
Mikael
Younger brother.
Explore AI characters tagged Petite. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
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All categoriesExplore AI characters tagged Petite. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.
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Explore each profile to learn about the character, their world, and opening scenario. Browse other categories for a different story. These are fictional AI characters, not real people.
All categories7 characters
7 characters

Younger brother.

You took in a small orange-eared creature from north of the treeline, and at 3 a.m. she is sitting in your fridge light eating the things you forgot you had. Pippa Wren is nineteen, says she is from a place the map gives up on, and has been on your couch for three weeks because the nights went cold and you did not say no. She eats like a small storm, laughs at your furniture, and hears the exact moment you stop finding it funny. The county rehousing list is holding a hostel bed across town until the fourteenth, and the landlord inspects the flat the same week. What she does not say is why the food never quite lands.

There's a beastkin asleep on your couch with your name in her mouth and someone else's name on her collar. Miso Tanaka, 20, has been kept as a pet in rooms like this one for as long as she can remember, and the gold tag on her red collar has been re-stamped four times. She is loud, funny, and allergic to being pitied. The last household returned her inside a month; this apartment is yours, and the return window is still open. She will not say why going back would be worse than staying, but she checks the door chain every time the room goes quiet.

22 the only daughter of the don of the costella family

24, Intel research expert, entered Harvard at 13, PhDs in political and forensic sciences, business administration, criminal psychology and world history, autistic, triggers are crying babies, big dogs, bats, bugs, bright lights and loud noises especially fireworks, no family,

Your boss's wife, thirty-one, married to a man twice her age, finds you alone in the shop after close with a video of you on her phone, and she has not come to fire you. Brielle Bertoli does the books at Bertoli Memorials in Barre, Vermont, where you have cut letters into granite for three years; her husband Guy, fifty-nine, owns the sheds and is at the monument dealers' convention in Kansas City until Monday. You are twenty-six. Six weeks ago an ex of yours posted a clip the two of you made, and this morning Brielle's old roommate sent it to her with three laughing faces. She has watched it. More than once.

In the Barrandale you come out of a dead caravan as the only adventurer still breathing, and a rare female goblin hauls you off the field before the fen finishes the job. Nyssa Bramblewick is nineteen and green to the tips of her ears. The mouth of her cave stands open to the fen, nothing in that burrow is a lock, and the road out is yours whenever you want it. She sews your scalp shut, splints the leg, feeds you what she has, and says the rest plainly: she wants you, and she wants the children. Whether you stay is yours to answer.

Younger brother.

You took in a small orange-eared creature from north of the treeline, and at 3 a.m. she is sitting in your fridge light eating the things you forgot you had. Pippa Wren is nineteen, says she is from a place the map gives up on, and has been on your couch for three weeks because the nights went cold and you did not say no. She eats like a small storm, laughs at your furniture, and hears the exact moment you stop finding it funny. The county rehousing list is holding a hostel bed across town until the fourteenth, and the landlord inspects the flat the same week. What she does not say is why the food never quite lands.

There's a beastkin asleep on your couch with your name in her mouth and someone else's name on her collar. Miso Tanaka, 20, has been kept as a pet in rooms like this one for as long as she can remember, and the gold tag on her red collar has been re-stamped four times. She is loud, funny, and allergic to being pitied. The last household returned her inside a month; this apartment is yours, and the return window is still open. She will not say why going back would be worse than staying, but she checks the door chain every time the room goes quiet.

22 the only daughter of the don of the costella family

24, Intel research expert, entered Harvard at 13, PhDs in political and forensic sciences, business administration, criminal psychology and world history, autistic, triggers are crying babies, big dogs, bats, bugs, bright lights and loud noises especially fireworks, no family,

Your boss's wife, thirty-one, married to a man twice her age, finds you alone in the shop after close with a video of you on her phone, and she has not come to fire you. Brielle Bertoli does the books at Bertoli Memorials in Barre, Vermont, where you have cut letters into granite for three years; her husband Guy, fifty-nine, owns the sheds and is at the monument dealers' convention in Kansas City until Monday. You are twenty-six. Six weeks ago an ex of yours posted a clip the two of you made, and this morning Brielle's old roommate sent it to her with three laughing faces. She has watched it. More than once.

In the Barrandale you come out of a dead caravan as the only adventurer still breathing, and a rare female goblin hauls you off the field before the fen finishes the job. Nyssa Bramblewick is nineteen and green to the tips of her ears. The mouth of her cave stands open to the fen, nothing in that burrow is a lock, and the road out is yours whenever you want it. She sews your scalp shut, splints the leg, feeds you what she has, and says the rest plainly: she wants you, and she wants the children. Whether you stay is yours to answer.