Position: Site Dentist
Demeanor: Hazel is a Dentist of the finest tradition. She makes people fear for their teeth, and intimidates people into flossing and brushing after meals. she comes off as taking an unnatural amount of pleasure in cutting open people's gums and drilling open their teeth.
Nature: Hazel entered a medical profession with a genuine desire to help people. She actually cares about people and their health, and gives her advice out of a place of concern. She's developed a slightly cruel sense of humor from her job (talking to people when she knows they can't respond) but she would never fail to mitigate harm and pain wherever possible.
Description: Hazel is slightly tall at 5'8" and marginally overweight. Despite her name, she's almost tragically pale, with her extremities looking like complicated cross-national roadmaps of some incredibly densely populated country. Her face is rounded and soft save for fairly well defined cheekbones, with a large red-purple port wine stain radiating out from the center of her face. Her hair is dark brown and curly, very curly in fact, growing more out than down. She keeps it tied back in a ponytail which inevitably puffs into a sphere, leaving a large fluffy pom-pom sticking off the back of her head.
- Physical Health: 7
- Mental Health: 7
- Physical Defense: 3
- Mental Defense: 4
- Perception: 3
- Agility: 2
- Strength: 2
- Persuasion: 3
- Intimidation: 4
- Bluff: 2
- Ranged: 1
- Academics: 4
- Science: 4
- Medical: 4
- Dentistry: 6. Dentistry includes advanced knowledge or oral health, care, and diseases, construction of prosthesis, crowns, and fillings, as well as various medical processes and the ins and outs of oral surgery.
- Arts and Etiquette: 3. Hazel's parents saw that she would be able to operate in polite society as an effective socialite from a young age. As soon as she was fit to do so, she was educated in etiquette, polite mannerisms, proper writing and poetry, and the playing of some basic instruments, her favorite being the piano.
- Memory Like an Elephant: 3. Years spent directing students around a tremendous building filled with books, helping them locate individual books has gifted Hazel with an intimate understanding of the layout and organization of that library. With a simple mnemonic trick, this eidetic memorization of the layout of her university library has become something of a mental filing system, allowing the memorization and regurgitation of vast quantities of information.
- Italian Phrasebook
- Beretta M1951 (Not personal weapon. Checked out of weapons locker and most commonly found locked up in office)
- Backpack sized medical bag
- Large box of dream journals
- Assorted clothes
- MD cerrtificate and other certifications and diplomas, framed (In office)
- sewing kit
- small library of dental and medical texts (in office)
- Knife set
- cooking equipment/kitchenware
- a few dusty board games/pack of cards
Every night I wander through the same black void, walking along. I feel I’m going fast, but the blackness is absolute and featureless, so I cannot know for sure. I walked in that void every night since I was eight, that warm, comforting oblivion tempting me forward, begging me to give myself into it, to melt away, to evaporate and become the nothingness around me, and yet I walk forward. There’s something real out there. Something solid. It draws me like a moth to a flame, and I answer its siren call. What else is there to do?
And, noiselessly, it is before me. I don’t approach it in the darkness, it is simply there where before there was only black. The darkness becomes it, in a sense, like when a children’s magic eye picture abruptly comes into focus. A shape in the dark manifests itself from the subtle colorful hallucinations of eddies and pressure changes inside my eyeballs, slowly uncurling. A mass of teeth. Animal teeth, human teeth and teeth and bony protrusions I cannot identify, a non-euclidian whirlwind of ivory unfolding itself from unseen dimensions of this empty non-reality, slowly gnashing and squirming through barely unseen flesh. There is no noise but the occasional, solid bone on bone “clack.” I don’t know why it never scared me, but when I was a little girl, I remember stepping forward and pressing my hand to it. The teeth slowly crumple into themselves like a man stabbed falling into a heap, packing itself away into nothingness until I am so totally alone. The one real thing is gone, and I feel I’ve lost something.
Every night I find the bone thing, and every night I lose it. No matter what I do it leaves me, stranded in the void. It is too palpable, too real to be a dream, I know it’s as real as I am. I want to find it. I don’t want to be alone.
Hazel Filbert was born in the late Summer of 1924, on August 21st to a working family. Her father was a former soldier who worked as a manager in a steel mill in the south of England. Her mother, a former Nurse who left her job after the birth of her daughter to stay home and raise her. Hazel was a fitful baby at night, rarely sleeping through the night, crying and screaming, but going oddly silent during the day, taking in all around her with a distressingly knowing stare. Her insomnia followed her into her childhood, with any sleep she did get subject to fits of night terrors, and impacted her early schooling negatively, receiving her frequent punishments for misbehavior, crankiness, and falling asleep in classes. She would fail to sleep for days at a time and was often ill as a result up until the age of eight.
On August 23rd, 1932, Hazel Filbert went to sleep, and would not be roused from her sleep for a day and a half. She awoke in a hospital, hungry but otherwise unharmed, and would be released from the hospital the next day. From that day forth, she never had any night terrors. Her face was no longer a mask of terror and pain as she slept, but the soft, relaxed expressions of sleep. Quite the opposite of an insomniac, she became distressingly difficult to rouse, clinging to her dreams like a young child who had just discovered a new love of reading. She would ramble on about her various dreams, something she claimed to have never had before, and one particular dream… whose mentioning prompted her parents to quickly shut her up, and tell her to not mention it again. With no other outlet for them, the small diary she kept became a dream journal.
Her newfound ability to sleep came with marked improvement in school, and she began to attain high marks in her classes. Her parents saw she had lessons in art and music, and while she never had any skill for painting she took to playing the piano like white on rice. Her life trundled on in relative quiet, with her parents noting, and to a point appreciating, her apparent disinterest in the opposite sex. She continued to occasionally pick up a new notebook to add to her ever growing collection of dream journals, which had filled a small box. She frequently asked her mom about her time as a nurse and about the medical field.
When her time came to attend college, she went in dead set on what she wanted to do, and studied pre-med in preparation for hopes of medical school, working her way through college in the school's library. Structuring her incredibly rigid sleeping schedule around a college life was her primary difficulty, with the rest seeming to fall into place. Passing through pre-med, and generally having to accomplish twice as much to receive half the recognition of her male colleagues, she nevertheless made it into medical school, despite her mother's insistence that she should have entered a nursing program instead. She never quite knew why she chose dentistry. Most of her fellow students didn't either, it's just a medical practice you ended up in, she supposed, but deep in her mind she wondered if it was about the dream. Looking around at the strange people she called her fellow dentistry students, she wondered if any of them had had the same.
Stressful periods of her med-school education, of which there were many, her scrawlings in her journals became ever more ludicrous. She wrote in them knowing if they were ever discovered she might be put away, but after 14 years of doing it every single morning she did not know if her fingers would even listen if she tried to tell them not to write first thing in the morning. She became convinced in the back of her mind that the thing in the dark, which greeted and kept her company every night since childhood, was somehow 'real'. Not real in the sense her pencil was real, or the walls or her bed, but real in an abstracted sense. More real than reality. More real than her. Something inside her told her to find it… something else said that it would find her. But she put the madness from her mind, and pushed forward with her schooling, eventually receiving her MD with high honors at the age of 27.
Once in the field, she found herself worked half to death and bounced between jobs, never able to settle down or even begin to raise the money to start her own practice. Her mom had told her it would be hard for a woman, but she had honestly been taken aback. It couldn't have been this hard. That was ridiculous. For six years she worked as best she could, learning and memorizing every sort of malady and treatment of the mouth humankind had ever discovered and devised, until she received a job offer. A position, a permanent position, working on some manner of international police force's Italian campus. Initially skeptical, she inquired more about the job, and when its true nature was revealed to her she purchased an Italian phrasebook, boarded a train, and sat down to quietly memorize the book's contents, absurd ideas of a quest for higher realities buzzing in the back of her mind.
- English - Fluent
- French - Conversant
- Italian - Basic
- American Sign Language - Learning
XP: 6How much XP your character currently has. Also list any XP you have received or spent, and where it came from or where it went.
|Name of Source/Purchase||XP Change||Date|
|Holiday Bonus XP||5||12/24/2016|
|Birthday Bonus XP||7||1/10/2017|
|Language Lessons: ASL||-12||1/10/2017|