| Classes/Levels |
Hope: 2 ~ Magic: 2 ~ Trauma: 1 ~ Fate: 1 |
About Dread Witch Chrysanth
Kurosawa Miyako
Early in life, Miyako watched her mother die during a freak lightning storm. She stood in the living room as her mother went out to fetch the drying laundry from the clothesline to get it out of the rain. As her mother reached up to grab the final blanket, a bolt of lightning struck the line and killed her instantly. Besides instilling Miyako with a severe case of astraphobia, the ordeal shattered her youthful illusion of safety for the rest of her life. Over the years, she’s developed even more phobias, most severely of spiders and darkness through the power of her own irrational imagination.
Her father never remarried, saying he would never find a woman as perfect as his late wife. It wasn’t rare for Miyako’s father to spend entire meals reminiscing over his lost love. Miyako would always hear about how well her mother had fit the traditional ideals of the yamato nadeshiko, how beautiful she was, her great cooking, her soft, maternal personality, and would always feel like she was being judged against the high praise. During middle school, she tried her hardest to live up to her mother’s legacy, but would always seem to fall short, whether because of her slightly clumsy tendencies, her fear of hurting herself on the stove or with the knives keeping her from cooking anything more complicated than rice and sandwiches, or her disastrous attempts at using make-up.
Her biggest failing, however, was her mounting dread of others. The older she became, the more her father’s stories, and the pressures of modern society weighed on her, culminating into multiple social anxieties. Every person she met seemed to scare her in a new way. Were they secretly laughing at her? Were they a dangerous criminal? Would she accidentally offend them, and ruin her chances at ever making them a friend? The thought of hurting others paralyzed her as much as the fear that they would hurt her.
Miyako stands at average height with unremarkable, mousy brown hair just long enough to pull neatly into a single sidetail just above her left ear, far from the long, silky raven black her mother was praised for. Her eyes are a bland dark brown with thick black framed glasses, and her complexion is relatively clear, but far from noteworthy. She has no curves to speak of, the genetic lottery providing her with virtually none of her late mother’s womanly features, which she usually hides below an inconspicuous wardrobe of dark pants, memetic t-shirts, and along, pullover hoodie when she isn’t in her school uniform.
What does being a girl mean to you?
A vague ideal of Beauty, Deference, Grace, and most importantly, a Nurturing, Caring personality, with no role model for guidance
What are you most afraid of?
Spiders, Darkness, Lightning, First Impressions, Failure, but the biggest fear is Pain, both physically and emotionally.
What is your dearest wish?
To finally feel in control, and not a victim of the mind and the pressures of society
