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OOC
Name: Hanna
Preferred pronouns: She/her
Over 16?: yes
Contact: plurk is 4romance
Time zone: GMT +1

IC
Type: OU
Name: Lucy Preston
Canon: Timeless
Canon point: End of series
Age: 33
Appearance:
Personality: Lucy is a person with a strong sense of right and wrong, though her views have been challenged greatly by her experiences with time travel. She doesn’t like to put herself in situations she can’t control (again something she’s had to try to get over), but when such situations are thrust upon her she doesn’t run away from responsibility or personal sacrifice to do what she perceives to be the right thing. She is very loyal to the people she cares about, and will do almost anything for them. She is often a mediator, the person who tries to make people get along and work together. Even if she went into history as a profession mostly because of her mother, she does seem to genuinely love the subject. She is very kind and empathetic, but there is a lot of steel in her too. She shot Jesse James in the back while he was unarmed, so when pushed she can be plenty ruthless if she has to, but never easily and it weighs extremely heavily on her.

Background: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Timeless_(TV_series)

Strengths & weaknesses:
Strengths:
- Brave
- Intelligent
- Compassionate
- diplomatic

Weaknesses:
- Claustrophobic
- Not a very good fighter
- Very limited survival skills

Depowering/humanization: She’s just a regular human

Placement preference: Barrayar, I feel like Lucy’s history knowledge would make it somewhat easier for her to figure out how to fit into that culture, and also the Cetagandan focus on genetics would probably remind her a lot of Rittenhouse which would make her supremely unwilling to work with them. Then again I am not opposed to playing my character in a position of conflict like that, and she will certainly have a lot of problems with how things work in Barrayar as well, so it’s up to you guys what you think would be best!

Character goals: At first, Lucy’s main concern is very much going to be just surviving for long enough that she can find a way to get home, but as she becomes more and more involved with the ongoing conflict she is absolutely the sort of person that would start to get invested in helping out and trying to play a more active part in things. Depending on where she is placed and how things actually end up playing out she might become some sort of spy, or perhaps an adviser of sorts just based on drawing parallels to historical situations and pointing out potential risks or possibilities. She isn’t much of a fighter, but she has shown herself willing to do it if she has to, and she has killed.

Sample:
Snow covered everything like a thick, glittery blanket, and every inch of exposed skin burned in the dry air because it was so cold. Villagers had been kind enough to lend her a few extra layers of clothing, which on the one hand made her a supremely ungraceful and thus very attractive target for the local children to throw snowballs at, but on the other kept her from losing any limbs to frost bite. All things considered, she felt it was a more than fair deal.

Presently, she had found herself a bench stood along the wall of one of the little log houses and was sat there accompanied by one of the dogs that would later transport her to the Barrayaran encampment. In spite of valiant efforts being made, she’d still not managed to learn how to steer the sleds, so she would be accompanied by some guerilla soldier or other that would handle that bit for her.

Every time she found herself in a situation like that, memories of Wyatt showed up to punch her in the gut. Just like Rufus came to mind whenever she needed help understanding advanced technology. The way Amy was always, always on her mind.

The dog pawed at her leg for attention, and while she refused to take off her thick mitts she still did her best to offer some good scratches behind the canine’s big, pointy ears.

“You know, Roald Amundsen ate his sled dogs.”

The dog gave her a confused little whine, almost as if it could understand her. Why was she talking to a dog about the exploration of the south pole? Well, why was she stuck on an alien planet in the middle of a war she knew nothing about? Things don’t always make sense.

“It’s true. He started out with fifty-two of them and only had eleven at the end.”

She chuckled a little and shook her head at herself.

“What am I doing? I’m sorry buddy. I promise you won’t get eaten.”

She bent down to kiss the dog’s head, and ended up getting a few big wet kisses instead, something she could definitely have done without. She supposed she could view it as a punishment of sorts for her choice of conversational topic.

If only all things were so easily evened out.
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Lucy Preston

February 2017

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