Your name is JENTHA BRIATI.
You are an avid purveyor of NICHE CULTURAL ODDITIES — especially those that harken back to nostalgic grubhood. Your hive has become something of a nursery for LOST TOYS and KNICK KNACKS deemed unworthy or unsafe by the public at large. You DON'T CARE about any of that, though, because you LOVE THEM. Taking care of these horrible little monstrosities that you hold so dear brings you a measure of comfort and joy, which is invaluable to you because you are HORRIBLE AT TAKING CARE OF YOURSELF.
Members of your blood caste are infamous for having some of the most outlandish SURVIVAL ABILITIES around, often the most potent of the lower end of the hemospectrum. You, however, were gifted with NOTHING. Which, yeah. Figures. With an added lusus complication that left you without a caretaker, you live a pretty STRESSFUL and DEFENSELESS life, all holed up inside your hive. You can't even remember the last time you saw the suns! At most, you get a whiff of fresh air whenever stuff is delivered to your doorstep.
The countless nights spent scared and alone have left you extremely in tune with your many INTERESTS, however. You are an ABSOLUTE MASTER AT GAMES, specializing in those of the BOARD variety, but you can't remember ever LOSING at something you put enough effort into. Yeah, you're THAT good. You also enjoy the complexities of PAPER CRAFTS, and... not to brag, but you're the most dedicated connoisseur of the only three GOOD MOVIES to ever exist. You know this because your taste is impeccable.
It's very hard being an anxious wreck, especially when the whole world seems intent on telegraphing how useless you are on a near constant basis, but with a lot of help, you've been trying not to look at yourself like that anymore.
And you think that's what matters.
Your trolltag is furbishFacilitated and y y you tend to s stutter on k key words
What will you do?