Player: Neve Quinn
Email: neve_quinn@disjunction.chaosdeathfish.com

A wiry 16 year old who recently joined the circus along with a group of other orphans. Her voice and manner betrays her as coming originally from the bondsman's quarter of the City but she doesn't look much like a craftsman… She seems to have found a role within the circus through looking after and maintaining their carts.

BANG She hits the floor with a dull thud. Her vision blurs and she hears muffled yells. She thinks she hears Emilio cry out and Isaac gasp before Sant's crackling magic cuts it short.

Well that was a surprise.

It had been a day full of surprises. Twice in the last hour the God of Glory, the Rainbow Beauty, had healed her wounds but now her chest hurt so much. Neve didn't think even Bella could help her this time.

Damn those two, Emilio and Ingvar - with their tricks and their lies. Rebecca was gonna be pissed - Neve wasn't sure if she'd be more angry at Emilio for the shot or Neve for not dodging it.. hopefully her friend would forgive her - ah if only they'd met earlier, they'd have done such great things! If only there was more time…

But now there was no more time… now it was all slipping away from her. Visions of her past flashed before her - what they say is true, at the moment of death you really do see your life going by. She saw the years spent in the fighting pits of the city but they paled compared to the last two weeks. Taking down the Archon of Genius and the Behemoth, seeing Sant so beautiful and powerful, the cogs arching round him, and the feeling of gut-wrenching horror when she saw the only person she'd ever truly had faith in fall. Then that last great fight with Rebecca and the final blow taking her down before Rebecca ascended, in lightning and power.

She thought of her time in the circus - the only time she'd felt at home, her only family. She'd miss them, Phael, Xanti, Michael, Eva and Rayne. She hoped she'd done right by them, repaid them for their kindness. She hoped they'd remember her name, not just for her death, but for her life. Her short, short life. If they remembered her, for helping attune the last shard, for giving the world a chance, for anything at all, then it was worth it. It was all worth it.

To have her name spoken of in tales and stories - that was all she ever wanted.

“Don't forget me.” She murmurs, but no one hears as her final breath escapes her lips.