[Homebrew] Oneiros

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saberwulf: Mar 3, 2009; Pipe rifles and snack cakes.

Ishikawa Fatimah

Fatimah read the papers like a hawk. It wasn't really out of interest, but out of anger at Oneiros taking her camera away. What were a few harmless pictures of a bus, corporate logos and legal documents gonna do? She had a really great photoset of a weird bug on that roll, too. Sure, it was probably mutated from factory runoff, but where else do you find a violet mantis with two heads? Fatimah relegated herself, once the papers were read, to pushing her sneakers against the empty seat in front of her and staring at the forest that engulfed the institute.

She didn't like it. It reminded her of the time when she was very young and the family took a trip to Mount Fuji, including Aokigahara. The endless trees, the shadows, the lack of wind or sound� It still unnerves her, even now.

When the bus finally came to a stop, she hauled herself up and outside, taking her card with a smile.

"Arigato, Ms. LeJeune. Fatimah Ishikawa, though you probably know that. Excuse me, but is there any specific reason they took my camera away, and am I gonna get it back any time soon? It's got one hell of a price tag."

quote:

Ishikawa Fatimah

1) Well, I was attending UCLA until I received this "opportunity". Otherwise, I'm from Toda, Saitama Prefecture, Japan. It's a rarely exciting suburb of Tokyo, but it happens to have a high Muslim population and it was close to Dad's job. Beats Afghanistan by a mile, at least.

2) Twenty one on the dot, chief. They serve tequila here?

3) You may have guessed from the hijab that I'm Muslim, and you may have guessed from the last comment that I'm not particularly a good one. I feel guilty about it sometimes, but my father never set the warmest example for the faith when I was young. I still respect Islam because of my grandfather, though, and try to pray at least once a week to make up for it in a small way.

4) My father is Japanese, but converted to Islam back in college. He lived in Afghanistan for a few years before he met my mom, and then the war broke out and they fled back to Japan together. He likes to boast about being a hero, but I know he was scared shitless the whole time.

Mom's a pretty quiet person, but loving, and really got along well with being a Japanese housewife. Sometimes I feel like she's keeping the faith up just to appease Dad, though.

And then there's my Grandpa. A wrinkly old Afghan coot with a huge grey beard and a stick always at the ready to crack you on the feet for being disrespectful. Despite that, the man's my role model. He taught me all I know about life, belief, people, and how to prepare goat a million and one ways, each of them drat good. Despite living in the mountains, he gets internet service, so we talk through email. I haven't seen my grandparents on my Dad's side since the incident at dinner a few years back.

As for close friends, I only just got to UCLA, so none in America. Though I still talk to my friends back home; my best friend Kimiko is studying fashion design in Tokyo. My childhood friend Tadakuni was running the family convenience store when I left. I miss them.

5) I was attending UCLA for a degree in Photojournalism. I'd only been there for just over a week when I got Oneiros' message.

6) I didn't tell my parents. My father's constant lording over me growing up doesn't exactly make me jump at the chance for him to know every iota of my life. Grandpa seemed suspicious, however. He didn't like the sound of people crawling into my head like that, said it was too personal. I'm inclined to agree with him, but at the same time I'm quietly excited to see if Oneiros can really do what they say.

7) To find my own identity. I've been living under labels my whole life, and I want to learn who I really am inside.

8) Helplessness. When I was sixteen I traveled to Afghanistan to see the family, and when I broke away from my parents on a crowded city street, a man grabbed me by the waist and attempted to pull me into the back of a car sitting in an adjacent alley. I managed to elbow him int the face and run away, but I still wake up in a cold sweat from nightmares where I wasn't quick enough.

9) My cocksure, rebellious attitude is all an act. If I were to let someone get too close and something happened to them/they did something to me, it would trigger my fear of helplessness to a degree I'm not sure I could handle.

10) Photography's always been a big thing for me, of course. So far I've really only snapped some pictures of life in and around Tokyo, but who's to say I won't be the next Steve McCurry? I'm also huge on swimming� I love the rush of my skin prickling as it hits the cool water. My mother taught me how to play the Rubab, and I'd say I'm pretty great at it. I'm really into hiking as another outdoor activity.

Waking Self
pre:
Attributes
Physical 2d6
Mental 2d6 + 1
Social 2d6 + 1

Qualities
Physical
Strength: +0
Dexterity: +1
Fortitude: +0

Mental
Intellect:+1
Wits: +2
Conviction: +0

Social
Charisma: +1
Manipulation: +1
Dignity: +0

Skills

Academics: 1 
Animal Handling: 0
Athletics: 1
Computers: 1
Conversation: 2
Crafts: 2
Defense: 0
Dodge: 1
*Dream Navigation: 0
*Dream Shaping: 1
Drive: 0
Firearms: 1
Hunting: 0
Languages: 2
Law: 1
*Magic: 0
Medicine: 1
Melee: 1
Occult: 1
Science: 0
Stealth: 1
Streetwise: 0
Survival: 2
Tracking: 1
Unarmed : 0
Writing: 0
Dream Self

Fatimah imagines herself in dream form as a great Muslim warrior, clad in gilded steel armor and wielding a mighty blade. Upon her head is a hijab of brilliant white and gold silk, and an ethereal green radiance shines from both eyes.
pre:
Attributes
Physical 2d6 + 1
Mental 2d6 + 1
Social 2d6 + 0

Qualities
Physical
Strength: +1
Dexterity: +0
Fortitude: +2

Mental
Intellect: +0
Wits: +1
Conviction: +1

Social
Charisma: +0
Manipulation: +0
Dignity: +1
Advantages
The Roots Beneath
Though she doesn't know it, Fatimah is, on both sides of the family, descended from legendary warriors and strategists of the ancient world. While this has only ever manifested in the real world as an occasional gut feeling steering her along, in the dream world these spirits might manifest as much more.

Trust Me, I've Been There
Fatimah has struggled with stress her entire life, whether it be from change, self-image, the opinions of others, or the constant lording of her father. Because of this, people find a strange comfort in Fatimah when they're in an emotional situation. Trust her� She's been there.

Waking Self Derived Values
Health: 6
Sanity: 7
Grace: 7

Dream Self Derived Values
Health: 9
Sanity: 8
Grace: 7
Dreamstuff: 0

# ¿ Jul 19, 2013 16:57

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# ¿ Apr 19, 2024 05:36

saberwulf: Mar 3, 2009; Pipe rifles and snack cakes.

Ishikawa Fatimah

Privacy of the facility, huh? Seems that policy doesn't extend to us unless we're boinking it, she thought. Either way, Fatimah was glad to know she'd have her camera back quickly. She may not know where they are, but there's sure to be lots of interesting things to snap. Would've been better to have a film camera, but the coats probably wouldn't be too happy about Fatimah filling her closet with caustic chemicals.

Until the return of her veritable third eye, the hijabed woman studies the places they pass by. The facility's quite beautiful, and the forest around it would be as well if it weren't for her previous parallels. Her attention next draws on the people who share her lab rat posting.

Surprisingly, she actually knew Izzie. She was never interested in basketball�It was forbidden in the house anyway, her father had a pretty racist attitude towards anything American�But she'd seen him in commercials. Japan loved overseas celebrities, athletes especially. Didn't he do a... What the hell was it...

"Hey, the doc said your name's Isaac, right? I saw you in that commercial for tonkatsu sandwiches where you slammed dunked Doraemon a few months back. Fatimah Ishikawa, Hajimemashite."

Bernard looked pretty harmless. Quiet, too. Okay, maybe harmless on the outside. She just hoped he wasn't some sweaty otaku� She had to deal with those creepy shits staring at her all the time at UCLA. They weren't the only people staring, she thought with a wince.

Lara was next. Fatimah looks sadly at the girl. It was obvious she had some kind of condition, and from her demeanor, it was probably mental. She didn't introduce herself yet, in case she ended up spooking the girl and starting an episode or something.

Maureen looked tough. Tough in life, manner, and certainly features. At the same time, she was pretty young. Compared to herself, Fatimah's almost unnerved by Maureen, and whatever made her that rough. Then again, she's probably pretty down to Earth, and Fatimah liked that.

She doesn't study Andrea as much as witness her. The rage, the loudness, the pink hair� Fatimah loves real rebels. The ones that actually have tattoos and scars for a real purpose, or crawled their way out of a heroine OD just to go out and light poo poo on fire, angry at the world and the dregs who inhabit it. She's not even flinching at the meat mountain ogling her; she means business.

Fatimah tries to quell a snicker. "Ooh, that sprinkle one had to hurt."

# ¿ Jul 22, 2013 02:02

saberwulf: Mar 3, 2009; Pipe rifles and snack cakes.

Ishikawa Fatimah

Fatimah smiles up at the athlete.

"Same, Izzie-san."

She's impressed by his actions. He just heads right into the fray like it's nothing, getting between the two! If that Moon guy hadn't broken Axel down, Izzie probably would've broke it up pretty fast.

Fatimah grins devilishly and snorts at the caramel quip. Well, at least she'd made a friend so far.

She's starting to really not like that Bernard guy's tempo. He's got a look like he's gonna get run through at any second, and he's skittery as poo poo. He's got more of a druggy stance than Andrea, and Fatimah could tell that girl was coming off a bender before she announced it to the whole room.

"Hey, uh, Bernard was it? I could see why you might want to catch the next bus the hell out of here, but the documents implied more than a few days. We're gonna be here for a while."

Entering into the conference room, Fatimah scoops up a pair of donuts and some coffee.

"Might as well enjoy it while you can," She says through a mouth of pink frosting.

And then there was the doctor. Stoic, professional, personality of a rock. She never liked people like this, reminded her of her dad's coworkers.

"Excuse me, but are there any side effects to the monitoring or any of the little blue pills we'll be gobbling down? I'd really hate to grow fur or see in infrared. Actually, that second one's probably pretty awesome."

# ¿ Jul 22, 2013 22:00

saberwulf: Mar 3, 2009; Pipe rifles and snack cakes.

Ishikawa Fatimah

Fatimah slides into a seat with a burger in one hand and a glass of beer in the other. She'd prefer sake, but they probably wouldn't give her this amount. Have to keep sober, they said. She rolls her eyes at the thought.

Fatimah snaps hers fingers and gives Izzie a thumbs up. "Bingo, though I do snap some cool bugs and stuff. I was studying at UCLA for journalism when they scooped me up. Certainly doesn't run the the family�Dad works for Nippon Oil and mom's a house wife� but I kind of owe it to my Baabaa-san. Er, Grandpa. He always taught me to always find the truth, even if you die trying." She leans back, swishing the beer around in her glass. "It's a bit sudden, but hell, this seems like one hell of a story. I feel like a real life Toshimi Konakawa. But, you know, not a dude."

She sits up straight, taking a large bite from her meal and another swig of amber. "You know, something's been bothering me. Why us? How many people are there now? Eight billion? More? Why the hell would a corporation that can build all this choose a bunch of random people like us? No offense, but it doesn't seem like we're really all that special. Hell, I'm in journalism. Isn't the point kind of, you know, not to let in someone who could expose the clone vats and cyborg army? Unless we all share some trait I'm not aware of."

saberwulf fucked around with this message at 03:48 on Jul 26, 2013

# ¿ Jul 26, 2013 03:43

saberwulf: Mar 3, 2009; Pipe rifles and snack cakes.

(excuse the late reply, had something go on that sucked up my time)

Ishikawa Fatimah

Fatimah awakes slowly, grumbling slightly at her surroundings. She climbs from bed, black hair draping over her shoulders, and makes her way to the terminal set up for her.

quote:

夢日記：エントリー1

"Wait, poo poo."

Fatimah jabs the backspace key. She hasn't written a diary since before English-fluency, and the early morning isn't helping.

quote:

Dream Diary: Entry 1

Dreamed about photography last night. Can't remember what I was snapping, but I know it was a perfect shot. Kept hearing Uchida-san's (my photography mentor) voice going on one of his usual anti-digital rants. After I took the photo, noticed a door that wasn't there before. I think. Then there was a guy who came out of nowhere, don't think he was there before. Said "this group" is interesting and talked about truth and that door.

Woke up shortly after.

Satisfied, Fatimah goes about her daily routine. Hygiene, clothes, picking out the right hijab for the day� the usual stuff. Near the end she stops herself before the door and thinks aloud.

"Which way is East... drat, they probably won't tell me that."

She sighs and exits her room, trotting down the hall where Bernard is headed.

"If there's one guy who'd know where breakfast was," She thinks with a smirk.

# ¿ Jul 29, 2013 22:26

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