Post by Squee on Dec 9, 2012 16:47:29 GMT -5
Eighth Character: Dutch
"Place a kiss on my cheekbone
Then you vanish me
I'm buried in the snow
But lovers hold on to everything
And lovers hold on to anything"
~Figure 8 by Ellie Golding
"Place a kiss on my cheekbone
Then you vanish me
I'm buried in the snow
But lovers hold on to everything
And lovers hold on to anything"
~Figure 8 by Ellie Golding
Name: Anisa Inez Gaspar deVisio
Race: Human - Humani Subculture
Age: 33
Height: 5’11
Weight: 154
Hair color: Black
Eye color: Brown
Birth place: Inez House Vessel Esperanza, Nomadic Humani Fleet, Corellia Space
Appearance:
Anisa firstly has a deep olive complexion. This skin is often decorated with ever changing temporary tattoos that she applies herself. These “tattoos” often consist of swirls and spirals of flowers, or the occasional Duinuogwuin snaked down her entire arm-length. These are not just restricted to her arms. While they aren’t seen much, these tattoos are scrawled over her chest and around her stomach, as well as creeping up her neck and onto her face. Usually, however, she leaves one side of her face untouched.
She also has a thing for highlighting the area of her eyes a color matching her clothing, which tends to be very vibrant in itself. Rich blues, purples, and reds are her usual colors of choice. Wide pants, with spaced stitching down the sides swish with the extended tail of her top. Her sleeves are wide, and only reach to about her elbows. Guards, either leather or cloth, are sometimes worn, and are especially worn during a duel. A low riding leather belt, adorned with Humani artwork, holds her thin, beloved sword which has helped her survive many duels.
Dark, rich brown eyes are framed by extended, long black eyebrows. Her black hair topples to about the middle of her back, and she usually keeps it bound to one side, over her shoulder, though she changes it occasionally. She has maroon lips, and a sharp nose with a scar slicing vertically from the corner onto her forehead. Anisa has a similar, slashed scar across her jawline that took out part of her ear, as well yet another on her neck. There are other, still similar yet scars across her back, stomach, chest, and thighs. One of her scars is actually a puncture, where her opponent’s sword punched through the muscle on her thigh. To this day, the wound still occasionally bothers her, making her limp sometimes.
One other thing remains constant: the presence of Nadira, her tame corellian sand panther. Nadira tends to walk in step with Anisa, soundless, and imposing until Anisa demonstrates how nice the sand panther actually is. The panther, however, can become largely aggressive on Anisa’s command.
Personality:
There’s a reason that she’s currently a storyteller. Anisa is an adventurer from the tips of her toes to the very ends of her hair. She’s been there, done that, just because, because it sounded like a good idea, or she has absolutely no clue. Her favorite phrases tend to be along the lines of “Kid, you haven’t done a thing yet.”
Anisa is addicted to adrenaline, therefore subject to dare devilish deeds and whims. Jump out of an aircraft? No big. Swoop race? Let’s give it a go. She finds there’s nothing better than losing sense to everything except how excited she is and the giddiness that comes with it. She’s in it for the thrills, the laughter, and the makings of a great story that she might tell her kids, if she ever gets around to having them. However, that doesn’t seem to be an excitement she’s so willing to embrace quite yet.
An attention connoisseur. Anisa has spent a great portion of her life being an inspiration and celebrity. As a result, being at center of attention is one of her favorite places to be. She knows how to put on a show and she knows how to hold onto the attention of those focused on her.
She’s inspired by noble stories and trinkets of little value. Her personal quarters usually have scrapings of things – a line of sparkling ribbon, a container of dried flower petals, a broken necklace, a handheld, broken mirror, and so on. Her favorite tales, besides comedic ones, to tell are often about other people, or herself, who’ve survived or conquered some great feat.
A bold and enthusiastic woman, Anisa won’t back down from a dare and she’ll almost always accept challenges. The only challenge she denied was playing roulette with a slug-thrower pistol. The drunker she gets, the bolder she becomes, as people tend to, though she surprisingly doesn’t regret many of her drunken actions.
Profession: Storyteller and Alhena artist (previously an arena duelist and dancer)
Skills:
Master single sword duelist
Expert dual sword
Advanced dancer
Animal training
Artistically inclined – sketches, paintings, henna
Ships/Vehicles:
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 7
Leadership: 2
Unarmed: 1
Melee Weapons: 8
Ranged Weapons: 0
Bio:
The Sketch
Adelina Inez Solas deVisio and Fausto Inez Gaspar deVisio were not young when Anisa was born. Adelina had just hit thirty-one years of age, while Fausto was creeping on thirty-five. She would be the fourth and last addition, however, welcomed by both her parents and older brother of four years, Alejo.
As an artistic family, work was usually done in silence or softly played music. Anisa’s father was a metal and wood worker of sorts. Fausto could be found hunched over soft metals or pieces of wood, shaping and carving pieces to his liking. Adelina crafted jewelry, sometimes working with her husband to make metal pieces. And so far in his young life, Alejo displayed a liking for paints and enjoyed it when his older Solas cousins, who lived with the Inez family, took to dancing.
Anisa shattered the artistic quietness. She woke her parents in the middle of sleep, or squealed horrendously loud when things seemed too quiet. Alejo once stuffed a handkerchief in her mouth when she was just a toddler. When she could crawl, she was underfoot, tripping up her cousins when they tried to dance. When Anisa was strong enough to pull herself into a stand, she ripped Alejo’s drawings off his walls and knocked over his paints. She ran everywhere, often squealing, through the ship when she learned she could. When she learned how to open doors, everyone had to take to locking the refresher door because she would interrupt showers and other bathroom business.
She was loud and rowdy, hardly like an Inez. Anisa wasn’t content in staying in once spot for more than a couple of minutes. She had to be a part of things. She wanted to dance with her cousins, or help (ruin) Alejo with his paintings. If not watched in the cockpit, she would pressed every button, or stick her fingers where she could shock herself.
At five, Anisa became quieter, but she bustled with energy. Her Solas cousins tried tiring her out by dancing her in circles, and Anisa usually got Alejo to chase her down by snatching one of his paintings. No amount of stern yelling could break her of stealing her brother’s things. Every day, the bright-eyed girl could be seen, breathless and red-cheeked, bolting from one place or another, and “Fote! Anisa! Your mare and pare will hear of this!” being called after her.
As destiny would have it, another individual boarded the Esperanza to study under her Gaspar uncle, Bonagat. He was a young boy by the name of Lalo Rios Acosta deVela, who knew nothing beyond warnings of Anisa’s manners, and therefore became prey. However, he too learned to lock the refresher door and to hoard his tattoo sketches in places she couldn’t find.
During the next years, as Anisa matured, she became yet a little more controllable. She could sit in one place long enough to doodle some child-ish sketches. Some showed promise of artistic ability, and her parents were finally relieved that maybe she would turn out to be an Inez after all. At the same time, however, they moved Anisa to a different level of the ship for her anys ombre, or shadow years. Anisa spent more time with her relatives from Adelina’s side of the family, the Cirino Solas deVisios. Particularly, she spent time with her married in aunt, Evita Cirinio Acanaba deFe, who claimed her family’s lineage, going back, studied and championed in swordsmanship.
It was Evita, and the woman’s hard, cold discipline, that got Anisa to really buckle down and focus. Thrusting a rapier in the young girl’s hands and drilling her, Evita seemed to be the only one to curtail Anisa’s energy. Of course, Anisa carried on with her pranks and other troublesome acts, but they became fewer in between, so that they were surprises now.
Bolding the Outlines
The close proximity of the deVisio clans and families on the large Esperanza meant they could still get together for gatherings, and they did often. Anisa got the chance to practice the dances she was learning from her Solas cousins, as well as show off her sketches of swirls and flowers, and display her growing understanding of swordsmanship. It was also during these times that Anisa got to know Lalo a bit better. She knew he was a good dancer, that he was older, but not a great artist.
The poor boy. He was usually the target of most of Anisa’s pranks, since Alejo had gone off with family friends for his apprenticeship. Despite the tricks she played on him, Lalo never seemed to stay angry for too long. Maybe that was because she still “fixed” his tattoo designs when he wasn’t looking. After all, she was an Inez and therefore a far better artist. By the time she was ten, though, Anisa would often ask permission before touching his designs. Occasionally, though, she still did not.
It was at the next Junta that Anisa learned she was to go with the Acosta family for her apprenticeship. Her father and mother sent her off with some art supplies and some instructions to keep improving, but the expectation was for her to continue learning to dance. She was eleven at the time, and she spent her shuttle ride talking to that Lalo boy. He was all sorts of excited to be returning home with his family. He was a nice boy, and kind of funny. She almost felt bad for all the jokes she played on him. Almost.
The Acosta family, as Anisa learned, was a loud family, the complete opposite of the Inez’s. The Carino’s had been louder than the Inez, but the Acosta family thrived on music, singing, dancing, and performance overall. At first, Anisa felt sort of awkward with her voice joining the pot, just one of many instead of being the only one to speak bold words. By displaying some of his designs she had reworked on her own paper and adding to the joke about Lalo’s “drawing skills”, Anisa managed to fit in. However, though, Lalo’s dancing stomped all over Anisa’s meager skill.
It wasn’t long after being integrated into the Rios family that Lalo was supposed to leave again. Briefly, Anisa felt a sort of panic. Lalo was the only person she was family with, having seen him around the Esperanza for so many years. If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t have fitted in with his sisters. She was, after all, two years younger and an attention seeker (though Anisa didn’t really know that). But he was only moving a couple of levels and he promised her he’d come visit his friend. Camilla and Carina, Lalo’s sisters, also departed for their apprenticeships.
And once the Rios triplets were gone, Lalo’s parents, Pasha and Lalita Rios, focused their attention onto the young girl entrusted to them. Anisa could often be found with Lalita, who spent time prodding to discover what other talents were hidden in the Inez girl. She wasn’t a singer, it was found out. No one could fix that awful pitch. Nor did any beautiful sound play when Anisa tried to play an instrument. Well, if Anisa put her heart and soul into an instrument, then perhaps she could play. The fact of the matter was Anisa didn’t care for instruments.
However, Lalita found Anisa had a thing for words. Singing may not have been in the girl’s future, but poetry writing was. Not only could Anisa think up poems, but she could draw pictures to go with her words. She made up stories, too, in prose rather than poetry. Early on, Anisa was drawn to stories with dashing heroic figures and drac d’espai, or Duinuogwuin, and would make them up when encouraged to.
And while this talent was being slowly uncovered, Lalita taught Anisa the feminine roles in many of their dances. The Inez girl was good, graceful and sturdy on her feet due to her brief swordsmanship training. Pasha helped Anisa, who was such a strong willed girl, learn what it was to be led in a dance. It wasn’t the same as sword practice, and not quite as thrilling or as much fun, Anisa thought. But it would do.
Lalo, as promised, would come visit Anisa. While they were still in their young teenage years, they got in trouble for pranks. Somehow, Lalo transferred from being a victim to being a partner in crime. Though the consequences were more severe, Anisa still couldn’t get over the thrill of running away from probable danger. Having Lalo there right beside her made it even more exciting, because if he was caught, she was also caught.
When they weren’t pulling off some stunt, Lalo was her dance partner. Between Lalita and Lalo, as the apprentice years ticked by, Anisa’s ability to dance and perform increased. While it had been unsteady and awkward at first, within a year, she and Lalo were fluid. And within another year, Anisa was comfortable and utterly trusting for Lalo to catch her. She’d found the thrill of dancing as well: the breathlessness after excelling a routine, the multiple spins, the sudden drops, being lifted, and the closeness of an exceedingly cute boy. Any opportunity or excuse to dance with Lalo was met with eagerness and excitement. If it was in front of his family members, Anisa knew they were impressive together and could chase off any competition but Pasha and Lalita.
Dance practice by themselves, however, ceased being a chore long ago. After the past couple/few years, practice was the heart throb of throbs. She got to be close to Lalo. But it wasn’t just close, either, it was breathless and sweaty, and sometimes he’d take off his shirt.
Once, just once, Anisa thought he finally might kiss her as they stood nose to nose with breath huffing out. If he hadn’t moved away when he did, Anisa might have kissed him herself.
Marking the Shading Spots
Occasionally, Anisa would have a contact with her parents via holo. They contacted her when her brother returned from his own apprenticeship, who could apparently paint anything he saw in his head by now. Her parents were quite proud of Alejo, who was trying to put his name out there. Alejo, soft spoken and as reclusive as ever, never spent much time on call with his little sister.
Anisa, though she loved Alejo, was jealous of her brother’s obvious talent and the attention he was receiving because of it. Between her own motivation and her parents’ prodding, the teenager kept up with what little talent she possessed. That little talent, however, was filled with fantastic flowers from all sections of the galaxy, as well as some Anisa dreamed from her imagination. From those flowers were dizzying spirals and elongated, varied lines of thickness. She would fill in entire sheets of flimsy with ridiculous amounts of detailed fill-ins of swirls, loops, and lines.
At fifteen, a surprise was revealed to her. A pleasant one, at that, but one Anisa hadn’t been expecting. Of course, the Acosta and Gaspar houses were friendly with each other as back as time could tell, but she hadn’t expected an arranged marriage to come out of it. At least, not in her generation. Anisa found she couldn’t be too angry with the arrangement; she was rather taken by the Lalo boy even if she was still young.
To a fifteen year old, having a handsome young man dash up and profess his love means everything to her. With Lalo receiving his first tattoo, symbolizing his declaration of pursuit, the inevitable marriage just seemed so right.
The next couple of years passed by quickly for Anisa. Lalo’s apprenticeship had drawn to a close and Anisa’s was on the verge of completion. The drawing, the dancing, the storytelling… Everything interlaced with Lalo. If one wanted to find Anisa, they looked for Lalo too. If one needed Lalo, all they had to find was Anisa. However, if the two didn’t want to be found, seeking them Any of Anisa’s spare attention was spent on Lalo, completely drawn to him. Dancing together at the family gatherings was exciting, but filching that abandoned bottle of wine and scampering off with Lalo was exhilarating. By themselves, dancing would turn into wine flavored kisses and deep intimacy. These little events, like so many others, led to her staying the night wrapped up in Lalo’s arms. It was common practice for the duo, as they had no clue if Anisa would have to return to her family or if she’d remain with the Rios family.
As it turned out, the completion of her apprenticeship was during the year of a Junta. She would be delivered back to her family, it was decided, until a formal arrangement for Anisa and Lalo’s wedding was made. Anisa, while ready to see, hug, and kiss each other her family members, knew she wouldn’t be able to return to the quietness the Inezes demanded for artistic work for very long without feeling like an alien in her own family. The Rioses were a loud and fun-loving bunch, one that Anisa felt comfortable being around and wanted to stay around.
Bold as ever, Anisa went to Lalo and told him she wanted to be “stolen” as soon as possible, if it could be done. He just smiled charmingly, kissed her forehead, and told her he had planned to during the Junta. The two made their plans on where to meet at what time, all grins and excitement. It was decided, though Lalo was scheduled to make a sudden delivery that would delay him slightly. Before he left, Anisa wrapped him fingers around gold ring with a single red gemstone, a token passed from woman to man in Anisa’s family for generations.
On the day Lalo was supposed to arrive at the Junta, Anisa went to their selected spot at the designated time to wait for him. Anisa waited. And she waited. And waited. And waited a while longer. Anisa’s family and the Rioses found the girl, curled in a ball with worry.
She returned each day that the Junta lasted. Same spot. Same time. And she waited. She paced, she chewed down her nails, she drew swirling pictures, but she waited. But he never came. Lalo’s family asked her if Anisa knew where he was, but she didn’t. The Junta ended, and Anisa followed her mare and pare and Alejo onto the Esperanza without a word from Lalo. For days afterward, Anisa contacted the Rios’ family ship, asking Pasha and/or Lalita if they’d heard from Lalo.
Alejo, one day listening in, told his little sister to give up because it was obvious the man had run away. Anisa screamed and threw things at her brother until he left. Her bedroom door remained locked for days while she buried her face in pillows and blankets, shrieking and sobbing her heartache, becoming severely dehydrated and sore of throat. Adelina did her best to comfort her daughter, also believing the same conclusion as Alejo: the arranged marriage had just fallen apart.
Anisa began to deny it. The words “Lalo wouldn’t do that. He loved me” became her favorites to use. It didn’t make sense to the young woman. After everything, after the dancing, kisses, pranks, nights together, and the planning, it simply didn’t make sense for Lalo to run away from their marriage. Something bad must have happened. The emptiness of news reporting on his whereabouts only made Anisa believe all the stronger something horrible must have happened. He wouldn’t run away. He had to have died. While the thought of Lalo dead brought a new kind of pain, it was not as cruel to Anisa’s heart as Lalo abandoning her. At least, this way, he had still loved her.
The next couple of years were ponderous and depressing for the majority of the time. For several months, Anisa couldn’t bring herself to dance, and instead focused her effort on the dueling. Coming out of hiding, she returned to her aunt Evita to pick up dueling again. Some time passed, however, and Anisa found a certain solace dancing solo, though occasionally she would sit and cry on her bed afterward.
Anisa also managed to perfect a portrait of Lalo in her special style of swirling art. The finishing touches went on while she sat in the cockpit of the Esperanza, watching the stars glitter in the distance beyond the watery planet they orbited. She cried again, missing him terribly, and then took up the portrait between her two thumbs and forefingers. “Meu cor es teu, Lalo,” she whispered to those stars before closing her eyes and ripping the portrait in half. Anisa knew she would never heal if she had a constant, physical reminder of his face. It was better if he stayed in mind.
Shade the Obvious Places First
Some of Anisa’s drawings were lifted from her uncle, Bonagat, who translated them into proper tattoos. He would give her a cut of the payment for providing the designs. With that money, Anisa purchased some alhena from another Humani ship they passed and set to work creating her own kind of tattoos. It quickly became a rare sight to see Anisa’s arms and legs bare, because she covered them completely in her lines, dots, and swirls, flowers, stars, eyes, drac d’espai, and other creatures. The tattoos were temporary, washing out every three or four weeks if Anisa used the best stuff.
Bonagat offered Anisa a spot working beside him. Anisa work as a alhena artist, earning her commissions, selling her side stuff, and saving her money. She didn’t know what she was going to do with the credits she saved, but she knew she would do something with it.
When Anisa turned twenty, she finally knew what she was going to do. Her parents seemed undecided about whether or not they liked their little girl saying she wanted to be dropped off at the next best planet. Not only that, but she wanted to leave on a specific date: the day Lalo had disappeared. Anisa tidied her living space, which was usually a chaotic disaster, and packed her bags. Exactly two years after Lalo’s disappearance, Anisa took her first steps on the attractive tourist planet, Woostri.
Without wasting much time, Anisa began scouring for a decent job, which lead her to auditioning for dancing positions at several live performance theaters. The Humani cultural dances, she was told, were gorgeous and she performed excellently, but many of her would-be employers didn’t hire her for fear of bringing too much difference.
One Woostoid by the name of Garen finally cut her a break, absolutely excited over her ability to dance solo and her willingness to share her people’s culture through her dancing. Anisa willingly agreed to working in dance groups, learning different dances, and teaching (the best she could) her dances to other people.
However, she proved to be a great student but a frustrating teacher. Her fellow dancers liked to teach her other dances, but they dreaded the times Anisa taught them. For her, they never seemed strong enough, graceful enough, and their experience with other dances collided with the dances she was trying to teach. Anisa realized, after some weeks and a couple of blunt co-workers, she was the same to the others.
The dance company did perform often, usually as a group. Several times, Anisa was told to perform solo, using as much cultural choreography as possible (which was difficult at first and slowly became easier the more she did it). As soon as she had a trained male counterpart, they performed as a duo. It was, of course, similar to dancing with Lalo, but the man was simply not as well versed.
Anisa’s artistic talents became appreciated among the female dancers as she learned to apply make-up. She even helped come up with an artistic representation of some of their acts, focusing mainly on the face and colors. Glitter, diamonds, feathers, and paints became part of her arsenal, finding their way onto paper to become part of Anisa’s artistic identity. Alhena became a favorite hobby of Anisa and her closest girlfriends, though they often had to cover it up with make-up or clothing.
Anisa remained part of the dance team for about five years. During that time, her dance company became fairly popular, performing publically and occasionally privately for some royal family or another. A private party function hired a few dancers for entertainment, for which Anisa was selected for by her manager.
The dancers were treated decently, allowed to partake of the party refreshments as often as they wanted as long as they could dance when expected to. Anisa made herself quite comfortable in a rowdy group of people, three-quarters of the crowd being men. She chatted and flirted and performed little solos when asked of her. After the main dance event was completed and the dancers mingled for the rest of the night, she got some of those men to buy her drinks.
A good majority of the people were duelists, and this was some kind of vacation convention between friendly teams and individuals. Anisa chatted happily with some people referring to style and technique, until one person started to tease her.
Anisa ended up losing that short duel, however, and with a couple of slices sure to drive her manager frantic over her physical health. Her demonstration, despite losing, gained her the support of several other duelists: she did, indeed, know how to handle a sword.
One man, who introduced himself as Rodrige, a Korun man, was a trainer and recruiter for his dueling team hailing from Corellia. He complimented her on her stance and form, and then went on to say that the sword was wrong. Anisa only nodded, saying it was the only thing on hand. Rodrige prodded into her previous training, who her teacher was, how long, and those sorts of things. She’d been rough from being out of practice for a long while, but the intermediate steps were still with her.
He began to explain that his team was down a man since one of them had retired. He was looking for a replacement, and, even if she was a little rusty, but that could be fixed. He trained, after all, and if she was looking for a change in career, the offer was open. Then the night devolved into chitchat and sweet wine, and ended with Rodrige handing her a contact number. If she wanted to leave with them, she had a few days until their vacation ended.
Garen did fret over her appearance, as expected, though not unkindly. As the next couple of days passed, Anisa figured she’d been with the dance company long enough. She was getting to be a little too old, and a younger dancer should take her place. Maybe, however, she could still have some time as a duelist. She contacted Rodrige.
Shade Another Layer
Corellia space was where Anisa was originally born, but she had never been on the planet. It was just as gorgeous as Woostri, in Anisa’s opinion. Change for her life was a good thing.
Rodrige started her on a regiment immediately, after he cleared her through with the manager, who had wholehearted trust in his trainer. Rodrige identified Anisa’s strongest style, and worked her for weeks to sharpen her abilities back to what they had been years ago. Her training hadn’t been completely dismissed, and her discipline and commitment from dancing made her a proper student (even if they argued from time to time about details). As weeks wore into months, Anisa overcame her former boundary with a rapier and began to ascend into perfection.
At first, Rodrige wanted her to follow a militaristic way of training, until Anisa showed she could, more often than not, maintain peak physical shape through dancing. While she incorporated his suggestions, Anisa spent much more time dancing than doing sit-ups, push-ups, and the like. It was more fun as well, and despite her incessant behavior, Rodrige refused to take her up on it.
He couldn’t dance, he said. Anisa would shove her hand in his face every time he said that. “Please,” she would reply, “I taught other people how to dance for five years.”
Anisa won her first duels fifty percent of the time, but that was good for someone just entering competition. Can’t expect to win them all, Rodrige would tell her while they talked about a loss. They would go over it, and there was sparring every day. Anisa had to rekindle her love of competition, since she’d only been a performer for years. There had been no real challenge in learning new dances once she was used to it, and dueling was a struggle. She began to recall the dance offs she and Lalo would have with his parents, which helped her love the challenge once again.
Rodrige began to bring her into different forms of swordplay, though Anisa still favored a fencing style. She felt two handed weapons were brutish, and didn’t fit with her graceful style. It was soon determined using two weapons was her second favorite style. It allowed all her grace and favored movement in multiple directions. It was similar to dancing, and Anisa would frustrate Rodrige with her occasional twist of dance while sparring. She would kick between his legs, at his knee, with her heel like a specific tango required in its choreography.
One day they were just practicing footwork and attacks without weapons, an exercise Anisa often fused with dancing, much to Rodrige’s chagrin. Anisa had, for going on a year, been allowing herself to like the Korun. He’d been fighting her dance tendencies for months now… until during the exercise, Anisa drew up her leg and wrapped it around her backside. She’d completely violated the form to do so, resulting in what would have been “a kill”. But his arm slid around her lower back and he pulled her against his body. He was right when he said he couldn’t dance, but he managed to keep step to press her into the wall, resulting a fairly intense kissing session.
The instance panged Anisa with brief guilt. She hadn’t considered another man since Lalo had died. She come to terms with his death years ago, but hadn’t moved on to another man. Rodrige dragged up her memories of Lalo, but Anisa convinced herself Lalo would want her to be happy, and not hung up on his absence.
She dove into Rodrige’s being, chewing up his free time, and earning criticism for being the favorite. Rodrige divided training time with all of the dueling team, but he spent his lunches, dinners, and spare time around Anisa. She still competed, and Rodrige was always there in the medical examination room after each fight while she was sewn and patched up from fights.
Anisa’s 27th year as a big one. She became a full competent duelist, winning more than she lost, rose in the ranks, and collected a fair amount of scars. It wasn’t until she won her first duel with dual swords that she and Rodrige celebrated throughout the night. It was also the year she was offered a chance at a championship. She lost, and earned fresh scars on her torso and face for it.
Rodrige took her on an outing with his buddies, to hunt in the Corellian wilds. She’d never been hunting, although she was more of an observer than a hunter. They were out there for a week, tracking down edible game, and always seeming to be just behind the creatures. In the middle of the trip, as they were heading back to camp, the disgruntled group paused at the sound of a young feline rasp. While the men armed themselves and checked their backs for sand panthers, Anisa spotted the source of the sound: a weakened panther cub.
It took her a good portion of the hour convincing Rodrige to let her keep it. It was a little thing, a runt or sick, Rodrige tried to tell her it was better off dead. Anisa refused to back down or let his friends kill the cub. They were pretty much untamable, someone else told her, and more like to turn on her when older. Still adamantly against killing a baby anything, Rodrige finally threw up his arms. Using her coat for protection against the cub’s claws, Anisa carried the cub with her back to the camp. The rest of her trip was spent caring for the weak cub.
The cub fitted into Anisa’s daily life, somewhere in the midst training, competing, and Rodrige. For the longest time, Anisa kept her, the cub, contained, but gave it all the nourishment and love possible. Anisa didn’t know how she could want this cub to like her so much, to become her first pet. She couldn’t help but take the panther cub as a good sign of future fortune.
When she was twenty-eight, it was decided the dueling team was going to take a move to Zeltros. It was discovered one of the team was using drugs to enhance his performance, resulting in the team being banned from Corellian dueling. Of course, the duelist was immediately expelled from the team, but it didn’t change that they were not allowed to duel on Corellia any longer.
On Zeltros, each duelist proved themselves drug free to clear their name for participating in duels. The crowds here, Anisa realized, were much more animated and the stadiums were packed more often than that of Corellia. She became more of celebrity, and Anisa basked in the attention. She had admirers, fans, adorers, and lovers all crowding for autographs and holopictures. Small gifts her passed to her, things of little value, like stones or wrappers with contact information. Anisa’s collection of odd things began.
It was here that Anisa began to develop as a stand-out duelist. Where her pants began to poof and alhena scrawled up her face. A set of leathers was tailored specifically for her by an endorser, and Anisa wore the leathers in her duels. When she was twenty-nine, a championship offer was made. Anisa faced it readily, rapier in hand, and gave a performance that set her fans roaring with approval. Crowned champion, one of her endorsers ordered for a fantastic, beautiful sword to be crafted in memory of her victory. It’s the sword she carries today.
Nadira, the sand panther, matured under Anisa’s attention. The humani woman was stern on the young panther’s discipline and behavior, training the panther to listen to her commands. At a year old, the panther was unruly and rude, and Anisa had to keep an antidote nearby in case Nadira scratched her.
A challenge was issued for her championship, and Anisa accepted it readily. It was the former champion, who she had defeated (and had been quite upset about it). After he had crashed her victory party, made a fool out of himself, and then issued a rematch, the man, Lingar invited her to a dinner. Rodrige, for some reason, didn’t want her to accept, feeling uneasy about it. Anisa ignored the warning, and proceeded to dinner with her challenger, curious about what he wanted to say.
The dinner took place in a particularly fancy restaurant on Zeltros, with live entertainment and excellent service. Lingar made certain that he was paying for it all, and there was all the wine Anisa could possibly want. She talked, she laughed, she told stories. All in all, it was a good night for dinner. By the time she was ready to walk out, well into the evening, Anisa was quite bubbly with drunkenness. She held on firmly to Lingar’s arm as they walked out of the restaurant. Once outside, Lingar shoved a dagger through the thick muscle of Anisa’s thigh, making her scream with agony. He left her on the street for the next passerby to find her bleeding around the blade. Her wits were still about her to not pull it out, knowing she could have bled to death before someone found her.
Rodrige met her at the hospital, complaining about how he’d told her so. The blade had been removed, but there was extensive damage done because the blade had been serrated. There were a significant amount of stitches, and even some staples, holding the flesh together. She could undergo kolto, or even bacta, treatment if she so desired. Anisa agreed to undergo a treatment, but not bathe in the stuff.
Despite insisting, the law enforcement of Zeltros denied movement against Lingar. It was confirmed she had consumed a lot of alcohol, had been present for a show with Zeltrons as performers, and was supposed to be facing Lingar in the championship rematch within a week. So the days passed, and Anisa was still in the hospital for treatment to her leg. She was forced to forfeit the match due to an unfortunate injury. The championship was automatically awarded back to Lingar.
Anisa was thirty now, perhaps too old to be dueling anyway. And now with the injury that the doctors said she was going to have a slight limp from now on. She and Rodrige fought on what to do. He wanted her to come be a dueling trainer with him. Anisa, however, wanted to recover and retire to something less physically intensive, such as going back to art.
The fighting with Rodrige increased as Anisa formerly retired and withdrew from the dueling team weeks after her incident. They seemed to start over little things: alhena will stain the carpets, don’t do it on the floor, you feed that cat all the wrong things, you spoil the cat, why don’t you make the bed. Soon, she was up all night making her art on flimsy, and he was gone all day training his duelists. One of those nights, Anisa said goodbye and walked out the door with a boarding pass to anywhere.
Flesh It Out More
It was Prahzi she and her [mostly] trained sand panther stepped onto next. Being a trade planet, Anisa began to seek out the humani. If she was going to become an artist again, she wanted it in the comfort of her own people, paying dues for her board. It took a little over a couple of weeks, but Anisa finally managed to find a family stopping buy with some cargo.
She managed to explain herself and convince the family that her pet was no danger. Even if they were, she said, she had the antidote to help them. It took a couple of days, but Anisa was able to satisfactorily prove Nadira’s behavior appropriate and make a deal about living on the ship.
Anisa entertained the teenaged girls, relatives of the family on board for their apprenticeship, with stories of her life while they petted a suspicious Nadira. She drew alhena designs on their arms, as well as the other members on the family upon request. In fact, until Anisa caught up with her skills, the ladies aboard the ship were her canvases for practice. Anisa’s artwork was still swirls and dots and lines made into specific shapes. Flowers and faces were Anisa’s primary focus in work, but they were always different. There were colors and glitters, beads, feathers, and other small, light objects attached to her artistic pieces. The family sold these, and a portion of her money earned went toward the board of her, Nadira, and food.
For the most part, these two years of Anisa’s life have passed by rather quietly compared to the last decade. She still visited bars, played games, and became an animated storyteller. Nadira matured, completely tame, and under Anisa’s command at all times. The sand panther would even do tricks for treats.
Her sword has been hung on the wall, and her leathers propped on a mannequin in the corner of her room. The room often seems cluttered and in disarray: her art supplies spread from one side of the desk to the nightstand. Artwork haphazardly crooked all against the walls. Her bed never made. Sometimes clothes on the floor. And all the scraps of ribbon, stones, small sections of patterned cloth, broken mirrors… all the randomness of a collector the things with little value.
Anisa hasn’t been to a Junta since the time Lalo disappeared, and hasn’t wanted to until now. While accepting of Lalo’s fate, Anisa hasn’t been able to face a Junta just yet. After everything, it would be good to see family again, and to see Lalo’s family.
Art… is Never Quite Finished
RP Sample:
There were dozens of ecstatic and increasingly drunken people surrounding her. They toasted to her name, laid bets on who could win her for the night, asked for autographs, or for a quick picture. Talked to her, laughed with her, told her jokes, tried being seductive, and bought her drinks. The celebration of her victory and newly won title of champion was in full swing. Though she wore a bandage over her left side, a wound that would heal into a scar, Anisa was loving it.
“Bona, my man,” she said with a smile, a drink being handed to her. He was red-headed and splashed with freckles.
The man suddenly flushed a bright red as he smirked. “I didn’t know it was that noticeable.”
Anisa almost sprayed her drink. She managed to contain her behind her smiling lips. It wasn’t like that was the first time she’d heard it. Men of all races and ages had said something similar at one point or another to her, but this guy wasn’t entirely comfortable with it. “No, man,” she replied, grin stretched across her face. “It means ‘good’ in my language.” At least, despite his awkwardness, he was trying to go with the flow.
“Ah. You’ve probably heard that a lot then.”
“Quite right,” she replied, still grinning. “First time tonight, however. Thank you for the drink. Can I do something for you in return?”
“A holopicture for memory?”
“Sure you want one with your bona?”
The man turned a deep crimson. Laughing merrily, Anisa waved the man closer. “I’m just playing with you, man. Come here. Yes, yes, just a step away from holomemory. I will pose intimately with you. I’m just kidding! Come here! You there! Yes, you. Come take our picture.”
Anisa smiled friendly for the holophoto, arm wrapped around the man’s back and a hand on the hilt of her sword. As the man slowly departed from her side to check the photo, she couldn’t resist the urge to lightly pat the poor man’s bottom. He thanked her with a massive blush and folded himself into the background once again.
Sitting back in her seat, her smirking face turned to address her trainer, Rodrige. “What?”
He shook his head. “You’re such trouble to get picture with. You got him all flustered.”
“He’s the one who mentioned the ‘bona’.”
“Of trouble, look.” He jerked his chin back over her shoulder.
Turning slightly, Anisa took in the whirlwind motion of the recently demoted champion, obviously a sore loser. As the kiffar man shoved at people and spilled drinks, the din changed sound: laughs turned into sharp cries of annoyance, insults, and a general sound of “rude!” being thrown in the man’s direction. He was flanked by what were obviously bodyguards. This was about to get interesting.
Anisa hooked her ankle on her knee as the former champion paused, smoldering eyes surveying the area. Those eyes locked on to her, and he began shoving once more, half throwing her adoring fans. By now, the noise of the party was tapering as people began to recognize what was going on.
Anisa took a sip of her drink and stood. A familiar weight pressed against the back of her legs, stiff. “Nadira, facil,” she commanded the sand panther. “Benvigut, Lingar. Welcome to my championship party. Did you stop by for the drinks?” She waved at one of the wandering waiters. “I promise you won’t be disappointed by the selection.”
“I don’t wan’ your dr’nks, wench.” He’d gotten close. Very close. Barely a hands length from her face. He smelled of alcohol, too; offering him more had probably not been the best move. “I wan’ mah championship back. Now.”
“Oh, now we both know that’s not going to happen. It will be months before we can have a rematch. In the mean time, have a drink?” Anisa lifted a glass from the waiter’s tray. Before she could fully offer if to the Kiffar man, he swatted at it, effectively splattering it across her garment.
“Hey, now!” she snapped angrily. “That’s quite enough of that! Look what you’ve done, man.”
“I said NOW.” He snarled back. “You’ve robbed me, and so I wan’ a r’match now. Off de charts. No man’gers. An’… to death.” He smiled evilly.
Anisa shook her head. “That won’t be happen-“
He snatched the tray from the waiter. Adrenaline and clarity spiked through Anisa as she ducked the swinging tray. Liquid splashed onto her seat and soaked into her hair. He staggered, obviously having expected to strike her, and Anisa shoved her arms into him. Lingar fumbled backwards, propelled by her hearty push. He pulled his sword free quickly.
“Nadira, guardia!”The sand panther darted toward Lingar without hesitation.
Anisa eased her sword into her hand coolly and her words were just as icy as her stance. “You crash my party, drunk off your rocker, refuse my hospitality because you are rude, challenge me to the death, and then attack me. Tcht. In the arena, I fight fairly. Outside of it? Not so much, my dear man.
“Aqui es meu cor, fill d’gossa!” She hit her chest twice and spread her arms from her sides tauntingly. “But one step forward and my Nadira will make a snack of little Lingar.” Anisa gestured at the stoic sand panther, whose chin was uncomfortably close between her challenger’s legs. “Your future is full of mala sort if you press on like this. What shall it be?”
He stood awkwardly, enraged eyes focused on her panther, the wheels of thought turning as he weighed his pride. He finally took a step back. Anisa let Nadira advance on Lingar a couple of steps before calling the panther off. With a stumble and wading through spitting people, the Kiffar man left with his bodyguards.
A smile was finding its way back onto her face as the jitters of excitement continued to circulate in her system. “Bona sort, Lingar. Should have taken the drink.”
