Beterli-and-Bramblez

Name: • Physical: o Age: o Gender: o Race: o Nationality: o Height: o Assets: o Sexuality: o Appearance:  Apparel:  First Impression: o Gait: o Aroma: o Voice: • Personality Characteristics o MBIT Personality Type: o Anima: (How does your character act when they are really being their self?) o Persona: (How does your character act to hide their real self?) o Strangers' Impressions: o Self-Impression: o Post Mortem Impression: • Intellectual Characteristics o Logical-Mathematical: (How well can your character use reason and logic in their thinking?) o Linguistic: (How good is your character with words

My dusty hands gripped the black tape of the long silver bat. I twirled it, cracking my wrists. I flipped it over my head and felt the chords of muscle in my shoulders stretch. "Two outs, one strike, one ball," according to the handsome blonde umpire who hovered beside my shoulder. I adjusted the thin fabric of the hood over my forehead, sealing away the sun from my skin in the open stretch of the ball field. I shuffled my feet in the dirt and brought the bat over my shoulder. I peered at the only runner at second, shuffling a few yards onto the baseline. I then fix my gaze onto the thin pitcher. Sapphire eyes met sapphire eyes; amusement gl

        'Bam...Smack...Slap,'        'Bam...Smack...Slap,'        'Bam... Smack....Smack,'        Hours. Its been hours that I've been doing this. Days that I've been here. I can barely breath, think, see, hear. I can barely move. That's the worst thing about this place. Maybe. How I can't move. Sure I can pad aimlessly around this cushioned white room but that's the end of it. Sit, stand, laydown. That's it. Well, besides hammering my face against the soft walls. I guess you can call that a hobby anymore.        God, and these headaches. Nausea at every turn. This pressure that hangs in the air is atrocious, its absolutely crushing. The