Post by Evadne on Jun 15, 2011 11:29:27 GMT -5
Lostris
Name: Lostris
Age: 28
Gender: Female
Prisoner: No
Crime: No
Craft/Rank: Guard
Appearance: Lostris is not someone that most would look twice at and that suits her just fine. She stands around five foot eight and has an athlete's build, with a grace that shows she knows her own body and what it's capable of. Her neatly bound hair and thoughtful eyes are both an odd shade of brown, like a loaf of bread left too long in the oven. Her nose might once have been a fine thing, long and straight-bridged, but it's been broken at least once and skews a little off center now. Her mouth is full and prone to small smiles and the light in her eyes is a warm one, but she doesn't appear to be someone who laughs often. She's no lady and her hands bear witness to this. Both are deeply calloused, and marred by small, pale scars from frequent nicks and cuts.
Personality: The word "stoicism" may well have been crafted with Lostris in mind. She isn't one to speak her thoughts without heavily censoring them and complaints simply don't exist in her vocabulary. Some might mistake her laconic nature for a lack of intelligence but she's sharp enough; she simply doesn't feel one should speak unless there's something important to say. And, given her training and low rank, this means that she rarely has something important to say...at least as concerns her direct superiors.
She is hard-working, dutiful, believes in the importance of family and the ideals of nobility, valor, ethics, morals and so on and so forth. Had she been born a man, she'd have likely done well as boon companion and bodyguard to some idealistic young lordling. As it is, she's had to prove her own merits time and time again in her chosen profession and has found promotions come few and far between.
But since she's a person who enjoys challenging herself, that hasn't been the hardship some might expect either.
Honor and respect are probably the two words that most guide Lostris' choices in life. She maintains her own honor by doing her duty, looking after those who can't look after themselves and by offering respect to everyone. Those who choose to spurn that offer or worse, insult it, get what they deserve.
History: The oldest child is frequently the most serious of the brood, and small wonder. With that position comes early responsibility, particularly for young woman: help your mother with the children, help your mother get the meal on, take this down to your father at the forge, fetch your brother out of the forest.
Lostris learned young and learned well that her lot in life was to work, and work hard. She accepted that without complaint; that was just the way things go.
When she did have time for herself, she spent it in two ways. If she wasn't shadowing the harpers at Ista Hold to soak in songs, stories and instruction on both, she could be found watching the Hold's guards at their drills. It seemed an odd mix of interests, particularly for a girl, but Lostris was never able to really explain it to her parents. She knew was strong and energetic, like the guards. But she'd been born with ample imagination which served her in good stead during her more dreary chores. Time simply passed faster while she was daydreaming, and the harper's stories supplied fodder.
By the time she was twelve, she knew what she wanted to be: a hero.
Of course, heroing wasn't a high demand occupation on the island. There was nothing glamorous about wiping a baby's butt and changing their nappies, or talking your little brother out of the top of the beast pens for the third time today because dinner is getting cold, Shea, look at you, you're filthy, come on already. So as the Turns went by, Lostris modified her plans. She'd become a guard and protect those under her watch. It may not be glamorous work but it was honorable and admirable. She might have signed on with the Harper Hall but the thought of traveling, of never settling down with a hearth beneath her feet and a warm, family-filled home around her seemed anathema.
Naturally, life didn't quite go the way she'd expected.
Lostris proved to be capable during her training, as she had at most things she applied herself to. She was fair with a crossbow, sufficient with a sword and a holy terror with a pair of properly weighted hatchets. She was taught how to track, as well, but she much preferred the duties of patrolling; it was time spent by herself or with one or two others. Time in which she could enjoy the company of her own mind while keeping a sharp eye out for dangers.
She'd be at Ista still, walking the perimeter, but word came from the prison Weyr. Shea, ever the adventurous one, had left yet another home (and she never could understand why he'd want to but that was part of his charm, Lostris supposed) in order to take his chance, once again, on the hatching sands. This time, he'd succeeded. She might have simply written him a note of congratulations but for where he'd succeeded. Her little brother, at a prison? Neck-deep in criminals?
Oh no. That was just asking for trouble.
Reluctantly, not without some reservations, Lostris put in for a transfer. It was granted several months later and she arrived at Warden's Weyr, hatchets in tow. Serving as a guard there was different from Ista. For one, Ista's inhabitants tended not to eyeball you as if you were a potential addition to a shish kabob. For another, she didn't know anyone except for Shea. Settling might have been an awkward process had it not been for Siata. The other woman took Lostris under her wing and into her bed, making her feel more than welcome. And though the relationship didn't last, another one was forged from it, a friendship she relies on to this day.
That support has been needed. During the break out, Lostris suffered a beating and a broken ankle when two desperate-for-freedom prisoners collided with her in a hallway. She hasn't complained about it (nor will she, considering how others suffered worse) but for the first time in her life, she finds that she is neither strong nor agile, unfit for anything but the most basic of duties.
It is frustrating. Maddening, even. Lacking her usual outlets, Lostris has turned to a small, precious journal to begin recording her thoughts, penning what she can't share with the rest of the world onto its pages.
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