Post by Kikuri on Feb 16, 2018 22:53:23 GMT -6
Class: Soldier
Age: 17
Personality: A lifetime of expectations have forged a very distinct persona for the half-Sacaen girl; bred and groomed for use as a pawn in a grander game, it was a foregone conclusion that she was to be a marital prize fit for a king rather than just another nobody. Rather than simply beautiful, she must be demure, ladylike - refined and reserved. Cultured and cultivated, with inoffensive interests and boundless knowledge of men and mankind alike. Sweetly seductive and placidly perfect. Meant to cajole and manipulate, plying strings and dance through debates rather than some tawdy strumpet or muscle-minded meathead.
While not everything went exactly to plan, Kikuri still embodies many of those aesthetic characteristics. Her temperament is demure, for the most part, not given to obvious excesses of emotion, her pretty little face rarely afflicted by ugly emotions like hate and rage. Her voice almost cloyingly sweet, cadenced and smooth like honey, her words chosen carefully, sometimes with coy implications. Her personality generally tending towards the pliant, rarely arguing directly with others, oft circuitous in revealing her intent and opinions. Even in combat she trends towards grace rather than force, something not instilled in her by Father dearest but rather a genuine appreciation for beauty, in action and reaction alike. Fine footwork and tranquil flowing motion rather than the boorish brutality of a bandit.
There was, unfortunately, always still a personality beneath the shell, or perhaps a part of it; not even she could truly answer that question, nature and nurture entwining into one dichotomy of perfectly flawed perfection. A ghost of a self that not even decades of preparation could quite extinguish. It was in that rebellion against the status quo that her dalliances with Kisaragi were born - that flickering ember of Self, using the very tools she had been molded with to earn a crysalis, brief glimpses into freedom. And while that moment of tempered defiance was but a flickering trace of selfishness in an ocean of compliance, its effects were profound - it taught her the value of what her father had spoken of, in its own way; that there WAS value in cajoling instead of contrariness, in disarming deception rather than immature insubordination.
It also taught her that her father was both enemy and ally - a useful tool, his lessons not entirely without merit, but also that there was another path to his decree - that his visions of the future were not law, that not all things could go as one desired. In its own way, it brought them closer together than anything before or after, finally reaching an understanding of sorts, yet also simultaneously planting seeds of rebellion deep within her psyche.
Realpolitik and rebellion still war within for dominance, exemplifying the uncertain and amorphous nature of her existence. Kikuri is at once all of the above and none of them, the festering rot at her core continuing to slowly grow and consume the perfect little princess in ways even she does not understand. What began as rebellion - a desperate bid for freedom - has left her adrift in an uncertain world, a conflict she masks almost perfectly with the very training that caused it in the first place. While not naive, Kikuri knows she was heavily sheltered and insulated from the world around her; knowing which fork to use for each course in an exquisite meal is not of much use in making a living for herself in a world where more than a few men would be quite happy to rape her, mutilate her body, and leave her corpse to the maggots in a ditch in the middle of nowhere.
But in the end, life is but a game to be won - despite her weakness, her confusion, her uncertainty, Kikuri's deep rooted conditioning leaves her no other mindset. All games have rules. Advantages. Win conditions. She is not beaten nor broken; merely temporarily embarassed, the result of her ill planned entry to the grand game of real life. Like a willow tree, she must bend without breaking, allowing trial and tribulation to flow by her rather than overwhelm her. Learn the rules of this game. Find its secrets. Learn how to break it, turn it to her own advantage. And most importantly, do that which she set out to do in the first place - discover what it means to her to 'win.' Social status? Power? Fame? None of them particularly appeal to her, the frustrating vagaries of unknown desire blocking her path forward.
But she will find that answer. There is no question in her mind of the subject. In the meantime, she will learn everything she can about this world, about herself, the blackened core at the center of the Matroyshka doll of selves, and in looking within, find that which she seeks without; what she will become, who she actually wants to be.
History: A half-Sacaen maiden, born of a Lycian merchant and a Sacaen from the Rama, born to luxury and groomed from birth to marry into nobility. Daddy's little princess endured rather than lived her early childhood, despite the sizable wealth of her mercantile father, until she met a brash young Sacaen swordswoman by chance, who first aroused her interest and introduced her to the wonders of combat. With Kisaragi's boisterous company, the porcelain princess learned something of how to live, rather than simply exist, and in the process discovered her prodigious natural talent in the art of war. Even picking up the training bokken felt as sure and familiar as if she had already wielded it for a thousand lifetimes, and in the few weeks of nearly unrestricted training before her parents discovered her errant ways, she overtook and eclipsed the hardworking Kisaragi with casual ease.
While their friendship endured over the years due only to the fact that Kisaragi's father was a family friend, and some training was allowed to keep her pliant, her parents strongly discouraged this boorish behavior. A Bernese nobleman or even perhaps Lycian royalty would not want some disgusting muscle-she-hulk, but the tender flesh and soft mannerisms of a polished princess. But she had found something to fight for, for once, and using some of the tactics she had been taught managed to win enough favor to allow these dalliances to continue. Despite their relative rarity, she still managed to keep up with and consistently surpass her friend - and yet rather than hold it over the Sacaen, Kikuri found herself more and more entranced by the dogged perseverance and endless drive that the other girl found within herself. No matter how many times she got knocked down she got back up. Despite not being born a natural genius, despite her diminutive size and... rough... temperament, she had grasped skill and fitness from those conditions nonetheless, constantly pushing Kikuri back.
It was an odd pair - the natural born genius held back by reality, the determined swordswoman held back by herself - but there was nothing false or forced about their friendship. It was only during those bouts that Kikuri felt herself alive, and only there that she could taste freedom. But all good things must come to an end, and it was not that long until the caged bird found the jaws of her prison closing in on her. As she grew into a young woman, her father in particular grew more and more against this waste of time, eventually forbidding her liaisons entirely, and the business of finding a proper suitor redoubled in effort. In these tumultuous times, after all, there was opportunity - a trait that had served her family exceedingly well in taking advantage of Elibe's constant wars, and a trait that soon threatened to leave her on an unalterable course for Lycian nobility or perhaps royalty.
When Kisaragi went missing, though, Kikuri found herself on the precipice of an unknown decision, a future she could not foresee. To accept the possibility of marrying up was a safe and sure path, one leading to ever greater fame and success for her family. With a great deal of luck she might even be able to land a proper royal heir, playing the long game to being the wife of a Marquess in five or fifteen years. But at the same time. If Kisaragi had taught her anything, especially with the surly swordswoman's latest stunt of disappearing entirely to test her sword, it was that there was another option. One that the sheltered Kikuri had not realized was a possibility. The idea of simply... striking off on her own. Of trying to make her way in the world based purely on her own abilities and judgement rather than living the life prepared for her. It was alluring. Tempting. Beautiful in its strange uncertainty.
But a part of her feared that her skill was less divine than she had idealized. That the success of a young girl meant little in a world dominated by strength. That rather than coast by on her base skills, she would have to train just as hard or even harder than Kisaragi - that she would have to quite literally learn how to learn. She would have to cultivate truly divine skill, flawless and firm, perfect beyond all reproach.
Combat: Kikuri wields a naginata in combat, a traditional Sacaen polearm whose long blade offers excellent range and solid cutting and thrusting potential at the cost of falling behind a sword in speed or a heavier poleaxe or halberd in raw crushing power. While not commonly used, the Deva clan luminary she was in part trained by was familiar with their use and the half-Sacaen heiress took quite the liking to it.
She is proficient in most basic naginatajutsu techniques, and was forced by Kisaragi's rampant approach to become fairly proficient in using the weapon's shaft - the ebu - to block or deflect faster weapons, as well as the end of the shaft - the ishizuki - to harry or even spear and, with enough force, puncture opponents. While far from a master, the Sacaen maiden has a natural talent and fair amount of practice with the weapon that she hopes to extend while facing new opponents and difficulties.
