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Cinder
Mar 25, 2012 23:58:17 GMT -8
Post by David on Mar 25, 2012 23:58:17 GMT -8
Celindara Flameheart (Cinder)
24 year old female human Wizard/Swordmage
Description: Cinder has a slight frame, dark brown hair, and light blue eyes. In combat, she wears a short cloak, metal bracers and a bright white tunic of thick cloth. In a small insignia on its left breast, tunic bears the heraldic image of a dragon climbing an anvil and stoking a forge-fire with its breath. Cinder has oft been wounded in battles during her travels with Erza, but retains only a single scar: a thin slice across her nose and cheek from the claw of a rust monster she fended off long ago.
While she is bloodied, Cinder's skin gives off waves of heat, and takes on a reflective sheen akin to that of molten metal.
Personality: Cinder is personable, if a bit awkward, and has an air of bemused impatience about her that indicates both her somewhat noble birth and a healthy disrespect for nobility. There are odd gaps in her life experience that give the impression that her early life must have been rather sheltered. Cinder is genuinely eager to explore the wider world she has only read about and experience things she has only heard of second hand. Her anxiety about being trapped in one place can lead her to make rash decisions, but once she has set her mind on something, she pursues it with relentless determination.
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Cinder
Mar 26, 2012 0:55:30 GMT -8
Post by David on Mar 26, 2012 0:55:30 GMT -8
When Erza found her, Cinder was sitting on the floor beside the newly provided bed, legs tucked up to her chest. Clearly, she hadn't heard Erza come in. Every few seconds, she would throw her sword lightly across the room, recalling it to her hand before it hit ground. As Erza approached, Cinder extended her arm fully and let fly once more, this time putting a great deal of force behind it and allowing the blade to disrupt the table on the opposite wall. With a clatter, the blade settled to the floor, followed by various fruit and a vase bearing some dead-looking native flower.
"Slavers and perverts..." Cinder muttered as the vase shattered on the floor. Her throwing arm now hugging her knees with her other, she lowered her head. "Hey, Erz."
"You okay, Cinder?" Erza hesitated by the bedside, looking down at her friend.
"Let's see...," Cinder looked up, blue eyes bright. "Apparently as the result of a night so fun I can't remember half of it, I am trapped in the plane's most exciting prison, fighting in death-matches and giving peep-shows, so yeah, I'm great."
"Is that what this is about? What you did with that guard? What I...?"
"No... Maybe. I don't know. It's stupid. What good is dignity if we're all slaughtered? At least that's what I thought. I thought it would be worth it if it gave us an edge, kept us alive." Cinder wiped at her eyes and stood. "And trust you to skip over the part about the death-matches."
"We seem to be doing pretty well. I think, with the others, we can probably take what they throw at us."
"Sure, I've helped kill more things here in one day than I ever did at home. We're doing great!" Cinder bent to retrieve her sword, "Which just makes me kinda slutty, I guess." She paused for a moment, sword in hand. When she sheathed it, some of the bitterness had left her voice. "Sky take him anyway."
"Forget about the guard, Cinder. You're better than him. He's just some washed up turnkey."
"It's not him I want. It's the other pervert. Up on his high throne. I don't know when, or how, or how we even get out of here, but..."
She straightened her shoulders. "I'm going to kill him, Erz. I'm going to watch him burn." This time, as she leveled her gaze at Erza, there was no water in her eyes. There was only fire and steel. "And may he fall and never stop."
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