





Crazy Shadow Fangirl wrote:{I'll add more to Althea's later, I can't seem to think straight, so it might be a little short. And her totem is a small blue marble, I couldn't find the right pic.}
Althea breathed in the fresh air angrily, her last extraction was still bothering her. She took a deep breath and continued walking down the sidewalk with her head down and her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket.
Even though she was skilled at her job, she hated it, everything around her, it seemed to her, was unpredictable. But occasionally, that paid off well if she could find her way into the deepest crevice of thinking. She looked up as she brushed past a man, his hand was against something and that worried her. She brushed her brown hair behing her ear and kept walking, in her palm was the blue marble that had kept her mind steady for her three extractions.
Glancing back, she brushed through a crowd, her pace slowing as the crowd slowed and pushed their way in front. Giving up,s he turned and walked back the other way.














- Я.ɛиɛωα.ℓ - wrote:{Great. . . we can definitely start, then. >:3 And I forgot to mention: this is Echo's totem. Also, I'm changing her age to 18. My character would feel too young o_O}
Echo
Echo gripped her totem tightly as her dark violet eyes searched the scene. "It isn't a dream," she murmured. She had long ago lost track of reality and dreams, and to be perfectly honest, the totem was the only thing keeping her from the government, and just bearly insanity. Her heart slammed against her chest as she walked down the street, the rain gently slapping the sidewalk. Echo watched her breath evaporate in the air as she felt the reassuring turning of the marble ball, clasped in the metal hands of the twirled spirals. Echo would never be quite sure why, but the ball was always turning in reality, but never in dreams. Hopefully her black hoodie and torn jeans wouldn't be too much of a "Look at me!" thing. Echo trudged down the street, the city awkwardly silent. For a moment, Echo felt like everyone was looking at her, and her totem was failing, but then. . . Echo threw her head down silent and cursed. Insanity, or maybe genius, was terrible.
I'll be home in another two hundred yards, Echo thought desperately. No one will get me there. . . hopefully. Echo's vitality was fading. She could feel it. She was loosing the will to live. But she would keep living until it was time to die, which hopefully wouldn't be by the government's hands. Echo, after a few more paces, was inside her apartment building. She raced to the elevator, which could seemingly not go fast enough, and she broke into a run as soon as she was off it. She fumbled for the key, stuffed it into the lock, and burst inside, slamming the door shut.
Now, she could choose to go into a dream right now and risk going into further insanity, but that also might bring her the next step closer to her parents murderer. That was what she had been looking for. Although it was extremely dangerous, forming her dreams out of memories was practically what she lived off of. She would have to stop sometime. But Echo wouldn't. Not until the Inception was completed. Then she'd find her parents murderer. And then she'd be free to form her dreams out of things that she'd she had always wanted her life to be.
Echo sank down into her "L" leather couch. Her apartment now completely rocked her to the core. It was utterly different than her old apartment, before she had moved out to do the Inception, before her parents died. . . After making so much money out of extracting and the two other Inceptions, she lived a very rich life. Echo, though, chose not to live in a house. Living in a house, which would be decidedly remote, would kind of point all signs to, "Hey, I'm an Extractor and I'd Like to be Left Alone" type of thing. Her apartment now had a bar with a dark granite countertop, with a bowl chrome sink and a presidential-suite-styled room size and shape. Her computer and chair sat in the corner of Echo's bedroom, which held a king sized bed and a wall of one-way glass to look into the living room, which she was now in. Echo loved things that were made entirely of glass. They fascinated her.
Echo's house, though, helped her take pride in what she had accomplished: being one of the greatest extractors that you'd ever meet, especially if you'd be able to make as much money out of it as she had. But being rich and self-absorbed wasn't her style. This was just the house she lived in, and if you were able to trust her and she could trust you she'd lay her life on the line for you.
Echo picked at the holes in her jeans, wondering who she'd ever meet that she'd be able to trust. She exhaled, and suddenly the room reverberated with a feeling of utter fear and despair, loss. Echo stood up promptly and walked into her room. She passed her hand over a space on the wall next to her dresser, which was a rich rosewood color. The perfectly concealed compartment in the wall didn't make a single sound as it opened, and Echo pulled out the gun with which she was so skilled. She stuffed it in back of her jeans and the compartment closed just as quickly and silently as she walked away. Echo sat down on her couch, thinking about how she could possibly manage to do Inception again, on the entire government, how she could possibly plant such an infectious idea on all of them.
From Echo's point of view, if just one of them had the idea after the Inception and passed it on to the rest of the country's government, it just wouldn't work. It would be shut down once the president got it, if the rest of the senate and the house even agreed to it. No, all the Extractors would somehow have to manage to do it to all of them. One huge Inception, one massive, consuming, obsessive idea that would grow to define them. Echo would get it done before she died. She wouldn't stop at any cost. It would be her duty to do this and fix the broken world that they were living in.
Echo pulled the gun from her back pocket and examined it. Not quite a pistol, but it was definitely automatic and above the standards of the average gun. The grip of it was smooth and metallic, with a glittering onyx shine to it. Echo knew that this gun would help lead her to victory. It just would. It had to.






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