Lieutenant Julia 'Jules' Bryce
Name Julia 'Jules' Lidiya Yelena Bryce
Position Assistant Chief of Security
Rank Lieutenant
Character Information
| Gender | Female | |
| Species | Human | |
| Age | 28 |
Physical Appearance
| Height | 5'10" | |
| Weight | 150 lbs | |
| Hair Color | Black | |
| Eye Color | Brown | |
| Physical Description | Standing at 5'10" of lanky build and sinewy frame, Jules Bryce is a careless collection of curves and tomboy ease. She has straight black hair that falls in long layers to roughly the middle of her back when left down, brown- nearly black- eyes and a chorus of freckles dotting her skin. The woman is undeniably female, though rarely dresses to advertise the fact. Jules exclusively favors ancient jeans, boots and one of two been-through-hell-too-many-times jackets that always accompany her off-duty ensembles. Jules has a large tattoo of a rearing phoenix on her upper arm, a stylized snowflake on her right inner wrist, a 3/4 back piece of blackwork depicting an olde world folk-style scene of a young girl, a bear and wolves in a deep forest, and a dozen more that have been surgically removed. Jules also has several healed over piercings, keeping only the multiple earrings in both ears. On occasion- rare occasion- she'll produce thin wire-rimmed glasses to type with but only in the sanctity of her room. |
Family
| Spouse | N/A | |
| Children | N/A | |
| Father | Unknown | |
| Mother | Lludmillia Serafina Domnin | |
| Brother(s) | Unknown | |
| Sister(s) | Unknown | |
| Other Family | N/A |
Personality & Traits
| General Overview | Julia was born a tomboy, always will be one and always has been one. She still wavers back and forth between wanting to kiss a man or punch him. But it's usually the ones she'd want to punch that she's the most attracted to. She'll wear a dress and look amazing, complain about having to dress up all night, then go home and fuss to her tub of ice cream that no one made a pass at her. Complex. Just crazy enough to be interesting and with a dash of a megalomaniac, Jules lives alone: go figure. She can't even keep a house plant alive and refuses to share her territory with even a cat. Why? Because she lives off of PB&J sandwiches, burnt coffee and diet soda, sleeps on the couch more than her bed and forgets to brush her hair some days. Jules is a loose cannon in the broadest sense of the word. As a person she's dependable. She'll drag herself through all hell to keep a promise. She's unsteady, has no healthy understanding of the words 'fear' or 'self-preservation'. And doesn't take the best care of herself either, but she's a damn fine officer. She pops out dime store mystery novels and dark cautionary tales for kicks on the side under the pseudonym 'George Akon' (the combined names of her mother's cat and the man who gave her her first job). The writing started as a kind of therapy for her over aggressive tendencies that continually got her in trouble. These days she's toned down considerably and tends to save her worst for her writing: mostly pulp detective thrillers. Julia rolls on the floor in laughter contemplating most religions and has, therefore, made her own. Something's out there and it gets a big kick out of watching the melodrama going on in the lives of those it created. She feels comfortable talking to it, griping at it and occasionally confiding in it, but holds no services for its praise. |
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| Strengths & Weaknesses | -Extremely creative -Loyal and dependable to a fault once it's earned -Tough both mentally and physically -Crack shot so long as the target moves -Stubborn -Typically cranky (has been described as volatile and occasionally rude, impersonal, flippant) -Myopic (requires corrective lenses for fine detail work. Attempts at corrective surgery have failed twice) - requires monthly treatments -Impulsive -Damning past |
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| Ambitions | Don’t die forgettable. It happens to everyone, but make it worth something. Make it count. Be a hero for once. Don’t mess it up again. | |
| Hobbies & Interests | She has a deep love for cop flicks, action holos, steamy romance holonovels, martial arts, ancient slug throwers, day dreaming, hot fudge sundaes, steak dinners, power smoothies and the sound of metronomes. She occasionally doodles, reads avidly and loves finding good spots to erect a hammock and just doze. All of Julia's writing is done on an absolutely ancient typewriter for no reason other than to make it that much more difficult to do. | |
| Languages | Galactic Common, Ukranian, Turkic, Ruska Romani, German, English, Klingon (passing), Andorian (some) |
| Personal History | If you were to ask Jules about her history, you'd likely get a comfortable answer. A safe answer. One where her mother was a dabo girl until she got pregnant and then she returned to Earth where she gave birth in her grandmother's home. Everything normal, everything safe- and though tough- sparse, was devoid of the bleakness that peeks out just under the skin of her tired old story. Hard working girl goes to Starfleet, gets good grades, gets off world- and there she is now. Isn't that great? Of course, that wasn't at all how the real story goes. Born Jelena Lari Domnin, Jules life began in a slum in St. Petersburg Russia. Her mother was a working girl and her father, well, was anyone's guess. From an early age she had to look out for herself because her mother wasn’t there, or she was entertaining or she was simply too drugged up to notice what was going on around her. Sometimes some of the other women in Lludmillia's knot of friends would help look after her, but more times than not, Jules and the other children her age were left to run wild. She remembers all too well being sick or hurt or hungry and never having a place to turn. Not having clothes or shoes that fit. Being drug along to act as a lookout or help in half a dozen con games that ran throughout the square with the soul purpose of separating tourists from their money. Sometimes she was just the crying child begging on the street corner, sometimes the decoy crying for help. As she grew older the worse it got the deeper the stain, the heavier the guilt. By twelve there was blood on her hands. Thirteen she was helping break knees for one of her mother's better clients who took a shine to her. Jules tried to justify it as a means to survive. Be fed, stay warm, defend herself, take care of her mother who at that point was so addicted that she rarely had lucent days. It wasn't until she was fourteen that she couldn't shake the guilt anymore. She'd watched her mother regress into a hollow, angry woman. Most of her mother's friends were gone: dead or straggled off or worse. The other children were dead or had changed into these hard-edged, cold thugs. But worse, there were new ones. Every day. Just a never ending cycles of new bodies, new wounds, new small deaths. Thinking that she was drowning and it could never get any worse that it already was, Jules turned herself in to the local police with the idea that she would spend the remainder of her life in prison. She willingly gave every shred of information that she could with no plea bargains. Spent eight months in a youth reform center, then another year in a secured group home in Germany as a part of the witness protection program before being shuffled off into an orphanage where she remained until her eighteenth birthday when her juvenile records were sealed. With little to no direction beyond the words of a security guard who suggested that she joined a civil program such as the military or Starfleet or an aide group such as the Peace Corps to get the heck out of Europe, Jules applied for all three. The only thing that steered her into Starfleet is that they responded first. Fast forward past barely skimming past the entrance exams to being behind most of her class in all but physical subjects. Past the four years spent pulling herself up by the boot strings and literally remaking herself. Her senior year instead of going on vacation with her classmates, Jules had her name changed and some ink done to celebrate starting over for real this time. When she graduated it wasn't top of the class, but a solid and steady upper level grade. She had friends and teachers who believed in her which made all of the difference. Her temperament was still a problem, but she'd been working on that- until a fight with another crew member on her first assignment the USS Cuauhtémoc earned her some solid brig time. The counselor on board convinced her to open up and really talk- which opened up floodgates that were long past sore. The counselor listened thoughtfully and rather than calling Jules's superior officer to have her drug off, handed her a PADD and a stylus and told her to write it down. Write down everything. The trend carried Jules through the rest of the cruise, which became exceedingly difficult once the crewman's buddies decided to make her life hell. It continued on through the USS Vale when where the writing brought Jules to another turning point in her life. The words on the outdated flat screen PADD that she preferred to write on was becoming muddled and the colors seemed to fade at the edges. She took it in for repairs several times, but nothing was wrong with it beyond age. While having a routine physical, Jules eyes were checked and showed a significant amount of advanced genetic macular degeneration. A number of surgeries were attempted in order to correct the issue, but were unsuccessful. The resulting scar tissue made further attempts impractical. Jules was given a pair of corrective lenses and a monthly treatment regimen. By the end of her service on the Vale, Jules was told that she had at best ten more years of active service after which she'd likely be legally blind. She was advised to start checking into places to settle down- enjoy her sight- become a part of a community, Jules took one last assignment aboard SB 332, claiming that she'd rather be useful while she can that wallow in the self-pity of colony life. |
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| Service Record | 2385: Graduated Starfleet Academy 2386: USS Cauhtémoc - Security Officer (transferred) 2387-2391: USS Vale - Security Officer |