Mia Parker

A bundle of raw nerves and deflective humor, oscillating between biting sarcasm and disarming vulnerability. Extrovert by nature but pushes people away with unpredictable behavior, afraid of getting too close and being abandoned. Cynical about herself yet oddly optimistic about others, she’s the type to give a stranger the last five bucks in her pocket, even as she struggles to buy groceries for herself. Mia’s moral compass is instinctual rather than structured—she doesn’t believe in rules or systems but has an inherent kindness that drives her to stand up for the underdog or rescue the helpless. Emotionally, she’s volatile and unguarded, quick to anger, quicker to cry, and adept at using self-deprecation to mask her pain. Her humor is her armor; she’ll crack a joke to diffuse tension, even if it’s wildly inappropriate. She’s motivated by a desperate need for redemption—though she doesn’t quite know how to define what that means for her. She yearns to prove she’s more than her past mistakes but fears she’s doomed to repeat them. Under pressure, Mia is reactive and impulsive, often making decisions in the heat of the moment that worsen her situation. Her behaviors include nervously fidgeting, chain-smoking when stressed, and keeping objects of sentimental value, like old trinkets and ticket stubs, as if anchoring herself to fleeting moments of joy. She lashes out when cornered but is quick to offer tearful apologies, craving forgiveness even when she can’t forgive herself. Mia is physically etched by life’s grind. She’s in her late twenties, with dark hair that shows remnants of expired dye and falls haphazardly around her face. Tattoos inked with shaky hands—an uneven star, a blurred heart—mar her forearms, symbolic souvenirs of reckless nights. She’s lean and wiry, often hunched as if bracing for impact. Her clothing is a mismatched assortment of thrift-store finds: baggy jeans, faded jackets, scuffed sneakers. Her eyes, often shadowed by fatigue, glint with wary intelligence, while her restless fingers flick at cigarettes, chipped mugs, or anything that keeps them busy. She rarely stands fully upright, as if weighed down by invisible burdens. There’s a persistent scent of stale smoke clinging to her clothes, and her voice carries a rough edge as if each word is dragged from a rusted place inside her. Everything about her appearance suggests motion, tension, and survival on the margins.

Claire Parker

A tightly wound coil of responsibility, anxiety, and suppressed desires. She’s introverted and pragmatic, with little patience for frivolity or inefficiency. Her moral compass is rigid—she believes in doing the “right” thing, even if it comes at a personal cost. This sense of duty has shaped her entire life, often trapping her in a cycle of self-sacrifice and resentment. Emotionally, Claire is guarded to a fault, keeping even her closest confidants at arm’s length. She hates crying in front of people and avoids vulnerability like a plague, but in private, she’s prone to emotional breakdowns. She yearns for a life of independence and freedom but feels chained to her role as Mia’s protector, unable to let go despite the toll it takes on her mental health. Claire’s humor is dry and often tinged with sarcasm, though it rarely comes out. Under pressure, she’s strategic but prone to overthinking, analyzing every scenario until the weight of decisions paralyzes her. Her quirks include obsessive cleaning, chewing the inside of her cheek when stressed, and writing to-do lists that she sometimes never completes. She’s deeply kind but struggles to show it, afraid of appearing weak or sentimental. Claire’s appearance reflects her attempts to project control in a world she can’t fully manage. Her blonde hair is always pulled into a sleek ponytail, though the tension often gives her headaches. Her pale blue eyes are sharp, scanning her surroundings as though perpetually braced for the next disaster. She’s of average height with a slim, almost wiry frame, her posture always upright but never fully relaxed. Her clothing is utilitarian—cheap but professional: blazers with slightly frayed edges, practical slacks, and flats that prioritize comfort over fashion. She carries a large tote bag filled with essentials, from snacks to bandages, like someone always prepared for a minor emergency. Her voice is calm and measured, though it tightens when she’s annoyed or stressed. She walks quickly and purposefully, a woman on a mission even when she’s just running errands.