It turns out I’m a real sucker for bittersweet lesbian romances with supernatural elements.
This is not actually any sort of revelation, but it gives rise to… whatever the fuck this is.
I… did a thing.
I don’t know if it’s a good thing, but I did it. It’s the sort of thing White Wolf used to do a lot, which probably makes it a bad thing. You be the judge. Contains spoilers for Life Is Strange, hence cut.
That’s it, really. Some people want to impose themselves on the world, some people want to take everything they can get. You’re happy just watching, waiting for the perfect moment and preserving it forever.
You’re a gifted photographer and a quick study; presumably that’s how you ended up alone, with a thinly-stretched scholarship in a town where barely anyone knows your name. It’s funny – you were born here, but outside school, it’s like you never even existed.
The one person who does remember you is – in her own words – hella fucked up. Other clichés follow – running with the wrong crowd, throwing her life away, gonna get herself killed before long.
She would have, if not for you.
You Awakened on the day your best friend died. In dreams, you climbed a tower through a storm, and you saw a greater tower beyond it, howling and twisting in the night air. The dream came again and again, by day, until finally you made your mark –
Just in time. Heh. Just in time to discover you can see time, reach out and touch it, turn it back with an outstretched hand, slide from moment to agonising moment.
You saved her life twice that day, and it wasn’t even lunchtime.
You’re still not sure where this comes from, how it works, or what you can do – but you’re industrious. You’re testing. Learning. Cramming your head half full of quantum mechanics and half full of creepy mysticism. You’ve never been this involved in your life, and it’s scaring you.
Some people call you a sociopath. That’s unfair. You don’t have the power drive for that. You just want to take pictures, and find things out, and help people who need to be helped. You’re just… afraid to ask permission, so you seize the moment, and take your chances on forgiveness. You’d be dangerous if you had any real ambition, but nothing seems to matter, so… you might as well be nice to people.
You’re powerful – and only starting to realise how powerful. The rotes you’ve stumbled into so far are repeatable accidents, and you’re just beginning to establish an actual praxis. You prefer gesture and will to elaborate symbolism – that’s just too big for you. While you carry out your magic with subtlety – and have done ever since your first Paradox broke your nose from the inside – you’re an eyewitness to a lot of trouble, and your gawky charm only gets you so far. The mundane consequences of using your powers are more dangerous to you than anything magical, really.
You have poor self-esteem – some days you barely even have a self. You’re shy, and you read people well even before you could scroll back in time and tell them what they’d just told you. You let people hear what they want to hear, and you trade your trivia for their secrets. You let people in, because the things you tell them don’t matter to you. When someone does matter to you, you get in over your head trying to help them, and it worries you how easy you find it to lie, steal, spy and even – once – kill.
Vintage Polaroid camera (you’re hipster trash); smartphone, selected purely for its lens quality (you’re millennial trash); wardrobe of carefully neutral shirt-jeans-hoodie combinations (you’re shoegaze trash); handwritten journal, half worrying about your peer group and half sketchy notes on your magic (you’re mage trash).