Kinni

----Abnormal Research Report-----

Name: Kinni
Age: Eighteen? Possibly?
Gender: Female
Ethnicity: White of some sort
Origin: Unknown

Personality:

If anyone remembers the old fairies of folklore, the wild little creatures of the forests that were constructed of skin and wiry sinew and knobby bones, then Kinni would be easier to explain. She has a sort of wild abandon in the way she moves, dresses, and acts. She is quick to laugh raucously and slow to get angry, though it's impossible to tell what she's feeling underneath that manic grin and glittering stare. Generally her approach to life is to generate as much chaos as possible- she loves to light the fire and fan the flames, roast a marshmallow or two and wander off to watch the chaos ensue.

She is a leech and a stray cat all rolled into one strange, unsettling little package. If she likes you, then she becomes a blood-borne parasite that will not leave until she's gotten from you what she wants, or until she drives you to take a power drill to your skull. Other times, she's a shifty little stray, slinking around in the background and chain-smoking and smiling that shark-mouthed grin like something absolutely hilarious is happening when nothing really is.

Is she a sociopath? Hard to tell. She'll show empathy and something like love to those very close to her, but ties are easily forged and easily broken, almost as if they were no more than surface illusions. She has her goals, disjointed and nonsensical as they are, but sees no problem with killing if it justifies her ends or seems like a fun thing to do in the meantime. As soon as she's done with you, you are forgotten. No remorse, no regret. But there are the precious few that have earned places in her memory, and those poor souls will get precious little rest once she finds them again.

Appearance
Height: 5 ft, 3 in
Weight: 120 lbs, approx.

Found here.

She isn't often this clean and her hair sure as hell isn't this nice. Usually it's a tangled mess of forgotten braids and beads and sometimes those weird feather extensions, and often switches colors from coppery red to blonde to some weird mash of growing-out roots and old dye.

The girl is a twig, but not in the lithe, sexy little way that people have come to expect of slender models. Kinni is all knobs and sharp edges, a dangerous little imp of a girl that seems like she could snap with a sharp twist of the wrist but is surprisingly agile and tough to bring down. For all those angles and bony ridges, she's neither brittle or bird-boned. Kinni is simply a gristly little alley cat with the glittering bright green eyes and sharp teeth to match. This kitty has claws and the know-how to use them effectively.

Abilities:[ABILITIES]

• Scatter- At the moment when you think you have her cornered, as she seems like the perfect victim when she wants to be, she slips between the gaps and disappears into the shadows. Primarily a defense mechanism, she also utilizes this uncanny reflex ability to make entrances and exits, taking advantage of moments of inattention or blind spots to disappear back into the shadows that she skittered in from.
  
• Cheshire Truths- Somewhere in her incoherent ramblings, Kinni will touch about information that should, by all means, be unknown to anyone except her poor listener. Sometimes she has something to say about what is to come or what has passed, other times a certain characteristic of theirs comes up. More often than not she laughs and jabbers about things in a Lewis Carrol-esque manner, which may or may not include insights that could prove helpful to the listener if they can decipher her banter.
  

Character Accessories:
The dull, chipped, and rusty switchblade she keeps in her boot is her primary weapon, but teeth and nails suffice as well. That wild green-eyed stare that reaches into a thousand miles and gobbles up sanity with a glance also serves to keep people at bay... or draw them in, whichever happens first.

A broken-in backpack that holds her life. A beaten up leather jacket, taken from an ancient lover. It smells of bleach and panic. An old, disused pistol that sags at the bottom of the filthy bag. A pair of jeans and a pair of black, nearly shredded leggings. A toothbrush and a small tattered book of scribbled quotes and sickening sketches torn from a sketchbook not her own. A needle and thread. A pair of flip flops wired back together a million times and worn nearly into nothing. Bits of string and feathers and small souvenirs from her country-wide travel. Grave dirt in a bag.

ASSOCIATIONS

• Friends:
  
• Enemies:
  
• Rivals:
  
• Lover(s):
  
• Relatives:
  

History
She came from New York. Or maybe Seattle. No, it was San Antonio. Not there, it was Miami. Do you wanna know how she got those scars? She came from the Midwest, the South, the North, or either Coast. She crawled out of a grave somewhere in New Hampshire and dusted off the dirt and maggots, named a worm Fred and kept him in her pocket, then danced her way to the nearest bus station. She told the old woman next to her that it was ketchup all over her shirt and she'd run out of quarters for the laundromat before she left. It was very old ketchup.

And then she slept the entire way to wherever she was going next. The bus stopped at some point and she never got back on, hitched a few rides and made a few friends, then kissed them goodbye and traipsed off barefoot down a dirty old road without a care in the world. There were a few instances where a reasonable girl would be very, very afraid of the types she met along her way, but with hips like hers and a gait like that, there was more fear that she hid razors and needles than that she had anything worth taking.

Those eyes were the haunting warning that flashed with a glassy sort of glee at whoever looked twice. Come on, they said, don't you want a taste? Don't you want to gamble and see what I can take away from you? Her teeth would flash in a sharp grin too wide for her elfin face and those eyes seemed to slit like a cat's pupils in the sun. But in the buzzing heat of a dry Arizonan evening, those details could very well be tricks of the light. A girl so knobby and thin should not seem like a formidable opponent, this was no kung-fu movie after all, but there was a hungry grate to her words that made anyone interested stop for a moment. Despite the weeks that had passed between New Hampshire and now, the smell of old blood and sense of death clung to her being. She was hungry for life and while no one there could voice those words, they knew it.

Days are a blur when there's no real hurry to get to a destination, with certain things standing out in stark clarity in contrast to the wet blur that the rest of the world becomes. A cracked sidewalk here with bullet casings scattered and hiding in the cracks and gutters like a shameful reminder of passion spent too hastily. A weathered stone statue in a forgotten courtyard with tags sprayed in neon on its surface. A half pair of dentures on a traffic island in the quiet middle of a dying city.

Kinni never remembered where she saw these things, but they were there in her memories along with the rough hands of a man she wanted to remember forever as the one who tried to bleach out the ghosts in his head. His name didn't matter anymore, but he never gave her what she wanted from him. She would resent him for that. She was the bride of the apocalypse, mother of an unborn dragon, queen of the grotesque miscarriage that never was. He was supposed to fulfill that duty and he never did, so she would find another.

Whether it was her feet, wheels, or rails that carried her on to a destination unknown except for the phantoms of heat and horror she so craved to find again, she didn't know and she didn't care until she found it.

[ADDITIONAL INFORMATION]
There is a small tattoo on the inside of her left thigh that says BABYLON.
On the inside of her right wrist is another small tattoo that says GO TO.

Referral[HOW DID YOU FIND OUT ABOUT M.o.D.]

See Max and Ofelia.

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Been waiting a while for this one to be brought to life.
Now... let her reign of terror begin.