Frankie

Name/Nicknames:  Mallory Sophia Martin.

Alias: Frankie.

Ethnicity:  American with a hefty splash of French and a little bit of everything else.

Species: Living Dead Girl

Pronouns:  she/her/hers.

Age:  29 at time of death.

Occupation:  Former bookstore employee.

Date of Birth:  October 30, 1966.

Place of Birth:  Fredericksburg, VA.

Education:  Nearly finished with med school.

Significant Relations:  Maria Martin née Evans (mother, alive); Gregory Martin (father, deceased).

Appearance:  A little... Patchy. The magic that holds her together isn't as good at the job as she would prefer, but the folks who know better at Aegis have largely agreed it's probably not a good idea to mess with it. As long as it's still working.

While the majority of her body is her own, some parts (particularly certain extremities) were salvaged for her reanimation from other bodies. Several of her fingers on her right hand, the entirety of her left up to her elbow, and much of both feet are not original to her body. Her ears are also partly "new" - a fact that bothers her tremendously because she spent years healing those piercings. She was lucky to be face down when things started chewing on her dead body, else she might not still have her own nose - and the nose ring she got for her sixteenth birthday!

She's upset that her death messed up some of her tattoos, but she's also gained a few, so.

That asshole of a witch didn't do the worst job, she guesses. She's still about the same height as she was before - a little over 5'9" - and most of the skin is close enough. Pale, and usually without too many blemishes, though some is a little older and... She really tries not to think about how he managed that. The biggest problem she has is covering up when a piece goes missing.

She dresses as she did in life - dark clothes with a macabre leaning, and wears a lot of jewelry, long sleeves and tights to cover the seams in her skin where it's been stitched back together. They aren't just where the new parts were sewn on, though, as there were plenty of places her skin needed to be closed back up after her death. And. You know. There was the autopsy.

Thankfully, she's always been a steady hand with makeup, and can usually turn her unearthly pallor into something that only looks like it's meant to seem lifeless. And hey! At least she doesn't have to dye her roots anymore.

Her eyes are the kind of hazel that seems to change color in different lighting, and her hair is box-dyed black as pitch, cut into a short bob with short bangs.

Personality:  She likes to think she's got a pretty sunny disposition considering. Sure, she can be a little self-depricating, but who isn't? Most of the time, she's got a pretty positive outlook. After all, how many people get to say they've literally been given a second chance? Sort of. Kind of.

It's not all roses and rainbows, though. She is very aware that she's dead, and hasn't been brought back to life in the romantic, sanguine way she might have hoped for in life. She gets moody about it sometimes, and is prone to sarcastic comments whenever anyone pokes around that part of her.

And her temper...her temper can be a little difficult to control. Not just because she gets pretty hangry. She's not sure why she flies off the handle sometimes... but she's working on it.

Strengths:  Physically she is much stronger than a human her size ought to be. She can easily lift something twice her weight, or tear a door off its hinges, but she has to be careful. Her body may be strong, but the skin holding it together isn't as much.

She can detach and reattach body parts at will. These parts are capable of moving independently of her, to an extent.

She remembers the important bits of her life fairly well, although there are some chunks missing. Thankfully, the past several years of schooling are not among those blank spaces. With a med school nearly finished before she died, sewing herself back up is actually pretty easy.

She is literally already dead. If there's a way to kill her again, it probably has more to do with magic than anything else. She also doesn't really need to sleep. She can still eat, though it seems to just...burn up inside of her.

Weaknesses: The witch who reanimated her is out there somewhere and she is deathly terrified of him finding her.

She has a bit of a... stale smell, like dust or graveyard soil. She usually wears some perfume to cover it up - patchouli and sandalwood are her favorites.

She hungers, deeply, for flesh. Usually a cheeseburger or three solves this.

She has no pulse, and her skin feels deathly cold. If she were ever to wind up in the wrong hands, it would be very easy to determine she isn't alive anymore. She can still feel, though, and that includes pain.

Her temper gets the better of her easily, which is a source of great embarrassment for her. She doesn't know if that's new or not. In fact, she's a little concerned about how unsure she is of what parts of her came after rising from the dead versus before.

Fire bad.

Other Skills, Hobbies, and Interests:  She likes collecting dead things - skulls, mostly, but when she finds a pretty bug she usually gives it to August. She also collects gemstones and crystals!

She loves fantasy novels - the thicker the better. She's also a huge fan of vinyl, and misses her collection.

She journals extensively, and really feels like if she could just get hold of her diaries from back home, she'd be able to fill in the missing pieces of her life.

Living Situation:  She doesn't sleep, but she does have a room, on the second floor of 215 Ashwood Circle.

History: 

Mallory grew up the certified weird kid at her school. She played with bugs in the dirt and caught frogs, raised mealworms into beetles and brought home pretty rocks. She loved learning about different life cycles, about how caterpillars became pupae became moths and butterflies. Her parents worked in DC, and the commute meant they didn't have a lot of free time to bring her around to baseball practice or gymnastics classes, so they were glad she was good at keeping herself occupied.

But she was only 8 when her father passed. Heart failure, they said. Her mother was devastated, but Mallory couldn't really grasp it at first. And the more she understood, the deeper into death as a concept she got - but her mom and therapist, worried about the trajectory they saw before her, were quick to channel that into more healthy outlets.

Mallory decided she wanted to be a doctor at 10, the kind of person who would help people like her father, and at 13, a surgeon. By 15 she knew she wanted to go into cardiothoracic surgery, and by 16 she knew that she wanted to stay in Virginia to do it. She saw how her mother got after her father passed, and she didn't want to leave her too alone.

So she worked her ass off through high school, learning to drive so she could take herself to the volunteer work she signed up for at the local clinic, and got into pre-med at VCU - her second pick. She met a girl there - Elizabeth, she played basketball and Mallory liked her an awful lot...but never took her home to meet her mother despite how close they were to Fredericksburg. It bothered Lizzie, she knew, and really? She couldn't blame her.

But she and her mom were all the other had, and Mallory wasn't about to ruin that by coming home from college gay. She understood when Lizzie finally decided to move on, even tried to make the breakup a little easier on her by being calm, collected, kind about it... That didn't go over as well as she thought it should, though, and Mallory wound up taking a year off after graduation to prepare for med school. She moved back home, got a job at a local bookstore, and spent more time with her mother than she'd ever got to when she was little.

And she studied, too. Worked just as hard as she ever did and when she applied for med school at VCU, Mallory...didn't get in. She planned to keep it a secret, to sit on the rejection letter until it was the right time or maybe just until she came up with a new plan... But Mallory fell apart the second her mother looked her way that night over dinner, and wound up confessing about the rejection. Maybe it shouldn't have hit so hard, but...

She loved the campus, the town, the school - and they had a decent residency program she was looking forward to. Not the best, but good enough. Just, maybe too good for her.

A couple pep talks later - and a few weeks spent in mourning - and Mallory decided to keep trying. She spent the next year padding her resume as much as she could, taking on more responsibility and spending less time at home. And finally? Almost a year to the date later, she got the acceptance letter she was waiting for. She started back at VCU in the Fall.

And she crushed it. So much so that the initial fuss her instructors made about her...aesthetic, faded after the first few years. She was dedicated, determined, and dammit, she was good enough. She had to be, after all, if she wanted to get into such a competitive field as heart surgery.

But in her final year of med school she started to notice something...odd. Little notes stuffed into her bag, under the door of her apartment, left on her seat in class. She couldn't for the life of her figure out who they were from. She didn't really keep the company of men - not like that - and lord did the writing ever reek of a man. Possessive, entitled, deeply creepy. She crumpled each into a shoebox as she found them, and vowed to bring them to campus police some day. When she had more time.

It seemed she was always busy, though. Studying and clinical rotations occupied most of her time, with little left for anything else. She was glad, really, that the girlfriend she'd had in pre-med didn't work out - there was no way she'd have time for anyone else now. Even the time spent with friends was multipurpose, with each helping the other prepare for residency applications. She barely remembered to eat some days!

And then, one evening, he cornered her on the walk back from the library to her apartment. Later, she would blame herself. Maybe it was her fault for cutting through the park. She knew better. Maybe she should have caught a cab, or called a friend to come walk with her. They always warned girls to use the buddy system. Or maybe she shouldn't have told him to fuck off when he started getting weird. Talking about how they were meant to be together, bringing up conversations he shouldn't have known about, ones she'd had in private with friends.

She kept backing away from him, he kept closing the distance. He reached for her and she jerked away - and fell.

Mallory can't remember what happened after that. It was just...dark. And cold. She tries not to think about what that means, that after she died there was just...nothing. And then, she was awake again.

Surrounded by candles and feeling very weird. And very, very angry.

And scared. She didn't know where she was - some basement? Some basement he'd put her in. The man who'd stalked her through the woods was there, too, and God, did that make her blood boil. So much so that she could barely take joy at the fear in his eyes when he looked at her. Even after she chased him up through the house and out into the night, she didn't recognize anything of the woods around her.

No matter how many times she screamed at him to answer her, no matter what she threw at him, he wouldn't tell her what he'd done. And he had done something, because some of those things she'd lobbed his way were heavy, and the clothes she was wearing weren't hers, felt wrong the way they'd been put on her as if by someone else's hands. He kept telling her to calm down, to just breathe, that it was okay, that he'd fixed it and now they could be together, and didn't she want that too?

Mallory saw red. And then black. Again.

When she awoke the second, horrible time, she couldn't move. Power glimmered and glowed through the seal drawn onto the ground around her body, and all she could do was watch as he... panicked?

The pieces would fit together later, how he'd called a friend because he didn't understand why she'd come back wrong - come back? From where? - and said friend shared his concerns with some friends of his own. And they'd come - the Aegis Network, she'd learn - thinking they would find a rampaging monster tearing people and neighborhoods apart. Only to find a young woman, scared half out of her wits, and alone.

The last she saw of him he was rushing back upstairs, a bag slung over his shoulder, pausing only to turn and look her in the eyes when he promised that he would come back for her.

Model:  Heather Baron-Gracie.

Anything Else:  She can't really use her birth name anymore, so she mostly goes by 'Frankie' these days. Mallory feels like...someone else. Like she has to be someone else.

Her body was reported missing from the VCU Medical Center some months ago.

Although she'll eat just about anything with meat in it, she likes strong flavors best - sour, sweet, spicy especially.

She's terrified of being restrained or unable to move, and responds reactively to anything of that nature.

Timeline: 

1966 - born!
1974 - her dad died :(
1976 - she's gonna be a doctor :D
1979 - a SURGEON!
1981 - a HEART SURGEON!
1982 - in Virginia
1985 - so she goes to VCU!
1986 - and gets a girlfriend :)
1987 - and loses a girlfriend :(
1988 - but graduates pre-med!
1989 - and goes back to live with her mom for a year...or two...
1991 - and got into med school!
1996 - and got killed. sort of.

Player:  Silvy