Penelope Blaise

[Penelope Blaise]

Penelope Louise Blaise
FACE CLAIM: Jenna Coleman
---------------------------------

AGE: Twenty-six
GENDER: Female
ORIENTATION: Homosexual
POSITION: English Teacher

POWER: Psychometry

Penelope has the ability to see blurbs of the past through touching objects. She can only see the strongest memories associated with the object, usually resulting in the memory of most the recent person to touch the object, but sometimes very strong and/or intense memories can overpower newer ones. Instead of simply watching from a third party, Penelope actually views the event of the person who was most associated with the object/memory. Often, this happens without her meaning to, but she can also do so at her own will. Her visions can last several minutes, but when she snaps back, it seems that no time has passed since she first made contact with the object. 

LIMITATIONS:

She has no control over what a person does, but is just forced to see the event from their perspective. Penelope cannot pick or choose what memories she sees, as her ability is only associated with the memories within objects. If a certain object is associated with several memories, often the strongest or newest is the one she experiences. Her visions only last a few minutes, very rarely even reaching ten minutes.

SIDE-EFFECTS:

It's easy for Penelope to become disoriented after a vision, sometimes forgetting where she is or what time it is. It's common for migraines to occur, especially if she has seen multiple memories within a day, or is trying to concentrate on using her ability. She also has trouble differentiating her own memories from others at times. Because she feels strongly connected to the events, it also causes emotional and psychological distress, the level of intensity varies, but sometimes the psychological and emotional effects can last for days. 

What has made you decide you wanted to be an English teacher here, Miss Blaise? 

Education is imperative, even in the gifted community. Some believe ability training is the most important aspect this institute can offer, and I believe differently. 

Continue, please. 

If we teach students that their abilities are the only importance, how do you expect them to survive in the outside world? They need to build an education just as every other student on the planet does. Intelligence is what separates humans from apes. 

Your records indicate you were quite the student at St. Bethany; top of your grade, yet you stayed behind a year due to training issues. You struggled to comply with trainers, it seems. Even when your abilities first manifested, it states that they were there within a day, yet it took almost a week to get you to go. 

I would prefer not to comment.

You graduated academically at seventeen; a grade early. That actually puts you at two years behind with training, seeing as you left when you were nineteen. That's seven years of training at St. Bethany, Miss Blaise.

I am well aware of how much time I've spent there.

If you are struggling with your psychomet--

You need not be concerned. I have exceptional control over it.

---

Certain days were hard. Impossible, even. A single slip could cause a chain effect, spiraling downward into nothingness. No, not nothingness – there, Penelope could find comfort. This was hell.

The trick was to breathe. That's what she'd read, at least.

And she tried, but it never came easy. Not when a brush of her own clothes brought her back to only minutes before, where her head really started to pound as blood pumped harder through her veins. Back to now, where the pain only grew.

Reaching back, a shaking hand slipped between her shoulder blades, fingers quick to catch the zip that rested between them. A skill acquired with years without a helping hand, she dragged it down with ease. The material of her dress hadn't even made it to the hamper. Organization was everything to the pedantic Brit, but her focus was slipping.

Even the bed she tried to find comfort in proved useless. Memories flooded every object, the place where she was supposed to feel safe included. Soon, the bedding was ripped from the frame, sheets falling to the floor next to her abandoned clothes.

Nothing could stop the pounding. The memories. Her dark eyes squeezed shut, feeling the threat of water line them as she sunk to the floor, trembling fingertips working to push back her hair. It wasn't the epidemic. It wasn't. She had control. She did. Yet her hands continued to shake.

They said to breathe, but it was never that simple.

---

You have Miss Blaise for English this year?

Yeah, why?

Fuck man, that sucks. She's the worst!

Why? What's wrong with her?

She's a total bitch. Hands out assignments like candy and I don't think I've ever seen her smile. She grades like the devil. Nobody's gotten an A in her class.

Fuck that, I'm going to see if I can switch.

---

“If she continues to make her work a priority, she'll never find someone.” Anna Blaise pointed out, lips pressing into a hardened line. Teacup in hand, she held it delicately as she looked to her husband. Her British accent held authority, especially over the New York one her husband carried. “Three years there, and she has yet to take a day off for herself.” 

“I know, dear.” John replied as calmly as he could manage, but worry easily worked into his features as they spoke of his only daughter. “I'm worried for her.” The Blaise family so rarely spoke of sensitive subjects so openly. Often resorting to skirting around any given topic, only within the privacy of the married couple could they really do so. “But she's choosing this.” 

Anna let out a breath, drawing a hand from her teacup as it instead pressed to her temple. Dark eyes squeezed shut briefly, as if it would truly draw an answer from her lips. “But grading over her lunch break as well?” She asked, “It's ridiculous.” 

Taking a few small steps, John reached out to his wife. A hand to the small of her back; just enough contact to provide a sliver of comfort. “I don't want her to end up alone, either.” 

Her hold around the teacup loosened, almost dropping it from the cupboard she had fetched it from. Rarely did the Brit travel to New York to visit her parents, but a holiday weekend and persistence from the pair managed to drag her from the comforts of her home in Montana. Dark eyes glanced down to the cup, lips pressing into a hardened line she inherited from her mother. 

“Penelope, what are you doing?” Her older brother's voice called from the living room, but she refused to look in his direction. 

“I'm just making tea.” 

---

Miss Blaise?

If this is about your quiz, Mr. Dyer, I have already told you that you cannot retake it.

No, no. I was just wondering... Is she coming back?

Excuse me?

The woman. Is she coming back to class?

I do not see how this is a matter for you to be concerned with.

I know, it's just that she's so cool.

Go to lunch, Mr. Dyer.

---

"But why didn't you tell us?" Fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, the other hand gripping her cell phone a little too tightly. She hated speaking on the phone, and worse she hated being on speakerphone with two parents that were intent on prying into her personal life.

"Mother--"

"Even I've heard of her; didn't you think this was news worthy?" At this point, Penelope couldn't tell if Anna Blaise was ecstatic or angered. Likely both, considering the shared blood they had.

"Apparently the magazines thought it was." Her father chimed in, sounding much calmer than his wife.

Admittedly, having her parents catch wind of her first relationship through recognizing the mystery woman accompanying the famous artist to Paris as their daughter was a surprise. A call, apparently, had to be made.

"She hardly seems like your type. All those tattoos..."

"I'm hanging up now." Before an argument could be made, Penelope disconnected the call. She had another place to be, after all.

---

Listen to the radio. While driving. Why radios even existed in vehicles was beyond her comprehension; it only caused distraction. Hers was left alone, opting to drive in silence rather than listen to the usual garbage that filled the airwaves.

A memory hadn't even dusted the dial as she turned it on, it'd been so long.

And there, a familiar accent caught her ears. She so would have loved to see the way her lip twitched upward as she put the car in drive. She'd have to pick up December's issue.

SAMPLE:
Psychometry was an ability that effected not just a single individual, but every other person involved around them as well. As hard as it was to live with such a curse, it was just as much for anyone who chose to stay close. Few could so willingly handle living in such a way, let alone hand it so well. It seemed to come naturally to Lucy Serrano, however.

She had two decades of experience dealing with memory based abilities. She understood it to the best of her ability - always seemed to have kept it in mind with every move made. Which was cause for reason for Penny to genuinely question why Lucy seemed to think she could have gotten away with this. Her wife was smart, but sometimes she could just be an idiot.

All it took was a sliver of contact. Accidental - it always was. Emotions like that were impossible to avoid upon physical contact with a surface. Fingertips to a table top, and she could feel it. Feel her. Stress. A failure. As a wife. As a mother. Dark eyes that weren't her own looked through accounts. Adding up math. Just how much of a loss would it be? At least financially.

Penny felt the draw of her lips as they pressed firmly together, the rest of her tension shifting to her clenched jaw. How it ached from the pressure placed there. Bringing her hands together, she squeezed them in an attempt to find some sort of comfort within the hold, yet it did little to calm the burning within her chest. More than she could care to admit; then again, Penelope Blaise had little trouble when it came to admitting her own anger.

Precise steps brought her to the living room. To the television which her wife sat at. Where her entire family sat at, the three people Penny cared for most all cradling a controller within their hands. Dark eyes didn't even glance up to see the game they played. Rather, Penny's focus held on her wife as she stepped up to the back of the couch, palms pressing lightly down on the Australian's shoulders. A light squeeze; just enough to make herself known before she withdrew her hands headed for their bedroom.

USERNAME: Sai

AGE GROUP: Twenty-four

EXPERIENCE: Several years.

WHERE DID YOU FIND US? I just know.

[Kam *]

You know what to do, babe!