what can we do
Apr 21, 2019 11:09:52 GMT -7
Post by j on Apr 21, 2019 11:09:52 GMT -7
FRANCELIA FIALOVA FRANNY 5'7" 112LBS TWENTY-FOUR FEMALE | |
HI NO KUNI NON-NIN --- EVIL, CHAOTIC TAI[master] CLAN[non] | |
boxing,gates,sidearm, soulcaster, --- doton, --- --- jeweler,alchemy |
PERSONALITY
Francelia Fialova — has been frequently referred to by observers, as a confounding enigma. Her personality is thoroughly warped, and possesses several unexplained inconsistencies. Franny, as she is occasionally designated, is a frustratingly impulsive individual. Despite her inherently evil nature, she acts based on her whims and fancies. Her merciless compulsion notwithstanding, she frequently entitles strangers as her close friends and then proceeds to treat them as such.
Francelia's life is built upon a foundation of lies and trickery. The joyous giddy sensation she garners from the misplaced trust of a poor sap is what drives her. One of her most cherished pastimes has been spending the last several years patiently constructing a facade of innocence and benevolence. She maintains herself as a kindly aristocrat, feigning normalcy and frailty. Surely she intends to abuse this persona to the utmost possible degree. This will probably involve sating her covetous and murderous desires.
Franny is an entirely rapacious individual. She wishes to obtain everything there is to grasp in this world. She cares very little for actual money, though. Instead, she seeks worth instead. Whether those be objects, properties, or even lowly plebeians who have their lives taken against their will. Francelia wishes to obtain it all.
Franny suffers from the symptoms of several mental illnesses. She is probably a sociopath, a psychopath, and definitely at least moderately schizophrenic. Circumstances outside of her control have left her severely damaged, despite her ability to function. Contrary to her depraved insanity, she is frighteningly intelligent. She does however, make poor decisions upon occasion. Her recklessly furious behavior occasionally manifests as murderous sprees, bathed in a yet-to-be-named glory sprinkled with maniacal giggling. When her deeds are witnessed, she is delighted by the thrill of hunting bystanders.
At the moment Francelia is a lost lamb, who has yet to find her way. While she is extremely ambitious, she isn't sure of how to achieve what she wants, or even what she wants to begin with. She recurringly finds herself unsure of what to do, wandering from one potential adventure to another. Perhaps soon she will find a cause to dedicate herself to.
Francelia's life is built upon a foundation of lies and trickery. The joyous giddy sensation she garners from the misplaced trust of a poor sap is what drives her. One of her most cherished pastimes has been spending the last several years patiently constructing a facade of innocence and benevolence. She maintains herself as a kindly aristocrat, feigning normalcy and frailty. Surely she intends to abuse this persona to the utmost possible degree. This will probably involve sating her covetous and murderous desires.
Franny is an entirely rapacious individual. She wishes to obtain everything there is to grasp in this world. She cares very little for actual money, though. Instead, she seeks worth instead. Whether those be objects, properties, or even lowly plebeians who have their lives taken against their will. Francelia wishes to obtain it all.
Franny suffers from the symptoms of several mental illnesses. She is probably a sociopath, a psychopath, and definitely at least moderately schizophrenic. Circumstances outside of her control have left her severely damaged, despite her ability to function. Contrary to her depraved insanity, she is frighteningly intelligent. She does however, make poor decisions upon occasion. Her recklessly furious behavior occasionally manifests as murderous sprees, bathed in a yet-to-be-named glory sprinkled with maniacal giggling. When her deeds are witnessed, she is delighted by the thrill of hunting bystanders.
At the moment Francelia is a lost lamb, who has yet to find her way. While she is extremely ambitious, she isn't sure of how to achieve what she wants, or even what she wants to begin with. She recurringly finds herself unsure of what to do, wandering from one potential adventure to another. Perhaps soon she will find a cause to dedicate herself to.
APPEARANCE
At a glance, Francelia is a relatively beautiful woman, but not excessively so. While certainly not homely, she maintains an aura of normality. In fact, her appearance doesn't seem to stand out in any particular facet. She stands at a height very near the average height of an adult woman. She isn't especially shapely or slender either. It nearly seems as though she planned it this way — as if she decided as a mere child to grow into the body of a librarian.
Her defining features appear average at a glance. She possesses black hair and black irides and pale skin very much similar to a lot of other people. The only especially strange abnormality is her eyes, which vividly express her bloodlust by changing colors drastically. When Franny expresses her desire to kill or her excitement upon the opportunity to kill, they change entirely. Her sclera vilely shift into an extremely dark shade of black, and her irides and veins radiate an intensely smoldering shade of red. Surely this is some manifestation of her foul nature, although her eyes don't seem to grant any individual abilities themselves.
Her fingers have, for as long as she's remembered, been slightly different from others. They are marginally more durable than the average digits, and when maintained properly, can be used as weapons themselves. Her seemingly innocuous nails are frighteningly sharp and rigid. So much so that they can cut into flesh when applied in the correct manner. Franny enjoys utilizing her ordinary appearing, but lethal hands as claws.
As far as her wardrobe is concerned, you probably won't be surprised to find that she prefers to don a very regular attire. Simple dresses, accompanied by even simpler, or accessories lacking altogether. Her plain dresses possess very little fashionable flair. They are narrowly trendy enough that they avoid scorn from opinionated gazes. Upon her feet she wears strapped sandals, composed of leather or cloth of varying neutral colors, which allow her to run and fight comfortably, while also maintaining her image of course.
Her defining features appear average at a glance. She possesses black hair and black irides and pale skin very much similar to a lot of other people. The only especially strange abnormality is her eyes, which vividly express her bloodlust by changing colors drastically. When Franny expresses her desire to kill or her excitement upon the opportunity to kill, they change entirely. Her sclera vilely shift into an extremely dark shade of black, and her irides and veins radiate an intensely smoldering shade of red. Surely this is some manifestation of her foul nature, although her eyes don't seem to grant any individual abilities themselves.
Her fingers have, for as long as she's remembered, been slightly different from others. They are marginally more durable than the average digits, and when maintained properly, can be used as weapons themselves. Her seemingly innocuous nails are frighteningly sharp and rigid. So much so that they can cut into flesh when applied in the correct manner. Franny enjoys utilizing her ordinary appearing, but lethal hands as claws.
As far as her wardrobe is concerned, you probably won't be surprised to find that she prefers to don a very regular attire. Simple dresses, accompanied by even simpler, or accessories lacking altogether. Her plain dresses possess very little fashionable flair. They are narrowly trendy enough that they avoid scorn from opinionated gazes. Upon her feet she wears strapped sandals, composed of leather or cloth of varying neutral colors, which allow her to run and fight comfortably, while also maintaining her image of course.
HISTORY
On one thoroughly peaceful evening, nearing the very end of summer, my story began. They named me Francelia Fialova, but only out of sheer obligation did they do so. Otherwise, they would have tagged me 'feckless waste-of-space' or some other such insulting denomination. Needless to say, I was less than wanted in the Fialova household.
It became obvious quite quickly as I grew out of infancy that my parents despised me. However, I didn't discover till much later exactly what brought about this hatred. The self-proclaimed royal Fialova bloodline was one of such strict perfection, that anything less than a first-born male heir is entirely unacceptable. It turns out that... with myself being the first-born Fialova of this unfortunate generation — I am this unacception.
And so they plotted my demise. They were rather dumb and obvious about it, though. Upon the birth of my younger brother, I realized precisely what events were unfolding. The abuse ensued quite suddenly. I found myself under much physical and mental harm on a daily basis. They planned to disown me when my younger brother reached a mature enough age to declare him as their heir.
Additionally, I was kept hidden from anyone aside from my own family. It was near this point in my adolescence that I developed a quite thorough hatred for all of humanity. As the only individuals I ever met oppressed me quite regularly, my mind became corrupted beyond all reason. Fortunately I was intelligent enough to maintain some semblance of a sane facade.
It was during this period that I conspired the destruction of the Fialova family. I meddled in their assets, unbeknownst to their ignorant bliss. Their fortune ran dry astonishingly fast, and with it their animosity grew. I was beaten and disparaged nearly constantly, simply because they'd deemed me their scapegoat. Although they weren't wrong, they'd unreasonably decided I was the cause of their decline.
It was during this period of time that my daily tormenting and torture grew unbearable. I swore curses upon them and the rest of humanity as often as I spoke. It was around this period in time that I noticed the change in my eyes. When I wished to kill them, my eyes turned black and red. I'm not sure if this is some kind of... physical manifestation of my affliction, but it is a simple matter to suppress.
Eventually I'd grown intolerant of their actions... so I burned the Fialova palace to the ground. I murdered all three of them in cold blood, and allowed the rest of them to perish as well. The corpses of my mother, father, and brother were found amongst the rubble, but only one survivor remained. An apparently scarred young teenager named Francelia Fialova.
I'd developed a profound fondness for violence upon this altercation. I kept their name for irony's sake, or to disguise my true nature. Since then I've wandered the wilderness, honing my combat skills. It's been at least several years since then, and I've probably grown quite powerful. However, instead of flaunting my abilities upon my return to society, I've chosen to integrate.
I've hidden my nature quite well, and people seem to enjoy my company. Although it is this trust that I most enjoy betraying. Perhaps I'll discover some sort of... cause to dedicate myself to, because simply murdering people seems to have become boring rather quick.
It became obvious quite quickly as I grew out of infancy that my parents despised me. However, I didn't discover till much later exactly what brought about this hatred. The self-proclaimed royal Fialova bloodline was one of such strict perfection, that anything less than a first-born male heir is entirely unacceptable. It turns out that... with myself being the first-born Fialova of this unfortunate generation — I am this unacception.
And so they plotted my demise. They were rather dumb and obvious about it, though. Upon the birth of my younger brother, I realized precisely what events were unfolding. The abuse ensued quite suddenly. I found myself under much physical and mental harm on a daily basis. They planned to disown me when my younger brother reached a mature enough age to declare him as their heir.
Additionally, I was kept hidden from anyone aside from my own family. It was near this point in my adolescence that I developed a quite thorough hatred for all of humanity. As the only individuals I ever met oppressed me quite regularly, my mind became corrupted beyond all reason. Fortunately I was intelligent enough to maintain some semblance of a sane facade.
It was during this period that I conspired the destruction of the Fialova family. I meddled in their assets, unbeknownst to their ignorant bliss. Their fortune ran dry astonishingly fast, and with it their animosity grew. I was beaten and disparaged nearly constantly, simply because they'd deemed me their scapegoat. Although they weren't wrong, they'd unreasonably decided I was the cause of their decline.
It was during this period of time that my daily tormenting and torture grew unbearable. I swore curses upon them and the rest of humanity as often as I spoke. It was around this period in time that I noticed the change in my eyes. When I wished to kill them, my eyes turned black and red. I'm not sure if this is some kind of... physical manifestation of my affliction, but it is a simple matter to suppress.
Eventually I'd grown intolerant of their actions... so I burned the Fialova palace to the ground. I murdered all three of them in cold blood, and allowed the rest of them to perish as well. The corpses of my mother, father, and brother were found amongst the rubble, but only one survivor remained. An apparently scarred young teenager named Francelia Fialova.
I'd developed a profound fondness for violence upon this altercation. I kept their name for irony's sake, or to disguise my true nature. Since then I've wandered the wilderness, honing my combat skills. It's been at least several years since then, and I've probably grown quite powerful. However, instead of flaunting my abilities upon my return to society, I've chosen to integrate.
I've hidden my nature quite well, and people seem to enjoy my company. Although it is this trust that I most enjoy betraying. Perhaps I'll discover some sort of... cause to dedicate myself to, because simply murdering people seems to have become boring rather quick.