Contacted to: Mono
Affinity: Organic Generation
Specialties: Poison Emission/Secretion
1- Can generate, create, emit or otherwise produce poison and administer it through her fingertips. Anything she touches with that intent is varyingly toxic.
2- Far from fatal, though, the victim suffers tight constrictions in their airways and excessive coughing, often clogging their speech.
3-In case of contact with skin, that area will develop rash-like symptoms that, on average, lasts about a week.
Birthdate: December 21st
Height: 5'4" | 162cm
Nationality: Greek ancestry, British citizenship
Eloquent, Naive, Steadfast, Territorial, Paranoid, Curious, Secretive
At face value, Mal comes across haughty and cavalier to most, her casual, if not friendly demeanor often overshadowed by a consistent resting bitch face that she does not try to change. She speaks carefully, but sharply, and her inquisition and even unassuming nature often yields her to unlikely situations despite her deep rooted paranoia; it is always a paradox in thought whenever an opportunity in present; she is curious of the outcome, but mysteriously certain it would doom her.
Mal is possessive of her material belongings and her space and may show signs of underhanded aggression towards unwarranted transgression; though sharing is a difficult concept, she is willing to adjust in the right circumstances (and consistently, with the right people). Good luck trying to get her to lend you her shirt.
Mono is another concept she has difficulties grasping due to their complicated encounters (and inevitably, relationship) , and while she has his brand on her neck (of which the hows and whens she is cross to discuss) he is an enigma to her as anyone else might find a soul-bound entity. If asked, she would simply say that “It’s complicated.”
i write dis later ok
Studious but scores averagely, she will dodge sharing her grades.
She is in the process of being vegetarian.
Chronic immunodeficiency which isn’t as bad as it sounds- she simply catches viruses and colds often and easy.
Cold hands and feet, warm everywhere else.
Mysteriously drawn to bigger trees.
WIL: 1 STA: 4
SOL: 1 CAP: 5
KNO: 4 STR: 1
SOC: 2 MAG: 8WIS: 2 SPD: 2
Name: Joan Soria
Birthday: The 30th of the month of Flowers, Year of Paths.
Race: Half-Elf (Light)
Occupation: Medic (Member of the Circle of the Wreath)
Compassionate, Earnest, Affectionate
Competitive, Self-conscious, Anxious
Having been the student of a fastidious, dour and possibly the most inspiring Sage the better half of her life, Joan was thickly armed with the intrinsic ability to doubt herself thirty two times before supper and compete with about anyone wielding a wand. On worse days she comes across proud with forced confidence, well aware of her adequacy, though lost on better ways to display her hard work. Besides that, Joan is kind and sensitive and her heart very easily fooled. Her tears come as often as her words do.
Desperate for validation from her peers and superiors alike, her disposition could be described as try-hard at best and rapidly edging on embarrassing. She would falsify her interests to fit in and laugh at all the terrible jokes.
Thought she strives for an unprejudiced attitude, Joan is riddled with the rumors of dark elves and their staunch views on her fellow mixed breed and in turn, avoids them at all costs.
Though her parents hail from opposite lands (and heritage); her father, both human and a prestigious ship-chandler from the bustling city of Amedra and her mother, an ambitious elf from the greens of Cantor, Joan’s childhood had been a notably ordinary one nurtured by blissful ignorance and the sunny shores of Nisalvini where they eventually settled. She was happy for the most part.
Being the eldest child growing up had been a treat to Joan who had a narrow scope of personal interests and a great need for attention. Her hobbies had been shaped by her mother’s own preference at an alarmingly early age, and later, her career path paved by the traditional upbringing of her father who believed his eldest child was to grow as the guardian and protector of the family rather than dabble in frivolous things like magic- something everyone and their mother in Nisalvini seemed to take interest in. Joan was only too happy to oblige in return for praise--even if the hilt of the sword chafed her fingers and its weight ached her shoulders for days.
At 13, Joan showed the first sign of what her parents thought a whimsical fancy of a child; Magic was a curious thing that would lose its flare with age as all things did- though, with Joan - it had been a consistent backdrop and where her parents saw competition between their plans and her investment, she saw a new realm of knowledge and possibilities- suddenly, the sword lost its glint and she wielded it poorly. She was unhappy for the most part.
Frustrated, but thoughtful, her father who had a mind for business and a staunch view on anything that could override it, could no longer see his fiery-haired child in the throes of battle with the clamor of swords, he certainly could not see her carry the weight of an armor on those frail limbs or kill a man. She was a gentle, skittish girl, how could he have missed it.
Disheartened, he began to steer Joan’s magic to the study of healing, a constructive alternative to sorcery and all its branches. At 15, he had taken her to an old friend, though a Mage, one renowned for his knowledge and discipline, he easily entrusted Joan in his guidance despite her reluctance; she did not wish to oppose her father, and so she lived 5 years in the care of Master Sullivan.
Sullivan was unpredictable as he was irritable, and so by the fifth year of her apprenticeship, he had laid out plans for her to join The Circle of The Wreath and gain solid, hands-on experience where it counted. Joan was against it--having been sheltered most of her life--it was too harsh of a transition, but he would not hear of it.
She packed, eventually, making way to the closest branch in Cantor in hopes to be recruited to aid in the influx of Valski refugees.
She is very aware of her temperament and the fact that crying does not solve anything. Do not tell her this.
Has little sense of monetary value and how to spend it economically.
Though it was never her initial choice, she takes pride in what she does and knows she is good at it.
Her hair is naturally blonde- she dyes it a vibrant red diligently, though