Jump to content
Server time (UTC): 2019-07-20, 22:54
Mikka Larsen
Character information
  1. Alias
    Mikka
  2. Mental
    Shocked, Depressed, Hatred and guilt
  3. Morale
    Strong
  4. Date of birth
    1997-11-14 (21 years old)
  5. Place of birth
    Pusta
  6. Nationality
    Chernarussian
  7. Ethnicity
    Caucasian
  8. Languages
    English
  9. Relationship
    Single
  10. Family
    Lara Larsen(Mother) Filip Larsen(Father)
  11. Religion
    Christianity

Description

  1. Height
    157 cm
  2. Weight
    54 kg
  3. Build
    Short and Slender.
  4. Hair
    Long wavy brown hair.
  5. Eyes
    Heavy dark green eyes.
  6. Alignment
    Neutral Good
  7. Features
    Light eyebrows, plump lips, and beauty marks.
  8. Equipment
    Her fathers puffy black jacket, her mothers grey beanie, with an Improvised backpack filled with 2 peaches 1 water bottle and a shotgun in hand.
  9. Occupation
    Farmer
  10. Affiliation
    unaffiliated
  11. Role
    Loner

Background

My name is Mikka

I often forget what it was like not struggling to survive, or what it felt like coming home from school to feel the warm embrace of my mother Lara and father Filip and to them asking me "How was your day?" or a simple "Love you".

I sometimes catch myself closing my eyes and just hoping to wake up to smelling the sweet pancake syrup, and the smell of my mothers perfume. But then I wake up to the harsh reality that all I had will never come back.

I was born in a small village where there were more cattle then there were residents, this village is called Pusta. My mother and father were farmers, who mainly sold beef. I helped my parents with training the horses, feeding the cattle, pigs and chickens. Id like to say having a farm was fun, until I was old enough to help my father with butchering the cattle. I never learned how to shoot a gun until then, I had just turned 18, my father handed me a rifle and helped me position myself correctly. "Take a deep breath" he said "Now slowly exhale and shoot". I jumped once the gun went off, the sound of the rifle was piercing. My hands were shaking with shock and anxiety. my father looked at me and laughed, he said "You're gonna need to get use to that sound sweetie". Little did I know, My father was right.

I'd like to think that forgetting my past, and forgetting what my life was is better, it brings out my weaknesses, and brings my guard down. I've never talked about what had happened, the day my life had changed for the worse. I would rather keep it that way. All that matters now Is survival.

0 Comments


There are no comments to display.

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
×
×
  • Create New...