Tori Peterson

The easy S T U F F . . .

Name: Tori Peterson
She isn’t sure what her middle name is going to be yet.
Nickname: Right now everybody calls her by her assigned-at-birth name, Jason.
Age: Fourteen (June 15th, 1999)
Member Group: New Student (freshman in high school)
Power(s): Winged flight + communication with birds
She has a pair of functional feathered wings, and can understand avian speech and speak it herself (though not well, since she currently isn't very practiced). The more time she spends speaking to and listening to birds, the more birdlike habits she develops, such as the tendency to spook and fly off at loud noises & sudden movements and the tendency to "perch" (crouch on a high object) instead of sitting. She also occasionally has times where she loses the ability to understand human speech. When this happens, it's usually accompanied by a notable increase in birdlike tendencies.
When she doesn't fly for a while, she starts to long for the sky. She will get depressed if she goes too long without flying. If she does fly consistently, she will need to eat a lot more than the average human would: between 500 and 1,000 calories more, daily. Soreness in her shoulders and pulled/strained back muscles are extremely common whether she flies or not, especially if she doesn't strengthen the surrounding muscles (though this may decrease with training). Early-onset osteoporosis is a common side effect of flight, but she hasn't had any symptoms at this time.
Play By: Hayley Williams
I’ll use some younger/younger-looking pictures of Hayley for now, until Tori gets a bit older.

Let it F L O W . . .

[Content warning: discussion of trans female dysphoria, physical and social]

Early August 2013

Tori plopped down in her desk right as the bell rang, eyes automatically flitting to the clock on the wall. Seventh period: 49 minutes of class left, then she was out of here. Her last class was, unfortunately, algebra, but the friend she shared it with did make it slightly more bearable. The teacher had placed them as far away from each other as possible, but it made little difference: they had both mastered the art of texting under the table.

The instructor stood up from her desk as a few stragglers filed into the room, holding the paper in her hand for roll call. Tori pulled out her book (Ringworld) to distract herself from the roster of names being called out. The name she responded to was further down the list.

“Jason Peterson?”

“Here,” she replied, ignoring the incorrect name. It was nothing new.

“Put that book down, this is a math class,” the instructor snapped before returning to the list of names. “Katie Smith?”

Bitch, she thought, sliding the book back into her bag and surreptitiously slipping her phone out of her pocket.

3 new texts
Aaron: r u done with that freaking book yet
Aaron: nerrrd
Aaron: dude pick up ur damn phone

She chuckled quietly to herself. Typical Aaron. She glanced around briefly to make sure the instructor was occupied before responding.

Jason: yes, this is my third time reading it. also why r u texting in class pay attention

Tori grinned and set the phone in her lap, glancing up at the board and making a brief attempt at paying attention in class before receiving his response. The instructor was going around the room checking homework, and was soon at her desk. "Did you do your homework today?" she asked Tori, a tinge of exasperation in her voice.

"Uh, Section 5.3? Lemme check," Tori responded. She rifled through her backpack (much to her teacher's annoyance) and eventually pulled out a slightly mangled sheet of paper. "About half."

The instructor gave her a disappointed look, which she shrugged off. She knew her math teacher didn't like her, and she didn't really care. A few of her teachers knew her as ‘star student,’ most knew her as ‘mildly annoying,’ and a few knew her as ‘troublemaker.’ She never tried to make trouble, but never went out of her way to cater to people’s sensibilities - including teachers - and found it more amusing than anything when she got labeled as a troublemaker.

The teacher moved on to the next desk. As usual, Aaron responded to her text in a matter of minutes.

New Text
Aaron: lol ur a freak

The word lodged itself in her chest and burst into flames. The hurt and shame burned in her heart like a wildfire. I know. Some words would always hurt, no matter who said them, no matter their intention.

A shot of pain went through her shoulders and back as her wings strained against the bandages wrapped tightly around them.

Freak.

Her phone fell into her lap and she left it there for ten minutes, staring off into space. Yes, she was a freak. Everyone thought so – she was the “boy” who liked skateboards and science fiction, who was a little too feminine for everyone’s taste, who fought back and didn’t take shit from her bullies, who it was perfectly acceptable to pick on. She was already a target, and that was just because of the face she put on in public. It wasn’t even remotely safe for her to be who she really was – if bullies and jocks shoved her against lockers just for having long hair and interests that spanned across cliques, she shuddered to imagine how they would react if they knew she was a meta-human trans girl.

While some people seemed to envy meta-humans, others obviously hated them, and there were plenty of people who were subtle in their bigotry. Even more terrifying than the opinions of her peers, however, were the stories of meta-humans just disappearing. Some thought it was a plot by the government, others thought it was anti-meta bigots kidnapping people, but one thing was clear: it was not safe to be an openly meta teenager, at least not in this town. She wasn’t sure what to think, but was scared to tell anyone – parents included – lest they panic and contact someone who wanted to take her away.

Her parents weren’t safe people to confide in about her gender, either. Her mom claimed to be accepting of gays and lesbians, but still made quips about them “shoving it down our throats” whenever something LGBT-related would come on the television or she passed two women holding hands. Her dad was a different story altogether. He was the primary person in her life who policed her gender expression, showing open disdain for the length of her hair and flatly forbidding her from wearing what she wanted to wear and acting certain ways. Maybe it would have been better had she had brothers, but as an only child, all his hopes were pinned on her, and most of those were wrapped up in ideas of traditional masculinity that she couldn’t live up to without hating herself even more than she already did.

That was why she wore jeans and bound her wings, wearing two t-shirts over the binding to hide the lines. That was why she only ever listened to birds, and never spoke back. That was why the only place she allowed herself to really be herself was online, creating female personas and talking openly with other meta-humans, wishing she could live on the internet and leave this world behind.

She hid, and she hid well. Between being transgender and being meta-human, she had mastered the art of hiding.

Just four more years. Then she could be out of this school, out of this town, away from her parents and the people who had tormented her ever since she had moved here three years ago. Then she could start presenting as female, start trying to get access to contra-hormone therapy, and maybe - maybe - even let herself fly sometimes.

Tori shook herself out of her depressive trance and glanced at the phone in her lap.

4 new messages
Aaron: hey man i didnt mean it
Aaron: i shouldnt have said that, im sorry
Aaron: u ok?
Aaron: hello

She smiled slightly. One thing about Aaron: he always meant well, and if he said something stupid he would do anything to make it up to you.

Jason: hey its no problem, yeah im fine

She glanced at Aaron, who looked back briefly. He looked unconvinced, but nodded and changed the subject.

Aaron: so last nite i discovered something, pineapple pizza is
Aaron: really
Aaron: realy good

Gross, she thought. She hated pineapple.

It wasn't long before the bell rang, and students exploded out of the classroom, not heeding the instructor's protests. Tori and Aaron met by the door and started walking to her locker. "Hey, are you still up for studying on Friday?" Aaron asked.

"Yeah, of course," Tori said. Aaron was able to help her on subjects she disliked and struggled with, like history and any science other than bio or tech, and she in turn helped him in areas where he struggled. While she hated math, she was better at it than he was, which was her only motivation (other than parental ire) to understand the material: that way, she could help him. She hated feeling powerless to help a friend, no matter how small the issue.

Beyond those two motivations, she had a few things she was passionate about, but couldn't be arsed to care about any of her other subjects. Her report cards ended up very mixed, as she excelled in classes she enjoyed and struggled to stay afloat in those that she didn't, being anything but a motivated student. She was an A's and D's kind of student, if such a thing existed.

"Okay, that's good, since I have no idea how to handle parabolas," Aaron admitted sheepishly. Shit, neither do I, she thought.

Well, now she knew what she would be studying for the next few days. "Sure, I can help," she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

Aaron smiled widely in thanks as they reached her locker. She entered the combo, kicked her locker a few times, cursed loudly - you know, the usual - before it opened. As usual, several books fell out, including her sketchbook full of birds. Aaron picked it up before she could reach it and flipped through it. "Dude, these are really good. Why are they all birds, though?"

Tori blushed furiously and snatched the sketchbook from his hands, flailing for an excuse. "Birds are just... really fun to draw." Well, it was true. She just didn't say why.

Aaron shrugged. "Are you staying after school today? I have chess club."

Tori shook her head, stuffing books into her backpack. "No," she responded, "I gotta lot of homework to do, I can't stay after."

"Okay," Aaron said. "See you tomorrow, then."

"See ya." Tori grabbed her backpack and skateboard and headed for the bus.

~*~

“I’m home,” Tori called out, slamming the door behind her and rocketing upstairs.

“Don’t slam the door, honey,” her mom, Janice Peterson, called out tiredly from her desk. She worked from home, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was more emotionally available than her dad, Michael Peterson, who worked for an insurance company. She was usually on her computer, and would get pissy if anyone interrupted her.

Tori entered her room and closed the door behind her - more softly this time, so as not to irritate her mom. She set her skateboard in the corner, dropped her backpack next to her desk, and collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. Her freshman year of high school had just started and she had fallen into the same old routine of binding her wings, feeling like shit about her body, and trying and failing to avoid bullies. Not much had really changed from middle school - or from Oregon, for that matter.

She had gone to school in Oregon for most of elementary school. Her parents had originally moved here, to Washington, three years ago to escape the horrible bullying she had experienced at her old school. (They wouldn't have moved states if her dad hadn't gotten a good job offer here.) Was it better here? She liked to believe that it was, but some days she was uncertain.

This last year had really thrown her for a loop, and she wasn't sure if the events left her better or worse off. It had been a little over a year since she had come out to herself as a transgender girl. That discovery clarified so many of her prior experiences - the vague but powerful feelings of discomfort with the way she was seen by others, with her relationship to her father and most of her male friends. When her body started changing, she knew exactly why she hated everything that testosterone was doing to her. This wasn't supposed to happen, she wasn't supposed to grow up this way...

Then in July the wings started growing in, and she had no fucking clue how to feel about that. What more could her body throw at her? Was she supposed to feel wonderful, special, that she had the ability to fly, assuming they even worked? Or was she supposed to resent them the way she resented all the other physical changes, hate it for giving her something else she had to hide, for making her lust after the sky and sink into a depression when she didn't fly? And then there was her ability to understand what the birds were saying, and those terrifying moments when she lost all comprehension of human speech. Was she just crazy? How was she supposed to relate to the people around her now, cisgender and non-meta as most of them were? It felt like the loneliest thing in the world, and she didn't know how to deal.

At least there's Aaron, and Steve and Sophia, she thought. Steve and Sophia were a cute couple she had met a year after moving to Washington. She had become friends with Aaron earlier than that, not too long after moving here. They met on the first day, though it had taken her a while to open up to him about much, guarded as she was. She wasn't cold to anyone she just met - she was friendly unless you gave her a reason to be otherwise. However, 'friendly' wasn't the same thing as 'trusting.' She didn't take shit, even if it was meant as a joke, and some people didn't like that. She had specific boundaries that she held firmly, and she didn't trust someone until she saw evidence that they would respect those boundaries even if they thought they were stupid or made her 'too sensitive.' Otherwise she was actually pretty cool with people. As long as they respected her boundaries, she was cool with pretty much anyone.

Really, she'd be a pretty chill girl if it weren't for the whole 'daily fears about her physical safety' thing. Oh, and the 'not being out' thing. They just took up so much of her headspace while still unresolved, perpetually dampening her mood and leaving her on the defensive.

She sat up and slid her long red hair out of its low ponytail, letting it spill out over her shoulders. It was soft and shiny, falling straight down to the bottom of her shoulderblades. She took very good care of it, and it paid off. Her face was soft and round, with a straight nose and slightly prominent chin, and she had thin eyebrows and brown eyes. Her face was pretty cute in her opinion. Everything else she tried not to look at. She was a skinny girl of average height, and was pretty much flat everywhere. Muscles were starting to develop in the worst of places - not quickly, but it was still there, and felt so wrong. She kept in shape by skateboarding and stayed far, far away from any activity that would build muscle in her arms.

She felt slightly overheated, and took off one of her t-shirts. There was a certain style she really admired on girls: simple, light, not stereotypically girly but still unambiguously feminine. Low cut tank tops, tights paired with minidresses. Solid colors and simple patterns. A friendship bracelet, maybe a bit of eyeliner. The kind of thing you could look cute in but still run in if you have to. The kind of thing you could fly in. As it was, though, she was stuck in jeans and t-shirts.

Tori got up and walked over to her desk, taking books from her bag and setting them on the desk. The subjects she liked: multimedia art, biology, intro to engineering. She wasn't sure how good at engineering and technology she really was, but she loved it, and her teachers could tell. Subjects she hated: most everything else, especially math and history. Unfortunately, she had to understand parabolas if she was going to teach Aaron about them, so math was a top priority tonight.

She had barely cracked the book open when she heard a knock on her door. A bolt of panic went through her and she scrambled to put her t-shirt back on as her mom announced, "Jason, someone's here to see you!"

Buh? She wasn't expecting anyone, who wanted to talk to her now?

When she put her shirt on, she opened the door to a very professional-looking middle aged man in a suit. "Jason Nathaniel Peterson?" he asked.

She flinched at the sound of her full assigned name, but swallowed it down. "Yeah?" she asked, confused and slightly suspicioius.

"I'm a representative from the Hammel Institute. I'd like to talk to you one-on-one, if that's okay."

~*~

There... there was a school. For metas. A school for metas. A place where metas didn't have to hide. Hammel Institute, all the way out in Pilot Ridge, a school for metas.

That was all she could think in the aftermath of that conversation. She wasn't sure whether to jump for joy or run for her life. Is this what the metas on the Internet were talking about when they said some people just dissapeared? Did she mind disappearing like that if she was going to a place where she could be herself, not have to hide any longer? Would she be able to present as herself there, wear the clothes she wanted and start CHT, finally be who she really wanted to be?

It didn't really matter, in any case; the man had made it clear that this was not a choice on her part, that she was to fly (by plane) all the way out to Vermont as soon as possible to begin her training and education at Hammel Institute. Well, okay then. That simplified things, she supposed...

The conversation with her parents had been harrowing and incredibly anxious on her part. She had had to tell them that a) she had been hiding her meta-human status from them for nearly a month, and b) she now had to attend school all the way across the country. Like, had to, since it was mandated by the government. Of course they were upset. Upset with her, and upset with the government. It seemed they were starting to accept it, though reluctantly.

Tori was a storm of conflicting emotions - hope, fear, anxiety, elation - the day she said goodbye to her friends and parents and left for the airport.

Behind the M A S K . . .

Name: purple, or Riley, either is fine ^_^ Also ze/zir/zirs or they/them/their pronouns please
Age: Nineteen in just a few weeks :D
RP Experience: Oh gosh, it’s been a while. I roleplayed for a few years after I turned thirteen, though I stopped a few years ago and I’m just now getting back into it.
How did you find us?: The D! (RPG-Directory)

Show your S K I L L S . . .

Tori sat down in the airplane seat and looked around, slightly nervous. She had never been on an airplane before. This was her first time dealing with security, and though the Hammel representative she was travelling with had made sure she didn't go through one of the slightly terrifying full-body scanners, it was taxing to deal with nonetheless. Also, the airplane smelled funny.

More important than her mode of transport, however, was her destination: Hammel Institute, located in Pilot Ridge, Vermont. She had done a Google search to get more information about the place - the classes, the location, and, most importantly, how LGBT-friendly they were. Absolutely nothing came up, which was slightly terrifying. All the information she had was the information that the representative was willing to give her, which would be biased. She knew very little about what her life was going to look like in less than 24 hours.

Oh, well, she thought. Guess it's happening anyways. The flight attendants were going through a demonstration of safety procedures, and the fasten seatbelt sign pinged on. She fumbled with her seatbelt for a moment before it fastened and picked up the flier out of the pocket in front of her to follow along.

The flight attendants withdrew into their mysterious chamber at the front of the airplane, and the plane started moving. She set her head against the window and watched the plane taxi for a bit, then eventually take off. Was this what flying felt like? It was nearly identical to the feeling of riding in a car.

She took another look around as the fasten seatbelt sign went off. A few people got up to go to the bathroom, a number of people were asleep, and the majority were occupied by some electronic device. Good idea. She took out her iPod, put in the earbuds, and selected some Paramore music to pass the time and calm herself.

She lives in a fairytale somewhere too far for us to find
Forgotten the taste and smell of a world that she's behind...