Stranded discussion

Post your completed characters here!

{Template}

General
{Number]
[Trial Name]
[Valor Name]
[Age]
[Gender]
[Curse]

Appearance (2+ lines or photo)
[Hair Length]
[Hair Color]
[Eye Color]
[Distinctive Features]

History


Relations
[Character Traits]
[Personality]{2+ lines}
[Family}
[Crush/Romantically Inclined]
[Friends]
[Enemies]
[Fears]
[Quirks]

Functionality
[Powers]
[Weakness]
[Proficiencies]
{Stats (If you want) }
[Strength] /20
[Constitution] /20
[Dexterity] /20
[Wisdom] /20
[Intelligence] /20
[Instinct] /20
[Charisma] /20
[Luck] /20

[Trials Undertaken]
{Speed} [X]
{Power} [X]
{Durability} [X]
{Will} [X]
{Belief} [X]
{Social} [X]

{Template}

General
[Number] #003
[Trial Name] TBD
[Valor Name] TBD
[Age] 29
[Gender] Female
[Curse] TBD

Appearance (2+ lines or photo)

A slim physique,belaying the strength hidden within her body, #003 has almost no chest to speak of, but her face makes up for it in the eyes of many. She has been told many times that she could easily become a model but she has refused every time. She has Prismatic Black hair, flowing down to her elbows. Her hair always seems to catch the light and reflect it out, giving an almost radiant look.

History
(view spoiler)[
As a young child, #003 trained with her older brothers to protect herself. This came in handy when she was ambushed in an alley at 17 years old. She was able to defend herself and drive off her attacker, but at the cost of losing her left hand. To get over the pain and situation, her mind decided to shut out her left arm entirely. Following the incident, #003 resolved to never again lose something so important to her. She took up the craft of Blacksmithing, creating a prosthetic for herself, which caused her brain to finally allow her to use her left arm again. Eventually, she caught the attention of a millionaire, he offered to sponsor her craft in exchange for two free requests every year. Eventually, after 5 years working for him, she declined once and for all his marriage proposal. He was overcome with anger and ordered a hit on her. Unknowingly, he hired the same person who she fought off all those years ago. Upon seeing them again, #003’s fight or flight kicked in and she drew her ever present katana from its sheath and swung at them. She killed them, but not before receiving five bullets wounds, one to the head, two to the chest, both barely missing her heart and lungs, one in her lower abdomen, and one in her right leg. She soon collapsed from blood loss and when she woke up next, she was stranded with four others.
(hide spoiler)]

Relations
[Personality]{2+ lines}
A fiercely loyal companion who knows how to hold her own and survive, #003 mainly relies on instinct and muscle memory. She likes meeting new people and getting to know them. She prefers to set out in a small group of close friends when she leaves her forge, though she will welcome new Strandeds into her home until they get on their feet.
[Family] Mother: Alive. Father: Alive. Brothers: One dead, One alive.
[Crush/Romantically Inclined] TBE
[Friends] TBE (To be encountered)
[Enemies] TBE
[Fears] Guns, Helplessness, Closed In Spaces
[Quirks] Will become engrossed in a task very easily.

Functionality
[Powers] TBA (To be acquired)
[Weakness] TBA

{Proficiencies}
[Weapons] Martial and Traditional Japanese
[Armor] Light and none
[Tools] Hammers, Tongs, and other Blacksmithing tools
[Elements] Fire and Water
[Biomes] Urban, Coral Reef, Forest

{Stats (If you want) }
[Strength] 16/20
[Constitution] 10/20
[Dexterity] 11/20
[Wisdom] 13/20
[Intelligence] 8/20
[Instinct] 14/20
[Charisma] 10/20
[Luck] 10/20

[Trials Undertaken]
{Speed}`````[X]
{Power}`````[X]
{Durability}[X]
{Will}````````[X]
{Belief}``````[X]
{Social}``````[X]

General
[Number] #001
[Trial Name] TBD
[Valor Name] TBD
[Age] 29
[Gender] Male
[Curse] TBD

Appearance 5'9". Blue eyes, dark brown hair that looks black with a few silver strands. It's a bit unkempt, but he prefers it short. Thick but trimmed beard with a with a streak of gray down the chin. Lanky physique.

History (view spoiler)[Worked in a sandwich shop for a year before taking his current job in a grocery store deli where he would mostly fry chicken and clean up after his coworkers. While he actually doesn't mind the work, he wanted to find something that paid a bit better but didn't require him to take a management position. As such, he system putting himself through college as a CNC (Computer Numerical Control) Technician. (hide spoiler)]

Relations #001 enjoys listening to people more than he enjoys talking, especially because he doesn't always know how to respond without putting his foot in his mouth. Straight.

Character Traits
[Personality] Calm, collected, and easy going, It takes a lot to get under #001's skin. Bookish, intelligent, and a bit awkward. Quiet but not shy. Prefers to take his time to think things through rationally which can cause him to come across as indecisive at times. Hates to seem unkind or speak ill of anyone, which he worries can make him seem aloof, but that might just be due to his habit of chronic overthinking. Has a great long term memory but his short term memory is horrendous. Tell him something and he'll forget in five minutes, but then it'll keep him up every night for the rest of his life.
[Family} ?
[Crush/Romantically Inclined] TBD
[Friends] TBD
[Enemies] TBD
[Fears] TBD
[Quirks] TBD

Functionality
[Powers] TBD
[Weakness]
[Proficiencies]
{Stats (If you want)}
[Strength] 8/20
[Constitution] 14/20
[Dexterity] 12/20
[Wisdom] 16/20
[Intelligence] 16/20
[Instinct] 14/20
[Charisma] 10/20
[Luck] 10/20

[Trials Undertaken]
{Speed} [X]
{Power} [X]
{Durability} [X]
{Will} [X]
{Belief} [X]
{Social} [X]

Kelly ~Don’t touch me. I’m not touchable.~ wrote: "~Number~ #009
~Trial name~ TBD
~Valor name~ TBD
~Age~ 14 (Yes I like my characters younger)
~Gender~ Female.
~Curse~ TBD

~Appearance~ Long blonde hair blue eyes, hair is always in a ponytail, frec..."

Moving this to Workshop.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬
・・・・・・・・・
-ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖: (use spoiler tags)
-𝕍𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕣 ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖:
-𝕋𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕝 ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖:
-ℕ𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣:
-𝔸𝕘𝕖:
-𝕊𝕖𝕩 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣:
── .✦
𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬)
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
-ℍ𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥:
-ℍ𝕒𝕚𝕣:
-𝔼𝕪𝕖𝕤:
-𝔹𝕠𝕕𝕪 𝕋𝕪𝕡𝕖:
-𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕟 ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕣:
-𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤:
-𝔸𝕕𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝:
── .✦
𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨
・・・・・・・・
-ℙ𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪:
-𝕃𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕤:
╰┈➤
╰┈➤
╰┈➤
-𝔻𝕚𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕤:
╰┈➤
╰┈➤
╰┈➤
-𝕎𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕤:
-𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕙𝕤:
-ℝ𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡𝕤: (this includes family, friends, and enemies)
-ℍ𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪: (spoiler tags advised)
── .✦
𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
・・・・・・・・
-ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖:
╰┈➤ℍ𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥:
╰┈➤ℍ𝕒𝕚𝕣:
╰┈➤𝔼𝕪𝕖𝕤:
╰┈➤𝔹𝕠𝕕𝕪 𝕋𝕪𝕡𝕖:
╰┈➤𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕟 ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕣:
╰┈➤𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤:
╰┈➤𝔸𝕕𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝:
-𝔸𝕓𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤:
── .✦
𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬
・・・・・・・
-𝕎𝕖𝕒𝕡𝕠𝕟𝕤:
-𝔸𝕣𝕞𝕠𝕣:
-𝕋𝕠𝕠𝕝𝕤:
-𝔹𝕚𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤: (Basically, what areas they can navigate easily and/or how familiar they are with it.)
── .✦
~Template created by Melody~

Part One

Name: Moko Ciaran Pendra
Nicknames: Mo

Identification Number: 006
Valor Name: Tbd
Trial Name: Tbd

Age: 19
Gender: M

Appearance: Moko’s mop of curly, black-brown hair brushes the nape of his neck and hangs over his forehead. It’s often too time-consuming to wrangle his curls into a respectable-looking style, so he usually lets it alone, used to his hair flopping around during his activities. His eyes are sea green with tinges of gray around the edges, and his rough skin is light olive. His height is an unimpressive 5’8, but he makes up for his shorter stature with a lean, toned physique. He has high cheekbones, long, dark eyelashes, straight, Greek nose, a sharp chin, and defined jawline. His skin has suffered endless abuse over the years and has the scars to prove it. The most noticeable is a slashing, white scar down the outside of his left upper arm, and his hands, forearms, and knees usually sport numerous scrapes and bruises, most of which he has no memory of earning. His nails are used as tools, so they tend to be uneven and just long enough to be useful. He has no birthmarks and no tattoos; he never saw the reason to get any when he has more than enough scars and scrapes for decoration.

Personality: While being pretty friendly and a bit of a prankster, Moko is actually a loner born and bred, and there really is no other lifestyle more suited to him, even if it seems to contradict some of his personality traits. His adventurous spirit makes him a bit of a wanderer, so he never stays in one place for very long, looking for excitement and new discoveries. He’s known for not being able to sit still for more than five minutes, and his attention span is even shorter. The only exception is if it’s something or someone he deeply cares about. He has several little tics he uses to maintain concentration: bouncing his leg, tapping his fingers, biting his nails, etc.
He has serious commitment issues though, and it contributes to his inability to stay in any one place for too long. Even things he loves he’ll eventually abandon. This has made long-term relationships very rare and sparse for him, so he hardly ever attempts to form a friendship more than friendly banter as he knows he’ll leave and never come back again. At heart he wishes he could pursue a more sedentary lifestyle as almost always being on the move makes for an especially lonely one, and having a hand to hold (either figuratively or literally) on dark, chilly nights would bring about a comfort that is in short supply. But he simply cannot bear monotony. Waking up in the same house every day, seeing the same sights and people, and doing the same work day after day bores him until he does something impulsive and just up and disappears in the night without informing anyone as to his intended whereabouts with no plans to ever return in the future. He sincerely believes that consistency and safety dull the mind and degrade creativity and originality to the point of mediocrity and apathetic humdrum. The word settle is not in his vocabulary, and he thinks others shouldn’t have to resign themselves to a prison of languid, pointless routine. Experiences shape a person’s thoughts, actions, and mannerisms, and only the majestic and tremendous events inspire exceptionality. To truly live and make something of yourself, you have to wander aimlessly and experience as many unimaginable, implausible things as possible. That is, in essence, Moko’s philosophy.
Moko’s skin is rather tough. Insults, cruel jokes, and malicious pranks don’t really get to him since he honestly cares little for what anyone else thinks of him. He never plans on running into the same people more than once anyway, and as he does not form attachments to most people, it seems to him that other people who taunt him are really just wasting their own time. He would have to care about others in the first place to be hurt by their mockery and slanderous attacks, but purposely keeping people at arm’s length prevents this qualification from being met.
Meeting plenty of unsavory and deceitful characters through his wanderings has caused him to adopt a distrustful and cynical approach to new and unfamiliar situations. He always makes sure he has some form of insurance for himself, which has saved his hide on more than one occasion in his past travels. Though he generally has a laid back attitude, he is by no means slow, lazy, or dim-witted. In fact, it’s rather the opposite, and he is one of the sneakiest and wiliest people in existence. He has the most annoying habit of unearthing secrets other people would prefer stay hidden if he sticks around long enough, and the vast variety of people he’s encountered has taught him how to read others exceptionally well. From simple conversations he can discern any number of things about a person, including their wants, fears, attachments, personality traits, and more. Usually he only cares about whether or not someone poses a threat to him, but if he intends on remaining nearby for long enough he’ll analyze anyone he encounters more seriously.

Likes:

Roaming aimlessly
Adventure
Tall tales
Anything new or undiscovered
Camping
Stars
Cartography
Cooking
Pranks
Riddles
Thunderstorms

Dislikes:

Routines
Small or enclosed spaces
Sitting still
Safety
Burnt or bland food
People with no sense of humor
Commitments
Spiders
Bossy people
Stubbornness
Restrictive clothing

Strengths:

Moko is great at thinking on his feet and improvising solutions along the way. He is very resourceful and creative and can come up with out-of-the-box ideas to solve problems, and he is superbly adaptable.

From his travels, he has picked up many, assorted skills, so his skillset (while oddly specific/unique) comes in handy in many, different types of situations.

He is a passable artist, but he’s an amateur cartographer, an excellent cook, whittler, and spelunker, among other things.

Weaknesses:

Someday his impulsivity will be the death of him. When he is forced to stay still or remain in the same place for too long, he cannot control himself and does something rash without thinking through the potential consequences of his actions.

He’s not much of a team player and prefers to do things on his own. If he has to, he’ll work as part of a team albeit begrudgingly.

His inability to take things seriously and tendency to crack jokes at inappropriate moments might be helpful to him but often are annoying to other people.

Family:

Father: Ahab Pendra
Mother: Nia Pendra

History: (view spoiler)[

Moko’s parents were Ahab and Nia Pendra, two airheads whose marriage was an enigma. Neither of them could ever be depended on to do even the simplest of tasks, like showing up for work on time or hanging the laundry out to dry. None of their neighbors understood why they were married, and whenever Moko asked around, no one could remember exactly how they came to be so. There had been no real courtship or even anything resembling one beforehand. Ahab and Nia had known each other for a while as they had grown up together in the same neighborhood, and one day when they had barely reached adulthood a couple years prior, they suddenly returned from their respective family vacations and announced their engagement. A whirlwind of wedding preparations commenced immediately after, and they were married only months later. According to the neighbors, they had never been well matched, and the first year of their marriage consisted of many late nights and shouting matches. About a year and a half after his parents had said their vows at the altar, Moko was born, and his only contribution to his parents’ evening arguments was to cry in distress. When he got older, his parents took to fighting when he wasn’t around after he asked them what he had done to make them hate each other so as a young child.
Moko’s mother stayed home while he grew up, but in truth, it would have made little difference if she hadn’t. Nia was irresponsible and impatient, and her housekeeping skills were lacking, which was evident as the state of the house was always messy, like a tornado had just whipped through it. As Moko got older, most – actually, all – of the household chores fell to him. He learned to cook from a neighbor after he nearly burnt the house down trying to make himself something for dinner, and he taught himself how to dust, clean, and organize, which wasn’t terribly difficult. The three girls next door let him do laundry with them in their home, though sometimes he did it alone as the youngest of the girls, Corela, ceaselessly batted her eyes at him and ruffled his hair whenever he was near. The other two, Rosalie the elder sister and Dahlia their cousin, were much more relaxed and typically better company, even if Rosalie did sometimes tease him for silly things. He was uncertain why Dahlia lived with the sisters and their parents instead of her own, but after both sisters gave him a threatening glare when he tried to broach the subject one afternoon, he never brought it up again.
While Moko was going to school and keeping the house in decent shape, Nia did… whatever it was she did. Moko honestly had no idea what she did with her abundance of leisure time, but when he finally did find out, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise given how flighty his mother was. Apparently, his parent’s marriage had always been so unhappy and fraught with fights that his mother had sought comfort in the arms of one of their neighbors. It started out innocent, but in the last couple of years it had turned into an affair. When Moko’s father found out, he was livid, and Moko took refuge next door with Dahlia, Rosalie, and Corela, though his parents’ voices carried to the girls’ porch where they were lounging in the rocking chairs with snacks and glasses of chilled tea.
In the following months, Moko spent most of his time with the neighbors, often heading directly next door with the girls right after school to avoid the near-tangible tension in the air of his own home. Sometimes he helped out the elders in his neighborhood for spare pocket change, and most evenings he was sprawled out on a rocking chair or just lying down on the porch with a plate of whatever Dahlia had baked for dessert, watching Corela pick flowers or chase after moths in the yard while Rosalie perused through a book or hummed a tune softly. Every so often, the oldest sister could be persuaded to serenade them with a song, and after the echoes of the last note faded into silence, she would blush madly despite Moko and Dahlia’s enthusiastic applause and ask if there was any dessert leftover, scampering into the house to check before anyone could answer. Moko’s favorite dessert was Dahlia’s dump cake since she usually let him help or, rather, pester her into letting him pick the fruit for the filling. As there was really no way to mess up a dump cake, Dahlia allowed him to pour in the fruit while she mixed the rest of the ingredients and sliced the butter into small squares for the crust, and sometimes when she wasn’t looking, he snuck a piece of fruit in his mouth instead of putting it in the cake pan. Sadly, she caught him a few times and made him weed the garden with Rosalie, who was fortunately better company. While Dahlia was stern and practical, Rosalie was more carefree, content to imagine the adventures she wanted to have someday, and that was one of the things Moko liked best about her, though her angelic singing was not to be underappreciated either. Being nearly the same age, Moko liked mapping out where they should go once they finished school. Of course, Dahlia and Corela were welcome to come along too, but somehow he doubted they’d want to.
(hide spoiler)]

Part Two

History cont'd: (view spoiler)[

Rosalie obliged him, adding her own preferences to the map, and eventually they had a solid roadmap sketched out. But events transpired that put a dent in their plans.
Things between Moko’s parents got worse and worse until his father accepted a job promotion that placed him in another city. However, he would not allow either Nia or Moko to accompany him. Not able to take it anymore, Moko’s mother ran off with their adulterous neighbor a couple months later, and Moko was left alone. After a week of going to school and carrying on as normal, he realized there was no reason for him to stay. No real obstacles to keep him from embarking on his adventure existed, and he elatedly packed the essential supplies and a few other things he couldn’t bear to part with and threw pebbles at Rosalie’s window that night until she climbed down the tree near the side of the house. He had been so sure that she would spontaneously agree to go with him that he was unprepared when she said no. She hadn’t finished school, but even if she had, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she left in the middle of the night without giving Dahlia, Corela, and her parents a proper goodbye. Moko grabbed her hand as she turned to leave and embraced her tightly, only releasing her to peck her on the lips in farewell. He left, disappointed, but promised himself that he would return for her in a year or two, cementing the picture of her astounded face when he kissed her in his memory.
His travels took him out of his home country and all over the continent, but every adventure he had ultimately reminded him of Rosalie at some point. So, a couple years after he left, he returned to visit Rosalie, Dahlia, and Corela. Dahlia, being the oldest of the three, was married now and happily scraping by in another part of town. Corela was still in school, but Rosalie was working. Smart as she was, Moko assumed she had finished her schooling early. Come to find out, that was not the case. Rosalie and Corela’s parents had died in an accident, forcing the older of the sisters to drop out of school and work. Moko waited on the porch in a rocking chair for her to come home one evening with every intention of bringing her along on his next journey, but she refused, her voice and eyes lifeless compared to how they had been before he left. There were too many responsibilities, and she had to care for Corela. Dahlia couldn’t afford it, and it wouldn’t be right to leave her little sister now. She requested to hear some of his adventures and travels, and he indulged her, pleased with the sparks of excitement temporarily returning to her eyes. Before departing again, he kissed her to say goodbye, giving her his word that he would be back in several months or a year to visit. He set off, venturing even further away from his hometown this time, but he was true to his word and stayed a day and a night with Rosalie and Corela when he could manage to make it back about once or twice a year.
The year the colonization project was announced was especially thrilling. He learned to scuba dive, sailed solo for a month, and did a great deal of spelunking. The human colonization project was the icing on top of the cake, the next step to an even greater adventure. A part of him was reluctant to leave as he hadn’t traipsed to every corner of the globe, but he knew that was an impossible feat and that this upcoming expedition off-world might be the only chance he got to travel across the stars. Concerning the few relationships he had, there was no reason to stay. Rosalie would never leave Corela and their life together, and he would never give up his nomadic lifestyle to settle down with them. It had been getting harder the past year to see them, and it broke his heart comparing the Rosalie he knew now with the hopeful one he had grown up with. His visits with them were shorter and more infrequent, and the prospect of leaving and never seeing them again saddened him but also felt like a relief. Since he had failed to think of a satisfying reason to stay, he decided to see if the expedition would accept him onboard. Fortunately, the stars smiled upon him, and he was given a space on the trip. He had almost no possessions, so packing was a cinch for him. He brought a small tin of spices he’d acquired on his travels, a few pens and pencils, sketching paper, and his lucky, leather bracelet. Once onboard the station, he went into stasis, awaiting the end of the journey when he would wake up…
(hide spoiler)]

Other: Probably the most goofy person ever.

(Oops. I kinda forgot to put this here)

#012
(view spoiler)[

Name: Nea Harrison

Identifification number: 012
Trial name: TBD
Valor name:TBD

Age:18
Gender: female

Appearance: she has straight, shoulder length brown hair and piercing dark blue eyes. She's 5'7 and has a slim build. Her skin is lightly tanned, and she has freckles.
Personality: calm and sophisticated. It take a lot to bother her and she's a kind of 'be prepared for everything' kinda girl. If anyone needs anything, ask her and she usually has it (not in a freaky way lmao). She is a strong believer that she doesn't need sleep, she needs answers but when you do eventually convince her, she will sleep for hours on end.

Strengths: has infinite pockets (basically she has a lot of stuff in her pockets, but that sounded lame). If anything is damaged she can likely fix it. She is also very good at problem solving and can work out mathematical equations in her head in seconds.
Weaknesses: normally kinda sleep deprived because of staying up late researching or js doing random stuff. She's not scared of many things, but if she's sees a spider she's likely to try jump out the window to escape.

Family: Harry Harrison (father), Hannah Harrison (mother), Mike Harrison (older brother)
History: (view spoiler)[ She grew up in a kind of rich family, raised by her parents. Her parents didn't think anyone who had money like theirs needed life skills or to be able to fix and repair things. Naturally after hearing this, Nea devoted her life to doing just that. She found it hard to make friends at school, as she was always singled out as the 'weird kid'. When she was old enough she got a job in a DIY shop, but she was fired shortly after for making 'improvements' to the cash registers. These improvements included automatically opening cash draws. Perhaps if she had made a prototype she would have considered how easy that made it for crooks to steal from the store. When the colonisations project was announced, she took it as her opportunity to make use of her skills. She joined the voyage as a budding engineer, hoping to make a life for herself in her new home. (hide spoiler)] (hide spoiler)]

General
[017] ;D
[trial name TBD]
[Valor Name TBD]
[Age: 19]
[Gender: male]
[Curse: TBD]

Appearance (2+ lines or photo)


History
(view spoiler)[Before his amnesia, he was a researcher for NASA. Not really in danger of things, not really in the heat of the fight. He didn’t have any family, none living at least, but that didn’t bother him. Although he was the one who discovered the planet we crash landed on, he did not know anything about it, only that it was sustainable for life, and had water. He told this to Janet Petro, the one in charge of NASA, and she told the government, and they told the UN, and after a time, an expedition was planned. They gathered the necessary supplies, and put the people into stasis (including Masaki in order to get samples of the world relay in time data of the world.) (hide spoiler)]

Relations
[Smart, Clever, Fast, A natural leader]
[he is a kind person at heart, and deeply empathetic, but not very good at showing his emotions. He likes music, dislikes sports as he finds it a waste of time, and his favorite food is ramen. He likes being with other people, yet still sits alone because he finds social interactions awkward, and hard to manage.]
[none alive. He used to have a sister, but she got sick.]
[straight.]
[TBD]
[TBD]
[insects, being alone in the dark, and needles.]
[he has epilepsy, adhd, autism, and intermittent explosive disorder.]

Functionality
[Powers]
[Weakness]
[Proficiencies]
9 /20
11 /20
15 /20
17 /20
18 /20
8 /20
16 /20
12 /20

[Trials Undertaken]
{Speed} [X]
{Power} [X]
{Durability} [X]
{Will} [X]
{Belief} [X]
{Social} [X]

[Hidden trials undertaken]
{PURITY} [✓]

{Template}

General
[Number] #225
[Trial Name] TBD
[Valor Name] TBD
[Age] 37
[Gender] Male
[Curse] TBD

Appearance (2+ lines or photo)
[Hair Length] Shoulder-length
[Hair Color] Black
[Eye Color] Green
[Distinctive Features] Veins look like vines
A middle aged man, with a tanned body and hidden strength. You would think nothing of him until he comes running after you with more speed than a bloodhound. He wears robes covering his body up until his mid-chest where they stop and tie around his back, leaving his arms free.

History
(view spoiler)[ #225 is a nomad, or at least he was before his life went down the drain. He has lost his mind multiple times, each time taking on a different personality after each breakdown. Originally, he was your usual corporate worker, no future and no hope, just a cog in the machine. After the first breakdown though, he went rouge and sought out a teacher of the martial arts and dedicated himself o the teachings of his master. However, he eventually lost his maser and suffered another breakdown, this time becoming a nomad. He explores the wide tundra, the open plains, the dense forest, and the deep sea with equal fervor, just seeking the one place where he can truly be free. His last memories were of a sonic boom near his resting place, his sanctuary. It startled him and knocked him away, blowing him off the cliff at his back and into the sea. (hide spoiler)]

Relations
[Character Traits]
[Personality]{2+ lines}
He is a relentless hunter, though you will never be his quarry unless you harm him or those he cares for. He is slow to anger and relatively reclusive, but that means he has more time to train himself.
[Family] {{Unknown Status}}
[Crush/Romantically Inclined] TBE
[Friends] #003
[Enemies] TBE
[Fears] Fire
[Quirks] Always carries at least one stick on himself at all times.

Functionality
[Powers] TBD
[Weakness] TBD
{Proficiencies}
[Weapons] Martial, with a mastery of the Staff
[Tools] Whittling and carving tools
[Armor] Light
{Stats (If you want) }
[Strength] 17/20
[Constitution] 17/20
[Dexterity] 14/20
[Wisdom] 10/20
[Intelligence] 10/20
[Trained Reaction(Replaces Instinct)] 18/20
[Charisma] 12/20
[Luck] 9/20

[Trials Undertaken]
{Speed} [X]
{Power} [X]
{Durability} [X]
{Will} [X]
{Belief} [X]
{Social} [X]

General
[Number] #225
[Trial Name] TBD
[Valor Name] TBD
[Age] 37
[Gender] Male
[Curse] TBD

Appearance (2+ lines or photo)
[Hair Length] Shoulder-length
[Hair Color] Black
[Eye Color] Green
[Distinctive Features] Veins look like vines
A middle aged man, with a tanned body and hidden strength. You would think nothing of him until he comes running after you with more speed than a bloodhound. He wears robes covering his body up until his mid-chest where they stop and tie around his back, leaving his arms free.

History
#225 is a nomad, or at least he was before his life went down the drain. He has lost his mind multiple times, each time taking on a different personality after each breakdown. Originally, he was your usual corporate worker, no future and no hope, just a cog in the machine. After the first breakdown though, he went rouge and sought out a teacher of the martial arts and dedicated himself o the teachings of his master. However, he eventually lost his maser and suffered another breakdown, this time becoming a nomad. He explores the wide tundra, the open plains, the dense forest, and the deep sea with equal fervor, just seeking the one place where he can truly be free. His last memories were of a sonic boom near his resting place, his sanctuary. It startled him and knocked him away, blowing him off the cliff at his back and into the sea.

Relations
[Character Traits]
[Personality]{2+ lines}
He is a relentless hunter, though you will never be his quarry unless you harm him or those he cares for. He is slow to anger and relatively reclusive, but that means he has more time to train himself.
[Family] {{Unknown Status}}
[Crush/Romantically Inclined] TBE
[Friends] #003
[Enemies] TBE
[Fears] Fire
[Quirks] Always carries at least one stick on himself at all times.

Functionality
[Powers] TBD
[Weakness] TBD
{Proficiencies}
[Weapons] Martial, with a mastery of the Staff
[Tools] Whittling and carving tools
[Armor] Light
{Stats (If you want) }
[Strength] 17/20
[Constitution] 17/20
[Dexterity] 14/20
[Wisdom] 10/20
[Intelligence] 10/20
[Trained Reaction(Replaces Instinct)] 18/20
[Charisma] 12/20
[Luck] 9/20

[Trials Undertaken]
{Speed} [X]
{Power} [X]
{Durability} [X]
{Will} [X]
{Belief} [X]
{Social} [X]

Part One

Name: Alasdair Galahad Nightingale
Nicknames: Alas, Aly, Alley Cat

Identification Number: 015
Valor Name: Tbd
Trial Name: Tbd

Age: 23
Gender: M

Appearance: Alasdair’s wavy, dark brown hair brushes the nape of his neck and often falls in front of one eye or the other if he turns around too quickly. Although he doesn’t always look after it properly, inheriting his mother’s hair genes has its perks, and his thick locks of hair are typically shiny and soft as silk, as though they had been brushed just moments ago, regardless of how much or how little maintenance he performs. Normally he parts it one side and lets it flow freely, but sometimes his sister will wrangle a few strands into a miniature braid just for kicks, though he doesn’t much care for braids. His eyes are hazel, but they can appear to be brown or green depending on the lighting and what he’s wearing. He has a broad forehead and a remarkably straight, Greek nose, especially considering the sheer number of fights he’s been in, and his cheekbones and jaw are both well-defined. Out of all his siblings, his smiles are the most contagious (probably because he also has one of the goofiest smiles ever), and his teeth are pearly white and perfectly straight. He keeps his dark beard short and neatly trimmed, but it remains somewhat patchy on the sides, much to his annoyance. At 6’3, he’s a strapping lad and has broad shoulders and a sinewy build. His hands and feet are large and calloused, and his knuckles are usually sporting multiple scars from fights. Just like his sister, he has high arches on his feet and prefers being barefoot over any kind of shoe or sock. His skin is fair but not as pale as his sister’s, and in the summer months, he tans lightly. A few, old scars slash across his chest, and several more are crisscrossed over his back. Another, small, white scar is on the left side of his jawline.

Personality: At heart, Alasdair is spirited and fun-loving, and he jumps at the chance to try anything new, often without thinking of the potential consequences. He dives into things headfirst, and though his bravery is laudable, sometimes it would be wiser to wait first. It’s a good thing he’s quick on his feet and has racked up a lot of experience untangling himself from sticky situations, or else he’d find himself in more serious trouble a lot more frequently. The same principle applies to anything that stirs up intense, emotional reactions. He tends to react instinctively and can get heated rapidly, especially if there is a threat to someone he cares about or if someone is revealed to be lacking in character. As far as he’s concerned, anyone who can’t be bothered to have a spine or anyone who would selfishly use others for their own benefit deserves a good pummeling, and if he happens to be the one available to deliver it, well, that’s alright.
Alasdair tries his best to be an honorable man. He knows he isn’t perfect and sometimes falls short, but he knows how to pick himself back up and try again, even when life is insistent on knocking him down again. He’s very resilient and determined, and because of previous experiences, he’s learned how to keep pushing onwards and how to resist the urge to give up, even when his goals appear futile. Some of this should be credited to his stubbornness as he can be aggravatingly bullheaded at times, but he possesses no small amount of fortitude and strength of character.
Doing the right thing because it’s the right thing to do is of the utmost importance to him. There should be no thought of reward nor fame nor gratitude when faced with the decision of how to act. Even the right thing done for the wrong reasons fails to be just, and Alasdair has little patience for listening to justifications when he knows in his heart that integrity matters. Often his fists are quicker than his tongue, which has gotten him into no end of trouble. One thing he cannot abide by is cheats, and another is people of poor character masquerading as honorable and fair. Being either of those around Alasdair is an easy ticket to a nice shiner. He does try to restrain himself – especially for his sister’s sake – but there are times when he thinks a decent walloping is well in order. Some might say that his principles hearken back to an older era, and considering his early upbringing, they might have a point. However, Alasdair doesn’t betray himself, and he stays true to what he believes in, even if it isn’t popular or accepted. He isn’t afraid to be himself, and other people’s opinions don’t enter the equation. If other people don’t like him or what he stands for, they are free to move along and find other friends.
Although he may come off as cocky or playfully arrogant at times, he is not prideful. He has the humility to admit when he is in the wrong and the openness to consider different ideas. He also likes to tease and doesn’t mind at all if it gets turned around on him. Growing up, he was used to being the butt of the joke, and he handles it with grace. He loves to laugh, whether it’s at himself or a funny situation, and he can be depended upon to lighten the mood with quips here and there, although his jokes sometimes land in the territory of awful or cringe – which is amusing to him in and of itself.
He has a love of games and sports and anything that requires physical activity. A little friendly competition is a good way to make ordinary tasks fun and exciting, and he often turns everyday things into games, just for the heck of it. He has a competitive streak and can sometimes become a little too absorbed in a contest that may or may not be only in his head, but his easygoing disposition usually wins out in the end. Win or lose, as long as he had fun along the way it doesn’t matter too much.

Likes:

Horses
Blueberries
Exploring
Swimming
Hiking
Running
Games
Sports (most)
Dogs

Dislikes:

Reading
Soccer
Dressing up
Cowards
Laziness
Decorative pillows
Tiramisu
Carrot cake
Iced coffee

Strengths:

Alasdair is very tenacious. If he decides to do something, he doesn’t give up until he has accomplished what he set out to, and he can be trusted to keep his word.

He is very in tune with animals, especially horses and sheepdogs, and has built up a reputation as an animal whisperer.

He has an excellent memory, especially for details and stories, and he can relay tales he heard in childhood with great accuracy. Furthermore, he is a good story-teller and has no trouble captivating an audience.

Weaknesses:

Alasdair’s blood runs hot and often gets him into trouble. He acts on instinct more than logic, and while it is sometimes helpful to be able to make decisions on the fly, it can also backfire on him. He doesn’t always take care to get the whole story before making decisions.

He has a knack for mischief and also just for getting himself into trouble. Many times it’s inadvertent, but the consequences of his actions don’t care whether he did it on purpose or not.

Patience is something he has had to work hard at, and while he is incredibly patient with animals, he finds it more difficult to exercise patience with other people.

Family:

Father: August Nightingale
Mother: Cara Nightingale née Hayes (deceased)
Stepmother: Eleanor Nightingale née Hetherington
Sister: Serefina Nightingale
Half-sisters: Margareta, Genevieve, Lenora, and Juliet Nightingale
Uncles: Cillian, Finn, and Rowan Hayes and Charlie and Ernest Hetherington
Aunts: Maura Hayes née Keating, Saoirse Hayes née Duffy, Amelia and Beatrice Hetherington, and Libby Hetherington née Burnett
Cousins: Declan, Faolán, Bran, and Owen Hayes and Arthur, Gwendoline, Calhoun, Cecile, Lucille, and Louise Hetherington

History: (view spoiler)[
Alasdair was the eldest child born to August and Cara Nightingale. They lived on the Nightingale family farm, which had been in the family for several generations, and although it wasn’t impressively large, it provided for them well enough. There were a few cousins who stayed with them periodically in the busy times to help out, but mostly they got along fine with the assistance of his uncle, Finn Hayes. His mother’s family was from a neighboring farm, so her three brothers were often able to lend a hand when needed.
There were few memories Alasdair had of his mother. She passed away only two years after his little sister, Serefina, was born, so he was nearly four years old when she died. His father didn’t like to talk about anything concerning his mother, so until he was much older, Alasdair knew that she had died but not the reason why.
The first few years after his mother was gone were some of the hardest he had to live through, but he had his sister by his side, going through it with him. They were rarely separated, but Alasdair had to be careful to look out for her safety since she was smaller. Otherwise, he’d be on the receiving end of a very unpleasant lecture from his father or his Uncle Cillian. It seemed to him that Cillian ought to be more understanding of his predicament since he was also an oldest sibling, but he could only say that to Uncle Finn or Uncle Rowan if he didn’t want to get into further trouble. Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest idea to trek too far off the farm without an adult or to try and teach his sister how to use the old rope swing over the pond before she was confident swimming, but what better way to spend their time than exploring and playing games? There was no shortage of wildlife and places to explore, and it would be a shame to ignore it all.
As he grew older, his father assigned him chores on the farm. His least favorite was mucking out the stable, but even that was preferable to the consequences for slacking off. He and Sera would help each other complete their chores to get them done more quickly, and then they would have extra time to go out and play. No matter the time of year, one of their favorite activities was to saddle the horses, Killian and Fionnuala, and gallop over the hills and through the streams. Most races Alasdair won handily, but Sera never seemed to care about competition, simply happy to be out riding with him. They played knights and pirates with mock swords that Uncle Finn had fashioned for them, but the best thing to do was wander through the woods and the fields and splash in the river, learning every hidden corner, every rock, every tree, and every bird. Before long, they knew the farm and the surrounding acres as well as the backs of their hands. Alasdair was especially pleased when he became the reigning champion of hide and seek whenever their cousins came to visit.
Perhaps because he was off exploring so often, he failed to see the progress his father had made recovering from the loss of his mother, so it was a surprise when his father announced that he was going to remarry. Alasdair was nowhere near excited about this new development, but there was nothing he could do about it except to sulk his way along. Fortunately, Sera was there to cheer him up in the days before the wedding or he would have been entirely miserable.
The ceremony was simple, but Alasdair’s new stepmother, Eleanor, had him dressed in an uncomfortable suit and playing the part of ringbearer. They were only ordinary farmers, so he didn’t see the point in dressing so spiffy when there would likely never be an occasion for him to wear this suit ever again before he outgrew it. Anytime he tugged at the material or tried to scratch an itch, his stepmother shot him a look. Somehow she always seemed to know what he was doing even when she wasn’t looking in his direction. However, before the ceremony, he did manage to slip away down to the brook at the foot of the hill where the chapel was situated while his stepmother was getting ready. Sera was by his side in moments, content to stand next to him in silence. (hide spoiler)]

Part Two

History cont'd: (view spoiler)[
Although they were two years apart, they were often mistaken for twins, and sometimes even Alasdair forgot that he was older. It was a common occurrence for him to know what Sera was thinking or for her to know where he was intuitively, so as soon as he spied a frog perched on the edge of the brook, he knew that Sera knew what he was planning. Quickly, he scooped up the frog and trotted over to his father’s car with Sera hot on his heels. She unlatched Eleanor’s suitcase, and he carefully slipped the frog inside, positioning a twig in place to keep the case open a sliver, just enough so that the frog could get air. After the ceremony, it was immensely satisfying to see Eleanor’s face blanch and hear her terrified shriek when the frog leaped out of the case and landed by her feet before swiftly hopping away. He and Sera struggled not to give away their part in the incident on the car ride home.
Everything about farm life was foreign to his new stepmother. In the beginning, she tried to dress him and Sera in new clothes, which were immediately spoiled when they rode Killian and Fionnuala down to the pond for an afternoon fishing and picnicking with two of their cousins, Declan and Faolán. When they arrived at the pond, their clothes were already rumpled and dirty, but that didn’t stop Declan from having a good laugh at the sight of them. Sera seemed not to care, simply blushing under the attention and shaking her head, but Alasdair didn’t like to be made fun of for something that wasn’t his idea. Just because his stepmother was clueless and frivolous and his father went along with the idea, didn’t mean that he agreed with that stupid outfit, so it wasn’t fair of Declan to be laughing so hard that tears were falling down his cheeks. The natural solution to this was simple: Alasdair tackled him, and both boys tumbled into the pond, sputtering and splashing each other when they came back up. Not happy being left out, Faolán tugged Sera into the pond with him and then shoved Declan’s head under the water from behind. Between carousing in the pond and running through the woods alongside the horses, Alasdair and Sera’s clothes were entirely ruined. It was the last time their stepmother ever tried to dress them up for a long while.
There were a lot of things Alasdair tolerated – or at least, tried to tolerate – when it came to his stepmother’s meddling, but the one thing he would absolutely not allow was her stealing Sera from him. His stepmother had gotten the idea into her head that she could turn Sera into a prim, little lady, but Alasdair was not going to stand for that. He hadn’t minded when Aunt Saoirse taught her weaving because that was a useful skill or when Aunt Maura gave her a watercolor set for her birthday because they both had fun playing with the paints, but his stepmother wanted to tame his sister and keep her indoors, studying and other, boring things. No way. He did everything he could to rescue Sera from their stepmother’s fanciful ideas. Sometimes he just burst into the room, grabbed his sister by the hand, and dragged her out the door, with no explanation to his stepmother. It landed him in trouble with his father every now and then for upsetting his stepmother, but he didn’t care. Sera was worth the cost of being lectured or assigned extra chores or going without dessert, and besides, he was always on the wrong side of Uncle Cillian anyway – so what was the difference? He was used to being in trouble, and he was used to feeling like the adults were being unfair. At least he could rely on Sera. She was always happy to help with his extra chores or to sneak him some dessert.
As if things weren’t bad enough, one evening, his father announced over dinner that they would be moving. Alasdair had a hundred and one questions. First and foremost, had everyone lost their minds? How could they move? Their farm, their family, the animals, their whole lives were here. Ever since his father’s great-great-a-ton-more-greats grandfather had fled from Wales to Ireland and married a farmer, the Nightingales had always taken care of this farm. Why on earth would they go farm elsewhere? And what about all their mother’s relatives? Their real mother’s family was here, and it wouldn’t be right to take off without them. Alasdair thought these were all excellent points, but his father remained firm in his decision. Furthermore, they wouldn’t be farming elsewhere because they weren’t going to be farmers anymore, apparently. That did it. Alasdair was so sick to his stomach over the whole idea that he abruptly left the table and dashed out of the house. Barnabas, their sheepdog, found him in the yard and ran with him towards the woods. Never mind that it was dark. Alasdair would rather rot than ever leave this place. This was his home. These were his woods – his and Sera’s. And the fields were where his mother used to take them for picnics and to make daisy chains and wreaths. The pond was where they went fishing and swimming with Declan and Faolán, and the neighboring farms were where his family lived. The yard was where he and Sera made painstaking efforts to keep their mother’s garden alive, and the stables he took such good care of were where his other best friends lived. Killian and Fionnuala, he couldn’t possibly leave them. They had promised to stay together forever, the four of them – Alasdair, Sera, Killian, and Fionnuala. Everything had been perfect until his stepmother entered the picture. There had been no hint of leaving the farm until his father’s remarriage. It was clear that this was all Eleanor’s fault, and if they had got it into their heads that he was going to take this lying down, they would be sorely disappointed. He was determined to make sure that leaving the farm was as difficult and as exasperating as possible.
Sera caught up to him in the woods once he’d slowed to a walk. There was nothing she could say to soften his anger, but he could tell she sympathized. Neither of them wanted to leave the farm. It was all they had ever known, and they both felt connected to their mother there. Slowly, Alasdair felt his rage dissipate. He still had no intention of going along with this foolhardy idea, but at least he was calm enough to walk back to the house, mumble an insincere apology to his father, and flop onto his bed. Sera joined him on her bed opposite his and brought out the mini harp, plucking at the strings delicately until he recognized the melody: Captain O’Kane. He hummed along, somewhere along the way recalling a poem that could be sung to the tune.

The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning,
The murmuring streamlet runs clear through the vale;
The primroses blow in the dews of the morning,
And wild scattered cowslips bedeck the green dale.
But what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair,
When the lingering moments are number’d by care?
No birds sweetly singing, nor flowers gaily springing,
Can soothe the sad bosom of joyless despair.

The deed that I dar’d, could it merit their malice,
A king and a father to place on his throne!
His right are these hills, and his right are these vallies,
Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find none.
But ‘tis not my suff’rings, thus wretched, forlorn,
My brave gallant friends, ‘tis your ruin I mourn,
Your faith prov’d so loyal in hot bloody trial,
Alas! can I make it no better return.

Alasdair was determined to find a way for him and Sera to stay. Their cause would be more successful than the loss lamented in the poem, no matter the cost.
Most of the family reluctantly supported his father’s decision to leave. Only Aunt Saoirse seemed to be on their side, offering to take him and Sera in if they truly wished to stay behind, but no one would listen to her or take her seriously. To Alasdair, it appeared that they were being ripped from their home, their haven, their hearth, and no one noticed or cared. Everyone put on a cheerful face and spoke of fresh starts and new homes and new experiences. They tried to make it sound like an adventure, but for all their efforts, he thought it sounded like a prison sentence. Once, he almost got Aunt Maura to crack her optimistic façade, but that was the closest he came to furthering his righteous cause.
In the end, Sera proved the wisest of the two. She had accepted the move much sooner than he had, though she never strayed from his side while he was championing their desire to stay. When the dreaded day came, they were both sedate. There was not enough time to say goodbye to everything they wished, but the horses and cows and sheep and chickens all received due honors. A last midnight ride ventured forth alongside the streams and over the hills and through the valleys the night before – one last adventure with their faithful companions, Killian and Fionnuala. All their extended family arrived in the afternoon to see them off, and Alasdair found it difficult to say his farewells to his cousins and Uncle Finn, wondering if he would ever see them or this place again. He even thought that he might miss Uncle Cillian and Aunt Maura or maybe even Cousin Míchaél, who always tried to steal his Christmas candy every year. Faolán had fashioned a new mini harp (with Uncle Rowan’s help) for Sera as a going-away present, and she was so delighted with it, they didn’t have to persuade her to serenade them with song after song the whole ride to the station in Uncle Rowan’s car. Alasdair’s going-away present was two, whittled figurines. The first was Killian rearing up on his hind legs, mane rippling majestically, and the second was a little cat, mid-motion, slinking in the shadows, a reference to the nickname Declan had given him: Alley Cat. Alasdair was notably a dog person, not a cat person, but Declan insisted on the nickname, growing more set on it the more Alasdair protested. When Sera saw what Declan had made for Alasdair, she couldn’t help but pout, upset that he hadn’t made her a miniature of Fionnuala, so he promised to make her one and send it when he could.
The final goodbyes were exchanged at the train station, and both Alasdair and Sera were smothered in kisses from Aunt Saoirse and even Aunt Maura and then nearly crushed to death in Uncle Finn’s embrace. Uncle Rowan, quiet and reserved as always, gave them both a gentle pat on the shoulder before turning to leave. He hated goodbyes and wouldn’t stay to watch the train pull out of the station. Everyone else waved as the train departed, and at last, Alasdair’s Great Trouble concluded. The result: a defeated, little boy with a one-way ticket to misery and tribulation, forsaken by all but his precious ward and his faithful dog.
Nothing could have prepared Alasdair for their new home. It was… intimidating. He was used to their cozy farmhouse with its four rooms and attic, not whatever this behemoth was that had the audacity to call itself a house. His stepmother said the manor’s name was Wishwood House, though why the name said House when everyone else referred to it as the Manor was beyond Alasdair and Sera. At least Barnabas was ecstatic to have arrived at the new place. The poor thing had been cooped up on the train, the plane, and the car ride here, and finally, he could run as hard and as fast as he liked until he tired himself out. Alasdair and Sera chased after him, flying past the yard, the gardens, and the pond, and eventually tumbling over in the middle of the orchard, exhausted and panting in sync with Barnabas. When they finally caught their breath, Alasdair asked for a suantraí – a lullaby. Sera obliged, and before long, Alasdair and Barnabas had both fallen fast asleep, taking refuge in dreams of rolling hills and sovereign mountains and golden sunsets. In the early days at Wishwood, this became a nightly occurrence.
(hide spoiler)]

Part Three

History cont'd: (view spoiler)[
Alasdair and Sera and Barnabas would all three sprawl out on a heap of blankets and pillows on the floor in Alasdair’s spacious room, and Sera would lull them to sleep with suantraí after suantraí until they all drifted off to sleep. At a time when comfort was in short supply, Alasdair found peace and freedom only in his dreams, for he would always dream of southern Ireland, the halcyon of all. Sometimes he never wanted to wake up. Killian and Fionnuala and Nora and Ida, they were all there in his dreams, exactly as he left them. The only thing that was missing was Sera, and it was for her that he forced the will to arise into existence.
Hanging around inside the manor nearly always proved to be a bad idea. It was full of antiques and pieces of art that his stepmother was afraid he’d damage running and playing inside, so he spent his days exploring the grounds. Fortunately, the manor was surrounded by several acres, so he and Sera had plenty to occupy themselves with. The orchard became one of their favorite haunts, and they spent hours climbing the trees and looking for the best peaches and apples and lemons they could find. There were also stables on the grounds, and Alasdair and Sera made fast friends with the horses. No horse could ever compare to Killian and Fionnuala, but Alasdair loved riding the new horses anyway. His favorite was a sprightly stallion called Ivanhoe, and Sera’s usual mount was the stately Diamond. They were so often seen together that Alasdair took to calling them Gráinne and Diarmid – after the legend. Sera would scowl and stick her tongue out at him, but he knew she wasn’t truly upset with him for it. Even their father played along with them, referring to Diamond as the true master of the estate.
Not long after they had settled in Wishwood, his stepmother revealed that she was expecting. This revelation was far from thrilling and rather brought down his spirits. On top of everything else, now they would have a new baby in the house, and the only shred of hope he had left that his father might come to his senses and take them back to Ireland was ripped from him. Sera was more optimistic about the prospect of a new sibling, and even Alasdair had to admit (though half-heartedly) from time to time that a little brother might not be so bad. It could be fun to have a new playmate to frolic about with.
There was even more reason to stay out of the house while his stepmother was pregnant, not that it made much difference since Alasdair and Sera preferred the outdoors anyway. The nursery was being set up and painted, and rather than be scolded for being in the way or for not helping enough, they kept to the orchard and the pond, bringing picnic lunches and stealing away the horses and Barnabas for company. They had met their neighbors a few times, but some of the families had children much older or children their age who didn’t want to engage in the same kinds of games they liked to play. The girl in the house nearest theirs refused to go fruit-picking in the orchard or go fishing or play gladiators and tigers, so even though their stepmother tried to help them become friends, Alasdair didn’t have the interest in befriending anyone who thought climbing trees was for plebians. Though they missed the companionship they’d shared with Declan and Faolán, Alasdair and Sera were content to stick together. Their parents were less enthused with their lack of socialization and dropped hints here and there that things would change once Eleanor had the baby.
To Alasdair’s great disappointment, his new sibling was a girl. Sera held out hope that they would still have fun together, but somehow Alasdair doubted their stepmother was going to tolerate little Margareta running amok with them. Their parents dubbed the baby Margo for short, but Alasdair decided his name for her would be Greta, which earned a resounding approval from Sera and Lord Diamond. It was made even better by the fact that his stepmother did not find the nickname to her taste, but one thing Alasdair could say in her favor was that she was learning to better choose her battles.
Once Margareta was born, everything turned upside down. Suddenly it was a cardinal sin how far behind he was in his schooling, and the expeditions down to the creek and the daily picnics were intolerably bad behavior. His stepmother and her sister, Aunt Beatrice (who lived just in the next town over), took charge of his and Sera’s education. It was an arduous task to catch up on everything he’d missed, and his schooling had been sorely lacking even back on the farm. He could read and write well enough, but other disciplines such as history and arithmetic had been neglected, at least in his stepmother’s opinion. The one bright side of his stepmother’s keen interest in his education was that she arranged for him to take archery and fencing lessons. Unfortunately, Sera was rarely allowed to join him because she was usually supposed to be practicing piano during his lessons, but every now and then she found little windows of opportunity to slip out and cheer him on, even when his arrows missed the targets by a mile. They were already proficient riders from growing up on the farm, so there was no need for instruction in that regard, though their stepmother made her disapproval of them riding bareback crystal clear. In time, Alasdair caught up to whatever his stepmother felt was an appropriate level for his age in school, and though it was not by any means less relaxed, it was at least less overwhelming.
Oddly, the years flew by. At first, only a single day at Wishwood seemed like it took years before the end arrived, but somewhere along the way, time sped up for Alasdair. His stepmother delivered three more sisters after Greta, and even he had to admit that the girls had grown on him. He would never have much in common with Margareta – they were polar opposites, and he delighted in using her childhood nickname against her wishes. Still, he couldn’t deny that he had come to think of her as his sister, even if he thought most of what she did and said was rather silly and pointless. Genevieve was the sensible one (to an extent), but she was more willing to let loose and laugh at the pranks Alasdair was so fond of playing. For that, he freely gave her some of his respect. Lenora was the gentle one and was always trusted to Margareta, who in turn did her best to keep her free of Alasdair’s mischievous influence. This wounded him more deeply than he liked to admit. Perhaps he wasn’t the safest older sibling, but he was pretty darn fun and never tried to do anything that would hurt any of his sisters. For Greta to treat him as if he would spoil Lenora felt unjust. If anyone ought to be safeguarding anyone, it should be Sera doing the protecting since she was the oldest of the sisters, but the divide between half siblings and full siblings was less easily traversed in those days. The last sister was Juliet, and of all his half-sisters, she was the one he was most fond of. Her free-spirited nature was a breath of fresh air, and she was always eager to ride with him and Sera in search of adventures, no matter what Margareta or Genevieve said. Hopefully once she was older, she’d wear Eleanor down so much that his stepmother would finally leave him alone.
During the beginning of his teenage years, Alasdair became well-acquainted with a boy called Cyrus Cranesley. They had first met as children since the Cranesley family and his stepmother’s family had been friends for generations, but they hadn’t struck up a friendship until later. The first few attempts had been soured by Eleanor expressing her approval of the friendship, but eventually Cyrus became the third member of their trio, along with Sera. He was an excellent rider and could keep up with them on long treks through the woods, so the siblings were happy to include him in their recreational activities. Every so often, Cyrus’s younger siblings, Rosalee, Cecilia, and Louis, joined them for games and picnics. They rarely saw the oldest sister, Adella, except when she was stopping by to take Margareta shopping, but that was perfectly alright with everyone. Alasdair and Cyrus were both of the opinion that Adella was an uninspired and shallow person, and why Margareta bothered to hang out with the girl was a mystery.
Alasdair, Cyrus, and Sera grew ever closer as the years went by. They were nearly always seen together, especially at parties or boring social functions where Alasdair and Cyrus tended to stir up trouble. Sometimes they climbed the trees at the Cranesley estate, so Cyrus could spy on the neighbors with a pair of binoculars. Other times they snuck spiders into Adella’s room or swapped out books in the library for the sake of general confusion and chaos. Over time, a new rift began to divide the trio. Cyrus seemed not to want Sera around them when they were playing pranks or riding or just goofing around, and he expected Alasdair to stay by his side and leave his sister behind. That was never going to happen. Alasdair had no problems remaining friends with Cyrus, but if Sera was to be left out, then he was going to spend time with her first like they always had growing up. Cyrus would have to settle for whatever time he had leftover. Apparently, the issue was that Sera was too old to be part of their adventures anymore. Alasdair pointed out that they were both older than her, but Cyrus insisted that it was different because they were boys. None of that made any sense to Alasdair, but then, he always had thought Cyrus was a little soft in the head.
The issue eventually resolved itself when Cyrus asked Sera out. Alasdair was happy that his sister was happy, but he wondered if it was really going to last. Sera was too smart for Cyrus, and he had a feeling that their friend might just be using her. Nevertheless, he celebrated with her in the good times and comforted her in the hard times. He figured that eventually either Cyrus would get tired of her or she would see how deep his flaws ran, but he didn’t factor in the long-standing Hetherington-Cranesley friendship into his calculations. That relationship exerted impressive force onto Sera and Cyrus, and only too late did Alasdair see that once they began dating, they were never going to be allowed to breakup without the families doing everything in their power to prevent it.
When Sera was eighteen, Cyrus proposed, and she accepted immediately. Alasdair had hoped he might talk her out of staying with Cyrus once she graduated high school, but again, he realized the error of his ways too late. He never should have waited. He should have warned her from the start. Perhaps she might have listened to him then, but now she was in too deep. He remained cautiously optimistic that things would be alright, and there was some comfort in the fact that his father and stepmother had decided Sera would have to wait a year before getting married. There was still a small chance that she might break free of Cyrus and the Cranesley family. He didn’t think there was any likelihood that Cyrus would miraculously transform into a more honorable and thoughtful person.
The months passed by quickly – too quickly – and still Sera showed no signs of changing her mind. However, something was in the air. He could sense it whenever Cyrus came to visit them, and his instincts warned him that something was off. Something horrid was on its way, and he dreaded it finding his sister.
Things came to a head only a couple months later. He was tidying up the garden he and Sera had started when they first arrived at Wishwood as children when out of nowhere, he suddenly felt ice in his veins. Something was horrendously wrong, and he didn’t need to hear Sera’s cry to know that she was in trouble.
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Part Four

History cont'd: (view spoiler)[

Sprinting around to the other end of the backyard, he rounded the corner just in time to see Sera trip and fall, hitting her head on the cobblestones. That was all it took for him to see red, and he yanked Cyrus off his sister by his collar. Cyrus might have made better grades in school, been liked better by their peers and the adults, and had more money and influence, but Alasdair was bigger, stronger, and faster, which were the only advantages he needed to beat Cyrus to a pulp. Someone sounded the alarm in the middle of everything (probably Juliet), and before he could finish giving Cyrus the full walloping he deserved, his father was pulling him away, though Alasdair didn’t give him an easy time of it. Both his father and stepmother attempted to lecture him loudly and sternly, but he had nothing but contempt for them and everything about the whole situation. If they hadn’t applied so much pressure or been so blind to Cyrus’s lack of character, Sera might never have had to go through that incident. They were all to blame, including himself, but instead of trying to teach him a lesson, they should be taking care of Sera and ensuring Cyrus never came near her again. He told his parents in no uncertain terms that they could be darn sure that that was what he was going to be doing for the foreseeable future. They could forget about sending him to college. As long as Sera needed him, nothing on earth could make him leave her side.
He could count on their twin-like telepathy to alert him to when she was in distress. In the first few months, he found himself suddenly awake in the middle of the night more times than he could count. Usually the cause of these disturbances was nightmares, and he would stay with her until she could fall asleep again or until the sun rose and there was light enough to walk through the garden. He found it strange that he was now the one she relied on to lull her to sleep at night after she had spent years singing him to sleep and soothing his anger with soft melodies on her mini harp. Most days, she was so low energy that she didn’t even leave her room, so he started bringing Diamond to the veranda to say hello. He could tell the horse missed his loyal friend, and it seemed to cheer Sera up to see him.
Even though the engagement was called off, and the Cranesley family decided they would not deign to associate with the Nightingales and Hetheringtons anymore, that did little to improve Sera’s spirits. Alasdair realized he couldn’t be with her every waking minute, but it wouldn’t do to leave her alone much. Their sisters kept her company when they could, but something was missing. He couldn’t believe himself when he did it, but he adopted a fuzzy, white kitten and brought it home to Sera. When she laid eyes on the kitten in his arms, it was the first time he’d seen her smile in months. She was delighted with the kitten and named him Snowball. After Alasdair, Snowball was her most devoted friend, and before long, she never did anything without him alongside her. Alasdair was not much of a cat person, but he played with Snowball and lavished affection on him for Sera’s sake, just to see the ghost of a smile haunt her face.
When Sera mentioned she wanted to expand their garden, he took her out to the backyard and assisted her however she needed. They grew so much larkspur he thought Eleanor would scold them, but it seemed time had softened her perspective on things. She wisely held her tongue on such matters.
None of the Hetherington branch of the family ever admitted that the engagement was an awful idea. The closest they came to owning up to their error was to say that Cyrus hadn’t turned out the way they hoped. A paltry atonement if ever Alasdair heard one. At least their father was sincere in regretting his contributions to everything leading up to the incident. He confessed that he had been blind to Cyrus’s true character and ought to have known better. Perhaps he was getting lax in his later years. Of course, Sera forgave him – she already had; that was who she was. Alasdair did too albeit begrudgingly, and the three of them were at peace again.
Things became brighter for Sera as time passed. Her garden flourished under her careful tending, and her room was filled with watercolors and knitted blankets and homemade tapestries and poems that had been scribbled out and reworked a dozen times. Sometimes she let Alasdair read her poems, and he pretended to understand them. It didn’t matter if they were all works of art or not. It only mattered that she had written them from the heart. He liked it best when she composed on the mini harp, as he always had. Every tune was beautiful, whether it be the suantraithe he adored so much or a goltraí or a geantraí.
Alasdair wasn’t the only one to notice Sera’s marked improvements. Eleanor took note of her stepdaughter’s recovery and eventually, decided it was time to see about introducing her back into the world. Alasdair opposed it outright, but Sera insisted that she would be fine and that it was time for her to reemerge. Things did not go smoothly for his sister, but he stayed beside her. When he couldn’t be by her side, he remained close enough that she could call to him to assist her if the occasion arose. Of course, one of Eleanor’s goals was to introduce Sera to all the well-mannered young men she knew in hopes that she would hit it off with one of them, but Alasdair doubted any of her acquaintances would be good enough for his sister. Sure enough, they disappointed, one after the other. He could see no logic in it. Why Eleanor continued to play matchmaker when it accomplished nothing other than tiring Sera out was beyond his ability to understand. Sera insisted he be kind to her as Eleanor was only trying to help, but he hardly thought that was an acceptable excuse for dragging someone’s heart to and fro. In the end, even Eleanor had her fill of failures, and Sera suggested she think about Margareta and Genevieve instead, an idea their stepmother was all too happy to oblige.
The next year was fraught with more losses. Alasdair’s father suffered a heart attack and passed away. It felt so surreal for the longest time. Even after the funeral, Alasdair still expected his father to be reading in his armchair or grooming the horses in the stable. Old Diamond especially missed him. With August gone, Eleanor became more determined to settle Alasdair and Sera. Since there was no good reason to stay on that he could think of, Alasdair suggested going back to Ireland. They hadn’t been to visit their relatives once since moving. However, Sera didn’t want to go. She was used to their life at Wishwood, and the old Nightingale farm had been sold long ago when they moved. She didn’t want to return and see someone else working it or to find that it had been turned into something else. Alasdair was at a loss. Eleanor was pressuring him to apply to colleges, but he would rather adopt one hundred cats than ever go to college. And since August was now gone, Eleanor had returned to finding a gentleman for Sera, much to his sister’s dismay.
Surprisingly, Margareta was partly to be credited with the solution to their woes. When Alasdair came downstairs to breakfast, Margareta was mercilessly mocking a news article, as was her morning routine. Apparently some Finnish model was set to join a colonization expedition (he hadn’t even been aware that was happening either, but whatever), and it was being discussed in all the papers and tabloids. At first, he paid it no mind, but then it set him thinking. He looked into the project some more, mostly to satisfy his own curiosity, but the more he learned, the more he couldn’t help but think that it might be a pretty decent solution to their troubles. He pitched it to Sera, who, as expected, was resistant at first, but she came around to the idea sooner than he anticipated. They packed their belongings, said their goodbyes, and embarked on a new adventure for the first time since they were children.
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Other: Will eat an entire jar of honey in one sitting if left unattended.

Part One

Name: Serefina Tanwen Nightingale
Nicknames: Sera, Sari, Fina, Fi

Identification Number: 016
Valor Name: Tbd
Trial Name: Tbd

Age: 21
Gender: F

Appearance: It will never be said that Serefina is the most beautiful of her sisters, but she is lovely in her own right. Light, blonde locks with golden strands woven throughout cascade down to her lower back, and though she is proud of the many, natural shades in her hair, she cannot for the life of her wrangle her hair into curls. Her thick tresses are stick straight and refuse to hold curls longer than a few minutes at a time, but she doesn’t let this stop her from wearing her hair down. For formal events she will put her hair or at least parts of it up in elegant styles, but for the most part, she prefers to leave it down and loose. If she isn’t out and about or entertaining company, she simply lets it fall down her back, but if she has to appear more presentable, she’ll add pins or combs in her hair to keep it off her face or comb it into a half-up half-down style, sometimes with the up portion braided if she feels like it. Her eyes are deep, cornflower blue with tiny threads of silver only visible upon very close inspection, and dark eyelashes of moderate lengths frame her eyes. Her skin is paler than most and burns easily after prolonged time in the sun without adequate shade, but in the summer months, freckles are splattered across her cheeks and nose. Though she loves her freckles when they appear, her mother and sisters insist that she conceal them with makeup, so only her family, servants, and a select few have seen her with them visible. She has high, sharp cheekbones, but her forehead and chin are softer. Her nose is delicate and curves upward just a touch at the end, and there is a small dent near the top of the bridge that isn’t usually noticeable from far away. Her lips are small and thin, though her bottom lip is a tad bigger than the top one, and they don’t hold much natural color except in summer when they forgo their pale, pink shade and darken slightly. Her neck is long and elegant, and she has slim shoulders and a slender frame. Skin as soft as velvet runs down her back, and she has a moderately curvy figure. Her bosom, though definitely existent, isn’t much to envy, and her torso is a bit shorter than her legs. Her wrists and hands are dainty, but her fingers are perhaps somewhat more calloused than a lady’s should be since she gardens, weaves, knits, and writes excessively. Her legs are lean with ankles that are slightly too small for her overall height of 5’7, and her feet are small enough to befit a lady yet unfortunately narrow, which makes shopping for shoes too much of a chore at times. Her small ankles make wearing heels more difficult, but she is very happy with the high arches she has. She has a small, white scar right on her hairline at the top right of her forehead and a second scar on her lower back.

Personality: Serefina may not be the most beautiful or the most confident of her sisters, but she doesn’t need to dress up or puff herself up to assert herself or her position. Even without dressing to the nines like her sisters do, it’s still clear that she is the eldest from the grace and poise she routinely exhibits. She has no desire to call attention to herself, preferring to fade away into the background whenever possible, but the seemingly contradictory elements of gentleness and strength both present in her cause her to stand out to anyone observant enough to notice.
She’s introverted and values quiet, peaceful times, and she’s content to be on her own reading, weaving, writing, singing, dancing, painting, or practicing on the piano and mini harp. She also values her family members and would rather spend time with them than anything else, even her paintings and writings, both of which are especially important to her. While she is mostly passive and happy to follow others’ leads, she won’t compromise her principles or do anything to the detriment of her family. When it comes down to it, she can be incredibly determined if that’s what it takes to survive or to help her family and friends. Hardships don’t scare her, and her cool and collected mindset helps her tackle any problems thrown her way. She might not seem strong at first glance, but in spite of her unintimidating appearance, she’s tough as nails where it counts.
Sera is not a complete idiot, so she knows that she’s been the subject of plenty of gossip in the past and will probably continue to be in the future. However, it doesn’t really bother her if others say unkind things or spread lies about her. The only thing that cuts deep is having no one stand up for her. Having experienced being all alone against everyone else, she gets exceptionally defensive of her younger siblings. She cannot always think on her feet well, and she likes to be thoughtful and methodical in all her actions and decisions. It takes her considerable time to mull things over, and she hardly ever loses her temper or reacts strongly to anything. Even though things can irritate her and make her angry, she is too quiet and calm to react in any kind of way that would betray her aggravation in public. She often allows others to mistreat her and fails to stand up for herself regularly, except in cases where she has been pushed to her absolute limit. She detests conflict and confrontation and will avoid it at all costs until it becomes impossible to run from it any longer, and her relationships with people besides immediate family members tend to be very difficult and fraught with emotional turmoil. But when someone doesn’t treat her siblings and family as well as they ought, Sera feels as if she’s almost in some kind of fight or flight mode where the only thing she can think of is that she must defend her siblings whatever the cost. She knows her sisters are perfectly capable of defending themselves, but she gets a kind of tunnel vision where all her usual, more rational thoughts have been filtered out. Mistreating her siblings is like poking a bear, and in addition to being the easiest way to push her buttons, it’s one of the only ways to stir her up enough to make her react forcefully and rashly. Of course, she typically feels bad about acting that way afterwards even if she feels the situation warranted her reaction, and while she will apologize for behaving in an undignified and unseemly manner, she will never apologize for protecting her siblings. She and her sisters don’t have perfect, fairytale relationships, but even though sometimes she can’t stand them, it doesn’t change that they are still her family. Since Sera has plenty of experience with friends betraying her, she knows that family is more reliable, tied together forever by blood. If she can’t count on her family to have her back, then she can’t depend on anyone at all. And above all else, she never wants her sisters to feel like there isn’t anyone on their side, so even when they disagree (which is a frequent occurrence), Serefina tries her best to at least be there for them.
Having been betrayed by more than a couple friends has made Serefina a little cynical, paranoid, and generally distrusting of other people. She’s not the most open and inviting person in the world and tends to guard her words and secrets carefully and vigilantly. No one besides her siblings and parents is trusted with her most sensitive thoughts and ideas, and she would rather perish than sing or dance in front of anyone besides her family. Her writings and paintings are also very special and personal to her, so she keeps them tucked safely away in her room, only retrieving them for her family members.
Deep down, Sera does not believe that she is okay just as she is. She does not want to be known for the wretch she thinks herself to be, so she masks her nature as best she can by trying her hardest to be kind, sweet, and helpful to everyone. Because she thinks she knows very little about anything, she avoids serious conversations about things that really matter, preferring to sit and listen and perhaps murmur an agreement here or there if appropriate. If there is something upsetting her or a tough situation she's going through, she usually assumes that most or all of it is her own fault and that if she were a better person, there wouldn't be any issue or she wouldn't feel so hurt. She thinks of herself as overly sensitive and very silly, and above all else, she desires to be the most low-maintenance person possible. She would never dream of inconveniencing anyone, and if she ever does inadvertently, she feels immensely guilty and wretched. This narrow, flawed way of seeing herself and her place in the world is the ultimate reason for most things she does, and unless she changes the script of her thinking and behavior, she will remain forever shackled by it.

Likes:

Writing
Sewing
Knitting
Reading
Taking long walks alone
Painting her garden
Satin
Cats
Dogs
Puzzles
Word games
Being barefoot

Dislikes:

Dressing up
Football
Any other kind of sporting event
Red ink
How bad she is at writing poems
Socks
Heels
Fish that tastes too fishy
Red, gold, and dark purple colors
Dancing when other people are around
Singing when other people are around
The scar on her hairline

Strengths:

Sera is exceptionally creative. She can weave, paint, dance, and compose, and she has a knack for finding creative uses for ordinary things. This also extends to coming up with quick fixes using whatever items she has on hand to repair things that are broken – or at least make them functional for a while.

Like her brother, she sticks to her principles and doesn’t waiver in her beliefs when others disagree or challenge her.

She has a green thumb. Her family used to say she could talk to plants.

There are few people more devoted than Sera. She would walk on nails for her family and close friends.

Weaknesses:

Unless her principles are on the line, she is entirely a doormat

Avoids conflict to the point of personal destruction and her own emotional torment

In most situations, she is horrendous at thinking on her feet

Any decision in which she is emotionally involved cannot be made without some sort of outside help as she will second and triple guess her own motives into oblivion and can't find her way out of her own head

Has trouble saying 'no' when someone needs a favor

Family:

Father: August Nightingale
Mother: Cara Nightingale née Hayes (deceased)
Stepmother: Eleanor Nightingale née Hetherington
Brother: Alasdair Nightingale
Half-sisters: Margareta, Genevieve, Lenora, and Juliet Nightingale
Uncles: Cillian, Finn, and Rowan Hayes and Charlie and Ernest Hetherington
Aunts: Maura Hayes née Keating, Saoirse Hayes née Duffy, Amelia and Beatrice Hetherington, and Libby Hetherington née Burnett
Cousins: Declan, Faolán, Bran, and Owen Hayes and Arthur, Gwendoline, Calhoun, Cecile, Lucille, and Louise Hetherington

History: (view spoiler)[
Serefina was the youngest child born to August and Cara Nightingale. Her brother, Alasdair, was two years older than her, and the two of them lived with their parents on a farm out in the countryside. The neighboring farms were worked by their mother’s relatives, the Hayes, and a few, other families, including the spirited and eccentric Duffy family.
When Sera was two years old, her mother passed away. She was too young to remember much about her mother and had to rely on stories her brother and her uncles could recall to learn what her mother had been like. Her father was not fond of reminiscing about her mother, and she learned quickly that it was better to ask Uncle Finn, her mother’s older brother.

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Part Two

History cont'd: (view spoiler)[
There were times when she thought she remembered something about her mother, her smile or her voice, but it was impossible to know if it was really a memory or a dream or just something she imagined. When she was a little girl, while sweeping the floors or dusting the furniture, she would pass the time daydreaming about what it might be like if her mother was still alive. She imagined them gardening together or grooming the horses side by side or reading all her favorite books aloud. These happy daydreams and her brother’s companionship sustained her in her early years.
The farmhouse Sera spent her early years in was modest but comfortable enough for her and her father and brother. Other people often pitied her in her later years when they heard she had been born in rural, southern Ireland, but Sera had always felt honored to call the countryside of Ireland her home. She loved to milk their cows, Ida and Nora, and when she was finished weeding the garden and collecting the hens’ eggs and washing and drying all the laundry, the green, rolling hills all around her were always there waiting for her to come and play. Most often she would take their sheepdog, Barnabas, with her and Alasdair on their imaginary adventures, but when her father allowed it, her absolute favorite animal companion was their horse, Fionnuala. She needed help mounting Fionnuala since she was still a short, little thing, but once her father or Alasdair gave her a boost, she would stay glued to Fionnuala’s bare back for as long as she could without overtiring the chestnut mare. Alasdair would have to accompany her on the back of their glossy, black stallion, Killian, if she wanted to venture out of sight of the farmhouse, but that was no deterrence. She hated to do anything without her brother nearby.
Although their house was nothing grand, it was never empty. Uncle Finn was almost a constant fixture on the farm, and Sera and Alasdair had hours of fun being chased by and chasing him around the yard and the stable. Uncle Cillian was another frequent visitor. He had his own farm to run, but he often made the short walk over to assist with repairs and other chores around the farm. At least once a week, Aunt Maura and Declan and Bran came with him for dinner, and Sera felt the little house might crack from the flurry of activity and the number of people crowded into it. Sometimes Uncle Finn and Aunt Saoirse and Faolán and Owen would join too, but she rarely minded as much when they were over. Faolán was her favorite of the cousins, and she would allow him to hide away up in the attic with her when the cacophony on the ground floor was overwhelming. Alasdair and Declan usually found them before long, and the four of them kept themselves entertained either in the attic or running around the farm and playing with the animals.
When she was old enough, Aunt Saoirse would fetch her from her chores and take her to the Hayes farm a few days a week to teach her how to weave. Since she was the only girl cousin, it was just her and Aunt Saoirse working on the loom, but her nimble fingers soon proved equal to the task once she had mastered the basics. It wasn’t as much fun as playing with Alasdair or Barnabas, but Sera learned to enjoy how relaxing it could be to sit in silence and create something pretty. She already knew how to sew from her father, but Aunt Saoirse also taught her knitting and a little about sketching. Saoirse had grown up on the Duffy farm, so she possessed an encyclopedic knowledge of crafts and interesting tricks. Aunt Maura’s upbringing was a little bit different, but she knew a lot about art and music. For her birthday one year, Aunt Maura gave her a set of watercolor paints and showed her how to use them.
Sera never wanted anything to change about their life in the countryside. Despite the sorrowful looks she received from adults in the town nearby for lacking a mother, she couldn’t imagine being happier or more content with her life than she already was. Everything was perfect in her world. Until her father announced that he was getting married and she and Alasdair were getting a new mother.
The marriage of August Nightingale to Eleanor Valentine Georgina Hetherington was a simple affair held in a small chapel. Sera wore a white, lacy dress that itched terribly, and she was given the role of flower girl while her brother played the part of ringbearer in a smart, little suit that he tugged at constantly. Sera couldn’t deny that her stepmother was a lovely, young lady with a wreath of dark curls and pretty, coffee brown eyes, but she didn’t think she needed a new mother. Neither did Alasdair, so he went out and caught a frog and hid it in Eleanor’s suitcase when his part in the ceremony was over. When the newly wedded Mr. and Mrs. Nightingale left the chapel and checked their luggage in the car before leaving, Eleanor was horrified and shrieked so loudly when the poor, scared frog leapt out at her that Sera thought they could have heard her screams all the way across the water in England. Her father had to choke back his laughter, much to Eleanor’s dismay, and promised his new wife that the frog must have jumped inside the suitcase by accident. Alasdair and Sera shared a knowing look and had to exert all their willpower not to die of laughter all the way back home.
Country life did not suit Eleanor well at all. She had grown up the daughter of a wealthy, American lady and an Englishman descended from a marquess, and most of her life had been spent being shuffled back and forth between her mother’s houses on the eastern seaboard of America and her father’s homes in London and Brighton. She was used to wasting her time at parties and drowning her insides with tea and petit fours, and neither of those things was available to her at the farmhouse. Misery, loneliness, and boredom clouded Eleanor’s days at the farmhouse, and after a few months of suffering, August proposed that the family move all together to a house in America that Eleanor’s mother had given her when she got married. Alasdair opposed the idea outright and thought it sounded stupid, but Sera didn’t know whether she wanted to stay or leave. She loved their house and land and all their animals, but things weren’t the same with Eleanor around. Maybe it would be better to start over somewhere new where Eleanor wouldn’t be so unhappy all the time. After hours of discussion, August decided they would sell the farm and move to Eleanor’s house in Virginia. Sera was sad to bid the home where she had spent her golden childhood years goodbye, and she was more sorrowful still when she realized that Ida, Nora, Fionnuala, and Killian would not be coming with them. Among her comforts were her brother who would not leave her side so long as she was sad and Barnabas, their dog who would be accompanying them to the new house.
The Virginia house was a peaceful manor on several acres of land. Sera and Alasdair were delighted to discover there was an orchard on the grounds, and they preferred to spend their time climbing the trees and picking the fruit rather than being scolded inside the manor for touching the wrong things or making too much noise. Eleanor ran a rather tight ship, and she was always concerned with preserving the manor and keeping things very clean and orderly. The small staff they retained to run the place had a lot to do, but they seemed to respect Eleanor well enough. Sera was elated to have her own room, but it took a long time for her to adjust to returning to mysteriously clean sheets and fresh flowers at the end of the day. She was used to making her own bed and washing her own sheets. It was so lonely at first that she took to staying in Alasdair’s room with him and Barnabas at night until she got used to the creaks and groans of the house.
Soon after the family moved to Virginia, Eleanor became pregnant with her and August’s first child together. Sera was ecstatic and couldn’t wait to have a younger sibling, and every night she prayed for a little brother. Alasdair was notably less enthusiastic about a new addition to their family, but after some persistence from Sera, he admitted that a brother wouldn’t be so bad. Both he and Sera were surprised when Eleanor delivered a little girl she named Margareta. While she had hoped for another brother, Sera was still happy to be getting a sister, and she made Alasdair promise to be kind to their new sister.
Once Margareta was born, Eleanor decided it was time for Alasdair and Sera to receive proper educations. Fortunately, the two of them were already proficient in riding from time spent on their old farm and in the stables on the grounds of the Virginia manor, but Eleanor thought there were a great many other things that had been lacking in their upbringing. She and her older sister, Aunt Beatrice, worked together to teach Sera and her brother, but their lessons were usually separate. Eleanor also added lessons in art, music, embroidery, calligraphy, etiquette, and dancing to Sera's schooling and fencing and archery lessons to Alasdair's. Nevertheless, Alasdair and Sera made time to do the activities they loved best even if Eleanor didn’t approve of them riding without saddles at odd hours of the night or climbing trees in the orchard or swimming in the pond nearby.
Right from the start, Alasdair had always been her best friend. Her older brother always seemed to be getting into some kind of mischief, but she was more than happy to be all wrapped up in whatever trouble he had thought up so long as she was by his side. Her parents disapproved of this and strongly encouraged her in other, more ladylike pursuits, but though she loved her music and art lessons, she would drop them in a heartbeat as soon as Alasdair beckoned her come with him. Her younger sister, Margareta, did not share the same inclination and ‘tsked’ Serefina for going along with whatever tomfoolery Alasdair was planning on getting himself into. Despite her parents’ and Margareta’s disapproval, Sera almost always followed her brother into any chaos he caused. She was his most loyal companion and had earned his utmost trust and unrelenting protection. When she was by his side, she was never daunted by anyone or anything. It was the only time she ever felt fearless.
The years almost flew by for Sera. Despite having to complete lessons that she didn’t care much for, things were mostly peaceful and carefree at the Virginia manor. Over time, she became the older sister to three more girls besides Margareta, and she grew to love each of them for their virtues. Her lessons became more demanding, and Eleanor placed more restrictions on what was acceptable behavior and what was foolishness. She could tell her father agreed with her at least a little, but he would not openly support her balking at the boundaries Eleanor established. He told her this was their life now. Eleanor was from a different class of people with different expectations and traditions, and they should respect those customs and practices even if he and Sera thought they were silly or pointless because Eleanor was equally a part of their family. Sera could see the sense in her father’s words, but she did try to do the things she loved whenever she got the chance, regardless of how Eleanor felt about it. As long as she completed her lessons and tried to be a good stepdaughter inside the manor, she felt like it wasn’t the worst thing in the world if she let her hair down on the privacy of the manor grounds.
Oftentimes, they went out riding together with all their younger siblings. Margareta and Genevieve would go along at a sensible pace, but eventually Alasdair and Serefina would grow bored with this and race on ahead. Juliet, one of the free spirits of the family, often wound up riding hard after them with Lenora riding right behind her to make sure she didn’t hurt herself.

(hide spoiler)]

Part Three

History cont'd: (view spoiler)[
Their neighbors, the Cranesley children, also joined them frequently on their rides. The eldest Cranesley sister usually declined, but Cyrus and Cecilia could be relied upon to take long treks with them.
Margareta was the most extravagant of the siblings. She loved spending a pretty penny on the finest things she could get her hands on and would never allow herself to look drab in any kind of fashion. She was also the most social and outgoing, and she quickly took what probably should have been Sera’s place in the social hierarchy. She was the center of many social circles, the origin of much gossip, the beginning of almost every trend, and the final word in most disputes. No one could deny she had the most social influence out of all the siblings, and she was the clear frontrunner to take on their mother’s many charities and projects when she was unable to continue them. In spite of their obvious differences, Serefina still looked out for and loved her. They often argued over what Sera thought were meaningless things like protocol and social obligations, but in the end, they were still sisters. It hadn’t always been that way, though. Once, Margareta had been unable to stop the gossip about her older sister, and Serefina was devastated that her own sister hadn’t defended her, though she said nothing of it and decided to let Margareta think she wasn’t aware of what was going on behind her back. But though she was deeply hurt that no one – not even her own sister – had stood up for her, she would not let Cyrus’s younger sister, Cecilia, make up unflattering things about her sister. And she said so, quite heatedly, to Cecilia and her entire group of friends at a party. When Margareta saw what happened, she felt guilt prick at her heart. After the party, she went to thank her sister at home, but Serefina, who was still furious over what Cecilia had dared to say, let out all the hurt she’d been bottling up at Margareta. The two of them had it out for a good while, but in the end, Sera felt badly about how she’d lost her temper at her own sister and struck a truce. The two of them would stick up for each other and forget everything else that had happened.
The next sister was Genevieve, and though she didn’t have as dominant a personality as Margareta, she still had her own friends and her own place in the social hierarchy. She was sweeter and kinder than Margareta, but she wasn’t afraid to be in the limelight like Sera was. Of all the sisters, she was the most talented dancer and enjoyed putting her gifts to good use in front of an audience. While she was too ladylike to admit it, she thrived on the attention. She and Sera got along fairly well for the most part, especially since Serefina was more than happy to have everyone’s attention on her siblings rather than herself.
After Genevieve, came Lenora and lastly, Juliet. Lenora couldn’t stand to be alone and was always to be found with a friend or one of the sisters. She was naturally very caring and motherly, so she was often chasing after free-spirited Juliet, trying to make sure the youngest sister didn’t get into any trouble or hurt herself. Both Lenora and Juliet had circles of friends and no shortage of admirers, like their older sisters. However, being younger, they were much more naïve and childish in many respects. Juliet was forever feigning interest in her many suitors, in awe of the attention she got as one of the prettier sisters, and Lenora seemed to fall hard for all the wrong types, too desperate to find her eternal love to realize that she had a long time yet before she would be ready.
One of Sera’s good friends was the son of an old family friend. The Hetheringtons and the Cranesley family had been friends for several generations, and their eldest son, Cyrus, was close in age to Alasdair and Serefina. The three of them were tight-knit friends and often found themselves thrown together at most every opportunity. What they didn’t know was that much of that had been orchestrated by their parents. There had never been a more perfect chance to unite the two families before now, and they hoped that Cyrus and Alasdair and Sera would become loyal friends.
After years of close friendship, Sera sensed a change. Cyrus started to withdraw, and she saw less and less of him, except at school or at parties Eleanor forced her to go to. She had a feeling that Alasdair knew what was going on, but she decided not to ask. She didn’t want to know. After years spent on failed friendships, this wasn’t anything she wasn’t already accustomed to. She had hoped that Cyrus would be different from her other friends and that finally she’d made a friend who would want to stick around, but evidently that was not to be. Her astonishment when Cyrus asked her out months later was unparalleled. They dated all through her last year of high school, and when she was close to graduation, Cyrus proposed.
She accepted, delighted that she would be marrying one of her best friends. It was hard to imagine anything better. No one had ever expressed any genuine interest in her before Cyrus. Historically, her suitors had been more interested in her future inheritance or one of her other sisters than they were in her. Although she had plenty of experience in helping others with their relationships, she didn’t exactly know what to do, so she tried her best to be nice and attentive and sweet and all the other things a fiancée was supposed to be. They only had to wait a few more months until Cyrus’s birthday, but evidently, that was too long of a wait for him. They were in Serefina’s living room alone when she felt something was off with him. He tried to corner her, but luckily she was able to escape and fled outside into the garden. He pursued her, angry that she had gotten away from him, and when he caught up with her, he tackled her. She twisted in an attempt to get away but only succeeded in hitting the corner of her forehead on the stone path as she fell. Suddenly, Cyrus was pulled off her, and she was barely conscious enough to realize that Alasdair, her forever loyal protector, had come to her rescue. She was too weak and too much in shock to move or say anything, so she merely watched in silence as Alasdair chased Cyrus away. The only thing that saved Cyrus’s life was Juliet’s shriek from the patio when she exited the house in search of Sera. The entire household was alerted by her scream, and Sera and Cyrus’s fathers had to pull Alasdair and Cyrus apart. After that, the engagement was broken off, and the Cranesleys shunned them, blaming Sera and Alasdair for the entire affair. Alasdair said good riddance to that. Anyone who would cause his little sister to be bruised and covered in blood was complete rubbish in his book. It took a long time for Sera to come to terms with the whole ordeal, and in some ways, she never truly got over the betrayal. Gossip abounded for a long time, but Alasdair and her sisters did everything they could to support her. In the end, things got back to normal as much as they could, and a year later, Serefina felt more like her normal self than she had in a long time. In that year, she stayed home mostly, learning how to tend to the gardens that she had spent hours upon hours sketching and painting. She planted rosebushes and lupines and orchids and tulips and all her favorite flowers, and in a way, it was therapeutic for her that something pretty could grow from her misery and trauma. Alasdair, her honorable albeit hotheaded protector, stayed up every night in which she could not sleep and woke her from every nightmare when he heard her whimpering or crying in her sleep in the next room. He gave her a little, white kitten as a gift, and she named him Snowball, refusing to go anywhere inside the manor or on its grounds without her fluffy companion.
For a few years, no one would touch her. The Cranesleys had done a superb job of alienating her from the rest of their social circle after her engagement ended, and no one wanted the scandal or the risk of offending the Cranesleys, who were wealthier and more influential than the Nightingales and Hetheringtons. Very few knew what had truly happened to end the engagement, and the story the Cranesleys had told was something along the lines of her being unfaithful. Sera had hardly bothered to fight their narrative. For one thing, she had been too in shock to care, and for another, she didn’t really mind being considered untouchable. She had never enjoyed the spotlight, and all the suitors that she had once had to deal with being only interested in her inheritance or one of her prettier sisters had gotten nearly unbearable anyway. If it came down to it, she was perfectly content to stick to her garden and her paintings and writings and embroidery. Maybe she would simply spend her time collecting lots more hobbies and not have to be bothered by people she didn’t care for. Of course, her family was never a bother to her, but she couldn’t say the same for anyone else. All in all, she wasn’t too worried about the next several years. With her sisters around to cheer her up when she felt down and plenty of hobbies to keep her occupied, she felt like she would be okay at least.
When her father passed away, it was a harsh blow. She had leaned on him for support and guidance all throughout her life, and to have him gone with no warning was difficult beyond words. Just before, she thought she might be ready to take her place in the world again, but her father’s death shocked that notion out of her. It set her back years, and though she knew Alasdair was concerned for her, she didn’t know what to do about it.
When her brother suggested they join the colonization project, she initially thought he was insane, but after thinking it over more carefully, she realized it conveniently solved several of their problems. It offered an escape from this place that had taken her father, had ended her golden years, had reduced her to so little. Wishwood House did not give; it only took. It seemed like now was as good a time as any to leave, and so they did. Sera said her goodbyes, and off they went to their new lives, starting afresh once more.
(hide spoiler)]

Other:

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬
・・・・・・・・・
-ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖: Omayma
-𝕍𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕣 ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖: TBD
-𝕋𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕝 ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖: TBD
-ℕ𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣: #021
-𝔸𝕘𝕖: 17
-𝕊𝕖𝕩 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣: she/her (straight)
── .✦
𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
-ℍ𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥: 5'4
-ℍ𝕒𝕚𝕣: long black
-𝔼𝕪𝕖𝕤: brown
-𝔹𝕠𝕕𝕪 𝕋𝕪𝕡𝕖: skin
-𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕟 ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕣: light tan
-𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: none
-𝔸𝕕𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝: none
── .✦
𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨
・・・・・・・・
-ℙ𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: kind, funny, lots of energy, playful
-𝕃𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕤:
╰┈➤ books
╰┈➤ making friends
╰┈➤ animals
-𝔻𝕚𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕤:
╰┈➤ rude people
╰┈➤ being scared
╰┈➤ getting hurt
-𝕎𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕤: TBD
-𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕙𝕤: TBD
-ℝ𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡𝕤: Mother, Father, 2 older brothers, an ex
-ℍ𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪: (view spoiler)[ #021 lived with her family happily as the youngest in a small town until one day everything was ruined. Her boyfriend betrayed and ruined her, and she had to run. While running, she got into an accident and was hit hard in the head. When she was in the hospital, her parents came to visit her, begging her to come back, but there was one problem: she couldn't remember anything. Her parents decided to take her back and tried to help her remember, eventually working and remembering everything. Once she remembered, she wanted to leave again, but her parents and family wouldn't let her go and trapped her in the house, never to be let out until one day she did find a way out and then disappeared. (hide spoiler)]
── .✦
𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
・・・・・・・・
-ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖:
╰┈➤ℍ𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥:
╰┈➤ℍ𝕒𝕚𝕣:
╰┈➤𝔼𝕪𝕖𝕤:
╰┈➤𝔹𝕠𝕕𝕪 𝕋𝕪𝕡𝕖:
╰┈➤𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕟 ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕣:
╰┈➤𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤:
╰┈➤𝔸𝕕𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝:
-𝔸𝕓𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤:
── .✦
𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬
・・・・・・・
-𝕎𝕖𝕒𝕡𝕠𝕟𝕤: A dagger and bow, and arrow
-𝔸𝕣𝕞𝕠𝕣: Light
-𝕋𝕠𝕠𝕝𝕤: none
-𝔹𝕚𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤: TBD
── .✦
~Template created by Melody~

Name: Halley Edmonton Niles Flynn Henry
Nicknames: Hal

Identification Number: #014
Trial Name: TBD
Valor Name: TBD

Age: 17
Gender: Male

Appearance: (view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]
Halley has a head of unruly, black-brown curls that always seems to be in need of a trim, and dull, gray-blue eyes. He's incredibly pale, though whether it's his natural complexion or simply from sleep deprivation, it's impossible to know. He's shorter than average, about 5'8, though his poor posture makes him appear even shorter.

Personality: Halley is quite the loner. He never seeks out someone to start a conversation with, preferring to do everything by himself. However, he won't ignore anyone who addresses him. His social skills are lacking, and he often manages to irritate or offend others with his awkward and blunt responses.
He's very stubborn and difficult, fully subscribing to the "do it yourself if you want it done right" philosophy. He almost always refuses help, unless he really needs it, and can get angry if people interfere with his work. Fortunately, he doesn't hold grudges for long.
Halley loves a clever joke, and has a very dry, sarcastic sense of humor that most people miss since he doesn't laugh. Unfortunately, he doesn't find most people to be very clever at all. Rather, he believes others are predictable and unsurprising. He's very observant, and has been surrounded by self-centered people for most of his life, which has molded him into quite the cynic. Halley believes everyone is out for their own personal gain, and it can take a long time for him to trust anyone.
Halley is very smart, and quite the visual learner. Once he watches someone complete a task, he can easily replicate it himself. He can acquire new skills quickly as long as he can watch a demonstration, though he is hopeless with written or audial instructions.
He's at his happiest when he can be independent, curled up with an astronomy textbook or star map. He loves to read and learn new things, and is always on the lookout for his next project.

Strengths:

Halley is very intelligent and observant. He pays close attention to body language and the interactions of other people, although he pretends not to.

He has an excellent memory, especially when it comes to astronomy. He can recite any definition, and even has the dates of future eclipses and comet appearances memorized, especially Halley's comet (his namesake).

He's a great cook, equestrian, and gardener.

Weaknesses:

Halley has horrible social skills. He's incredibly cynical, and thinks that people are all the same. When it comes to communicating, he has no idea what to say. Usually, he's so awkward that others give up trying to converse with him.

He is not a helpful or selfless person at all. He thinks people should be able to fend for themselves, and never goes out of his way to do something for someone else. Similarly, he hates accepting help.

He is terrified of cars and will not drive them, much less ride in one.

Family:

Parents: Arthur and Elizabeth Niles
Siblings: Hannah, Olivia, Tom, Baxter, Benjamin, Aspen, Alexander, Ethel, Catrina
Adopted parents: Sebastian and Angela Flynn
Adopted parents 2.0: Senator Patrick Henry III and Tiffany Henry
Adopted siblings: Patrick Henry IV, Virginia Henry

History: (view spoiler)[Halley Edmonton Niles was born to Arthur and Elizabeth Niles on November 9th, their eighth child. Attention from his parents was scarce, as he had an abundance of competition from his many siblings, and his parents' demanding jobs. His father was a developer, and his mother was a lawyer, so he was mainly raised by nannies and older siblings for the earliest years of his life. He formed a strong attachment to his snarky scoundrel of an older brother, Tom, and followed him everywhere. His older sisters, Hannah and Olivia, joked that Halley was Tom's shadow. Tom clearly voiced that didn't appreciate the constant company, but his actions said otherwise. He always made sure Halley was happy, healthy, and comfortable, and spent hours reading to him or watching movies with him.
All that changed when Halley turned four. His parents and elder sisters died in a tragic car accident, and the children were placed in the care of the foster system. Halley had always been quiet, but after his parents died he refused to speak. Foster parents pressured him to use his words, forced him to attend speech therapies, took him to various specialists for a diagnosis, until they gave up and passed him on to the next foster family. He was also diagnosed with narcolepsy at age seven, which was a further deterrent for families to keep him.
As he grew older, the foster parents grew worse. He was no longer perceived as cute and sweet, but as stubborn and disrespectful for refusing to talk. Some families were out for the money that the state gave them for fostering him, and used him as their personal housekeeper. He quickly learned how to clean, cook, and fend for himself. Eventually, after he was removed from the home of one particularly abusive foster family, he fell into the care of Sebastian and Angela Flynn. They fostered him with the intention of adopting him and loving on him as much as they could. They never pushed him to talk, never required him to do chores, and spoiled him relentlessly. They bought him any book he expressed interest in, took him to any city he wanted to visit, and even gifted him a small litter of kittens for his thirteenth birthday. He named them Edwin and Hubble, after his favorite astronomer. Angela even quit her job in order to homeschool him, to help accommodate his narcolepsy better. Although everyone else had written him off as dumb for not speaking, she believed he was more intelligent than he let on. She educated him on a variety of subjects, but especially focused on astronomy since she knew that was his favorite. After a few months of living with them, he began speaking. He rarely spoke to any strangers, but with his adopted parents he turned into a complete chatterbox. By his fourteenth birthday, the adoption had been finalized and he officially became Halley Flynn. The family celebrated by vacationing in Europe for the summer, and even visited Japan for a week at the end of their trip. Their flight back to Bar Harbor, Maine landed on a late August night. On the drive home from the airport, an intoxicated driver hit their car head-on, and Sebastian and Angela Flynn died from extensive injuries. Halley walked away mostly unharmed, with only a few broken bones. However, he stopped speaking again, and began refusing to get into any moving vehicle.
A new foster family took him in, his foster father being a Montana senator up for re-election. Halley suspected that the only reason the family wanted him was for publicity. They required him to attend many campaign events, along with their children, Patrick IV and Virginia. Neither child got along with him. Patrick often teased him and belittled him, saying that Halley was dull. Virginia just ignored him entirely. She thought having a foster brother was embarrassing, and often demanded that he hide in his room when she invited her friends over.
When he wasn't required to pretend that his foster parents were loving, charitable, and wonderful in front of the state of Montana, he spent time in his room, at the library, or on the back of one of the Henry's many horses. He'd thankfully been able to keep his two kittens, along with a plethora of astronomy books that the Flynns had bought for him. He flipped through the books almost daily, Edwin and Hubble usually located on his lap. The rest of the time he spent outdoors, caring for the horses or learning how to grow plants from the groundskeepers. During the school year, he attended an elitist private school with Patrick IV and Virginia. He despised it. He wasn't used to going to school for hours every day, much less being surrounded by the other uppity snobs in his grade. He studied alongside the children of politicians, professional athletes, and celebrities, feeling seriously out of place. Although both the Niles and the Flynns were wealthy, he was unused to the culture. He'd spent most of his life without that wealth, and didn't understand how the other children could be so ignorant and careless. They teased him relentlessly, making fun of the way he dressed or acted. They even tried to pull pranks on him if he ever fell asleep at school, exploiting his narcolepsy for their own entertainment. Halley never made a friend there. Instead, he kept to himself and focused on his homework, which was always without error. His foster parents, Patrick Henry III and Tiffany Henry, finalized the adoption, and shortly after his father was re-elected as senator of Montana. They no longer required him to participate in anything, and eventually seemed to forget about him entirely. When the colonization project was announced, his parents signed him up for it without even bothering to consult him. However, he was grateful to get away from them and be on his own, no matter the cost. He found a loving family for Edwin and Hubble, not trusting the Henrys to take care of them while he was gone, and off he went. (hide spoiler)]

Other: He has narcolepsy, though it only affects him if he gets too happy or too angry.