||This is just what the title entails, some more information on Malory, since I don't want my page to be super long or cluttered. More will be added to this as needed.||
In middle and high school, Malory spent most of her free time fencing and alone. Sounds fun, right? She didn't really like hanging out with others, but it wasn't because she was in introvert or just hated people--okay, maybe she did hate people, but not that much--it was just because she didn't really feel the need to. Some of her only friends were her fencing teammates, though they never hung out outside of practice. And the people at school were, well...Malory wanted to spend as little time at school as possible, she hated learning on the terms of other people. When she was given a choice project, she thrived, creating something great about something she was clearly passionate about. But the rest of the time, she just half-assed the work enough to get a passing grade. Easy to say that teachers didn't like her much, and she didn't like them, either.
After high school, Malory took two years of college, but didn't get a degree. She took classes in art, history, and research, along with some other classes that she can't remember for the life of her, before dropping out. A couple years later, she regretted not taking two more years to get a degree, realizing that maybe hunting isn't a job she should have forever. Too bad she just can't find the time anymore to go back to school. Or maybe she just doesn't give herself the time to think about a life after hunting, a profession that she enjoys too much for her own good.
Due to her hunting, and usually hunting by herself, Malory's body is riddled with scars. Her forearms, neck, and face are mostly scar-free, aside from the tiny little white lines that might not even be from hunting but just living her day-to-day life. Which is mostly hunting...Okay, bad example, but you get the idea. Though many of the scars have faded over time and aren't so easily seen anymore, there are two that scare people off the most. One is on the right side of her torso, from under her breast to her hip, and down right unnerving. Gagged patches of scared flesh arch towards the center line of her body from top to bottom on her front and back. The closest thing to compare it to was a shark bite--if a shark didn't have a single straight or unbroken tooth. Malory had gotten it from a goblin while hunting. There had been too many for her to take on her own, and she had needed to be in a hospital for weeks of recovery. The amount of blood she lost and the infection she had gotten from the goblin's rotting teeth had nearly killed her. The other massive scar was on her left leg, left shin, and looked very similar to the one on her torso. Also from a goblin, though a small one, and it had been far less life threatening.
Relationships? Who the hell needs relationships in their life? Not Malory. Nope, not her. Not at all... Actually, Malory would be lying if she said she wasn't lonely. She was so, so painfully lonely. But she was also a great liar, and didn't want people to get in her way. So what did she do? She pushed people away from her who might care, aside from her family. She pushed people away who didn't know what kind of life she lived, what kind of life she had chosen. Keeping people safe, even at the cost of her own safety and happiness, was what she had programmed herself to do. She had no friends, had never been in a romantic relationship, and never saw a future for herself with anyone. Of course as a kid she had dreamed of getting married and having kids and that white picket fence bullshit that everyone had told here was what she wanted. But she didn't want that anymore. Maloru wanted to sleep with people without emotion--just fuck for the sake of fucking. She wanted to sit at home under her covers with a bottle of beer in her hand and pretend that everything was okay. That she didn't need friends. That...she wasn't actually human. Humans needed relationships. Not her. She was a hunter. Hunters lived and died alone, didn't grow old, and never had anyone to lean on. Honestly, this mentality has probably done her more harm than good.
Which brings us to medication. Depression, anxiety, sleep, nausea, and pain. A pill for each one, a pill she needed to take every day in order to keep herself functioning. Of course some days are better than others--most days Maloru can go out and hunt and have drinks at a bar and go home with someone or go home alone and still feel okay, still be able to actually smile. But other days...they usually came in a string. She'd be unmoving and unfeeling for days or weeks in between bouts of actually happiness and coping. Those days were the worst, where no medication helped, and sometimes her family had to come and check on her and make sure she was okay. It was a part of Malory that she hated about herself. She hated showing weakness, even to herself. Showing that she was actually human and did have feelings and that the things she had been doing to herself weren't healthy. But that didn't stop her from repeating the same patterns when she was feeling better again. Sometimes she wished she hadn't started hunting. That she knew about the world behind the veil but didn't interact with it unless she had to. But it was a fruitless wish that she didn't like to linger on. She couldn't change the past. She could only change her life how it was now. And she isn't a fan of change.