Lydia (Ryu Alt)
Jun 29, 2015 12:05:30 GMT -6
Post by Lydia on Jun 29, 2015 12:05:30 GMT -6
Name:Lydia
Class:Pupil
Age:17
Born in:Caelin
Appearance:Lydia is wispy; while of average height, she is quite thin, almost looking consumptive. Despite this outward appearance, she is physically sound, but does not challenge her limits, preferring to build mental muscle rather than physical ones.
Lydia wears a large cloak, which she wraps around her and often seems to sink away into. It serves many purposes, but one main use is to hide her skin from view; she prefers to keep the many self-inflicted wounds she bears, her punishment for her own inadequacy, hidden from public scrutiny.
The cloak is well-made, but nothing too fancy or ostentatious. Under it, she wears a plain shirt, unassuming and unflattering pants, and some worn, dusty boots.
Personality:Lydia is self-conscious, both about her appearance and her abilities. Her emotions, in contrast to her physical appearance, are explosive and strong, and often spur her to act rashly and irrationally. She perceives everything that ends less than satisfactorily as the result of a personal fault, and holds herself responsible. As a result, she has little faith in herself, and punishes herself for others' faults. It has become so ingrained into her being that it is second nature to her.
Casting is the only thing that brings her solace, because she finds in the darkness a place to hide and a friend that seems to understand.
Story:Lydia lived for the first sixteen years of her life in the shadow of her older brother, a man so competent and composed in every undertaking that it was almost uncanny. He excelled at academics, sports, and was a young gentleman admired by all. The one exception was his sister. While the rest of the world idolized her brother, Lydia could find in him nothing but unhappiness and hurt. He became for her the root of all of her little nicks and scratches and doubts and worries. She could not get through a day without wondering what she could possibly bring forth that her brother had not already done twice over. Magic became her one love, but the world shrugged and continued to watch her brother, the fencer. Her brother, the horseman. Her brother, the top of the class at Academy. Her brother, the fine young soldier.
That should have been her moment to shine - when her brother left to become a soldier. But her parents saw in her nothing but a girl to be married off, an obligation to be settled, just a mouth to feed.
And so Lydia sank deeper into herself in the year she spent alone with her parents. She holed up, poring over books with sunken eyes, playing with wisps of darkness, and creating her own artwork of red lines and white scars as she struggled to carve out all of the inadequacies she had placed upon and in herself.
One night, an early summer's night that reeked of flowers and rain, the young woman walked to the edge of town, set up some of her books as a stool, and tied a noose around a thick, low branch of a tree. She placed her head into it, took a deep breath, and found she could not bring herself to jump off the books. Strange, how in one instant, the fate of a life is determined...
Subconsciously, she chose life, this time. She chose to fight, to continue on the road that wound into the mist in front of her. She chose to persevere, to endure, to try. She chose to face the fears, the hopelessness, the agonies. She chose not to run. Not to hide. Not to take the easy way out. She chose life... Where will it take her?
This is what could have been. This is what should have been. Rest in peace. I miss you always.
Class:Pupil
Age:17
Born in:Caelin
Appearance:Lydia is wispy; while of average height, she is quite thin, almost looking consumptive. Despite this outward appearance, she is physically sound, but does not challenge her limits, preferring to build mental muscle rather than physical ones.
Lydia wears a large cloak, which she wraps around her and often seems to sink away into. It serves many purposes, but one main use is to hide her skin from view; she prefers to keep the many self-inflicted wounds she bears, her punishment for her own inadequacy, hidden from public scrutiny.
The cloak is well-made, but nothing too fancy or ostentatious. Under it, she wears a plain shirt, unassuming and unflattering pants, and some worn, dusty boots.
Personality:Lydia is self-conscious, both about her appearance and her abilities. Her emotions, in contrast to her physical appearance, are explosive and strong, and often spur her to act rashly and irrationally. She perceives everything that ends less than satisfactorily as the result of a personal fault, and holds herself responsible. As a result, she has little faith in herself, and punishes herself for others' faults. It has become so ingrained into her being that it is second nature to her.
Casting is the only thing that brings her solace, because she finds in the darkness a place to hide and a friend that seems to understand.
Story:Lydia lived for the first sixteen years of her life in the shadow of her older brother, a man so competent and composed in every undertaking that it was almost uncanny. He excelled at academics, sports, and was a young gentleman admired by all. The one exception was his sister. While the rest of the world idolized her brother, Lydia could find in him nothing but unhappiness and hurt. He became for her the root of all of her little nicks and scratches and doubts and worries. She could not get through a day without wondering what she could possibly bring forth that her brother had not already done twice over. Magic became her one love, but the world shrugged and continued to watch her brother, the fencer. Her brother, the horseman. Her brother, the top of the class at Academy. Her brother, the fine young soldier.
That should have been her moment to shine - when her brother left to become a soldier. But her parents saw in her nothing but a girl to be married off, an obligation to be settled, just a mouth to feed.
And so Lydia sank deeper into herself in the year she spent alone with her parents. She holed up, poring over books with sunken eyes, playing with wisps of darkness, and creating her own artwork of red lines and white scars as she struggled to carve out all of the inadequacies she had placed upon and in herself.
One night, an early summer's night that reeked of flowers and rain, the young woman walked to the edge of town, set up some of her books as a stool, and tied a noose around a thick, low branch of a tree. She placed her head into it, took a deep breath, and found she could not bring herself to jump off the books. Strange, how in one instant, the fate of a life is determined...
Subconsciously, she chose life, this time. She chose to fight, to continue on the road that wound into the mist in front of her. She chose to persevere, to endure, to try. She chose to face the fears, the hopelessness, the agonies. She chose not to run. Not to hide. Not to take the easy way out. She chose life... Where will it take her?
This is what could have been. This is what should have been. Rest in peace. I miss you always.
