Psyche Percocet // Six {Done}

Name: Psyche Glendora Percocet
Age: 19
Gender: Female
District/Area: District 6
Appearance:

Upon first glance you might think Psyche is quite the looker, especially given the limited reach of Six. The thing is, though, Psyche has only perfected one thing about herself in her entire life - the ability to hide. Hide behind hair and wide eyes, hide behind intelligence and closed doors. She's learned how to hide her elfin ears, her giraffe neck, her overly wrought shoulders with big hair, dyed with the latest trends - not because Psyche is especially fashionable, but because it is distracting.

Oh, Psyche pays attention to the Capitol fads, but it's more of a compulsive need to know what is current than any desire to be popular, or avant-garde, or whatever reason it is that fashion truly exists. If Psyche truly followed the writ of cloth, she'd have long ago had all of her chocolate chip moles removed, her ears reshaped, her breasts boosted. As a teenager her mother paid for some very, very expensive surgery to fix her bulky nose. Life has been a little easier since then, although the recovery was not. Psyche is still distinctly aware that such an extravagance in Six would not go over well. She had it done over vacation, and mumbled about deviated septums when it came up - except that it didn't as much as she would have thought. Turns out, no one else much cares in Six about appearance, except for the Percocets.

These days you won't often find Psyche outside of a lab coat. Very dour, no doubt, but somehow it suits. She keeps her hair above her shoulders so it is easy to tye back, and it has been the gambit of colors, depending on what the televisions dictates. She has both blended in and stuck out, but in the mind of her mother and sisters, Psyche has never been anything special. Those eyes are too big, too smart, too knowing, and whatever will be done about those long legs and tiny hips? No good for child bearing - and that is the Percocet claim to fame.

Personality:

Upon meeting Psyche you'd be inclined to dismiss her. She's short, she's scrawny, and holy trombones is she weird. Like, can't string a sentence together without talking about her job sort of weird. Shuttered. Total loser. Unless you consider the fact that she's neck deep in sedatives all day, there's really no reason to go back. One interaction with Psyche is enough to convince you she's not worth your - or anyone's - time.

Of course it was kind of cute the way she cocked her head like a puppy when you engaged her, fixed those doey eyes on yours like there was no protocol for when it was okay to start and break eye contact. It's disconcerting, but it's also clear she doesn't have a lot of practice. Maybe talking to her will help, you reason, although it's quickly apparent that isn't the case with Psyche. She just rambles on and on about things you don't understand - probably mostly everyone doesn't. Is there a break? A polite pause in the conversation? No. But she may survey you afterwards and ask what she could do to improve next time.

Freakish, for sure. And yet.

There's always an and yet, with Psyche, which is probably the only reason she's employable at all. Trapped in a solitary lab all day, the most conversation she typically has is with her diary/lab notebook. Still, there's no getting around that broad, hungering mind, the dedication and responsibility she demonstrates at work day after endless day. Psyche is a model factory worker, even if she is in one of the most coveted, highly paid positions in Six.

The money has given her freedom to own her apartment, to eat what she wishes, and she could use it recreationally, too, if only Psyche knew how. The winter has been long, and even she has been affected by the malaise of beginning work in the dark and ending it at nightfall. She is turning those whirling gears in a different direction, towards socialization. What is that humans need? Why does she continue to crave the company of others when all they do is look at her strangely and then refuse to sit with her at lunch? There must be some key to it, this whole conversation and friendship thing. Psyche has turned her bookshelves over, from the latest in drug therapy, to the newest theories about social interaction.

And my oh my do those calming, leveling sedatives look better and better every day.

History:

Psyche was born almost 10 months to the day after her older sister, Perdita. They came as a one-two punch to Landon and Mera, and Psyche was quite the surprise. They put the brakes on, but not for long. The Whittler sisterhood just grew and grew, eventually adding six total before Landon finally caved to the whims of genes. But that is for later. Born Psyche Glendora Percocet, it was initially assumed that she and Perdita would be like twins - they would enter the same year at school, they would participate in the same activities. This all unraveled in Psyche's seventh year when it became finally, finally obvious that she and Perdita had absolutely nothing in common. Indeed, it was quite apparent even then that the older sister detested her strange, awkward near-twin and much preferred the company of the younger girls.

At present, the girls stand at 20 (Perdita), 19 (Psyche), 16 (Pearl), 14 (Priya), 11 (Penny), and 8 (Palace). It was fairly clear from toddlerhood that Psyche would never fit in with p-p-psisters, as she hadn't quite been named in the same vein. It seems that she emerged entirely from the Percocet side of things, which did not engender her to her mother. As the eldest of the Percocets, Mera had expected to make something of herself. When said something became playing housewife to a brilliant, but clearly austistic husband, to cooking and cleaning for six hormonal girls, to being second fiddle to her Mayor younger sister, Mera found her life filled with disappointments. She made no secret of this in front of the girls, and while the others fell to sympathy, Psyche found it all very dramatic and worried herself not at all about it, which her mother took for indifference and began to shun her.

She grew from child to tween mostly in the shadows of the home, staying up late for a few precious moments with her father before he would shoo her back to her lower bunk. She spent the intervening hours reading and copying down notes and whole blocks of text - things totally unrelated to what she was learning in school. As a young teen she had a terrible habit of rattling off chemical names and formulas, and interjecting little bits of science into otherwise fluffy conversations. The looks she drew at school for doing this were no worse than the withering gazes of her sisters.

When she was old enough to apply for internships, Psyche did so with gusto. Anything to get her out of the house. The fact that she ended up in one the most prestigious labs is no coincidence, although that is not known to Psyche. She just counted her good fortune and praised the stacks upon stacks of note books she had filled over the years with hard work. Psyche has certainly been diligent, but little time has been left for socialization. Only the last year or so when her job became full time has she actually found any hours at all to do as she will.

But what is there to do, but study more, read more, write more? Her mind is ever filling, but not expanding, and the more opportunities Psyche has to fold into herself, the worse it becomes. While it was certainly difficult for her to grow up in the Whittler home, Psyche has done herself no favors by finding a solitary apartment. The only social interaction she has these days is with her father and her aunt, Serra the Mayor, whose name she has adopted professionally. Why Serra takes such an interest in her drug work escapes Psyche, as surely she has advisers for that sort of thing. Psyche's naivety is exactly what makes her perfectly suited for the job.

There remains a very small part of Psyche, at nineteen, that is still a teenager. She can remember the all out cat fights, the sobbing, the heart break her sisters went through - and she never desires that. But Psyche has also felt the elation of a crush, even if she has never followed it through. More and more she feels - and recognizes - her biological clock pressing on her consciousness, her rationality, urging her to go home early, borrow some shoes, and go to the district square. Sometimes she caves, and walks around for an hour before shuffling home. She is still young, still youthful, and entirely clueless, but almost ready to learn.

Codeword: Odair
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