Seven Six Two Oh Three Point Nine Two
Age: Early thirties
Hair: Brown, dark, messy, devil may care style
Eyes: Light green, arresting, prominent, compelling
Height: A lengthy 5'9
Weight: On the fine line between 100 and 99 lbs, too thin
Species: Human, but she'd say worker ant.
Occupation: Was a miner on LV-642, does odd jobs for whomever now, usually illegal.



Description:
Seven is a tall, underweight and androgynous looking human woman with a strong, tightly muscled body from a lifetime of drudgery in the mines of LV-642. Her hair is ragged, dark and almost always a mess, her eyes are striking, confident in one light and mischievous in another, they've been known to pierce whatever they gaze upon like the end of the drill she all but sleeps with at the end of her travailing day. Her lips are pert and plush, sweet and evil all at the same time.

When she uses those lips to smile they do her a service and make her prettier then she has any right to be, which is why it's such a shame she only ever uses them to sneer, spit and swear. If not for her nose she'd have passed for something more then she was, something better, and honestly she'd probably have been able to make her way through life in a much more posh way; the damned thing had been broken too many times and never given the proper chance to heal between breakings. It didn't ruin her face, it humbled it instead, gave her a sort of down-to-colony look some like.

Those that toil the deep mines of LV-642 for Molybdenum, Rhenium and whatever else that's useful say she's a scrappy girl that would throw down for a friend easily and wasn't the kind to complain when shit got nasty and extra work had to be done. They'd say she was an all or nothing type that put all of her stones in one cart and hoped for the best, that she fixated on what she wanted and went after it with everything she had until she got it. They were, however, careful to add a bit of a warning, whomever stood in her way almost always regretted doing so in the end. When a fight broke out it was Seven that would leap in before anyone else did, usually with something to do some damage in hand, even her drill once, that was messy.

She's heavily addicted to Prim, a soothing inhalant the miners of LV-642 use to help drown out the loudness of the forever drilling machines during their scant downtime. Seven has a phobia of being alone and since the termination of her position and shipping to <new place>, has had no real idea of what to do with herself anymore. Life went and got complicated and she's not happy with the whole concept of choice. Life on LV-642 may have been hard as Hell but at least she knew what to do and knew she was good at it.



History
Around thirty years ago Eric Jackman was drunk off the shit they used to grease the engines with and had creds from a night of gambling in his pocket. He spent his winnings on a midnight fuck with a prostitute in a pit of a bar that was so disreputable it didn't even have a name let alone a bathroom. The woman's name didn't matter to him either and that he got her pregnant mattered less, all Eric Jackman cared about was the cost, which wasn't much. Unable to feed herself, let alone a new screaming infant, the prostitute saw it best to leave her newborn at the mercy of the mines and forget about her.

There, Seven was given a serial number that would serve as her name and when she was able to walk she was added to the toddler roster of millions that removed the ash and dirt from the mines by hand, the "Little Larva". The life of a miner at the mercy of the state was bleak and out of those million Little Larva only thousands became teenagers, of those thousands mere hundreds moved into adulthood, but all of them combined suffered the heat of the broiling core and the daily toil of endless digging, digging, digging.

It was Seven's powerful self motivation that saw her through to the other side of whatever task she was put too and earned her both the respect and spite of those all around her. Seven, like the rest of the miners that had earned a high enough place in the pit, spent her days hoping the beam of daily special tasks spotlight would find her and the disembodied voice of the Curator would call her forth for a chance to go do something better with her life but her chance never came. Something she was assured was better did though, and that meant an end to the life she knew and the birth of the life she knows now, one that's confusing, lonely and above all else, endlessly terrifying.

As a miner she knew what she was, knew what was expected of her, knew what to do, when to do it, where to be, when to be there, but now? She hasn't a clue, feels totally lost in a sea of faceless masses and is desperate for direction, any direction, anything that will take her to a life with some kind of regularity. That has, of course, landed her in some pretty spotty situations with some fairly shady people doing very illegal things. Her loyalty and tight lips have given her a bit of a reputation and endeared her to all the wrong kinds of people, xenos and AIs, living beings, undead beings--things, all things. Getting work with them for a stint is easy it just grates on her morals; something she only just found out she has.



Sexual stuff:
Orientation is a foreign concept to Seven, if someone or something shows interest go for it, life is hard, shit happens and you never know when your last lay will be. She likes what feels good and doesn't like what doesn't, pretty simple, and honestly, she's open to try stuff in the heat of the moment but if it sucks she's quick to say so, anything else is kind of crazy, right?