![[Verified by Luminescence]](./images/checkmark.png "[Verified by Luminescence]")
Alice Weaver
Race: Ghost (Formerly Human)
Gender: Female
Date Of Birth: 12th of Winter, 494 A.V
Date of Death: 5th of Summer, 514 A.V
Age: 27 (19 Alive, Dead 8 )
Height: 5' 5"
Place of Birth/Death: Syliras
Current Location: Lhavit
Housing: Infinty Manor
Fluent: Common
Gender: Female
Date Of Birth: 12th of Winter, 494 A.V
Date of Death: 5th of Summer, 514 A.V
Age: 27 (19 Alive, Dead 8 )
Height: 5' 5"
Place of Birth/Death: Syliras
Current Location: Lhavit
Housing: Infinty Manor
Fluent: Common
Physical Appearance
Death hasn’t had much of an impact on Alice’s appearance as she chooses to manifest as she appeared right before her death. Her skin remains pale and splashed with freckles that concentrate across the bridge of her nose. Alice’s storm grey eyes sit in her slightly narrowed face that is framed by her red hair which falls in waves to her chest. Her thinner figure stands 5’ 5” and is wrapped in a simple flowing black dress that exposes her arms and trails upon the ground behind her. As with all ghosts, her edges are blurred and her body is slightly translucent with a faint ever-present mist of her Soulmist twirling around her form.
Character Concept
Alice was originally a soft, caring, and excitable girl who watched over those around her before it was buried under a cold, uncaring layer brought on by an untimely death. A layer that seems very matronly being prim, proper, and calculating. She appears to have all the time in the world, so why rush? But the capricious spirit hides another contrasting layer to the cold front. A layer of hot, bubbling anger and resentment lies underneath, trapped beneath her cool exterior. Resentment and anger at the whole World for deciding she no longer had a place in it. Cutting her life violently short. This thinly spread anger at the World driving her to no longer be a ghost but not to be dead either. She's picking a fight with death and soon might not like the consequences.
History
Alice grew up within the city of Syliras, working with her mother as a local weaver of cloth. It was a good life if a bit dull consisting of repetitions of; go there, collect this cloth, come back home, weave the cloth. And because of this repetitive nature, the days stretched on, blending into one another with no discernible beginning or end. The monotony was only broken when her brother came back from his self-proclaimed adventurers to regale her with tales of fighting off monsters and gaining resplendent treasures. She’d listen wide-eyed while comparing her life to his and found often herself longing for some type of excitement. Once, she told her brother about this desire and he laughed before slapping her on the back. He then loudly declared that if she wanted to be a grand adventurer like him she’d have to learn to fight. So early the next morning he showed her how to throw a few punches and to bounce on the balls of her feet. Both laughing and having a few mocking spars where it was more akin to a slap fight rather than punches. But the “spar” got cut short when Alice had to go pick up the raw material to spin into cloth. Brushing herself off and bidding her brother a farewell she turned to walk down the streets of early morning Syliras, throwing a few mock punches into the air with a smile on her face, taking a turn down an alley shortcut. The walls than began to close in, getting tighter and darker as a few boxes crowded the passage. As she was passing by one of these crates she saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning just in time to see the glint of a blade before pain erupted from her throat in a warm gush of red. Falling to the loose cobble streets, leaking her lifeblood, she felt a weight being lifted off her waist. The pouch of coin she was carrying was the goal but obviously, it wasn't good enough for whoever took the risk of killing for it. They voiced their displeasure by sinking the dagger into her back five more times before running off. Leaving Alice growing cold in the dark, scared of death, infuriated that this was how it ended and, above all, stubbornly believing that she wouldn't die there.
-Family Members coming soon!
Death hasn’t had much of an impact on Alice’s appearance as she chooses to manifest as she appeared right before her death. Her skin remains pale and splashed with freckles that concentrate across the bridge of her nose. Alice’s storm grey eyes sit in her slightly narrowed face that is framed by her red hair which falls in waves to her chest. Her thinner figure stands 5’ 5” and is wrapped in a simple flowing black dress that exposes her arms and trails upon the ground behind her. As with all ghosts, her edges are blurred and her body is slightly translucent with a faint ever-present mist of her Soulmist twirling around her form.
Character Concept
Alice was originally a soft, caring, and excitable girl who watched over those around her before it was buried under a cold, uncaring layer brought on by an untimely death. A layer that seems very matronly being prim, proper, and calculating. She appears to have all the time in the world, so why rush? But the capricious spirit hides another contrasting layer to the cold front. A layer of hot, bubbling anger and resentment lies underneath, trapped beneath her cool exterior. Resentment and anger at the whole World for deciding she no longer had a place in it. Cutting her life violently short. This thinly spread anger at the World driving her to no longer be a ghost but not to be dead either. She's picking a fight with death and soon might not like the consequences.
History
Alice grew up within the city of Syliras, working with her mother as a local weaver of cloth. It was a good life if a bit dull consisting of repetitions of; go there, collect this cloth, come back home, weave the cloth. And because of this repetitive nature, the days stretched on, blending into one another with no discernible beginning or end. The monotony was only broken when her brother came back from his self-proclaimed adventurers to regale her with tales of fighting off monsters and gaining resplendent treasures. She’d listen wide-eyed while comparing her life to his and found often herself longing for some type of excitement. Once, she told her brother about this desire and he laughed before slapping her on the back. He then loudly declared that if she wanted to be a grand adventurer like him she’d have to learn to fight. So early the next morning he showed her how to throw a few punches and to bounce on the balls of her feet. Both laughing and having a few mocking spars where it was more akin to a slap fight rather than punches. But the “spar” got cut short when Alice had to go pick up the raw material to spin into cloth. Brushing herself off and bidding her brother a farewell she turned to walk down the streets of early morning Syliras, throwing a few mock punches into the air with a smile on her face, taking a turn down an alley shortcut. The walls than began to close in, getting tighter and darker as a few boxes crowded the passage. As she was passing by one of these crates she saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning just in time to see the glint of a blade before pain erupted from her throat in a warm gush of red. Falling to the loose cobble streets, leaking her lifeblood, she felt a weight being lifted off her waist. The pouch of coin she was carrying was the goal but obviously, it wasn't good enough for whoever took the risk of killing for it. They voiced their displeasure by sinking the dagger into her back five more times before running off. Leaving Alice growing cold in the dark, scared of death, infuriated that this was how it ended and, above all, stubbornly believing that she wouldn't die there.
-Family Members coming soon!
