Roma [Follower]

[Roma]

GENERAL

OOC Name: reaper.
Other Characters: none.

Name: Roma.
Gender: female.
Age: 24 years.
Orientation: heterosexual.
Order: flame.
Rank: follower.
Occupation: dancer.

PERSONALITY

Positive Traits:

-- Clever [ quick-tongued and witty, cunning and street-smart ]

-- Maternal [ protective and a leader amongst youngsters, she has a weakness for children ]

-- Resilient [ flexible in many situations and able to hold herself together in times of turmoil ]

-- Independent [ self-sufficient with strong instincts for survival and self-preservation ]

-- Passionate [ she'll speak with fire and act just as hotly on the topics of what she believes in ]

Negative Traits:

-- Impatient [ never one to wait around, she lives for instant gratification ]

-- Quick tempered [ not too calm and easily angered ]

-- Impulsive [ she follows her heart over her head ]

-- Stubborn [ she's determined to have her own way and is convinced of her own righteousness ]

-- Flighty [ unable to commit, she's a free spirit and longs to keep it so ]

Fears: absolute loneliness, being unable to dance, falling through ice.
Quirks: often cocks her head to one side, perpetually smirking, twisting her hair around fingers.
Ideals: capability, talent, ambition, perseverance.
Overall: Roma is a gypsy by nature, coming and going with the wind in her heart. At her center burns a flame of passion, identifying her with the rest of the followers of laska, and while she is no true lover of violence, she is no pacifist either. The causes she takes for her own are hers for a lifetime, and she will defend them as a mother defends her children. Yet, her deepest fear is to lose her freedom, and she will forever be weary about signing on to anything that endangers her uncommitted lifestyle.

APPEARANCE

Hair Color: dark chocolate, almost black with thing highlights of gold.
Eye Color: deep teal-blue, oceanic at times and cerulean at others.
Skin Color: luxurious olive, naturally tanned from exposure to the sun.
Clothing: Loose silken fabrics of bright hues. She often wears free-flowing, layered skirts after a spanish style, and her upper half is covered by short, off-white, low-cut blouses that are tied above her navel. She never wears shoes, and her wrists and ankles are adorned with numerous bangles and various other trinkets.
Weapons: a short, sharp knife she keeps on her person. she is also able to wield up to two swords at once although she does not own one.
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 124 lbs.
Overall: Roma possesses the typical mediterranean beauty. She is marked by rich olive skin and deep-set eyes that resemble splashes of the deepest ocean water. her hair falls in luxurious dark chocolate loose-curls to just below her shoulders, never styled although she keeps it clean and brushed. Her form is lithe but not skinny, and with ample curves, she is the image of a strong woman who has known work.
Picture: LINK ONLY (optional)

HISTORY

Family: esme, mother; unknown father.
History: Roma was born into the simple but rich culture of the land of flame. Her mother worked in the kitchen of a rich apothecary who had been particularly skilled at his trade. When Roma was born, it was apparent that she had inherited the beauty of her mother, but with her father a mystery, the air of guilt always hung about. The child would have a hard time in the world, said the gossip of the town, and all the goodwives declared that she would never marry and be respectable.

Still, Roma had no desire to marry or be respectable. Even in her youth, she ran about the kitchen until her mother banished her into the streets where she let herself loose with the gangs of boys who ruled Nadseni. She became more and more wild, learning to fight from them and to dance and sing from the gypsies who would often wander the outskirts of the village. But as she grew from a girl into a woman, the whispering of the town grew louder, and Esme began to worry for the future of her daughter.

Not wanting Roma to go the way she did, the mother began the search for a suitable future--for a husband and an occupation. Despite the obvious lack of heart for such a thing on the part of her daughter, Esme wanted Roma to work in a kitchen or as a weaver or as a seamstress--anything respectable. And despite the gossip of the older women in town, finding a willing husband for her was no real trouble due to her considerable beauty and the bounty her youth promised. Soon enough, Roma's fate had been decided.

But it was not what Roma wanted, and the fight she had with her mother was terrible. Both women loved each other fiercely, but their ideals were simply too different, and in the end, Esme refused to budge. She decreed that her daughter would marry and lead a respectable life, and with these words still ringing in her ears, Roma turned and left the house.

Despite the calls of her mother to return, she kept going, traveling until she reached the capital. At 18 years of age, she knew no one in the city and had no real skills. Instead, she familiarized herself with the streets and alleys and became accounted with the gangs that roamed there, endearing herself to them with her adventurous and lively spirit. She began to dance and sing, performing with the others--often orphans and the poor followers who had no other occupation--but she loved every moment of it.

She is still there, haunting the street corners with her rich laughter, melodious voice, and the enchanting cadence of bare feet on the hot cobblestone.

ROLEPLAY SAMPLE

The complexity of the gossamer webs fascinated him to a degree most others would consider obsessive, but the gold-toned male had never really minded. It was much healthier than most other obsessions. At least he wasn’t one of those sex-crazed males always looking for a good time or a body to rip open and taste the blood of. Valkyier rolled his eyes. Hey, he liked himself a good time and felt the adrenaline of bloodlust as much as the next wolf, but if all the males in the pack were coming to this conclusion on how to live life, well there wasn’t much he could say about the newer generations. They were all quickly becoming predictable of each other—almost every other young and pretty female was hell-bent on conquering the weakness of every able male within a twenty metre radius, and every male able to rut was bounding around Darkmouth with his tail a mile high as if he ran the place.

Valkyier snorted at the thought and straightened, moving his curious nose from the frost-laden stretch of spider web he’d found in a corner of one of the more dilapidated ruins within the Pass. His hawk-yellow eyes lingered on the translucence of the white silk for a moment more, admiring the way it wove with itself, creating an intricate pattern so strongly reminiscent of the way his society worked. In some small way, everything was linked, and in the system of his life, it seemed that everything was steadily progressing towards chaos. As entropy levels rose, disorder reigned over any nuance of control any alpha might have claimed to have.

But what could anyone do about that? Chaos was a law of physics.

Overhead, a beam of pale light streamed in through an accidental skylight, and as the mottled tawny and gold male lifted his head to gaze at the fragment of visible heaven, his sharp eyes caught the minute particles of dust and debris that swirled in that shaft of light. If he’d been another, more superstitious wolf, he would have perhaps looked upon the scene with divine reverence, but he had always been a wolf of objective nature, and all he saw was a beam of photons and a natural illuminator of the dusk within the building. In any case, it worked to his advantage.

Pupils contracting slightly in the presence of light, Val stepped forward and away from the cobwebs he’d been so intently examining. Careful paws navigated him over the collection of rubble and disfigured, unrecognizable stone, and as he emerged in the pool of light, he felt a sudden increase in temperature and inclined to pause. Like a cat caught beneath ample sunshine, the wolf took a moment to appreciate the serendipitous occasion of finding warmth outside the musk of the inner dens. Habitually, he flexed his muscles, and as the fur of his back rippled, so did the odd set of markings he wore, and he resembled the incarnation of a golden hawk basking in the sun.

In the absence of all sound, Valkyier found himself reveling in the lack of pack-oriented madness, and here lied the reason he had departed from the serpentine tunnels so early in the day. And yet, in the belly of this monstrously ruinous structure, he had found a ray of sunshine all on his own. The makings of an interesting day were in place. All that was needed now was a catalyst to get the fire going.