Abalia

[Abalia]

ABALIA High off of love, drunk from my hate Basics: Age: 19, 1st Spring 492 AV Race: Human Gender: Female Languages: Common - Fluent Symenos - Poor Appearance: Abalia has always felt as if her size was advantageous. She is petite, topping a mere 5'2 with a slender frame. Her insignificant size has made it easier to slip through the creative nooks and crannies of Alvadas, to disappear when she needed to. She has long, dark hair and wide eyes that she can easily use to affect the appearance of innocence. Her clothing is often eclectic. In a city like Alvadas, would something ordinary do? She prefers color more than an ostentatious layering of things. Abalia possesses a disarming smile, and a general aura of youth and innocence that certainly helps her get away with things. Character Concept: Abalia is not an overly complex girl. She is Alvadean, born and raised. She loves the city as she might a mother, and cannot imagine living in a place with silent, unimaginative walls. She is outspoken and confident, but can certainly play into a shy, coquettish act if it benefits her. She is something of a swindler, finding a way to care for herself and often her best friend by convincing others to provide for her needs. She is witty and quick, though often exceptionally hot tempered and prone to act before she thinks. She isn't much of a planner, there may not be a single long term goal on the horizon for her. She just wants to live, to laugh, and to have what she needs for each day. She takes most things in life very lightly; a single lesson in hurt was enough to make her jaded and a bit wary about anything that goes beyond the surface. Abalia is a chameleon, able to adapt to nearly any situation and any social dynamic. For that reason, she is exceptionally easy to get along with and to like. She can be a bit loud mouthed, sometimes brash, but those outbursts she always smooths over with a pretty smile and her silver tongue. History: Though Abalia was not born in Alvadas, by the time she was able to walk she had been brought to the city of Illusion. She still wasn't entirely sure of the whole story; she'd certainly had a mother once, and a father too. But, somehow, she had ended up in the care of an older leatherworker who treated her somewhere in between beloved daughter and useful servant. She'd been cared for decently enough, anyway, if allowed to wander the chaotic, ever changing streets of the city far too freely. She worked hard keeping the little house they shared together, the sum of it amounting to little more than three rooms that rest above the shop he sold his craft from. That was hardly enough to keep a precocious child busy, however, and so Abalia spent a great deal of time walking the mystery of the city, learning it's secrets. Most importantly, she learned to regard the city itself as a mother. Or, at times, a mischievous sister. The most important thing was that she found an odd sort of communion with the place, as if it were a living being that was every bit a part of her family as her surrogate father was. Around the time her childish frame began to give way to feminine curve, so too did her simple interests develop into something more needy, more demanding. Abalia found that filling her mind with the effect of inhalants, or alcohol, made everything more interesting. Her fiendish habits weren't free, and it was during this time that Abalia became most interested in illusion. She started as a petty pick-pocket in the streets, preying on the weakness of others rather than trying to steal from them outright. Illusion was impossible to escape in a city like Alvadas, though, and she had lived every memory she possessed inside it's walls. It was only natural that eventually she would learn to harness the mystery of the place, to blind others to the reality of the moment as she manipulated what they saw instead. In the year she turned fifteen, Abalia met Roxanne. The kelvic was, at first, a source of amusement for the Alvadean girl. Over time their similar needs and interests crafted a friendship between them and, eventually, Roxanne became the most dear person to Abalia. It didn't matter where they chose to sleep at night, so long as she could wrap her arms around that slight frame and feel the warmth of her lover and best friend against her. Life carried on with few changes, until she met Dolvich. It had never been part of her plan to love anyone, besides Roxanne, but somehow he made it seem so easy. He was the most charming man she had ever met, and when he fixed those ruby eyes and that smile upon her she was reduced to a girlish shadow of the strength she had honed in herself on the streets for years. She gave leave to her senses and simply went with the whirlwind romance, neglecting Roxanne along the way. She would have done almost anything for him. The one thing he asked for, ultimately, was that she leave Alvadas and Roxanne behind. Had he given it more time, she might have agreed. But her hesitance, her hedging and avoidance of the discussion eventually made him weary. Dolvich left her behind, a blessing she still doesn't fully grasp, and shattered the innocence with which she had trusted him. Heartbroken, Roxanne was there to pick up the pieces and hold her together until she decided that he wasn't worth her tears. The hurt melded into a bitterness which served as fuel for her attempts to become stronger, more resilient, less dependent upon anyone. Eventually, she stopped going "home" altogether. Home was the curve of Roxanne's shoulder, even if they had given up on being lovers after Dolvich had left her behind. She was a best friend, a partner in crime, and that was enough. Skills: Gambling -30 (SP) Dancing - 15 (RB) Persuasion - 20 (SP) Lores: Knowledge of the City of Alvadas Life on the Streets of Alvadas Possessions: 1 Set of Clothing (cloak/coat & footwear included) 1 Waterskin 1 Backpack which contains: 1 Set of Toiletries (comb, brush, razor, soap) Food for a week 1 eating knife Flint & Steel Heirloom: A necklace with a charm on it.