- Name: Friday Berit Hastur
- Age: 25
- Birthday: October 31st
- Hometown: Carcosa, Furoh.
Friday is a healthy woman, at least in appearance. She’s inherited the key traits that let anyone spot a Hastur from twenty paces – blonde hair platinum enough to attract accusations of bleach, as well as dark, viper red eyes. These eyes react poorly to overexposure to sunlight, leading most Hasturs to opt for an indoors existence. Her skin has a very light olive hue, as if it were in a perpetual state of waning tan. On a ridge to the edge of her left eye, resting on the zygomatic bone, is a small beauty mark. It lends a touch of exoticism to her face, as if the follicular and optical abnormalities weren’t enough.
She is approximately five feet and six inches tall, perhaps six-and-a-half on a good day. Her form is svelte and straight to the point, starting with a heart-shaped face that leads to a long neck. Small shoulders connect to elegant arms and long fingers, which find themselves more often at a computer than outside. Friday’s bust is average, which neither pleases nor displeases her. Her legs are long and creamy, though the right one harbors a small scar from a childhood injury. Her feet are distinctly average.
Friday’s left hand carries a tattoo of a particularly oddly shaped sign, of a central dot with three tendrils extending radially. As it is the logo of Hastur Dynamics, as well as a family tradition to receive the marking at age nineteen, she does not regard it as a sign of individuality or expressing oneself. She keeps the sign obscured by gloves, though she makes no attempts to disguise it if such handwear is unavailable.
Because, unlike those damn kids, she actually works for a living, Friday’s clothing repertoire consists of business acceptable clothing. She prefers a variety of well-tailored (and rather expensive) business suits, the colour palate of which usually consists of tints of white and black, with the occasional navy blue and brown thrown in for diversity. Her favorite suit is a deep black – and – grey outfit, with gold buttons. She layers this over a white dress shirt and a yellow tie. Occasionally, she'll accessorize with a flower in her hair or a bow-and-hairband combination. Of course, that’s not to say she doesn’t own casual clothing – course not, that’s a ridiculous thing to say – but her current status within Hastur Dynamics usually requires Friday to attend work every day. The woman’s casual wear takes a noticeable athletic slant – she prefers shorts and tees to flannels and jeans. When outside, it is rare to see Friday without a pair of Raybans Wayfarer sunglasses protecting her abnormal eyes.
Her perfume is light and subtle: Celadon Chapeau 8: Honeysuckle. Friday wears neither headgear nor jewelry, barring a small, unobtrusive implant in her right ear. Though it is constructed to resemble a small piercing, it is in truth a cochlear hearing aid, built into Friday’s skull through extensive surgery when she was a child. It aches occasionally.
Friday is a cheery woman, one of the best
secretaries, sorry, clerks that Hastur Dynamics has. She always comes to work on time with a smile on her face, always pitches in for the office birthday parties, and is always the last to leave work. She never gets angry or loses her temper. All in all, Friday is an exemplary office wo
Sorry, Friday doesn’t feel like lying to herself anymore. She might lie to other people, but for once, it’s time to be more than a little honest with herself.
Friday Berit Hastur is a mess – despondent, even. While being born fifth child with two more to come might not be the harbinger of misfortune and trauma, and neither was being born into the Hastur Dynamics family with parents gone from the house two-thirds of the year, being abused by her older brothers and sisters for close to eighteen years is.
Above all, she wonders what she’s doing with her life. There are millions of opportunities out there for girls like her, if she only went out and tried to grasp them. Friday’s smart, don’t let her mislead you. It’s a real shocker for any of the Hastur kids to not get into the college of their choice through brainpower alone (though the family coffers certainly ease the burden).
After all, she’s got power. She’s got money. But it’s never really done anything.
Toys get boring.
People get boring.
Life gets boring.
But for all of her prettified philosophizing, Friday is unwilling to change her station and goals. In a sense, she longs the transient life, to leave Carcosa and never see it again, but in another sense, that’s a stupid and romantic goal, and she knows it cannot last. Even if she were to drift, begin a Pokémon journey or what have you, Friday knows that it will be on Hastur Dynamics dollar. From the mark on her hand to the money in her wallet, she will never free herself of the Yellow Sign. The Sign does not represent Hastur Dynamics - it is an eternal reminder that, inside and out, all Hasturs are the same.
When she fights – a blue-moon relatable occurrence – Friday uses the well-thought out techniques of a master battler (which, after years of training in Battle Simulators, she is). It is incredibly rare for her to get flustered and flub a command in battle. If her allies were ever to fare poorly in battle, a sense of bossiness will awake in the Hastur, and she will attempt to take control of their Pokémon as well as her own. While the technique might indeed work, it certainly would not ingratiate Friday to the other party.
She’s also heard that “is it pronounced ‘Hast-er, Hast-oor, Hast-yer?’” joke a thousand times and it wasn’t even funny the first time, so don’t do it.
Powered By Innovation, Guided By Ambition, We Help Our Customers Achieve Their Most Challenging Goals.
Hastur Dynamic Group, also known as Hastur Dynamics or simply HD, is a global security company that employs about 272,000 people worldwide and is principally engaged in the research, design, development, manufacture, integration and sustainment of advanced technology systems, products, and services. We maintain two headquarters – one manufacturing headquarters in Goldenrod, Johto, and a research and design headquarters in Carcosa, Furoh.
The majority of Hastur Dynamics’ business is with private investors and interests, as well as with public service businesses. Hastur Dynamics is one of the top providers of the Automated Pokeball Transfer Service, or ATP, provided to all trainers in Furoh free of charge!
As one of the Hastur Dynamics’ core tenets, “we care about kids,” we sponsor all beginning trainers in the Furoh region through the Trainers Association, providing low-interest term loans that can be paid at the trainer’s leisure.
Come join us! We’ve always got room for you.
Friday Berit Hastur was born October 31st, at approximately 3:01 PM. She would be the fifth child of seven total, all graced with the same unfortunate naming scheme. Friday would be born the fifth of seven children and the last and youngest of the Hastur daughters. Of the Days-of-the-Week, Monday and Wednesday were female, and Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday were male. When she’d become older, Friday would wonder why anyone would have that many kids. Maybe, she’d decide cynically,maybe they just liked doing it.
Friday’s parents, Harry and Paulina (two perfectly average names that, when compared to those of the offspring, would make one wonder what went wrong), were the CEO and CFO of Hastur Dynamics, the security and R & D powerhouse. As a result of their jobs, they were constantly traveling, leaving no time for their children. As such, the siblings were often left to their own devices, with the older siblings (in theory) taking care of the younger ones. As is often the case with theories, this did not translate well into the real world.
There was a hierarchy within the Carcosa home, and unfortunately, Friday was at the bottom. Some of the siblings with Pokémon would use Friday as their own punching bag for training. She was a perfect target, really – too young for her own Pokémon, but old enough that they wouldn’t feel bad for it. After a while, she’d developed a coping mechanism – finding a place deep inside her and hiding there, dead to the world. After a while, Friday didn’t care that they abused her, as long as they didn’t hurt her little brothers, or her possessions. When she could, she’d hide in the forest – the Hastur mansion stood at the edge of a huge deciduous wood – and wait for her siblings to grow bored.
After a particularly brutal session, Friday’s right ear caved in, no longer functional. Some plastic surgery and a cochlear implant, however, made things good as new. Friday’s parents didn’t even know what they were signing off for, busy as they were working on the good of the company. “For the children’s sake,” that was their motto.
The last straw was when Monday and her Seadra ripped up Friday’s teddy bear, Eames. Eames was Friday’s only friend in the Hastur mansion, and she’d hold him close when she went to bed. Friday was at a loss for a little while on what to do. Books, as they always had, held the answer.
She’d had enough. Taking a serrated knife from the kitchen chopping block, she waited for Monday to come around for her daily training (water torture – Ekans with Bind, Seadra with Water Gun). When the older sibling approached, Friday – about eight at the time – struck about wildly with the knife, her pathetic muscles strengthened by rage and adrenaline managing to lop off one of Monday’s fingers. They both stood there for a moment, staring at the empty place where the elder sibling’s right middle finger used to be. Ekans quietly slithered to the finger and ate it. That broke the atmosphere, for sure. Monday (13 years old) started yelling and screaming, and Friday, horrified by what she’d done, sprinted out of the house before anyone could retaliate.
She supposed she planned to kill herself by slitting her own wrists, hiding in the forest that had so long been her refuge from those she called blood. Huddling in the trees, crying and staring at the knife in equal measure, young Friday didn’t realize how late it’d been getting. Bright daylight quickly surrendered to dusky twilight, and that meant only one thing – the ghosts were out. As the restless souls began to swarm, looking for mischief to spark and trouble to cause, a singular puppet detected something out of place in the wicked wood. Shuppet feed off negative emotions such as vengeance and anger, sometimes instilling a sense of catharsis in those whose emotions they consume. This particular Shuppet felt somewhat out of place in the forest, being the only one of his species living there. While he had made a few friends – Wooper-by-the-Pond and Starly-with-Broken-Wing, to share a couple – none of the other ghosts had accepted him.
This particular specimen alighted upon Friday, and instead of waiting for her to go to sleep and simply absorbing the bad vibes, as most Shuppet did, decided to engage her in conversation. The feelings of vengeance, anger, and sorrow resonating from the child were incomparable to any feelings it had ever tasted before. From the brief hit, it was satisfied for a week. He asked, rather politely for his first time speaking with a human, what a little one was doing crying alone in the forest. She answered, half-choking through tears, she hated her brothers and sisters and she, Friday explained in a calm monotone, was going to kill herself. The Shuppet was most disturbed, and it abandoned the current mission of food for that of helping Littleone-Crying-in-Trees.
After a while, the Shuppet began to make progress, and even managed to make her smile with its impressions of her siblings and crude Night Shade images of them suffering woeful fates. Night had truly fallen, and nobody at the house had actually realized Friday was missing, more focused on getting Monday medical care. Friday, some vestiges of politeness pooling to the surface, asked the Shuppet its name.
<Me?> it responded. <Shuppet-Alone-in-Forest is what I’ve been known as.> If it had shoulders, it would’ve shrugged. The little girl frowned. “I don’t like it. You’re not alone anymore, so it won’t do. You’re now…” She paused. “Eames.” Eames smiled, and Friday patted his head shakily, tears not yet dry in her eyes.
From then on, Friday wasn’t alone in Carcosa. She began fighting back – and when she couldn’t win in a fair fight, she would send Eames to give her siblings horrible nightmares. The incident of the finger was largely hushed up, and Monday was too afraid of what Friday would do to actually tell their parents the truth (they had said that it had been an unfortunate baking accident). Her schooling improved immeasurably, as well - what had earlier been struggling to master basic concepts now became easily grasped knowledge, even too easy.
Friday graduated from high school a year early, managing an insane 5.0 GPA, as well as becoming the year’s salutatorian. From there, she plunged straight into law school, instead of business school as her siblings had done. In five years, she’d acquired a PhD. So, technically, her full title is Dr. Friday Berit Hastur, but only a complete jackass would call themselves a Doctor unless they practiced medicine.
With the PhD, she proceeded to do absolutely nothing, instead opting to work as a clerk in Hastur Dynamics’ Carcosa HQ. With all of her siblings either in college or moved to some other region (Unova had been popular), Friday had the mansion all to herself. She performed her job as a clerk admirably, not letting a single error pass her by. And if something happened to the stock options of her elder siblings (namely, a huge decrease), then something also happened to those of Friday (the inverse).
Sometimes, not even consciously.
Friday’s getting her revenge.
- Level/Gender/Species: Level 10 Male Shuppet
- Nature: Quirky
- Ability: Cursed Body
- Known Moves: Knock Off, Screech, Night Shade, Shadow Sneak*, Icy Wind~, Protect^.
- Egg Moves*, Move Tutor~, Technical Machines ^.
- Other Notes: Rides in Friday's shadow.
- Level/Gender/Species: Level 10 Female Pidove
- Nature: Modest
- Ability: Super Luck
- Known Moves: Gust, Growl, Leer, Protect^, Hypnosis*.
- Egg Moves*, Move Tutor~, Technical Machines ^.
- Other Notes: