standard_angel
Villager
Name: Angelika Sephira
Nickname/Alias: Angel
Age: 19 and a half (appears to be)
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Height: 5"5
Weight: 110 pounds
Hair: A dark purple colour, worn partially over her face. About mid-waist length.
Eyes: A startling electric blue colour, brighter than most.
Skin: Light in colour.
Identifying Marks: Her unnaturally colored eyes.
Appearance: Angel has a small stature for someone of her age, but she has a lean frame and muscles built from years of wandering on foot. She has a gentle smile and large, bright eyes that reflect the sun. She has large feet, and her eyes seem to dominate her face, and she has a small nose and mouth. She carries herself in a straight, confident way.
Strengths: Angel's strength is her agility, as she is able to run and jump with great ease, carrying herself on light feet. She has well-bred manners, and she is learning swordplay to defend herself if need be.
Weaknesses and fears: Angel fears the dark, so the Nether is not somewhere she would go alone, or easily even when accompanied. She also has a dread fear of fire. She tends to be absent-minded so when she's following someone she may get left behind.
Religion and cults: Angel is still deciding on which god to worship, as she feels she should make the decision for herself.
Profession: Angel is a gypsy, and has not yet had a job in her life.
Backstory: Angel was born as a noblewoman, being brought up in a household and being taught how to speak only when spoken to, to sit politely and how to eat. Her life was run by her tutors and her closest relatives at the time: her aunt and uncle, as her "mother and father were far too important to be taking care of a child" (that was something said to her by her Aunt). She was an inquisitive child, full of opinions and ideas, but that proved dangerous. So, her naturally curious spirit was forcefully squashed out of her, in the form of cruel verbal punishment whenever she spoke out of turn. But, her curiosity refused to leave, so even today she has a yearning to explore wherever she goes.
It was the second day after the new year, and Angelika was newly ten years old. Her aunt and uncle (seemingly in high spirits) were happily celebrating in the way of the higher outdated class: civil conversation between dainty sips of spirits or ale, interspersed with the occasional quiet laugh.
Then, it started to rain fire.
Even indoors, in her parents prized ballroom, fire rained from the heavens, onto all of the guests who didn't manage to run in time. They tried to fight their way out (some showing real emotion to their friends for the first time in a long time) of the fiery craters, but many died that night. Angelika hid in the corner, whimpering and shivering, frightened for her life.
When the fiery rain stopped for those few moments, she thought it was over.
Then the last one fell.
It was about two weeks later when Angel finally awoke, next to a smouldering tree and surrounded by ashes. Her pretty dress, that she had just received only a short while ago, was stained black and smoking faintly, enough to make her cough. Some kind soul had bandaged her wounds and lain fresh clothes next to her, although they were too big when she put them on.
There was also a small chest, that she prised open with her stiff fingers. Inside lay some life-giving food, torches, and a blanket for her to rest with. She teared up, small flakes of ash floating down from her eyes. "Thank you..." she whispered, hoping that whoever had done this for her could hear her now.
It has been nine years since that fateful day, yet each night Angel remembers it anew, re-opening the raw wounds of the past. It has made her into the person that she is now, accepting whatever she's given and thanking people for whatever they do for her.
Nickname/Alias: Angel
Age: 19 and a half (appears to be)
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Height: 5"5
Weight: 110 pounds
Hair: A dark purple colour, worn partially over her face. About mid-waist length.
Eyes: A startling electric blue colour, brighter than most.
Skin: Light in colour.
Identifying Marks: Her unnaturally colored eyes.
Appearance: Angel has a small stature for someone of her age, but she has a lean frame and muscles built from years of wandering on foot. She has a gentle smile and large, bright eyes that reflect the sun. She has large feet, and her eyes seem to dominate her face, and she has a small nose and mouth. She carries herself in a straight, confident way.
Strengths: Angel's strength is her agility, as she is able to run and jump with great ease, carrying herself on light feet. She has well-bred manners, and she is learning swordplay to defend herself if need be.
Weaknesses and fears: Angel fears the dark, so the Nether is not somewhere she would go alone, or easily even when accompanied. She also has a dread fear of fire. She tends to be absent-minded so when she's following someone she may get left behind.
Religion and cults: Angel is still deciding on which god to worship, as she feels she should make the decision for herself.
Profession: Angel is a gypsy, and has not yet had a job in her life.
Backstory: Angel was born as a noblewoman, being brought up in a household and being taught how to speak only when spoken to, to sit politely and how to eat. Her life was run by her tutors and her closest relatives at the time: her aunt and uncle, as her "mother and father were far too important to be taking care of a child" (that was something said to her by her Aunt). She was an inquisitive child, full of opinions and ideas, but that proved dangerous. So, her naturally curious spirit was forcefully squashed out of her, in the form of cruel verbal punishment whenever she spoke out of turn. But, her curiosity refused to leave, so even today she has a yearning to explore wherever she goes.
It was the second day after the new year, and Angelika was newly ten years old. Her aunt and uncle (seemingly in high spirits) were happily celebrating in the way of the higher outdated class: civil conversation between dainty sips of spirits or ale, interspersed with the occasional quiet laugh.
Then, it started to rain fire.
Even indoors, in her parents prized ballroom, fire rained from the heavens, onto all of the guests who didn't manage to run in time. They tried to fight their way out (some showing real emotion to their friends for the first time in a long time) of the fiery craters, but many died that night. Angelika hid in the corner, whimpering and shivering, frightened for her life.
When the fiery rain stopped for those few moments, she thought it was over.
Then the last one fell.
It was about two weeks later when Angel finally awoke, next to a smouldering tree and surrounded by ashes. Her pretty dress, that she had just received only a short while ago, was stained black and smoking faintly, enough to make her cough. Some kind soul had bandaged her wounds and lain fresh clothes next to her, although they were too big when she put them on.
There was also a small chest, that she prised open with her stiff fingers. Inside lay some life-giving food, torches, and a blanket for her to rest with. She teared up, small flakes of ash floating down from her eyes. "Thank you..." she whispered, hoping that whoever had done this for her could hear her now.
It has been nine years since that fateful day, yet each night Angel remembers it anew, re-opening the raw wounds of the past. It has made her into the person that she is now, accepting whatever she's given and thanking people for whatever they do for her.
