Signal Locked, connecting to Primary Host...
==>Enter Name
Your name is Rosalie Salazar Lalonde, and you've got an absolutely killer Awakening Hangover. You have absolutely no idea how many loops it's been since you've last been behind the metaphorical wheel of your shared soul, and frankly, you don't really want to know. What you do know is that before you Awoke you were drunk, and it's still burning off as your Flames rekindle themselves in your new body.
But! It wouldn't be much an introduction if you just blathered on about Awakening woes, so perhaps the quick version. You have a number of interests, including macrame and crochet, and you've always had a penchant for handling your combat at a distance, in the Game you used Wands due to your needlekind specibus, but your real preference is for all manners of fanciful firearm. That's not to say you're by any means afraid of a close-in scuffle, you just usually find it rather... undignified.
So, of course, as the butt of fate's latest joke, you've been tossed into what a cursory examination of your memories would indicate to be some variant of a Mass Effect universe, and as a biotic no less, and your preawake self had a certain... relish, for close-quarters engagements, involving a mass-shadow amplified shoulder check that has a tendency to embed the recipient into the nearest solid surface. Or crush them against it depending on momentum and just how solid a surface it is, either works just as well.
As you scan the new old memories a bit further you can't help but sigh. Of course you looped in as Shepard, or at least an analogue thereof, specifically an Earthborn Shepard who got an early transfer out of the penal legions for distinguished service, and a reputation for being crazy. Could be fun to play it up at least but first, the matter at hand, that being the fist of the angry drunkard next to you, inching its way towards your face in slow motion as you draw on the tiniest trickle of Sun Flame to enhance your reflexes and accelerate your perception. What a perfect time to wake up, indeed, too late in to getting sucker-punched to dodge. And the best part, half drunk as you were before Waking, you're not even sure what you said to piss him off.
Oh well. Them's the breaks.



















