Birthday: Vortas, 2 2692
Age: 26
FC: Mathilde Brandi
Place of Origin: Muffey, Anaxas
Current Location: Where the cause takes her
Occupation: Resistance Heavy-Hitter
Nevinia is pretty. It's something she's taken pride in. It's that classic Galdori pretty - the high cheekbones and sharp features rounded out ever so slightly. But it's this same kind of pretty that can easily be turned into something threatening. The full brows and slightly hooded eyes are a great look for when shadows come to play on her features, pale eyes almost glowing, if you would go so far as to say that. She's thin, but slightly muscled from her continuous days in the resistance. Her enthusiasm for her work is reflected in her frame, the healing scabs and bruises lacing her arms and legs. Her knuckles - they seem to be forever split or bruised, regardless of how much time she will assert that she's let them heal.
At one point, she might have cared for her hair. But not these days. Instead, the strands run long and tangled, an unruly mess that she oft thinks about cutting off but can't seem to let go of. Its wildness has helped in aiding the fiery look that might cross her face in the heat of some sort of scuffle, but it serves mostly as a reminder of her days in luxury. When caring for it actually mattered to her. For now, it frames her face in a straight curtain, unless she becomes annoyed enough to flip it all to one side or pull it back.
Her voice is about as deep as one would expect. It holds a quality one might even attribute to being muffled, hushed like a whisper. Like you're hearing her voice submerged underwater. When raised, it takes a turn toward a rumble, like a brewing storm - the same phrase that might be given to describe her eyes in some lights. This sound, coming from a woman only a touch within the average height range for galdori women, can be useful in holding attention - but then again, she has no problem commanding attention with a sound kick.
How does one solve a problem like Nevinia? It’s a question often asked, but rarely answered. She’s not a complex person; that’s not where the problem lies. What is at the root of the problem is the appeasement of a force such as her. Spitfire; a bold face for bolder actions that would have been unbecoming of a lady of her previous standing. She holds tight to that ever contemptuous view - better than you and anyone else - with a touch of authority that came with her days in the Seventen. And it’s not to say that she’s much like her racist peers; oh, no - she believes herself better than most people regardless of race or standard. Maybe because she’s found some direction that she deems worthy of one such as herself. Maybe because she has finally found something that would truly be a thorn in the side of her family. To go from two children, to one that’s more of a disappointment than they could handle.
Self-control doesn’t seem to be Nev’s greatest strength, as far as anyone may be concerned. Her usual practicality may be outweighed by her impulsive nature - though not always. There are only a few instances in which her disconcerting lack of control may become even more so. It’s usually where someone she’s identified as a surrogate sibling or family member - a mechanism of coping with her own disjointed family and not so stellar relationship with them - in which case her capability for rational thought tends to be much more crippled. Perhaps it would make her more fearsome, as any other thing, but it leaves her open and vulnerable, a reckless exposure of weakness that she cannot help repeating.
At any other time, she’d best most in conversation. Not that she had anything particularly intelligent or tactful to say - it’s usually a case that she wouldn’t allow the other to speak. She retains a need for dominance, keeping the other hand by speaking over potential interruptions to her own tangents and speech, often barreling forward faster than one might be able to deal with or comprehend. In fact, it might very well get to the point of being unintelligible, but that’s unimportant because it’s rare that she has anything useful to say. Nev just likes to hear herself talk, more than the average galdor. This, though, is balanced out only by her slight respect of authority. There have been only a few superior figures that she has ever truly respected (her parents no longer included), and with them she might impart some basic decency in a conversation, but not much more than that. A pain, is what she was to them, most likely. And a pain she remains.
Her world has always had a standard - that it is brutally unfair. For herself, for her brother, for everyone. And that she’s one of the few capable of making it any better. Which suits her just fine, on account of her tendency to show off. Perhaps one of the reasons she wasn’t the most fit to be a Seventen - but at least she follows through with consistency. A never ending cycle of bluffing and making a show of things, but she gets things done.
Nevinia had a good life - one would wonder why she gave it up. She was, for a time, groomed for greatness with her younger brother. The pair of them were close, in that way that other pairs of siblings might envy. But it did not last long. Before her Test day, her brother was gone, and that does something to a child with a close relationship like that. She grieved like any other - except maybe a little bit more outwardly, as was her nature - but longer than her parents seemed to.
It was something that she fixated on often. Her brother’s death was what really pushed her towards joining the Seventen. It had been their little thing to think about, to be in the Seventen together and that one day she might be his superior. A dream that never came to fruition for one of them. Nev went through her schooling and training, and soon found herself within the Seventen as the siblings had planned. But it was an empty accomplishment after a short while.
Nev didn’t find the same joys in being a Seventen as she might have some time ago. There was no one to goad into joining her like she could Tristaan; no one really worth showing off to in the way that she had imagined she’d do with her brother. So after a very short tenure, she left. “Left” is something of a tricky word, all things considered. She still gets mixed up with them in small ways, but not quite in the same way.
Her encounter with the Resistance was a simple one: she heard the call and she heeded it. Perhaps it had something to do with her boredom - the stagnancy she’d fallen into didn’t suit her much and this was a means to get out of it. But it was mostly this not-quite-forgotten spite for her parents that propelled her into the Resistance. Making something of a name for herself was easy.
It might have had to do with the name she was tarnishing in the process.
Good
Physical
Average
Social
Poor
Long-term? Don't die and continue to dirty the family name.
Short-term? Kick some ass.