This is the fifth in a series of character profiles for my upcoming July Camp Nano Project.
The story follows a group’s flight from Rochester;in the midst of the apocalypse, safety may be might be the hardest thing to find.
But before they flee, many of them knew each other – and knew Raven.
Dorian likes a lot of things.
She likes the way Terry’s lips feel on her neck. She likes the way shot of whisky tastes on her lips and burns in her throat. She likes the way a particularly complex problem comes together like pieces clicking into place.
She likes machines, and how they talk to her, how they smell, how they work.
Whisky and Terry brought her into our circle, into Anelle’s parties and, possibly more importantly, into the the Oak and Rowan group. She doesn’t really hold with any of the psychic shit, but the people are nice, and, well, maybe once in a while there are phenomena that she hasn’t come up with an answer for. Yet.
Terry got her to the parties, because Terry does that. “Come on, get the car will still be there tomorrow. I know some nice people.” Whisky got her to keep coming to the parties, because Anelle notices things, and when she noticed that Dorian adored good whisky, she bought better whisky for the next party.
And a curiosity about the way things ticked got her to Raven’s drinking parties in the swamp.
Dorian – Mary Dorian Smithsen – is a short girl, not quite five foot tall. She wears her auburn hair cut close, so that it just curls over the tops of her ears, and spends a lot of time reminding herself not to hunch, because she spends every moment of free time bent over mechanical projects.
She’s got pale skin, usually stained brown with oil, grey-green eyes, and a ready smile. She’s skinny enough – and has short enough hair – to be mistaken for a boy on occasion, and does not mind at all.
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