Your name is Myriam Feygin, although most of your friends call you Myra. You are a Jewish Canadian Texan, something that seems to confuse those you come across. You find it simple: you were born Jewish in Canada and lived in Texas since you were two. You use y'all but NO YOU DO NOT HAVE A TEXAN ACCENT STOP ASKING.
You have a habit of lining up random information in your head to create the oddest of assumptions, but in general you refer to that as being silly. Sometimes those assumptions actually happen, and you look smart, but you know that no matter how intelligent you look on occasion you have no real common sense when it comes to some things.
These things include baking, although you try anyways.
Your interests include certain types of Biology (botany and genetics), art, video games, reading and in general being a silly fangirl. After all, those are what you do best, and its good to be interested in what you're good at.
You happen to admire a certain Doctor (he’s a medic, not a doctor!) and an insane raging psychopathic “ghost”, and think they are the best things since sliced bread, and that anyone who disagrees is a fool who should taste oblivion. Um, that is, if they wish to. You're not too insistent on that part. Passive-aggressiveness is a rather unfortunate trait of yours after all.
Your chumhandle reflects your main fandom, as well as your interests: killerMedic.
At the moment, you are dancing. This is because you told your friend you would be dancing and also because of a conversation you had a while ago.
It went like this:
-- tyrannosaurusRock [TR] began pestering killerMedic [KM] at 14:38 --
TR: Before you interrupt me, let me just say that everything that is currently going on is mind-numbingly stupid as fuck
TR: Having said that, I’m sorry for treating you like a dick
TR: Now that we have this apology out of the way, it seems that you rely on me to save your life
TR: Let me make this perfectly clear: I am not going to waste any amount of time trying to get you into the game, so PLEASE at least be co-operative while I try and save you
TR: Are we clear?
KM apology accepted.
KM: but i think we should wait for a while.
TR: For crying out loud
KM: do you know what you’re getting into?
KM: because i think we should wait for someone to tell us what we’re supposed to do.
TR: Look, Peter and Kyrianne figured it out somehow, right?
TR: And if they can do it, we can damn well do it, too
KM: maybe they just got lucky?
KM: besides they can tell us things so why should we not use their information?
TR: Because your goddamn life in on the line
TR: What the hell do you even think we’re doing here?
KM: you’re being a dick again.
KM: stop it.
TR: I’m just trying to get something done here
TR: Instead of waiting for someone else to spoon-feed me all the things we have to do
TR: You know, like a normal person
KM: are you sure?
KM: because it sounds like you’re being a dick.
TR: Okay, fine
TR: Isn’t part of the fun of playing a game to find things out on your own?
TR: I just sounded like a complete moron, but there you go
KM: usually, yes.
KM: but the stakes are a bit higher here and i don’t want to make a mistake.
TR: Fucking hell you guys are frustrating
TR: Why are you stopping me from helping you?
KM: because it’s dangerous and i don’t want to mess anything up if it can be helped.
TR: What am I even supposed to do right now?
TR: I mean god damnit!
KM: you can ask OL to be your server player?
TR: Oh, yeah
TR: That’s going to be a fucking thrilling conversation
KM: i’m sure you’ll do fine!
KM: after all, i’m counting on you to save my life and that’s a pretty big responsibility.
TR: Don’t patronise me
KM: i’m just trying to cheer you up.
KM: someone has to.
TR: Whatever, this is stupid
-- tyrannosaurusRock [TR] ceased pestering killerMedic [KM] at 14:42 --
It went well, you think, especially compared to the conversation before that which wasn’t any fun at all.
But he agreed to save your life and that’s really all you need.
And that’s why you’re dancing. You’re not very good at dancing, but that doesn’t matter because it’s fun and nobody is watching anyway.
You are, at the moment, at home with your older brother and little sister. They’ve both had their birthdays recently, just like a friend of yours and it’s basically been a week full of partying. As such, the house is a bit of a mess.
You’re just kidding, it’s always a bit of a mess.
Other than that, today is not going to be very exciting until David contacts you again to be his server player, because you’re sure nothing at all is going to get in the way of playing this game. You’re sure that you have plenty enough time otherwise someone would’ve told you. Seriously, there’s always one of your friends who knows what’s going on.
You have the greatest friends and nobody can successfully argue with that.
At the moment you are, of course, in your room, which is, as it is with almost everyone else, kind of a mess. ‘Kind of a mess’ means a bigger mess than ‘a bit of a mess’, by the way. Actually, that’s not entirely true. Your room is multiple messes.
You have several of your art projects sprawled across the floor, since you’re always working on something and those somethings don’t always have to be the same something, but, while that is a mess in and of itself, it’s a mess carefully separated from every other mess.
Another one of the messes is the bookshelf, where you store your books in no particular order whatsoever, which is nice, because when you’re looking for a book you run into all kinds of awesome other books you almost forgot about.
Your large, dark brown desk holds Omega Supreme. Omega Supreme is your computer and it has the best name out of everything ever.
Various posters and finished drawings colour your wall, alongside the framed picture you drew when you were little and your bed is covered with three plushies from the same period in your life.
Basically, your room is a lot of fun.
“Myra!” your brother calls and you immediately stop dancing because you really don’t want him to see you. “I really shouldn’t have to tell you this, but you have to do the laundry!”
“I’m coming!” And then you immediately go downstairs to do the laundry, because if the alternative is letting him do it, it is not going to end well.
And sure, the world might be ending, but if you’re going to survive, you’re going to need clean clothes and you might as well get them clean while you still have power and stuff, right? Suddenly, there’s a weight on your back and a cheerful voice saying: “Hi sis!”
Your sister is twelve years old, although sometimes you really wouldn’t be able to tell.
“What’s up?” she asks.
“You are!” At which point, you throw her off of you and she somehow manages to end up on her feet anyway.
“What were you doing for like, three hours or something?”
You are so not telling her about your epic dance session. “I was talking to my friends.”
“For three hours?” she exclaims.
“There were a lot of friends.”
“What did you talk about? Did you talk about boys?” She could have gotten an award for the way she stretched out the word ‘boys’.
“Shush you. I told you that’s not all girls talk about.”
“Yeah, right. So what did you talk about?”
“The end of the world.”
“And we’re going to save people.”
That, at least, gets her attention. “Really? So do I get to be saved, too?”
“If you stick around here, yes.”
“Do I get to save other people?”
“Well, have your friends heard about this new game yet?”
“I think some of them were talking about it. Sburb or something, right?”
“Then I’m pretty sure they’ll be fine.”
“Wait, a game’s going to save the world?”
“I think so.”
“That sounds so stupid,” she says. “But okay.”
She then reaches another question. “Do I get to play?”
“You get to play with me and help me out a lot, it’ll be great!”
“Help? I’m going to be saving your sorry ass all the time! Just you watch!” Then she rushes off somewhere, excited with the prospect of saving your sorry ass.
Your brother walks into the room, your sister having rushed past him. “What’d you tell her this time?” He leans against the doorway. The perfect image of nonchalance.
“Oh, I told her she was going to be saving me in the game I’m going to play.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” he smirks.
“Come on, I can take care of myself.”
“Doesn’t hurt to have extra eyes on the lookout for you, even if they belong to a hyperactive twelve year-old.”
In reply, you stick your tongue out at him to show that you’re way more mature than he is.
“Just promise you’ll be careful out there, okay?”
He’s actually serious, you notice, so you decide not to mess with him. This time. “Yeah, I’ll be careful.”
“Awesome.” He comes loose from the wall and walks away again, having spent his brotherly love for the day. “Have fun, Myra.”