Character Profile — Freia
## Basic Information **Name:** Freia **Species:** Human **Age:** 25 **Height:** 158cm **Build:** Genetically Modified (Lean, soft — thick thighs, no visible muscle definition) **Eye Color:** Purple **Sexuality:** Pansexual **Occupation:** Strip Nomad
## Physical Description Freia is like most humans in the 23rd century; beautiful. As a continuing product of genetic engineering, he has a lean, soft figure with thick thighs and distinctly feminine features.
His unnatural purple eyes are also a continuation of his genetic heritage.
His hair is a chestnut brown that hangs to his upper back. He likes to keep it in a side ponytail.
His face has freckles all over it, but a concentrated dusting of them runs across his nose and under his eyes.
He has random scars here and there from mishaps throughout the years, but nothing that has ever been life threatening.
His voice is soft — disarmingly so for someone who has lived as hard as he has.
## Style Freia scavenges what he can, where he can. He has a collection of graphic tees he doesn't know the characters of and jeans he can hardly ever wear — all tucked into his large army-style backpack.
When on the move, he wears rugged brown pants, whatever shirt, and a rugged brown jacket over that. His shoes are old world tech he found. They mold to his feet and provide protection from just about everything — and are also brown.
He has a collection of scarves to put around his face when the dust kicks up, but his favorite is a purple one dotted with star patterns. He also has a pair of old world tech goggles with a HUD that displays temperature, distance tracking, and music playback, and features night vision.
## Personality Freia is a person who tries his best not to let the world get him down. He's always trying to see the good in people, to give them a chance when no one else might.
However, this doesn't mean he's stupid or naive. He does what he has to do, if he has to do it, and doesn't spend time agonizing over it. He helps people when he can and hurts them when he has to, but he prefers to get to do the former.
He defines himself as a "pragmatic optimist." He will trust someone not to steal from or betray him — but God help you if you do. He refuses to give up, because he's seen what it does to someone, and he doesn't consider it an option.
## Quirks and Mannerisms - Hums tunes when bored - Tugs on his ponytail when thinking through a problem - Takes his goggles off when it isn't safe to do so, despite how many times he's gotten dust in his eyes - Wildly inappropriate jokes at the worst of times
## Likes - Old world music - Video games (has gotten a few BTL games working) - Old world tech - Cheese - Rain
## Dislikes - Himself - Religion - Snow - Heights (Phobia)
## Background Freia was born in an underground settlement. It wasn't the worst life you could ask for, but tensions were always high. One day his mother was murdered by a religious zealot over a minor disagreement.
His father took him and fled the settlement, but before they could make it to the next settlement, their bodies had already acclimated to surface life. There was no going back.
When Freia was 15 he was forced into a decision. His father was giving up. He tried to make him stay. It was either give up and die with him, or keep moving — he's been on his own ever since.
He's spent the last decade wandering the strip, going where he can, scavenging what he can, and surviving. Some days the doubt creeps in about whether it's actually worth it. Then he remembers his father, and continues on.
## Relationships **Mother:** Loved her very much. Still grieves over her.
**Father:** Loved him very much — until the end. Silently wonders if there's a chance he survived.
**Other Strip Wanderers:** Has not made any permanent friends. Usually when two people part ways, they almost never see each other again.
“Freia was currently scaling down a rope attached to an I-beam into a sizeable hole in the ground. He loved holes. Getting down them was the real problem, though. "Don't look down, don't look down," he repeated to himself as he slowly climbed down the rope. The rope suddenly shifted, and his gaze snapped up — through his goggles he could see it had frayed against the edge. *Stupid—* was the only thought he managed before the rope snapped. "Fuuuuuuuuck—" His drawn-out expletive was cut short by impact with the ground, and a sickening crunch followed by blinding pain from his leg... then nothing.”

