Sana Sunada
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
Contents
Just as childhood was a tangle of mysteries and puzzlement, so too is Sana's adulthood. With a birthplace well-remembered but unmarked on any map, an incurable homesickness but no homeland, and a wealth of untold stories crumbling into forgotten words, she finds herself clinging memories and hopes. Her surname she invented at a desk to sign paperwork, and her name was decided by the stranger who first thought of something suitable. Her heritage is comprised of theories. She is a woman without history.
Her horns are seashell-shaped oddities framing a pretty, pale face. Like conch shells, they unwind upon themselves, tapering into thin, taffy-twisted spirals. They are smooth and almost silky to the touch, shining with a peachy glow in the sunlight.
Oddities, too, are her scales. As if shaped by the hand of a dollmaker, they are molded in a lace-like pattern that seems more decorative than functional. Any dips, folds, or ridges are staggeringly shallow, terraced so uniformly that they look fake; in the places they grow thickest—which isn't thick at all—they are even pockmarked with little, symmetrical shapes of no function.
Distinguishing marks:
Common accessories:
If there’s one thing Sana is good at, it’s cleaning—she’s a only clear-minded person because she makes a habit of straightening things in houses. She’s very talented at keeping herself distracted and her hands busy, but she has a tendency to overindulge.
Key aspects:
|
Template made by User:Abelia Kir Armiger and free for use! |
