A Y A
Details
Full Name: Aya Art
Race: Human
Sex: F
Age: 15
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 89 lbs
Birthdate: Ash 16th, 109
Birthplace: Remote Location within Sangen
Profession: Employee at Art's Archeoarcanical Solutions
Housing: Apartment above Art's Archeoarcanical Solutions in Drathera
Guardian(s): Phinneas H. H. Art
Fluencies: Common, Ecitharese
Conversationals: None
Ineptitudes: None
Appearance
Aya's olive skin is wrapped around a body that, to her estimation, must surely be made up of jags and points and shards of glass. It certainly feels that way to Aya, at least. From a distance, Aya is light on her feet and graceful in motion, every step she makes appearing as mindful and precise as ever, but Aya herself holds a different opinion. Living in her skin is awkward and uncomfortable. Unless she is watching, her elbows, sharpened down to isoscolese-esque points, would go puncturing holes in every wall and cabinet within reach. If not placed carefully, her very uncareful feet would just as soon betray her as they would step forwards, and, despite all practice she's put in over the years, the girl still believes the ground may fall out from under her at any moment.
Aya is much softer to herself about her face, however. Not entirely appreciative, of course; she hates her skin when it breaks out, she hates her ears for being too big (and also maybe possibly different sizes, she's too scared to ask), her smile for looking crooked, her nose for its size, her hair for being frizzy and unmanagable and yet greasy at the same time, the list can go on and on ad infinitum. But even then, there are certain things she loves. She loves the color of her eyes, and how the brown can turn to auburn close to sunset, and she loves her freckles. Phinneas is eager to say that her freckles are her best feature. Even her nose she loves, despite its size. On the worst of days, it is a great big beak which sits contemptively in between Aya's eyes, but even on the worst of days, she can still remember one of Phinneas' clients remarking that her nose made her look 'regal', and she hasn't felt ashamed of it since. It does make her look regal.
It would be a disservice to not also mention Dot, as where there is Aya, there is also Dot. Always.
Dot's most notable feature is his proximity to Aya's ankles. If he is not at her feet, then the puff of black fur and green eyes in the dark is in her hands, on her shoulders, or in her pack. Dot is a typical housecat, nothing outwardly special about him. Long, fluffy black fur which makes the summers unbearable for the poor beast makes it easy for Dot to slip beyond the eye unnoticed, particularly in a room with many shadows cast. Occasionally, it is easy to feel like a black cat awaits you in the dark for the simple joy of startling you. With Dot, however, there is no uncertainty; it is almost as if Dot is completely mindful of his behavior. He's strange and standoffish, polite at the best of times, and most comfortable in Aya's arms.
Marks
1 Rune of Kinetics, 1 Rune of Animus, placed on top of one another on the facing side of her right bicep, so if she were to curl her arm directly upwards and touch her shoulder both marks would be covered.
Personality
Phinneas loves her, but would be quick to admit that very few people would relish the opportunity to spend copious amounts of time with a teenager. Especially one imbued with potent magical capabilities.
Aya is that age. She's spiky and argumentative and too poor in the knowledge of the world to accept that she may not be right about everything all the time. Stubborn, obstinant, and argumentative all the while, Aya's pride and self assuredness have grown too large and it is clear that the world is currently going through the nasty business of cutting her ego down to size, and when it does, Aya shall proclaim the unfairness of it all so loudly that none will be blind to the nature of the world as she knows it. Of course, this sort of emotional outburst can make her difficult to be around at times.
This is Aya at her worst. Not at her most uncommon, but at her worst. The unpleasantness of her fury is so thoroughly offset that few actually notice it. Instead, what they see is Aya's wit - she's smart, and too poor at hiding it for her own good. She's a shadow in a room, quiet as a damselfly, until she is acknowledged. Then, well. You won't mishear her.
Whether it be her studies under Phinneas, her love of art, her practice at martial and arcane arts, or refusing to carry her own pack when travelling, there is one aspect of Aya that she has never stopped displaying, and so much louder than all her other attributes, despite the fact that the only person who would ever be able to notice fully is Phinneas. Aya is alive, and she will never stop reminding the world around her.
And she loves Dot.
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History
► Show Spoiler
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Aya was born in the dark. The stench of iron and mildew permeated throughout the cellar where Aya's mother deposited her unceremoniously onto the dirt floor. As witness, there were three bodies in the room, and ten in the others. After her arrival, there were fourteen of them. Eleven minutes later, there were fifteen. Men and women in clothes would visit every day, and most often they would bring food or water, but when they brought honey, the bigger ones would get quiet. Aya soon learned why. These were the memories she did not have. Phinneas assumed that she didn't remember any of it at all; he was wrong. She couldn't stop remembering it, no matter how hard she tried. She didn't have the images or the scenes or the faces, really. Maybe a couple. Really, she remembered the feelings she had, most of the time. Like how happy she was to have Dot with her. But it came and it went, like the mind conjuring the scent of an old lover in unadorned air. But sometimes, it was more. Sometimes, just before she would drift off, her fingers would absently run atop the folds in her sheet, and remember the bumps and ridges and the smooth spaces in between. Seared, marked, or slit, they all had them, all the big ones anyway. The ones who didn't were in the room she wasn't allowed in, the one that smelt bad. And in her sleep her mind would remember it all; the tightness in her throat from the yelling, the ache in her wrists and her ankles from where she was pressed down, the spit as it dripped from her lip all the way to the back of her throat as her arm sizzled under iron for the second time. And in her dream, her mind reminded her that her spit tasted of honey. Honey she had at one time known to never take from them twice.
But that didn't matter anymore. None of it. She never thought about it, and it didn't affect her, not really. And it's not like she cared. She was with Phinneas, now. Since she was seven. It barely crossed her mind anymore, she was just so busy; her school, her friends, her studies with Dr. Art, Dot, as well, and now, especially since her family moved to Ecith while she was in her twelfth year, she finally felt like she could be something more than what happened to her. And if Aya has her way, soon she'll be bigger than it, too.