Post by Lisenet on Jun 21, 2013 14:18:12 GMT -5
Name: Miora
Age: Nine
Race: Human
Affiliation: Herself and anyone who treats her well.
Appearance: At three feet, ten inches, Miora doesn't cut a very striking figure, which at intervals both suits and supremely irritates her. Born to poverty and having lived in poverty all her life, she has the smaller stature, narrow build and tapered ribcage of someone who hasn't gotten enough to eat while they're growing. She's worn the same worn, faded, blue cotton dress for two years now, its bottom hem hanging to mid-calf and frayed, over a white shift with short sleeves over her shoulders. Her hair and eyes are both a mid-ranging brown, her hair hanging straight and usually uncombed to her waist, her eyes usually sharp and accusing, but edging toward vulnerable when she needs them too, only occasionally when she's taken by surprise. She has numerous small scars on her hands and fingers, a crescent scar on the back of her left hand, and a straight knife scar above her right ear, mostly hidden by her hair. Wound several times around her right wrist she wears an clectic bracelet knotted out of seven different reds, oranges, yellows and pinks.
Habits: tapping her feet, fists on hips, rolling her eyes
Personality: Miora's nature is predominantly self-reliant, as she knows by now that others are absolutely not to be trusted. In some occasions she'll trust others only so far as what she can fix herself, but if she must, she will put her trust in another if only because she's in a situation where she knows she cannot help herself, and therefore it's take the chance of trusting another person or staying stuck. She's always preferred being active to being sedentary, and as a message runner being slow will cost her meals. She's marked by her impatience, impertinence, and her absolute refusal to sugarcoat anything she observes, and she sees a lot while people are ignoring her. She speaks bluntly, unrepentant, stating exactly what she thinks. She's courageous because she knows most people won't waste their time arguing with a street-muffin like her, and clever because with so little resources and so much ambition she's had to find unique ways to achieve her own ends. She learns quickly and efficiently, and rarely forgets a fact. She likes drawing but rarely has the tools for it, so she draws in the dirt. Loves insects, sees them as complex and beautiful tiny creatures that are mostly stepped on, misunderstood or ignored, and she loves music, even the awful kind.
Miora does have a quick temper, though, and while she's untrained in any form of defense, most people are quick to let her alone when she bites and scratches. What irritates her most is being ignored or overlooked or spoken over when she feels she has the right to be heard. She's rarely embarassed, but when she is it's often because someone's caught her doing something feminine. She deemed early on that being 'girly' wasn't going to get her anywhere, so she does her best to prove she's just as good as any boy her age or better.
Skills/Talents: blending into crowds, getting the attention of a specific person and losing it or them, getting in and out of scraps, pocket picking, slipping in and out of crowds without getting in anyone’s way or slowed down. Excellent vocal mimicry, good with knots.
Occupation: message-runner, degenerate pickpocket
Past Occupations: pickpocket, street urchin
History:
Miora was born in a poorhouse to a mother who knew neither her own last name or the name of Miora’s father. She grew up hiding between the mattress and the wall while her mother worked and did the best she could to raise her on a night-lady’s paltry earnings. When Miora was five her mother died of a long illness she’d had nearly all of her daughter’s life and the brothel owner threw her out because she was too young to work there herself. After falling in with a ragged troupe of children she learned how to use distractions and provide them so others could nip their skinny hands in and out of pockets before anyone ever noticed the difference. Being small and female meant she was almost always the distraction, but she was also useful as the thief because most people wouldn’t too much abuse a little girl who looked like she’d never had a proper meal in her life. Even if she was caught, which became a rarer and rarer phenomenon through the years, most of the time they let her go.
When she was eight a merchant Miora liked to visit grabbed her when he saw her running past one morning, pressed a copper piece into her hand along with a scrap of paper and told her to run the note over to the twine-maker’s stall two streets down, and be quick about it. She ran messages for the two brothers the rest of the day and she was so quick that soon all of the merchants liked to have her running their messages, even the more secretive kind because they knew she’d never been caught properly when she was running the streets, and she always got away. And their written secrets were safe, because Miora had never learned to read.
Miora still lives in poverty, sleeping in the back doorway of the bakery because it’s usually warm in there, and because it smells nice and they usually have stale buns to throw out every night. She runs messages between businesses, and for nobles who know her and don’t feel like going across the streets themselves for a few coins, then picks pockets at need if she feels like it.
Most painful experiences in character’s past: Waking up to the sound of the other brothel-girls tearing apart Mam’s bed with Mam in it, and not knowing why they were taking her Mam away until they threw Miora out and told her her mother was dead and not to come back here for another ten years at least, and only if she wanted to work hard.
Character’s goals: To have a home with a roof, a door and a window. Not just a doorway. And to have a family, not just people who think she serves a purpose now and again.
Character’s motivation: Knowing full well she’s an intelligent girl, she believes she deserves a better life than what she was born to.
Character’s conflict: Thinking that maybe people were born in certain places because that’s where they really belong.
Fatal Flaw: Absolute lack of trust in others, particularly in adults.
Age: Nine
Race: Human
Affiliation: Herself and anyone who treats her well.
Appearance: At three feet, ten inches, Miora doesn't cut a very striking figure, which at intervals both suits and supremely irritates her. Born to poverty and having lived in poverty all her life, she has the smaller stature, narrow build and tapered ribcage of someone who hasn't gotten enough to eat while they're growing. She's worn the same worn, faded, blue cotton dress for two years now, its bottom hem hanging to mid-calf and frayed, over a white shift with short sleeves over her shoulders. Her hair and eyes are both a mid-ranging brown, her hair hanging straight and usually uncombed to her waist, her eyes usually sharp and accusing, but edging toward vulnerable when she needs them too, only occasionally when she's taken by surprise. She has numerous small scars on her hands and fingers, a crescent scar on the back of her left hand, and a straight knife scar above her right ear, mostly hidden by her hair. Wound several times around her right wrist she wears an clectic bracelet knotted out of seven different reds, oranges, yellows and pinks.
Habits: tapping her feet, fists on hips, rolling her eyes
Personality: Miora's nature is predominantly self-reliant, as she knows by now that others are absolutely not to be trusted. In some occasions she'll trust others only so far as what she can fix herself, but if she must, she will put her trust in another if only because she's in a situation where she knows she cannot help herself, and therefore it's take the chance of trusting another person or staying stuck. She's always preferred being active to being sedentary, and as a message runner being slow will cost her meals. She's marked by her impatience, impertinence, and her absolute refusal to sugarcoat anything she observes, and she sees a lot while people are ignoring her. She speaks bluntly, unrepentant, stating exactly what she thinks. She's courageous because she knows most people won't waste their time arguing with a street-muffin like her, and clever because with so little resources and so much ambition she's had to find unique ways to achieve her own ends. She learns quickly and efficiently, and rarely forgets a fact. She likes drawing but rarely has the tools for it, so she draws in the dirt. Loves insects, sees them as complex and beautiful tiny creatures that are mostly stepped on, misunderstood or ignored, and she loves music, even the awful kind.
Miora does have a quick temper, though, and while she's untrained in any form of defense, most people are quick to let her alone when she bites and scratches. What irritates her most is being ignored or overlooked or spoken over when she feels she has the right to be heard. She's rarely embarassed, but when she is it's often because someone's caught her doing something feminine. She deemed early on that being 'girly' wasn't going to get her anywhere, so she does her best to prove she's just as good as any boy her age or better.
Skills/Talents: blending into crowds, getting the attention of a specific person and losing it or them, getting in and out of scraps, pocket picking, slipping in and out of crowds without getting in anyone’s way or slowed down. Excellent vocal mimicry, good with knots.
Occupation: message-runner, degenerate pickpocket
Past Occupations: pickpocket, street urchin
History:
Miora was born in a poorhouse to a mother who knew neither her own last name or the name of Miora’s father. She grew up hiding between the mattress and the wall while her mother worked and did the best she could to raise her on a night-lady’s paltry earnings. When Miora was five her mother died of a long illness she’d had nearly all of her daughter’s life and the brothel owner threw her out because she was too young to work there herself. After falling in with a ragged troupe of children she learned how to use distractions and provide them so others could nip their skinny hands in and out of pockets before anyone ever noticed the difference. Being small and female meant she was almost always the distraction, but she was also useful as the thief because most people wouldn’t too much abuse a little girl who looked like she’d never had a proper meal in her life. Even if she was caught, which became a rarer and rarer phenomenon through the years, most of the time they let her go.
When she was eight a merchant Miora liked to visit grabbed her when he saw her running past one morning, pressed a copper piece into her hand along with a scrap of paper and told her to run the note over to the twine-maker’s stall two streets down, and be quick about it. She ran messages for the two brothers the rest of the day and she was so quick that soon all of the merchants liked to have her running their messages, even the more secretive kind because they knew she’d never been caught properly when she was running the streets, and she always got away. And their written secrets were safe, because Miora had never learned to read.
Miora still lives in poverty, sleeping in the back doorway of the bakery because it’s usually warm in there, and because it smells nice and they usually have stale buns to throw out every night. She runs messages between businesses, and for nobles who know her and don’t feel like going across the streets themselves for a few coins, then picks pockets at need if she feels like it.
Most painful experiences in character’s past: Waking up to the sound of the other brothel-girls tearing apart Mam’s bed with Mam in it, and not knowing why they were taking her Mam away until they threw Miora out and told her her mother was dead and not to come back here for another ten years at least, and only if she wanted to work hard.
Character’s goals: To have a home with a roof, a door and a window. Not just a doorway. And to have a family, not just people who think she serves a purpose now and again.
Character’s motivation: Knowing full well she’s an intelligent girl, she believes she deserves a better life than what she was born to.
Character’s conflict: Thinking that maybe people were born in certain places because that’s where they really belong.
Fatal Flaw: Absolute lack of trust in others, particularly in adults.
