, lean and strong-boned, with a pointed chin and sharp cheekbones and a long thin nose. Her thin, pale lips are set in a perpetual quirk of disbelief and mockery. Despite her lack of sun exposure, her share of her father's genetics keeps her from being ungodly pale and, at worst, her pale skin qualifies as "weekend goth"; there is the faintest touch of warm pink undertones to keep her from looking dead. The most make-up that you will catch her wearing is mascara and eyeliner.

Hair: Devo wears her thick, ebony hair cut quite short and with a definite aura of punk. The majority of her hair is cropped to within an inch and a half of her scalp, sticking up in a fuzzy halo. The pieces at the nape of her neck are slightly longer and curl upwards, tamed by gel into a sort of flip. Her bangs are also left long and she has bleached them thoroughly until they are a very muted white-blonde. Separated into two clumps, Devo keeps the longer and larger chunk over her right eye and the bits on the left side fall just to her eyebrow.

Build: Ever see one of those woefully understuffed scarecrows? Or a heroin chic model from the early 90's? Then you already have a good idea about Devo's figure. Standing at five foot eight, she looks like a strong wind would knock her over. Weighing in at just barely 140 pounds, Devo gives a new meaning to the word "lean." Long-limbed, she has few softening curves, just the mere hint of hips and bust, really. It is mostly her long, graceful neck, slim shoulders, and her delicate (especially for her height) hands and feet that save her from being continually mistaken for a prepubescent boy from the back.

Carriage: While she does not possess any kind of earth-shattering beauty, Devo radiates strength and magnetism and allure simply by how she moves. Sure-footed, she moves smoothly and with definite purpose. Even on her sunset meanderings, she seems to know exactly where she is going at all times. Though she usually walks with her hands jammed deep in the pockets of her coat, her head is always lifted and her eyes focused straight ahead. She makes very little noise when she moves and her hands and body tend to remain still and controlled except for moments of extreme agitation; then all hell breaks loose and, as her voice rises, her hands fly about and pound on things.

Clothing: Devo's wardrobe can best be summed up in two words - dark and simple. Open her closet and you will find a range of... Black, black, black, and some grey. She does own a few other odd pieces in other colors but her preference is definitely towards borderline goth/tough girl. She owns a grand total of one skirt and it is, yes, black. Mostly, she spends her life in jeans and her precious, steel-toed Doc Martens; she would never dream of wearing shorts because even she realizes pasty legs are faux pas. Her tops depend on the weather outside and range from cropped tank tops to oversized cable-knit sweaters. For nine months out of the year, you will also find her with her worn-to-hell black leather jacket. She has had it since she was fifteen and it most definitely has seen better days.

Despite looking the type to be replete with tattoos and piercings, Devo features none at all. After all, she is terrified of needles; why on earth would she go get stuck on purpose? Instead, she wears multiple rings unless she's working behind the pub counter, a silver ear cuff shaped (ironically) like an upswept angel wing, and a steel-ball chain necklace, tight to her throat.

Voice: Rough and low and betraying her working-class roots, Devo's voice stays firmly in the alto range of things. Stable and controlled, it rarely deviates with emotion and presents an additional mask for her feelings. Her use of slang is atrocious and the only way of curbing her swearing is to tell her outright that you don't appreciate it. By the way, she can't carry much of a tune unless it's the sort of music that doesn't really mean for you to hit the appropriate notes.

Abilities

Drinky McDrinkerson - Devo has spent her entire life in a pub. She has been helping run and clean the taps since she was ten. Where do -you- think the first pint of a new keg goes? Needless to say, she doesn't drink much on a regular basis but, when she does, she will almost certainly be the last one standing.

Numbers Wizard - Just call her the human calculator, folks. Doing sums and making change in her head on the fly since she could see over the bar, Devo has absolutely no problems with numbers. In fact, she adores them.

You Think You're Tough? - Devo carries her own air of restraint and forbidding around with her when she goes on her long walks. People don’t tend to approach her for directions or to comment on the weather. Maybe it’s her posture or her wardrobe or her hair but the point is, most strangers assume Devo is far tougher than she is and so don’t push a point with her. A sharp glance from her usually sends others skittering, obviously convinced that she is a would-be bruiser.

Drunk Wrangler - Long years of living in and working at the pub has given Devo an unflappable response to drunks. Nothing shocks her anymore and there are few things she can’t handle. Icy glances to witty retorts to a roll of pound coins snatched from the register, she has a varied bag of tricks to deal with those who push their case too far.

Quick Stitch - Surprisingly, Devo sews rather well. She doesn’t necessarily like it but she can handstitch and piece a pattern neat as you please. She’s also a dab-hand at mending and a good thing, too, since she isn’t keen on shopping for clothing to replace anything with a wee hole. If you ask nicely and she likes you, she is willing to help with your mending as well.

The Angelic

Silence: forbearance from speech or noise (muteness); absence of sound or noise (stillness); absence of mention (oblivion, secrecy)

Color: Moss green

Symbol: a vertical oval (http://www.symbols.com/encyclopedia/26/265.html)

Key to the Kingdom: A tiny thing, Shateiel’s key is only barely two inches long and made of the finest silver, so pale that it almost glows in the dark. It is polished to a high shine and thin as a dime. Delicate but without any overt flowery decoration, it is your usual old-fashioned key shape – a small loop at the top, leading to a slender shaft and then to six tiny “teeth” of varying prominence. Devo will shrug and slip this Key onto her usual ball-and-chain choker.

Voile: Fairly simply and bound to shame Devo completely, Shateiel’s initial voile is rather cute in a confused streetwalker way. Her shirt is boat-necked, raglan-sleeved, and empire-waisted – moss green over the bust with the “skirt” made of sheer white fabric and falling to her hips. The sleeves are opaque white at the top and puffy, cinched just above the elbows with silver ribbons, and then fall in loosely pleated sheer white folds to just past her wrists. Moss-green hot pants finish the bulk of the costume. She wears silver flat-soled sandals that lace up with silver thongs to under her knee, criss-crossing. Finishing the voile off, Shateiel wears a silver belly chain around her waist, two silver armguards (one banded armor and the other smooth with rivets up the outside), silver stud earrings, and her Key hanging from a four-chain silver choker. There is a thin gold ring on the ring finger of either hand. One pair of wings and her halo round her off to proper angelic feel.

Wings: Somewhat dingy and unkempt, Shateiel's wings are that of a mute swan and are pure and snowy white under the seemingly constant layer of London dust and grit. With a total wing span of eight feet and change, her wings aren't exactly convenient when she's on the ground and walking. She ends up having to hold them up and partially out in an awkward position if she plans on covering a lot of ground quickly. However, the trade off comes in the form of phenomenal power for flight. With the combination of greater wing span and powerful muscles, Shateiel can fly longer and farther than most and does it without a single whisper of discomfort.

Weapon: None until she gets even more special but here’s a hint. Holy War Shateiel had a spiffy pike that she used to poke the life out of nasty baddies.

Climbing the Sephiroth: Crown… Devo reaches up to cup both hands over the Key at her neck and her head drops so that her chin rests on them, eyes closed. Wisdom… Her eyes open wide and her head lifts again, left hand pulling the Key away and bringing it to her mouth. Understanding… Devo kisses the Key and flings it skywards, immediately dropping to a crouched position, one knee on the ground and the other raised. Silver sparkles follow the Key up until it suddenly implodes. Mercy… Her left hand reaches skywards as she presses her forehead to her raised knee. Silver sparkles rain down. Strength… Devo flutters her fingers and her halo materializes in her grip. She stands, presses the halo to her lips, and then holds it in front of her on top of her open palms. Grey mist seeps upwards from the ground to cloak her. Beauty… The halo lifts from her hands as the mist covers her completely and flickers. Victory… A burst of light from the halo and silver sparkles appear in the mist, shimmering her clothing into existence where they shine. Splendor… There is a growing spot of silver in the fading mist, hovering below the halo. Foundation… The mist evaporates suddenly and Shateiel is again crouched, balanced on one knee, halo in place above her head. Her left hand is pressed palm-down against the ground and she looks up. Her eyes are cold and there is nothing on her face except determination. Kingdom! She stands, flash of silver at her throat, and hugs herself. There is a split second of sadness to her expression and then it flickers back to determination as she stands there, arms crossed.

Gifts:

Silence - Both as Shateiel and as Devo, this girl knows how to be quiet. As Devo, this is no more than the ability to effectively mimic those scary Special Forces and mythical M16 dudes, including the human tendency to, you know, breath and trip. As Shateiel, this ability is far more subtle and, should she wish, she can move in absolute silence for a set period of time. This includes slowing her heart to a barely audible beat. If she attempts to use this full-scale level for more than ten minutes, though, it exhausts her terribly and she reverts to only as quiet as her Devo persona can be.

Pain-tolerance - Going with the old adage to "suffer in silence," Shateiel is like the Energizer Bunny without the annoying drum. She takes a licking and keeps on ticking, never complaining to anyone and working through a high level of pain. Her tolerance and ability to continue is far above normal. Unfortunately, this is a double-edged sword and, if she cannot take down the enemy quickly when she is working in this mode, she can do herself serious damage. This easily places her in the category of Most Time Spent Under Doctor Angel's Care After A Battle.

Purification – Well, it’s the standard issue but Shateiel has to work a bit harder than most and concentrate. After all, she’s about as far from virginal (either as Devo or Shateiel) as the Queen is from eating at McDonald’s. However, with concentration, she can manage the trick for a few hours.

Attack: Cell of Silence

Description: Bringing her hands together in front of her at chest-height, Shateiel lowers her head slightly. The barest whisper of "Shateiel" is heard. There is a single strobed effect to the light surrounding her, as if someone quickly flipped the light switch. Slowly, she raises her head and her eyes flash gold for an instant. Screaming "Cell of Silence", she punches her hands out towards her target, fists clenched tightly. When her arms are fully extended, she opens her fists, fingers spread wide and palms down. There is a ripple in the air in front of her as if you were looking through a spot of hot air, shimmering and unstable. When the energy contacts the target, it darkens and surrounds them, settling over their form like smoky cling film.

Explanation: The energy that wraps around them blocks all sound, whether it be their own or someone else's. The victim can scream all they like but no one will hear them. This also means that any attack that needs a verbal cue is temporarily out of the question. The film has weight and substance and the victim can feel it on her skin. While it isn't suffocating, it is distracting and, if a person is already given to claustrophobia, the results can include panic, shortness of breath, paranoia, and irrational behavior. The target can still move within the film and so could potentially injure themselves if they gave in to panic. If they fight the attack, it tires them, draining them of a small amount of energy and adrenaline.

Silent and invisible as this attack is, it is difficult to avoid but can be dissipated more quickly by staying calm and quiet on your own. Panic and shouting only reinforces the film and its effects.

Shateiel can perform this attack three times per battle and each time the effect is weaker. It doesn’t drain her too much but it does numb her a bit to her surroundings, a dangerous situation during battle.

Past Lives

Oh, dear. She’s had a lot. Shateiel is one of those angels who just won’t stay dead for long. Aside from her colorful and happy-tragic life in Holy War, she has put in time as a priestess of Bastet in ancient Egypt, a hetaera/priestess of Aphrodite in ancient Greece, a tempting shepherdess near a monastery circa 800, a courtesan in Venice in 1546, a noble in France in 1621, a ballerina in 1834 London, and a gangster’s loving moll in 1920 Chicago. Among many other things. Her last life was circa 1963 – a gogo dancer at a club in London who died too early of overdose. This one was the one that buggered things up and gave us Devo instead of, well, the sweet ‘n’ sexy Shateiel.

Triva: Devo's theme song is Walk Through The Door by Boiled In Lead. She is left-handed and her handwriting is atrocious. She bites her nails.