Carli

Carli is, as of current, a ghost tour guide in London as well as a published author under multiple pseudonyms. They serve the Vast, and make a regular occurrence of jumping off high places into water. They've made a name for themselves doing so among the Institute folk & Avatars, and prides themselves on this fact

## About

* **General Information:**
	+ **Sexuality:** Pansexual
	+ **Star Sign:** Good Question
	+ **Tarot Card:** The Tower
	+ **Pronouns:** He/She/They
	+ **Age:** 128
	+ **Job:** Ghost Tour Guide & Author
	+ **Character Tag:** AceCarli
	+ **Playlist:**

## Friends and Allies

**Friends**

* Lu

## Notable Events

Carli was involved with the almost fight that occurred between Jade, Dominic, Lila and themselves at the Institute Valentines party

## Powers

Carli has the ability to instil a feeling of helpless floating in someone, similar to Mike Crew's ability. They can take this ability a step further, by choosing to fill their victims lungs with water, essentially drowning them as they are fed to the Vast. Carli also has a general tendency to make people around them feel as though they should stand closer to the edge of a high fall that should be rational or safe, but this is more innate.

## Statement

*Original statement of Carli Prittchard, given 15th April, 2012.*

"I had always loved the concept of open space, you know? I know you Beholders like to hole yourselves up in this place, hide away from the world just to watch it spin around you, but there really is nothing like looking up at the open sky from an empty clearing, or least, that's what I thought as a young, childish eight year old. It's a century since my death today, did you know that? I'm a hundred and sixteen years old, as far as I can tell. Never knew my birthday, can you believe? But that's not why I'm here, I'm sure you already know.

I had just moved into my guardian's home when I found it. A Leitner, though it wouldn't actually *be* a Leitner for a couple years still. I don't remember the name of it, but I remember pulling it off the shelf, when I was still trying to teach myself to read. I was a street orphan, you see. Plucked out of the gutters of London by some rich folk looking for a kid. I didn't read it right away, took it to my room and left it on the desk for a couple hours before I finally opened the cover. There weren't any words on the first page, just a painting, oil I think, of the ocean's depths and the open sky above. I don't know how long I stared at that page, but the more I did, the bigger it seemed to get, and I came very close to trying to put my hand through the page itself. I didn't and turned the page. It was poetry, to my surprise. I knew *of* the writing form, from one of the other tramps on the street, but I had never seen one written before that day.

How deep must you fly / To see the ocean's sky / Far below Poseidon's waves / Among the clouds the birds will play

It surprises me that I remember the opening poem above all else, because I couldn't tell you any of the others. We were due to travel to the countryside the next day, and one of the few things I brought with me was that poetry book. I don't remember much about that trip, let alone why, but I do remember taking a break by the side of the road, and walking into the middle of a field that overlooked vast, rolling hills, pardon the pun, and just staring. I can't remember if I lay down or not, but at one point I had taken to staring into the cloudless sky until I was called back to continue to travel. It happened on our way back, too. It might've even been the same field, I couldn't tell you. But after that, I brought that book with me everywhere. School, social gatherings, trips, everywhere.

Then, we started going on cruises. I can't even begin to tell you the joy I felt from just watching the waves roll by, not an inch of land in sight. It was the happiest I can remember being before, well. Before my dear, dear guardians decided we should visit America. It was 1912, and that should ring a bell for you, Archivist. They decided to take their chances with the SS Titanic, and of course, there wasn't a chance they were taking a trip via sea without me, so off we went, expecting nothing more than the previous calm of other cruises, but I knew. I had a feeling, one that made my stomach sink and heart soar, but I wouldn't know why until panic erupted across the deck.

I was on the deck when it happened, and I had become dreadfully tired of the icebergs and sheets, so when the boat started to sink, I could only grin as the life boats started to drop, started to dot the pitch, black ocean. The moon was hiding, and if I didn't know better I might think that the Dark had something to do with it. I still held that book in my hands, the future Leitner, and with a single thought I threw it overboard. I had no qualms about it, but I had a slight hope that it would land in a floating life boat and make it's way to a library somewhere across the world. I know now where it ended up, it's deep in your storage now, buried under other books and artefacts, but then I only had hope. I didn't even hesitate to jump. I didn't care about the simple, naive guardians I was leaving behind, nor about the screams of terror from weak-hearted women behind me, no, I could only think about how cold it was, and how *good* it felt to just float in the vast, dark ocean. I could feel the air leave my lungs, feel the dread fill my heart as I realised, this was where I died. This, under the waves of the icy ocean, was where I found a place to just *exist*.

I woke up in a hotel room in New York. I don't remember how I got there, or how I paid for it, but from that point on, I decided not to care. I didn't know of others like me, other Avatars, of others who served the Vast as I did, but I didn't care. I travelled the world, changing alias every three or four decades, moving country every other year. I wrote. Fiction, poetry, anthologies, you name it I've probably written something similar. I might even have written whatever book you name. I didn't come back though, not until recently. Never really could bring myself to come back to London, and there was enough 'world' for me to avoid it. But, now that I *am* here, and that it seems many other Avatars have taken up mantle here, I might stay for much longer than I normally do. I have found the tours quite enjoyable to give, and the coasters in the new theme parks satisfy my need for adrenaline for now, though I *do* find great joy in almost tripping tourists off the top of Big Ben though, the fear is absolutely wonderful. Even more so when I don't "manage" to catch them from falling, but that's enough of that, you don't need to know anymore, correct? Good. Enjoy your safety while it lasts, Archivist."