Hospital janitor, freelance artist; gives art lessons at local hospice care
Order of Light
Her artistic flair has completely taken over her life; a carefree simple style reserved for her personal appearance, the lush and elaborate artisan’s loft reflecting her eclectic tastes. Light strawberry auburn hair is a mass of careless curl- sometimes flat-ironed straight, usually pulled back in a ponytail or loose plait when she’s working at the hospital and up in a checkered handkerchief when she’s at home working on projects. Recent events have forced her to begin dyeing the signature cascade of strawberry to a deep chestnut, hiding in the open.
After work, light gray scrubs and tennis shoes are immediately traded out for camis or dark colored tank tops, comfortable low slung jeans and flip flops; sometimes a worn cardigan if it gets cool.
She wears no make-up most of the time except for tinted chapstick, nose with a soft spatter of peachy freckles. Striking pale green eyes mirror her twin brother’s, set with gentle melancholy that contradicts her defined and intense features.
Maree is compact and athletic, used to hard work from her employment, working with tools and metal sculpture; also experienced in Aikido and Savate- which she still practices. She has no problem being covered in paint, grease or metal ash and actually enjoys getting her hands dirty. Sometimes, she’s seen at a local farmer’s market still covered in paint; part of her eclectic charm.
On her back is a large burn scar of spidering patterns. At a glance, it looks like a pale pink tattoo of frost, starting thin at the base of her spine and blossoming up to her shoulders into a tree-like pattern. She has no memory of when it happened, or where it came from. It’s not painful, and is quite beautiful; so finite and detailed it looks like professionally done work.
Most of the time incredibly kind and soft-spoken, she is a favorite at the hospice care where she volunteers her time and goes by "Jo". At the hospital, she does her job quietly, rarely making conversation. When she does, it highlights a sassy streak that comes off as playful and friendly. Her public persona is a sharp contrast to her private life. She would much rather be home with a blowtorch and some fresh scrap metal than around large groups of people. Despite being charming and affectionate with others, it is exhausting for her introverted and increasingly volatile personality.
Enduring the Event, separation from her brother and torture, she now finds herself battling new demons. She is frustrated from bouts of amnesia she assumes were caused by a concussion suffered during the Event. In public she holds it together, using her volunteer work as an outlet. When alone, a bi-polar shift happens; exploding as angry outbursts and destruction in her studio from uncontrolled telekinetic ability manifesting through willed rage. Afraid to seek medical help given her “condition”, she finds details slipping away the more the years drag on, replaced with memories of people she never knew or met. Personal memories from before the shift fade in and out like water with her mood changes, the only constant being her twin brother; desperate to find him. She is afraid to inquire as to his whereabouts to avoid suspicion about her personal “condition”.
Maree has an unbelievable resilience to injury and abuse. A victim of experimentation early after the Resonance, her psychological fortitude allowed her core personality to remain intact, but her lack of training makes the struggle to stay balanced a hard fight. As frustration grows, so does her inability to control what is coming with it. The dark anger and light kindness that inhabit her body are becoming further and further polarized as powers become more uncontrolled- a wicked lick of personality starting to emerge the more trained she becomes.
Maree lives comfortably in a partially abandoned industrial district near the harbor. She rents a large two story shipping warehouse in a quiet complex. The former office overlooking the generous storage area has been turned into her bedroom and living space, lushly decorated with opulent fabrics, her paintings and wrought iron wall hangings in between curtains and drapes of incredible yardages of light colors. Furnishings are rich and dark, topped with an eclectic collection of classical and modern art. She climbs up to her loft through a simple ladder, having cut out the metal stairs for an art project some time earlier.
Below is her art studio, a cement floor wonderland of half-finished paintings on giant canvases, metal sculptures that look like mythical creatures from scrap metal, work tables, welding equipment and heavy tools. Entrance to the studio is through a garage style metal door. Her only mode of transportation is a faded blue 1951 Chevy truck with no key, rigged to her own personal hot-wire system. She has a small makeshift area in the lower art studio that serves as a small corner garage space for her truck.
She keeps her viola, a gift from her deceased parents, in a huge antique safe on the main floor. It’s professional caliber, custom made to her measurements and based off of early viola makers from Brescia, Italy.
Next to her bed on the wall is a mounted array of custom made Jodo and oddly enough, several walking sticks.
On a black cord around her neck is her most prized possession, a ring from her parents. When she turned eighteen, their parents gifted them with matching custom rings set with Mexican Fire Opals made from the same stone. They were designed to wear on the middle finger, but to protect it from her art work and her job she wears it around the cord. She never takes it off.