Physical Information Race: Human Birthday & Age : 491 AV Summer, 22 years old Gender: Female
Skills "The hour of thy great wind of love and hate. When shall the stars be blown about the sky, Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die?" Metalsmithing: 8 SP Blacksmithing: 26 = 15 RB + 11 SP Weaponsmithing: 26 SP Riding: 5 SP
Lores Metals of Mizahar Worship of Priskil
Language Fluent: Common Competent: Denvali Basic: Symenos
Physical Description "It had become a glimmering girl With apple blossom in her hair Who called me by my name and ran And faded through the brightening air. " Fia's freckle dusted face has a frank pleasantness to it, but fails to wound with beauty. She is a thing simple and fair, like lavender, clean linen or a bright morning. Her eyes are a vague mix of gray and blue. The serene color lends a thoughtfulness to her otherwise girlish looks. Her strawberry gold hair is thick and wavy, but kept to a manageable length, none of that "down to your waist" nonsense. Fia stand only 5'3". Her figure's defining features are a small waist and graceful, sloping shoulders. Sprinkling her forearms are tiny pink and white scars from the bellow's sparks. Usually Fia is clad in doeskin boots and rustic square neck dresses with a penchance for dark green and pale blue.
Character Concept "May she become a flourishing hidden tree That all her thoughts may like the linnet be, And have no business but dispensing round Their magnanimities of sound, Nor but in merriment begin a chase, Nor but in merriment a quarrel. O may she live like some green laurel Rooted in one dear perpetual place." "It's simple enough. I'm running away, though I am too old to call it that." Fia gave a smile, her heart light enough to see its own foolishness. "I have heard of such fair places." She pulled at a curl absently and begins to pluck at her memory of bard's songs and boasting travelers. "Home was all the goodness I ever needed for a time, but things change." She flashed a smile, trying to distract one from seeing the blush of melancholy. "I have heard that Mura is beautiful. That on an island the water is washed clean by constant tides, so it's always clear and blue." As she spoke of the island, Fia looked as if she was savoring something sweet. "The people are tied to the land and sea. And all the colors are as bright as they were at the dawn of time." The girl gave a shrug, as if she only partly believed these tales. "No matter what, I know some places are far away and endlessly open. Places for beginnings I'd like to think." For a moment, Fia looked like her thoughts were taking a leave of absence from her body. Her voice drifted away from its warm steady tone into something light and unsure. It sounded as if she was praying for an answer to an understood question. "Strangely, I am only a little sure of what I'd like to begin. I've lost my moorings and spent my heart on something that vanished." She stared at her upturned palms in her lap, contemplating their emptiness, and the white line where the ring once was. Her hands were rougher than a woman's should be. She used to be childishly proud of them, these capable hands, but now they just were. With a flounce of her hair, Fia tried to shepherd her thoughts back to the present. "But I am young enough to try new things. To make new things." And she believed it.
Character History "The books of my numberless dreams, White woman that passion has worn As the tide wears the dove-grey sands." Ambition defined Fia's father. He was clawing his way out of his meager upbringing and parochial home come downpour or damnation. And fear defined Fia's mother, fear of losing her looks, of being small and unknown, of being trapped in some clay hut like chattel. Each bartered with what they had in order to escape. He used intellect and perceptiveness with cruelty and she wielded beauty like a weapon. It was no surprise they found one another in their feverish climb to somewhere. What was a surprise was her pregnancy. Thankfully, Fia's mother found her lover was just as pragmatic as she when it came to their little problem. Neither had the time nor inclination to entertain consequences. A conclusion was reached with business-like precision and relieved laughter. They toasted the agreed abandonment of the child, and made cavalier and confused plans about it as they slid on their cloaks. Nine or so months later, Fia was delivered to her grandfather on her father's side. Her glittering parents whisked away again, hiding in their vast carelessness, leaving those with sturdier consciences to clean their messes. The father of only boys didn't know quite what to do with Fia. But he was not so cruel as to let her suffer neglect at the hands of his capricious youngest son. He fumbled with the finer points of what it was to raise a girl, but his love covered a host of mistakes. Aunts eventually stepped in to smooth the edges when adolescence came, but none could cure Fia of her intent to inherit her grandfather's profession. Fia was brought up around the bellows of a smithy. She went to bed smelling of wood smoke and never flinched at sparks. Tools befitting her size were presents dear as new dresses or jewelry. Fia preserved her feminine heart by taking on the role as woman of the house for her widowed grandfather. She wandered through her days, bright and purposeful, leaving her family only for walks along the shore. As time slipped onward, her femininity began to sing a stronger song. It was heard by a stubborn seaman with sharp green eyes and a teasing smile. His passing through slowed to a visit and a visit to an extended stay, so he could listen longer. The man eventually rented a cottage and dabbled in a land based trade. He was enamored of Fia, her rustic pragmatism twined with childish appreciation. She worked like a matron but laughed like a girl. They learned one another's scars, expressions and cadence. When he ran his hand through her hair, Fia felt the lines of her earth connect. The engagement was begun and the wedding set to take place on the rocky shore. Just after one last voyage, he would come back to her a richer man. Fia readied herself despite the continuing lateness of the groom. He would be there soon. The day came and went, she in her dress and her cousins wreathed in flowers. Months turned to a year and then some. No ship ever came to port with the name of his vessel, and Fia was reminded of the fickleness of Lhex. Unable to stand still with this ache, Fia put on her boots and began to seek out the world she had foolishly hoped to find in him. |