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⸻⠀the self⠀⸻
Mina is a reluctant warrior, uncomfortable in her role and station in life. She wants nothing more than to leave it all behind, but sometimes we don't get what we want. She has a single goal in life, vengeance for her mother and father—by killing her brother. She wishes that she could step off the path she walks, but some things are more important than what you want.
ALIGNMENT: chaotic good
LIKES: revenge; justice; righting wrongs; warm meals; cats
DISLIKES: injustice; rain; her brother
⸻⠀the body⠀⸻
HEIGHT: five foot, five inches
HAIR COLOR / STYLE: black, cut short
EYES: dark brown
SKIN TONE: pallid
PHYSIQUE: lean
DOM. HAND: left handed
APPARENT AGE: mid-twenties
VOICE: soft-spoken, husky voice
MODIFICATIONS // Mina has both of her ears pierced.
SCARS / MARKINGS // Mina has dozens of scars over her body, the most notable one running down her back about an inch off to the left from her spine. She is also missing her left eye—the scars of which are covered by a black patch. An injury she blames on not seeing clearly in the first place.
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⸻⠀the ability and tools⠀⸻
Mina is not naturally gifted at swordplay. Her skills are from practice and dedication and many, many earned injuries and scars. Each scar a reminder of why she needed to get better. Each injury a constant reminder that her life is forcing her towards a specific destination.
ABILITIES // swordplay; playing the wooden flute
SPELLS // Mina does not know magic.
ATTIRE // traveling robes and assorted red-stringed charms.
GEAR // Mina does not have many possessions. She travels light, often only with a bag containing a change of clothes, an old hat that belonged to her father, her sword, and her earrings. Her earrings, a gift from her mother on her nameday, always glow a warm orange colour—and are the reason some have taken to calling her firefly.
INVENTORY // Two sets of robes, a hat, her sword, a small wooden flute, and a small pouch with a few gold coins for food.
⸻⠀the story⠀⸻
Mina died when she was thirteen. Bleeding out in the mud and blood of a massacre. Her back hurt, and the heavy rain that washed down on her did little to cool the searing heat coming from the wound near her spine. Had he missed on purpose? Or had she simply gotten lucky? Could this even be called "luck"? She couldn't see anything out of her left eye. She was almost certain that it was gone. Why had it happened? She remembered her mother and father's face. She remembered her brother's face.
They'd forever be burned into her memory and would fill her heart with sorrow and rage.
When she woke up again, she didn't know where she was. She had been found and taken to a nearby village. The massacre was known. But her survival was kept a secret.
So she promised. She promised her mother and her father that they would be avenged. And that she would be the one to do it.
She would train. Despite not wanting to.
She would fight. Even though she preferred to love.
She would kill. But everything in her mind and body screamed at her not to.
The path was set before her, and she wanted nothing more than to never have been placed on it in the first place.
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