[Tanya Petrowski]

Tatiana "Tanya" Vasilisa Petrowski
FACE CLAIM: Cara Delevinge.

♦ THE BASICS ♦

AGE: Twenty-five.
GENDER: Female.
ORIENTATION: Pansexual.
POSITION: Manager and co-owner of the Silverlight. (Local)

♦ THE ABILITY ♦

POWER: Telepathy.
Tanya has the ability to mentally receive and transmit information to other people's minds. She can read the thoughts of other people, and also communicate the same way; The people she uses her ability on will hear her voice inside their head.

When reading the "outer" thoughts of people, they won't know she's listening, but if she digs deeper than what's on the forefront of their mind, people will normally feel her poking around. This sensation usually comes in the form of a light prodding, or in some cases, a slight headache.

LIMITATIONS:

• Her abilities does not work on mindless beings or animals (robots, corpses, animated objects, etc).
  
• The range of her ability is limited a twenty meter radius around herself, and she can only read the thoughts of one person at a time, and only transmit thoughts to one person at a time.
• Will have trouble reading the mind of people who possess abilities such a s psychic shielding; They can either be immune or highly resistant. The same thing goes for people with a lot of willpower; They can shut her out, and if she pokes too deeply, people will notice that she's inside their head.
  
• The more intense the thought is, the louder Tanya will hear it. It kind of works the same as whispering - talking - yelling. This can override her mind/system with too much information, and thus, make her pass out for a set amount of time. (This goes both ways; receive and transmit)

SIDE-EFFECTS:

• Nearly constant headaches that often develop into migraines. The migraines can cause nausea, nosebleeds and eventually fainting. (In extreme cases; external and internal bleeding)
• Restlessness, insomnia and mood swings are also common side-effects Tanya experience with her ability.
• Mental and physical exhaustion is something Tanya experiences on a daily basis.

♦ THE FREEFORM ♦

St. Petersburg, Russia. Age zero.

"Oh, Izabella..." Their mother says, her voice tired. She reaches her hand out for her first born daughter. "Come meet your sister." The child, as blonde as her mother steps towards the bed. Eyes as blue as the sky peer over her mother's shoulders, curiously watching the thing her mother claims to be a baby. "She looks like a red raisin." The child claims defiantly, not trying to hide the wrinkle to her nose.

The child then turns her head. Their father is there too, but he doesn't step inside the room. Somehow, he looks disappointed. The child doesn't understand why her mother is happy, while her father isn't. 

St. Petersburg, Russia. Age five.

"Izabella. Tatiana." Their father declares, though he doesn't look up from his book. The children look at each other, one seven and the other twelve. "What is it?" He speaks again, only this time he looks up. "It's mom." The oldest says. "She's sick again." The younger declares. Both stare at him. Expectantly. "You're dismissed." He looks back down again.

As the girls shut the door behind them, they can hear their father on the phone. "Put me over to St. Peterburg's ritual company." There's a finality to his words. As if it's already decided. "Is mom going to die?" Tatiana asks, her voice hushed. Izabella looks at the door for a moment before turning to her younger sister. "Come on, let's go get some lemonade in the kitchen." She takes her baby sister's hand and leads her away from the closed door.

St. Petersburg, Russia. Age nine.

"What are you doing?" Tatiana asks. She looks down at the bouquet of flowers in her sister's hands. "I'm visiting mom." Izabella declares. "What of it?" Tatiana puts her hands on her hips and tilts her chin forward. The same way their father does. "He's not going to like that." As if the eldest daughter of the Petrowski house didn't already know that. Izabella turns away. "I don't care."

The youngest daughter is left standing alone in the hallway, watching the door swing shut before her eyes. She purses her lips and turns in the opposite direction. "You should." She mutters under her breath.

Brasov, Romania. Age eleven.

Staring at the Romanian mutant school, she couldn't help but to scoff. She'd been waiting for this day all her life and she couldn't help but feel disappointed; This was it? This was what her father had trained her for? She looks over at the recruiter who'd brought her here. Even he didn't look impressive.

Brushing her blonde hair off her shoulder she steps forward; She'd manifested only a week before, but she didn't feel fearful. She'd known this day would come. She'd known what to expect. Just like her father had before her.

"Welcome to your new home, Tatiana." The recruiter says. She purses her lips and turns. "Tanya." She corrects him. He looks confused. "It's Tanya."

St. Petersburg, Russia. Age eighteen.

A blue eyed teen sits on the other side of a large, wooden desk. The desk holds no personal belongings, though, the man sitting behind it was never known to be very sentimental. The young teen runs her fingers down her side, nails scraping against the fabric of the black dress she's wearing. It clings to her slender form.

"Tatiana." The man, her father, says. His voice carries no sentimentality. Just the way it never has. She cringes at the name, but blue eyes turn in his direction. He carries a certain kind of authority she can't escape. He looks at the stack of papers in front of him; Her grades. Perfect as always - just like everything she does. He looks at her and she shifts nervously.

He nods. She relaxes. He's pleased.

"Welcome home, Tatiana."

Moscow, Russia. Age twenty-one.

"Tatiana Petrowski." A tall, slender woman announced. Tanya stands up and meets the woman's eyes who gestures for her to follow. She does. "I never thought I'd see another Petrowski walks these halls, let alone one following in the former's footsteps." Tanya simply nods at the woman's words. She'd been destined for this path all her life.

"To think you've already been a student here for two years." The woman shakes her head. Tanya doesn't understand why it's such a surprise. "Will your sister be joining us too?" The woman continues and Tanya doesn't reply. 

Certain questions are better left for her father. After all, Tanya is not her sister. She's her father. Or aim to be, at any rate. "Ah, well." The woman keeps going on. "Your father had such a talent when it came to handling business. I can tell from your grades that you have one too."

Tanya tilts her head then. "I am a Petrowski. I'm a natural."

Nice, France. Age twenty-three.

A man, clad in a suit that doesn't at all fit the current weather. She pulls her sunglasses off. "What?" She asks. The man looks uncomfortable. He doesn't have to tell her. She already knows. And yet, she looks at him expectantly.

"Your father just called." He announces. She raises her eyebrows at him. "And?" She makes him feel uncomfortable. He knows. "He has a business opportunity for you." A sigh falls from the blonde's lips as she pushes herself out of the sunbed she'd claimed only thirty minutes before.

"No rest for the wicked."

Stagfort, Oregon. Age twenty-five.

She looked at the grand building before her. It had taken over two years to build, but here it was. Finally completed. The Silverlight hotel and casino. Her father's legacy. Her birthright.

"What do you think of America?" Her chauffeur asks, his expression amused. Tanya wrinkles her nose, but smiles. "It'll do." She looks at him over her shoulder. "This place will do."

She looks at the building again. Heavily inspired by Russian architecture. Even the Iron Tree present on the front of the building. At least she wouldn't feel too homesick. "Do you want to take a look at the basement?" Her chauffeur asks, gesturing towards the building. He grins. She grins.

"Ah, yes. My favorite part of the entire business. Let's go."

♦ THE PLAYER ♦

USERNAME: Mel.
AGE GROUP: Twenty-five.
EXPERIENCE: A few years now.
WHERE DID YOU FIND US? A series of fortunate events.

[★ EDDIE]

ACCEPTED! ►
► GO ON.
BY EDWARD OF GS