a tequila sunrise suicide spy
a tequila sunrise suicide spy
☂ - Sadness:
You do not see the Spy when she is sad. Berezi is fairly good at hiding her emotions beyond irritation and apathy, especially when she’s really trying. When she’s sad, Berezi either appears to be normal or disappears completely, depending on the level of her emotions. When she disappears, she’ll basically find a small spot to hide in and simply sleep or mope until the feelings pass. Other subtle hints include eating less, laying around without a book or music, or working entirely too hard to distract herself by training in a vain attempt to build muscle.
♫ - Singing voice:
Berezi’s singing voice, much to her chagrin, is low but distinctly feminine. She’s actually fairly good, despite not knowing many songs aside from old Basque music and a few Spanish songs. It’s very rare for her to sing, mostly because she never feels like it, but she will under certain circumstances, should they ever arise.
✮ - Sleeping habits:
Her sleeping habits are dismal at best, incredibly unhealthy at worst. Disliking the vulnerability that comes with sleeping, Berezi goes for days with only a few hours of sleep until her body literally crashes and she sleeps for an entire day. It’s very common to see dark bags under her eyes and for her posture to point towards sleep deprivation, but she sometimes tries to find small hiding places to curl up in and nap.
When she actually sleeps in her own bed and of her own accord, it takes her a long time to finally pass out and she’s easily awoken, which leads to more tossing and turning while she tries to fall back asleep. Her posture is generally contorted into a small, protective ball or she sleeps stretched out on her back, arms at her side. She never moves while actually asleep, meaning that were she to share a bed with anyone, she doesn’t cuddle but doesn’t steal the blankets. A
s a child, and sometimes even now, Berezi suffers from night terrors, in which she cannot move and feels as if she’s being suffocated, and it’s enough to send her into a panic. This is another reason why she avoids sleeping.
- ❣ - hands
- ❤ - voice
- ۵ - feet
- ❦ - lips
- ø - eyes
- ღ - nose
- ♮ - body type
- ♫ - singing voice
- ✮ - sleeping habits
- ✉ - texting habits
- ✿ - laugh
- ✍ - writing style
- ⌨ - time-wasting habits
- ❅ - keeping warm/keeping cool techniques
- ✎ - taste in music/literature
- ☤ - self care/first aid habits
- ✪ - favourite food/eating habits
- ☁ - ideal holiday
- ✄ - nervous habits
- ☂ - sadness
- ❈ - ideal birthday
Reiner was just about to finally get out of his chair and walk the spy to the door, when the question rose, making his own expression be obviously irritated now.
"How is this my problem, Marko? You are the spy here, not me. Surely your kind knows how to surprise and slip by an enemy base unnoticed even without your fancy toys. I don’t know about you, but real spies do just that on a daily basis in the real world. How are you different?" he rested back in his chair, a single brow raised up high.
It was counter productive submitting to all her requests. He had given more than enough information to her both about himself and his brother’s research. Promised a double reward for the Dead-Ringer, and even went out of his way to reassure her that he was not going to use it directly. This was like giving a whole cake to a child with receiving nothing in return.
"I give you a finger and you’re taking the whole hand. No deal. Either you figure this out yourself, or this meeting was a waste." He was not going to play by her rules. Not after the deal was finally agreed on.
The Spy gave him a scathing look. He was right, of course, but she always preferred to leave buildings unseen. Heaving a sigh, she stood, removing the device from her pocket and placing it on the table. She was more than experienced with ‘the real world’ and the spies who inhabited it, being one of them. She didn’t need a doctor telling her how to do her job.
Without a word, she retrieved her disguise kit, hitting a few buttons so that her image shimmered, replacing her visage with a new one. The Medic would see a mirror image of himself, a dour look on his face as he moved to the door. When his mouth opened, however, it wasn’t his voice.
"I do expect to get it back in twenty-four hours," his doppleganger mused, before the voice changed to match his own, "I will be back to retrieve it at that time. I do hope you get proper use out of it."
With one last irritated huff, the Spy slipped out of the door, making her way back to her own base. If he truly meant to shut himself up in his office, this only made her life easier.
Hannya mask for Japanese Noh theatre
((Psst… I’m working hard on this mini-plot…. Someone should get involved….))
((I’m 100% up for platonic shipping, romantic shipping, or any other kind. uwu This dumb butt needs friends and people to look at her when she’s hiding in her room with grave injuries because she refuses to go to a Medic and be like, ‘Dude, no.’ And also watch TV/listen to music with her, that would be cute.))