see, we are aware that we

can also be seen

Your name is SUBRAS CLADEN and you are N SWEEPS OLD. The violet blood that runs through your veins makes you a part of the aristocratic subspecies of SEADWELLERS and grants you all the privileges and honors appertaining, though you personally tend not to pay the hemocaste too much attention. In your experience, MARKS and COUNTERAGENTS can be found on any rung of the bloody ladder, and none are beneath or above your scrutiny and suspicion. Aside from the one you serve blindly, that is.*

You are one of the lucky few to have discovered the identity of your ancestor, and you did so far earlier than most. In fact, not too long after you wandered out of the brooding caverns, you stumbled upon her DESCENDOCKETS, which she had carefully planted FOR YOUR EYES ONLY generations ago. This is because she was the SPYMASTER, and any spymaster worth their mettle thinks MANY STEPS AHEAD. She simply thought thousands of years worth of steps ahead to complete the drop. Whether she was just a genius or the possessor of some PRESCIENT PSYCHIC POWER you’ve personally yet to awaken remains one of her many MYSTERIES.**

You have always followed the teachings of the SPYMASTER’S DESCENDOCKETS to the letter, meeting each of her DEVELOPMENTAL SPYLESTONES to the day, if not earlier. They deal with proficiencies in COMBAT, CODESPEAK, TACITONICS, INTELLIGENCERY, and the SOCIAL MYSTIQUES. As you mature, you find yourself rapidly approaching the end of the DESCENDOCKETS. It’s an accomplishment you anticipate more than anything else. On the first page, she forbid you from reading ahead, and, like all of her other rules, you’ve followed it to the letter. You can only dream of what ULTIMATE SECRETS she might’ve hidden on the last page.*** Her strict training regimen made you stronger and smarter than many of your peers, and you pride yourself on rarely losing BATTLES of both WITS and MIGHT.

That said, you occasionally doubt yourself, feeling as though nothing you’ve achieved is TRULY YOURS. On your darker days, you begin to believe that you owe all of your success to the SPYMASTER rather than your own effort. After all, you’ve never met anyone with an ancestor who acknowledges them like she does, let alone micromanages all of their time. Though the SPYMASTER works you hard, it’s not as though the DESCENDOCKETS have ever demanded the impossible. It’s almost as if she always knew you would have what it takes, a thought which fills you with indomitable motivation on your brighter days.

When you have free time in between SPYLESTONES, you like to indulge in your various hobbies. HIDDEN GADGETRY is an obvious choice for a SPYJOURNEYMAN such as yourself, and you’ve outfitted almost everything in your hive with several other secret functions, most of which AREN’T USEFUL IN THE SLIGHTEST. You can never find PENS THAT ACTUALLY WRITE because you turned all of them into MICROPHONES or GUNS. Predictably, this can result in terrible accidents, but DANGER is your middle name, so you thrive in the hostile, high-octane environment of your own design.

Being that OBSCURITY is your other middle name, you enjoy FICTIONAL MEDIA OF THE CULT VARIETY, and find that the fewer who know it, the more you like it, regardless of its actual merit. Sometimes you even let your LITERARY STREAK run wild and write even more convoluted and abstracted FAN-FICTIONS of these works, sealing them away on SECRETIVE SUBNETWORKS where only the most probing of readers may discover them. Virtually all of these have NO HITS WHATSOEVER, and you think you like it that way.

You are also drawn to FASHION, an interest that you feel is equally obscure, and you tailor all of your own clothes. It may seem counterproductive to stand out by looking absolutely fabulous, but the SPYMASTER often mentions how her peerless beauty was her third-best weapon after her SILENCED PISTOL and IMMENSE ARSENAL OF SECRET BLADES. You take great pride in your appearance and grooming. And of course it goes without saying that all of your outfits include a truly absurd amount of HIDDEN POCKETRY and are stuffed to the seams with HIDDEN GADGETRY.

Like your ancestor, you compulsively compile OVER-DETAILED DOCKETS on basically everything and everyone you encounter. When it comes to your friends, you approach this task as an act of devotion. Sometimes even TWO-DIMENSIONAL DECORATIVE ADHESIVE ORNAMENTS (or, as your aristocratic self like to call them, STICKERS) get involved, but only for the most DARLING of your AGENTS. The breadth of the information that you’ve accumulated also necessitates an interest in DATA MANAGEMENT SYSTEMS, which you play with frequently. This is one of the rare tasks that does not come naturally to you, and sometimes you FUCK YOUR DATASETS UP BEYOND ANY HOPE OF REPAIR and need to call a friend in to help.

*her fuschiablood moirail (read: she's lying to herself and does play into the hemospectrum, something she'd have to recognize and unlearn over the course of whatever story she's in)

**no psychic powers just assumptions about the habits of the species of lusus (sea kraitmom) they share. this would be a disappointing revelation because it just means the spymaster was really really smart

***the last page of the docket says something like "yas you skipped here like i thought you would and learned the REAL first rule of spying: always question authority and see things for yourself!!! so true i knew you had it in you" and if i was writing this she'd conveniently reach the page at the climax of the narrative and it would irreparably fracture her psyche because a) she would feel completely betrayed by the person she trusted her whole life to b) she's forced to assess just how much faith she puts in the other authority figures in her life c) she would have failed to live up to the spymaster's expectations for the first time in her life and she can never fix it this would result in some kind of terrible breakdown where she'd do stuff she would regret probably. then she'd have to deal with whatever repercussions and also restructuring her self-image around something other than her ancestor. idk again not actually writing this