Mynishka

M ynishka Sokolov xxxxxI dreamed a dream in time gone by, when hope was high and life worth living.I dreamed that love would never die. I dreamed that God would be forgiving. Then I was young and unafraid and dreams were made and used and wasted. There was no ransom to be paid. No song unsung, no wine untasted. But the tigers come at night, with their voices soft as thunder, as they turn your hope apart, as they turn your dreams to shame Once upon a time . . . xxxxx Mynishka only knew life on the streets. Her home was in an unnamed city in the Russian province. Her clothes and food were what her overprotective brothers obtained from the street. She was taught to hide, and if caught, to be innocent and find a route to escape. She was happy in her way of life. The streets knew her and her brothers. She felt secure in her little forays into the thieving world. xxxxx Then one day, the young lass saw her world ripping apart. Her brothers had been hired for some big theft - being sent into a corporation to retrieve something. What ever they found, the two brothers decided not to finish the deal, but try for a larger buyer. This was the worst move they made, as they barely made it to the family's dilapidated shack on the edge of town before they were attacked, shredded by odd shaped figures and then left for dead. Myni was hiding in a corner of their shed, after she had fled there when the fighting began. As dusk hit, one of the brothers slowly crawled his way into the shack, calling for her to come to him. As the blood hit the tips of her bare toes, pooling around her feet, her brother rasped out "take this and run. run to the ends of the earth" and opened his hand. Within was a blood covered chip. xxxxx Mynishka fled that very moment. She did not look back, not even stopping to grab momentos. She managed to hit the coast, and then hid in a garbage tug. Eventually, she made it to the City of Hope, Prospect California, where she hid, expecting someone to come hunting for the chip, to slay her like the others. To be continued . . . Born and raised in the war torn streets of a harsh Russian city. She speaks Russian, and has a wide array of street smarts to guide her here in the city of Prospect She has the smarts, the contacts. Do you need something that might not be legit? Find her in the darkest corners of the city. She will go hunting for your trinket. For a price. Someone hunts her. They seek what she holds. What is this tiny sliver of technology she hides? She is a corax - shinies will lure her anywhere. Leave your loot for her to find! Is that a tornado alongside her? Why does the wind swirl around this little terror of an imp? Description xxxxxAverage. That is how she sees herself. Just average. There is nothing exceptional about her. She has brown eyes that she feels are blah, and often refers to them as mouse brown rather than the deep caramel with gold flakes they are. Her hair will never be in odes, as she sees it, being dull and brackish without a single curl. In reality, it is sable, and when brushed to a shine, it falls to just past her shoulder blades in a thick mane. In her opinion, her smile is her best feature. Her left upper cheek sports a microdermal piercing in the shape of a star, a small diamond sparkling from the center. xxxxxAn emerald long-sleeved shirt, once a fancy silk dress shirt, now has dirt stains and small rips adorn her torso. Jeans, at least two sizes too big, probably obtained from the scrap bin, are tied to her thin waist by a frayed rope. The rope has many pouches and well loved gadgets attached, signifying an obsession for collecting and obtaining that which interests her. Black boots that meet her knees, look worn, probably another acquisition from the thrift or donation heap, and make a lovely clomping noise on the pavement. Full Name: Mynishka Sokolov Date of Birth: October 12 Apparent Age: Old enough to drink! Place of Birth: Magadan, Russia Occupation: Black-marketeer Height: 5' nothing Weight: 100 lbs. soaking wet Hair: Mouse Brown Race: Corax Faction: Gaian Breed: Corvid Camp: Murder’s Daughters