TV's House of Party
Your name is Kujona Sakeru and nothing matters more to you than living to the next day.
Sure, a lot of trolls might write you off as heartless. It’s not like they’re entirely wrong, you’ve taken more lives than they’ve probably met, and not one of them hangs on your conscience. But if they did that would make you a pretty terrible assassin, wouldn’t it?
You are not a pretty terrible assassin. You are, in fact, an incredibly skilled one. Unfeeling and merciless, you’ve slain up and down the hemospectrum, any age, any way, getting whatever job you’re given done. Your putrid blood and willingness to dirty yourself in every way makes you excellent for your job, your employers say. Well, they’re not wrong.
Because you are so good, you find work. Because you find work, you are required to be alive. Because you are required to be alive, when you sleep you know you will live the next day. And that’s all that matters. That’s all that ever mattered. You just have to survive.
You’re a rustblood, and that means you were always going to have a psychic power. And the ability to drain life through your left hand is certainly nothing to sneeze about. It’s one of countless weapons in your assassination portfolio after all.
If the kind of clients you took, and the kind of circles in the upper tier of the fleet coincided, rumours of the Condesce’s lifegiving touch might be compared to your deathgiving one. Of course, that comparison would then have the one saying so executed for offence, and you slain instantly for daring to act like an Empress. So it’s probably for the best you’ll never hear such tales. Not one living in the mud like you.
Of course your psychic ability isn’t the only advantage you carry. Your right eye, blind and covered, isn’t just a ticket to culling if you weren’t fast-tracking through the wrong side of the law. When uncovered, though it will never see the physical world, it will forever gaze upon the spiritual. And even ghosts without form manifested, those who can only let their grudges seep like poison onto those they blame, are not hidden from you.
Neither are they hidden from your touch. And it is in this intersection of mutation and power that your most marketable skill, belonging solely to yourself, becomes available: ghost slaying.
Any highblood paranoid enough to believe their victims stalk them would pay for your service. Whether they actually are haunted or not, you tell them you have eliminated their foes and they reward you well. If they truly are, you are merciless. Let the dead pass on to the realm of death.
You’ll never actually know this, but your ability does not kill ghosts as much as disperse them, leaving them to reform over many sweeps. Your blood will have killed you long before that becomes apparent to you.
Your trolltag is spectralMutilator and you -|— open lInes with knIves, fellIng your enemIes before they even know you are there.

Your name is Kujona Sakeru and nothing matters more to you than living to the next day.

Sure, a lot of trolls might write you off as heartless. It’s not like they’re entirely wrong, you’ve taken more lives than they’ve probably met, and not one of them hangs on your conscience. But if they did that would make you a pretty terrible assassin, wouldn’t it?

You are not a pretty terrible assassin. You are, in fact, an incredibly skilled one. Unfeeling and merciless, you’ve slain up and down the hemospectrum, any age, any way, getting whatever job you’re given done. Your putrid blood and willingness to dirty yourself in every way makes you excellent for your job, your employers say. Well, they’re not wrong.

Because you are so good, you find work. Because you find work, you are required to be alive. Because you are required to be alive, when you sleep you know you will live the next day. And that’s all that matters. That’s all that ever mattered. You just have to survive.

You’re a rustblood, and that means you were always going to have a psychic power. And the ability to drain life through your left hand is certainly nothing to sneeze about. It’s one of countless weapons in your assassination portfolio after all.

If the kind of clients you took, and the kind of circles in the upper tier of the fleet coincided, rumours of the Condesce’s lifegiving touch might be compared to your deathgiving one. Of course, that comparison would then have the one saying so executed for offence, and you slain instantly for daring to act like an Empress. So it’s probably for the best you’ll never hear such tales. Not one living in the mud like you.

Of course your psychic ability isn’t the only advantage you carry. Your right eye, blind and covered, isn’t just a ticket to culling if you weren’t fast-tracking through the wrong side of the law. When uncovered, though it will never see the physical world, it will forever gaze upon the spiritual. And even ghosts without form manifested, those who can only let their grudges seep like poison onto those they blame, are not hidden from you.

Neither are they hidden from your touch. And it is in this intersection of mutation and power that your most marketable skill, belonging solely to yourself, becomes available: ghost slaying.

Any highblood paranoid enough to believe their victims stalk them would pay for your service. Whether they actually are haunted or not, you tell them you have eliminated their foes and they reward you well. If they truly are, you are merciless. Let the dead pass on to the realm of death.

You’ll never actually know this, but your ability does not kill ghosts as much as disperse them, leaving them to reform over many sweeps. Your blood will have killed you long before that becomes apparent to you.

Your trolltag is spectralMutilator and you -|— open lInes with knIves, fellIng your enemIes before they even know you are there.