Home General Name: Astrid Veneir Age: 24 | November 11th, X770 Gender: Female Sexuality: Homosexual Ethnicity, Father: Fiorian Ethnicity, Mother: Stellan Class: Hunter Race: Human (Ghoul) Rank: X-Rank Guild: Guildless Tattoo: C6 Vertebrae | Black Face: Arlecchino [Genshin Impact] Appearance Height: 6'0" Weight: 155 lb Hair: White with Black Highlights Eyes: Black with Red Anomalies within the cornea Overall: Growing up, people often remarked that Astrid would end up being beautiful just like her mother, a famed Stellan actress. They could not have been more accurate. A beautiful, if not somewhat androgynous woman, having a toned figure often left more to the imagination, hidden behind highly regal clothing commonly worn by the male nobility. More uncommon than her preferred attire is her preferred color palette, her attire often being rich in various shades of black, white, and grey. It's fitting however, her wardrobe often perfectly complimenting Astrid's preferred look. Her face, pale of skin but having a seemingly flawless complexion, has the allure both to send shivers down one's spine and make one's knees weak all the while. This is all the more accentuated by her cold eyes and stoic face. Intense black eyes with red "x"-shaped pupils leave a hint of mystique that as much looks through someone as it does at them. Meanwhile, lips that seldom break out into a smile leave often leave a smirk or scowl to tell a story that doesn't look of indifference. Snow white hair, long and asymmetric in both length and style, is further complimented by the occasional black streaks that perfectly contrast against her skin and perfectly set up her look. Extra: Although Astrid's skin is pale, her hands notably are black in color, having a texture and hue that almost resembles that of decayed skin, yet having neither the smell to indicate such an affliction, nor the decrepitness that would come of dead, withered skin. Personality Personality: From effectively the time of her birth, Astrid had been groomed into becoming that of an icon, to follow in the footsteps of her father, a Fiorian politician whom had devoted his life to improving the lives of his own people. Taught of the sacrifices he had made, of the sacrifices her mother - a once-renown Stellan actress - had made, the notion of sacrifice and charity perpetually ran afoul to the luxurious life she were born in. To be tended to by servants while being accosted for not providing her time and effort to the less-privileged, it left within the young girl such a conflicted perspective towards the contrasting social classes. So much so that even from an early age she found herself holding scorn towards both, the nobility whom enjoyed the luxuries forcibly denied her, and the commonfolk who were the source of her denied rights. Left spited, forced to put upon a visage to those masquerading as her fellow company with one hand, whilst forced to providing hand outs with her other, Astrid found herself isolated and with a seed of contempt planted within her heart. As years went, her malice and contempt intertwined with her destined future, the heroic legacy that she had been orated to follow. She intended fully to follow through, but by her own design. How her fellow elite would fair: whether scorned, lost, upheaved, or plunged into the nethers of the Abyss, it would not stop her from fulfilling her legacy. How the peasants who groveled to her would survive: alone to face the uncertainty, ignored, sacrificed, whatever happened to them would not deter her from achieving what was expected. To define Astrid is complicated. While her road to becoming the hero that was proclaimed and forced upon her at birth would be paved by the corpses and bones of entire societies lost, she would still be their champion. A champion seated upon a throne drenched in the blood of her countrymen, but a champion nonetheless. In many ways, the callousness predates to her youth, the indignation that she developed towards both the nobles and serfs; the nobles who had enough time to enjoy what had been denied her and the poor whom would receive their champion that they had the gall to feel entitled towards. Cost, in the most grandeous of ways, became immaterial to Astrid. To further along her own legacy, whatever must be sacrificed by her people was the price that had to be paid. The willingness to consider other options, to labor away trying to find resolution and peace where violence and suffering provided the same outcome at a fraction of the effort were no longer considerations to make. Would a massacre bring her closer to the embodiment of heroism that people viewed her with? Then a million lives lost would be in the best interests of the people, surely. There is a means to an end with Astrid, a recognition of her endgame and the finality of what she has aspired towards. But in that notion of destiny is the little girl whom never discovered her own self, her own dreams and desires. Driven astray by the cold indifference which poisoned her soul at such an early age, the matured Astrid found solace within the darker corners of the world. The indulgences of the flesh, the influence and grandeur promised by those of the Abyss, the foreign dignitaries that viewed her as a vessel to their own salvation - their God incarnated. Like anyone tempted, Astrid feasted at the table of Demon Lords, promised aid in her pursuit of becoming the hero of her people, the costs irrelevant to her. After all, the debt would not be paid by her blood, but by the same people. The callous regard for the life of her people is perhaps what cruelly defines Astrid best. Her willingness to slaughter her own nation if to secure her seat on a throne of corpses is neither something that she would deny, nor a consideration that she would not give serious contemplation for. But the reason, no matter how barbaric, how hellish the ramifications her decision would cast upon others, it would never change. To become the hero of her people. She had been pre-ordained as such, and whether one hundred of her people fell or one hundred thousand, she would see her legacy fulfilled. Likes:
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Statistics Strength: 311 Speed: 319 Constitution: 251 Endurance: 190 Intelligence: 251 Magic Magic Name: First Generation Dragon Slayer: Wind Dragon Slayer Magic Element: Wind Magic Enhancement: N/A Magic Description: Dragon Slayers are a unique type of people who utilize a form of Lost Magic, Dragon Slayer Magic. Each Dragon Slayer has their own form of Magic, just like each Dragon is a master of their own element. In addition, they also have the ability to consume the element which they utilize, just as long as it is not created from their own Magic. Dragon Slayers are known to possess keener senses than those of normal humans such as smell, as well as distinctive characteristics and features such as slitted pupils and noticeably sharper teeth. History History: The peoples' favored daughter. An icon. Hope. The betrayer. The Spider. The architect of her peoples' downfall. A tragedy. For the people to look upon the face of the young girl so many years ago, to see the excitement upon their faces in anticipation for the great things she would achieve, their minds raced with the possibilities. Their minds raced with hope; hope for what were to come. Hope for what she would achieve. To follow in the footsteps of her father, a hero to the people. To become their champion, just as he had done for so many years. To think how they left asundered they would be to see that same little girl, grown up, the vanguard to their own ruin. A smile present upon her face, their own fates immaterial to her; the outcome all that mattered. She would be exactly what they all wanted of her, the savior of the people. For years, they hailed Astrid as their future. She was doing exactly that; constructing the future that she wanted. Not them. Astrid was born the lone child of two people of influence within the nation of Fiore. Father, a Fiorian-born politician whom had dedicated himself to the efforts of improving the lives of the people. A man devoted to service and eventually rose to a person of influence within the Royal Court, the people looked upon him as a hero, as a champion. More specifically, their champion. Not by swords or victories upon the battlefield, but by words and legislature and campaigns to bring about the end of the social divide. A lofty goal, to muddy the waters between the "elite" and the people of Fiore, but a task that he had taken to heart nonetheless. Her mother, not a child of Fiore but rather that of Stella. An entertainer, an actress to be specific. Hailed as an artist, a cultural icon of her home nation; her marriage was a sensational topic, the coming together of one of Fiore's true power couples. But far from that. Influence was not something that the two sought out. Only happiness for her and fulfillment from him. A combined dream for a better world for which to raise the child they were so desperate to have. But for as much as they wished, there was no child. It were not until a few years that finally they received their miracle. A young girl whose birth were the talk of all of Fiore. The diamond in their eye. Baby Astrid, born under the moon of early winter. The earliest years of the girl's life were uneventful, or perhaps more unremarkable to the infant. Despite the responsibilities that came with having a child, her father's focus seemed to be even more taken toward the court, obsessively devoted to fulfilling the ambitious reforms that he had taken up prior to Astrid's birth. In his eyes, to bring out change would make her life that much better; that their contributions would only further set her up for success when she inevitably followed in his footsteps. Reform alone would not pave the way for the destiny that those whom knew of Astrid expected of her. To her father, mother, family confidants, and those whom followed the lives of the family with tabloid-driven zeal, everyone had high expectations for Astrid. She were to become the inevitable successor to her father. She would pursue the same career path of her mother, becoming a famous performer. Some even envisioned a place within the King's Court at some point, perhaps as Consort to whomever were to next sit upon the Throne. No matter what they believed the girl to eventually achieve, her childhood would be marred by the curriculum set forward, one in which the most basic sense of agency were robbed of her. Astrid's childhood was - in a sense - fractured. Compared to that of the scores of children who grew up in Fiore without a parent or otherwise born into poverty, the situation concerning her home life was far more well off. In fact, as the child of a perceived power couple, arguably celebrities if not outright nobility, the lifestyle she were exposed to was one of absolute and utter privilege. However, wherein most in her situation would take fullest advantage, enjoy all of the opportunities and benefits afforded them, seldom few were afforded to Astrid. To grow up in privilege denies someone the glory that is to sympathize for those were in lesser situations, as her father described it. She were not permitted to wear the beautiful silks and expertly-tailored garments that her peers - even her own mother - adorned like it were nothing. No, the rags and simple haggard clothes were the best she were afforded. The people would see her as one of their own, her father justified. Fitting for one who would eventually come to champion for them. Astrid did not think that. She came to loathe the very people that her father sought to help. Astrid was a smart girl; she knew her upbringing was nothing of what the majority of people would stand to understand or appreciate. She were among the minority. The elite. Why should she have been denied the luxuries that she had been born into? Why should she have been denied while others like her, the children whom she interacted with so often then and now, indulged without a second care? It was not long until her disdain spread to those of the wealthy. The ones that did not have to suffer through the deliberate chastity of wealth that her father felt necessary to force upon her. They were no better than the poor. If anything, they were worse. They had what Astrid wanted and could not have. The poor had nothing. Time passed and Astrid grew, having inherited her mother's beautiful features, becoming all the more envy of the peoples' eyes. Little did they know that her hatred for them had only grown, the anger that she nurtured for the denial of her pleasant childhood having given way to disdain for the future that had been ordained upon her. A hero to the people. The dream that the people had for her was no longer a dream and instead the destiny that she were to follow. It was not what she wanted, but who was she to argue? As much as she looked upon that destiny forced upon her with contempt, she felt a compulsion nonetheless to carry it out. But what were a hero supposed to be? She was being provided the greatest education that one could ask for within Fiore, had one of the brightest political minds of the nation as her father, access to whatever resource she could have needed, and the backing of an entire nation hoping for her success. Then why did she feel so lost? Like a shipwrecked child aimlessly paddling through the deep dark sea. It helped neither the aftermath of the civil war that had plagued Fiore and saw forth the anointment of the newest King, a bloody affair that within her cut deeply, instilling a myriad of emotions, doubt chiefly amongst them. Her father had escaped from the conflict for the better, long having been favorably amongst the people, the new King included. It was exactly what she had not wanted. The war was her key to breaking from the destiny promised, a chance to reinvent herself if things ended up differently. But with her and her family's praise still sung by the people, her hope of escaping her future disappeared like those who had taken up arms in service of the previous King. Perhaps then it were fate that their paths crossed. Maybe it had been chance? Perhaps it had been something orchestrated long before she ever could have imagined it. At the end of the day, it did not matter. What mattered was that they had met. A young Astrid, struggling to understand her place in the world, and the Mysterious Merchant, one that offered her not a solution but something else. Great power. If she were willing to accept the risk that came with it. If only she had known better. If only she had not been so blinded by the desire to become a hero. If only she had heeded her father's teachings. That there were no deals worth entering into without knowing what could happen. The Merchant did not say what was happening nor what she should expect, but she spent the night in agonizing pain. She wished to die, the pain being so great. Her insides felt on fire, her stomach sending an need for food that utterly consumed her ability to process anything else. Hunger and pain. The only emotions that radiated through her body. She sought to crawl to safety, to find some sort of reprieve. But the hunger overtook her. She awoke the next morning, the taste and smell within her mouth and throat making her feel sick. Sick, but sated. Blood and raw meat. It was there whenever she swallowed. It was there with each breath she took. But she felt satisfied. As disgusted as she was left by the aftermath, she could not deny how much better she felt. The events of that night left Astrid even further slipping into her own sense of isolation. Nevermind the pressure she felt, nor the contempt that she still felt towards everyone, from the nobility around her to the commonfolk that groveled at her feet to her own parents. If not for the sense of obligation that still rang within her, the notion of becoming the hero she were destined to be, there seemed very little keeping her from disappearing entirely, left to surrender to the hunger that she actively sought to suppress. Days dragged on as she sought to deny the hunger. The world became unbearable and her desperation grew. Torn between trying to live up to her destiny and sating her hunger, Astrid eventually gave up. One could not be achieved without accepting the other. No matter her choice, she was damned. And so, having accepted her fate, it suddenly were as though her eyes had been opened. The path that she had been left unable to see had become clear. No longer were she adrift at sea alone. She had touched down upon the sandy beach at long last, with the corpses of that inevitably would be lost waiting for her like a banquet feast for one. The years further went on and juggling the two lives she possessed, her deeds of valor grew, her legacy being written as the hero that she had long sought to become. Her feats, paid for in the losses of numerous lives, some by her own hand, others by her actions or inaction, some purely for the sake of feeding. It was the price she had paid for the deal made so long ago, but Astrid had long since come to terms with this. The people wanted her to become a hero. They had preordaned her as a future champion. They had never asked her if it was the life she wanted. Their desire for her had led to her becoming what she was now. The loss of life that would come as a result. The bodies that would sustain her, whether willing or otherwise. This was the price that the people of Fiore had to pay for her to realize destiny. Discord: naksa Reference: Alisa Notes:
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Astrid Veneir
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Sun Aug 27, 2023 9:52 pm
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Tue Aug 29, 2023 4:04 pm
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