ASLI FAKHOURZI
ambiverted
mildy impatient
relatively low
extremely low if goes against personal belief
relatively high
XSTP
Unlike most, she handles small talk concerningly well. It's when a conversation tolls over five minutes that she'll begin
to stumble and go quieter. She's extremely fond of saving civilian's who are stressed about the safety of a loved one - animal
or human. She's quick thinking, bluntly sarcastic, and a big fan of cigarettes. In short, the priorities are straight. She video calls her family twice a week to catch up and say hi to everyone, trying to avoid speaking about working as much as possible.
In the workplace she's incredibly independent, hence the private sector. Alot of her work is commissioned by the police to
aid interrigation meetings, but combat relies on alot of self trust. There's enough of that to not worry
about the trust of others. Her first few years in Tokyo resulted in a smaller handful of close friends who she is very appreciative
towards, but her workload interferes with most made plans. they're still very dear to her.
Asli, in her younger and more vunerable years, lived upon the coastal line of Uzunyurt, Turkey. Her childhood house held
three generations, which included her and five cousins: a detached, farm house with wooden supports and cobblestone floors.
She remembers lizards that scatterred across orange concrete walls. The sound of the cicada's that inhabited olive branches
above her bedroom window. The smoke that always seem to cling outside the bazlama fireplace. Over the eleven years, she had
grown accustomed to thirteen cats, which were all named and fed. Depending on the tidal routine, Asli would secure each cat
in the wooden basket upon the front of her bike. Riding to the edge of the pier, the girl would fish until the boatmen archored
down their property, which indicated the end of her trip. The selected cat would recieve three fish, and a ride back to wherever she
picked it up from. The remaining would be given to her aunt.
To voice it plainly, her life was beautifully simple. Yet this is a chainsaw man oc, so nothing stays beautiful forever.
It was somewhere towards the end of the July in 1996. Asli was accompanied by Cilhan on this fishing trip, the grey tabby
that seemed to prefer howling over a standard meow. Occupied by a chaffinch, the cat jumps outside of the basket, aligning
its small body directly within the center of the approaching wheel. A sudden jerk of the handles and clench of the break trigger
results in Asli being launched over the bike, meeting the floor with an unfortunate amount of friction against both palms, radialis,
and the right side of her face. The pain, especially for a twelve year old, was unbearable. She screamed until she vomitted, desperately clasping the torn flabber of skin to its original position. The cat was breathing, but very still. To both, it
seemed to be end of the world.
"sana yardım edebilirim." The meat of a finger points to the floor. It wasn't close to being human, but it was made of the same
flab which hung down her face. She didn't dare to raise her eyes. "Take the rock and strike it. The harder you strike, the less it
will feel."
. . .
With the first two layers skin from the right portion of face, and the death of Cilhan, Asli was granted a contract with the skin
devil. She couldn't bring herself to activate it until reaching Tokyo at nineteen. Hell, it took the first four years to get used to the silicone-skin replacement. Her Mother reccommended, pleaded, even, for her
to persuit an education in Japan in hopes that she would understand this power can help the lives of many. Asli has never once saw this trait as a 'good' thing, even to this day. But god is she good at using it.