Difference between revisions of "Sana Sunada"
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spacing:0.2em;"><center>''INTRODUCTION''</center></div></span></h3> | spacing:0.2em;"><center>''INTRODUCTION''</center></div></span></h3> | ||
− | <div align=justify><div style="padding: 5px 4px; color:#444146;font-family:Georgia;"> | + | <div align=justify><div style="padding: 5px 4px; color:#444146;font-family:Georgia;">Sana Sunada is the furthest thing from a curious figure. She isn’t interesting, compelling, nor is she especially talented in any extraordinary thing. That’s how it seems, at least, upon first meeting the girl—she’s terribly simple-seeming; it’s almost tragic. She’s square as a sugarcube and disinteresting as dust gathered in the attic; she’s a flower pressed between the pages of a book, dry and dead and faded to a pale shade of periwinkle.</div></div> |
− | <div align=justify><div style="padding: 5px 4px; color:#444146;font-family:Georgia;"> | + | <div align=justify><div style="padding: 5px 4px; color:#444146;font-family:Georgia;">But of course, she has her own chronicle of adventures—she grew up in Doma during Garlean occupation, then sailed across the seas to Eorzea, seeking refuge. For a time, she worked as a housekeeper; for a time, she did nothing, simply existing in inn rooms. She was a lost dandelion set adrift on the wind, writing songs and poems and collecting books to learn the language. And once she’d gained her footing in her new home, fate saw it fit to undo everything in a scattering spiral of unspooling constellations and aimless stars.</div></div> |
<h3><span class="mw-headline" id="General"><div style="font-family:Georgia;padding: 10px 15px; background: #b5cde4;font-size:16px;color:#ffffff; text-shadow: 0px 0px 0px black;letter- | <h3><span class="mw-headline" id="General"><div style="font-family:Georgia;padding: 10px 15px; background: #b5cde4;font-size:16px;color:#ffffff; text-shadow: 0px 0px 0px black;letter- |
Revision as of 20:38, 25 July 2018
This page is a WIP! Please be forgiving :')
Contents
Sana Sunada is the furthest thing from a curious figure. She isn’t interesting, compelling, nor is she especially talented in any extraordinary thing. That’s how it seems, at least, upon first meeting the girl—she’s terribly simple-seeming; it’s almost tragic. She’s square as a sugarcube and disinteresting as dust gathered in the attic; she’s a flower pressed between the pages of a book, dry and dead and faded to a pale shade of periwinkle. But of course, she has her own chronicle of adventures—she grew up in Doma during Garlean occupation, then sailed across the seas to Eorzea, seeking refuge. For a time, she worked as a housekeeper; for a time, she did nothing, simply existing in inn rooms. She was a lost dandelion set adrift on the wind, writing songs and poems and collecting books to learn the language. And once she’d gained her footing in her new home, fate saw it fit to undo everything in a scattering spiral of unspooling constellations and aimless stars.
She is easily overlooked, especially when dressed in her housekeeper's uniform. Everything about her is prim and pretty, but natural and understated—a beauty not unlike that of a wildflower.
She is, however, remarkably dainty. Thin and frail from head to tail to toe, the sharp contours and curves of her bones are more far apparent than those of supple sinew. Her bust all but disappears underneath her clothing, and she has virtually no curves elsewhere to speak of. Her tail, too, is skinnier than average. It whips and flicks like lemongrass turning on the breeze.
Typically, she wears her hair parted down the middle and pulled into two low pigtails. The hairstyle compliments her facial structure—framed by her long bangs, her features are made far more gentle. The soft swell of her cheekbones and the dip of her brow into the shallow slope of her nose draw the observer’s gaze to her sleepy, half-lidded eyes, that, in the right lighting, appear dark and sultry. Her irises are the color of pale tundra flowers under an evening sky.
Aspects that stand out:
Will listen to anyone and everyone's problems for hours, even if it's exhausting to her. She has a big heart and an infinite pool of patience.
Blushes a lot. Covers her mouth with her hand when she smiles; known to stutter and fumble when flustered, which isn't too uncommon. For this reason, she often finds herself at the end of harmless (or, actually, not so harmless) jokes that deter her from ever trying to make casual conversation again. She always bounces back, though, usually with the help of someone looking to be in mild distress. She is always one to help a stranger in peril.
She pays attention to the tiny, easily-overlooked details, like the beetles living in her garden, or the phases of the moon.
She is a moongazer; a dreamer; a philocalist.
Aspects that stand out:
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