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General

Name: Moira Bennett
Gender: female
Age: 27
Birthday: February 14, 1980
Place of Residence: For the most part, Texas, where I have a small place. I travel the country quite a bit, though, so then it's motels.
Bloodline: human
Monetary Situation: I come from a pretty good background, so there's a steady income there from what Father left me. I don't really do the con thing unless I have to.
Affiliations/Organizations: Um, I'm a hunter. Is that affiliated enough?

Appearance

Height: 5'8"
Weight: 125 lbs
Eye Colour: light blue
Hair Colour & Style: Shoulder-length brown hair is so dark that it almost appears black.
Build: I'm fairly tall for a woman and, I think, rather lanky. It's more sinew than bone-thin, though. So yeah, I 'spose I'm decently fit.
Skin Colour: very, very fair
Clothing Style: I'll admit it, I have a penchant for leather. No matter how many people have told me it's impractical for hunting, especially given the heat in the Midwest, I find they serve as good buffers against bruises and scrapes. My favorite article of clothing would probably have to be my ankle-length black leather duster. That's my usual look, denim or black leather pants. And always my black boots because they're tipped with silver on the heels. You can never be too careful in this trade.
Distinguishing Marks: I've picked up quite a few scars over the years. Thanks to my most prominent five, apparently I'm becoming known as "Stigmata". Both my wrists, a slash across the stomach, the back of my neck, and a surgical scar beneath the right kneecap (it was once shattered).

Family

Parents: I have them, yeah. Just...not my father. He's dead, God rest his soul.
Siblings: none
Children: none
Brief Family History: I was born in Dover, Kent, England as the only child of a fairly well off former member of the British Royal Navy and his wife. My father had a secret profession, one which my mother knew nothing about.

Personality

First Impression (others have of you): British, proper, aloof and somewhat cold...essentially, a "bitch"
Life Philosophy: You can never really depend on anyone but yourself.
General Behavior: I don't really trust people.

Especially male hunters. Working alone is so much easier because then I don't have to be responsible for anyone but myself. I don't like to babysit and I certainly don't want other people's blood on my hands. I'm afraid I'm the type to shoot first and ask questions later. Not always the best approach, I know, but sometimes the only thing you can rely on in the field is pure instinct. It has to be said that I don't usually hunt for the same purpose as most other hunters do. I'm not really all that interesting in "fighting the good fight" and helping to rid the world of evil. I do it for me; my reasons are my own.
Quirks & Habits: I have them. Everyone does, I guess. I have a bad habit of just sort of dropping off in the middle of conversations because a thought struck me or something. I tend to ignore people then, mostly because I rather forget they're still present.
Likes: leather clothing, long-range projectile weapons, my father's old Winchester hunting rifle, tea
Dislikes: alcohol, most people

Social/Romantic

Close Friendships: I suppose I don't have very many friends.
Known Enemies: Anything and anyone that chooses to attack me. The most significant of which is that dratted creature that killed my father.
Sexuality: heterosexual
Turn Ons: I highly doubt you'll ever be allowed close enough to need to know.
Turn Offs: Stupidity, drunkenness, liars and traitors
Past Relationships: I've only had one serious boyfriend, but I don't like to talk about him.

The bastard.
Attitude Toward Sex: Sure. Fine. Whatever you like. Will I be engaging in such anytime soon, however? Probably not.
Attitude Toward Love: I'd like to believe in such things as much as the next girl, I really do. But so far, I've seen little evidence of its worth.

The Fun Stuff

Favorite drink order: mineral water, because nobody serves tea in roadside diners here in America
How many drinks does it take you to get drunk?: Not many, I'm afraid. Hence the rather embarrassing incident that I shall also not mention further.
To pass out face-down in a puddle of lukewarm beer?: No, not that I'm aware of. Then again, if I were passed out, I wouldn't know, would I?
Truth or Dare?: truth
Name the three characters you'd most like to bed: I can't think of any, really.
Describe your first sexual encounter: That's my business, thank you very much. Not yours.
Share a dirty secret with the group: I'm not sure this counts as "dirty" exactly, but I 'spose the reason I wear so much leather is because I like the look. And the feel, perhaps, but mostly the look. When you appear badass, you embrace it more.