Who You Were As A Mortal
[X] Your name was Rosalia Armille.
You were the daughter of an arms manufacturer. You lived a life of modest luxury - there was no gold or gems, save your mother's jewellery - but you never knew want, never had to wait for something to be replaced. You dropped your smartphone once, and shattered the screen: your parents got you a new one with barely a grumble.
You knew distantly that all your wealth was purchased with weapons, but your parents were retired and you had never been to a factory. It wasn't part of your life, save the shooting practice your father made you attend.
You were expected to grow up into a sensible, businesslike woman, and eventually find a position in your father's company. You were vaguely uneasy, but of course every decent job in the world requires a business degree. So you learned to be quiet.
You were always different from those around you. Humans didn't seem to be your type of person. Perhaps it was that you were unusually clever. Perhaps it was that you could never seem to call up your cleverness when you wanted to.
You drifted vaguely into witchery, which you hid from your parents. Your grades in college fell. You started arguing with your family. They shouted: you did your best not to say anything that would make it worse. You didn't always succeed. Sometimes you didn't succeed at saying anything.
One day you froze up. It was a bad day for your parents. You had been failing your courses. There was some irregularity with the business, something about taxes. You never really listened much. Your silence was taken as disrespect. You said something you shouldn't have. Your mother grabbed your shoulder, her nails dug in to your skin through your shirt, she raised a hand -
Your father grabbed her, and she screamed at you to get out.
You ran, headlong, and never looked back. You barely stopped to get your shoes on.
A week later, after campus security had gotten wise to you and thrown you off of the couch in the arts lounge at midnight, you crouched beneath an overpass and prayed to your small gods like you never had before.
And by some chance, some luck, a Noble had fallen to the Excrucians mere hours ago...
That was how you became part of the Valde Bellum, drafted from one war into another.
You're still not sure who or what you are, but maybe now you can find out.
Skills and Passions:
Cool: 3
Passion: Hedge Witchery (1)
Skill: Staying Small (2)
Skill: Unfocussed Brilliance (2)
Skill: Target Shooting (0)
Skill: Planning (-1)
Skill: Dealing With People (-2)
