Age: March 18, 144 | 22 years old
Race: Elf
Height: 5'0"
Physical Description:
Skin is mesmerizing. It exists as a cover to so much blood and bones and meat. It is there to be seen, not covered, and Fidget uses her wardrobe (when she's not being pinched and prodded into wearing something specific for a job) to accentuate her skin and the form under it. Her skin is beautiful, sliced and scarred and tattooed into twisting lines that tell a glorious story. After some consultation and lots of practice, she has learned how to create tonics and lotions to help scar her skin how she wants it to -- whether it be by creating a certain skin texture, protuberance, or letting it scar flat but silvery or colored. It is not an exact science, and sometimes she gets it wrong, but for the most part her body is an object for display of her making.
Where necessary she has accentuated her scars (and though most of them are of her own making the scars she has from torture are typically displayed most prominently, and count among her favorites) with tattoos. She has five tattoos in total: two on her hands, one on her stomach, one under her right collar bone and one wrapping around her neck. Of her face she is very particular, and only has one scar forming a slight ridge from the bridge down to the tip of her nose. It is a white-ish color, and is a little smoother than the rest of the skin on her face. She touches it frequently.
Out of necessity she is capable of mixing her own skin paint to camouflage what markings she does have. She is also skilled at utilizing various stage props to alter the shape of her face (particularly cheeks and jaw), and can use wigs with the best of them.
Objectively, she has a nice, even bone structure. She is cleanly shaped, and has no visible defects. Still, her looks have been praised as beautiful and decried as hideous -- her thin frame and crass manner of dress are often at odds with the feminine ideals of her home. She's too exotic (with tattoos and scars) to even pass easily as a whore, the result being that there generally is not universal agreement in regards to her physical attractiveness. Not that it bothers her, since she can usually find bed partners easily enough. If not she knows how to force the issue.
Her obsession with the body and her own skin have lead her to being comfortable with the use of her body. She can adapt her posture, gait, and bearing with ease. Though it wouldn't be wise to trust her in any overly polite roles (or, indeed, ones with too much speaking unless someone is assigned to keep an eye on her), she can blend in almost anywhere when she is properly costumed and painted.
Fidget sometimes forgets to eat, as her fixations carry the bulk of her attention past her body's needs, and so she typically passes from a lean hardness to a gaunt asceticism that doesn't do much for her.
Fidget is softspoken. Her voice is a velvety contralto that has a rich, sensuous quality to it. She can manipulate it into a growl or rasp, or lighten it into more of a purr -- whatever she needs for the task at hand. When alone she might even sing or hum to herself just for the pleasure of hearing her own voice; she is very fond of different types of sound. Like with touch, the textures within sound (and the manipulation of sound, such as with rhyme) fascinates her.
Personality:
The world breathes, and Fidget breathes with it. The experience can only begin and end, but if you are sly, ever so sly, you might be able to experience the experience. Stay still and breathe, watch and wait. Allow your skin to feel, your mouth to taste, and the world to be let in through eyes and ears and nose. This is your chance, and you'd be a fool to miss it. You'd be a fool to let others take it away from you. Blend it all up, put the blade to your own flesh, and watch. Learn. See everything, allow anything, and no one can take away your secret self ever again.
Ever. Again.
Touch is exquisite. Fingers are expressive. So much more useful than any facial movements -- the language of touch and skin and intent more telling than any pretty lies. Violence brings a better point than any repetition of "no". No is not safe. No means nothing. No is the single bleat of a butchered sheep before its lifeblood spills. What has "no" ever stopped in this world? Do or don't. Words carry meaning only so far, and they are no barrier. Touch is the edge, the line, the mix of pleasure and pain. It is the very essence of the body, and therein lies the only use of the body: action.
Fidget uses her body. Words are not enough. The body must be kept nicely for this purpose. Fidget doesn't like the not feeling clean, which is more sneaky than dirt. Sometimes it will crawl under the skin and worm there, digging and twisting until scrubbing brings blood. Fidget doesn't like that feeling. She prefers the purity of contact, without the confusion of emotion. Emotions are uneasy things. What is left are her fingers, and it is here she perfects body language. Slowly, carefully she displays her frustrations in hand-sign. Her fingers twitch, and shudder, and curl and touch. Most don't understand, but the meaning is obvious and clear and there to be taken in. She does a lot of touching. Fidget likes sex, but she likes it in special ways. Meaningful ways. Pain, and control, and discomfort, and humiliation, and fear. These are things that make sex palatable to Fidget, though she is known for having odd tastes. She might ask a partner to let her put a spider in his or her mouth as they couple, or to cut a specific pattern into her skin. She might want to use certain objects, or perhaps request certain smells. There are rumors buzzing around in her hearing that she is putting up an act (along with recommendations to tie her up should you not want much hinky stuff going on). She sees no need to respond to such rumors. What rattles around behind peoples' eyes is not her concern, is not part of her world. Feelings are like that. Sex is about touch, and sensation.
Coupling is not love. Love is useless, illogical, foolish. If there is one thing Fidget knows, it is that the world does not reward love. It rewards selfishness, and that is the only real way to live. People and things catch her eyes, and she watches with hunger, yearns to possess. Sometimes she takes what she wants with force, and it's a secret. A very rare, carefully kept secret. People and things are there for her pleasure, her enjoyment, and she cares little for their own state save that it might affect her own. Playing along she can do, especially if it gets her what she wants, but mostly she gets what she needs through her fellow Asasiyun, so what's the point? Empathy is a foreign concept. There is no cruelty, only levels of understanding. And understanding is drawn only with lines of pleasure, and pain. Until it mixes.
Hurting is nice. Can be nice. There is a connection there between the act of hurting and the hurt that is precious and wanton and scary and wonderful. Fidget will not share eye contact, nothing so personal as that, but she will share pain. She will take it in and hold it and release it in kind, forming a bond purely of it, as if it was real and physical and ready to hold --
She holds on to many things. Rhymes and feathers, touch and pain, sharp things and killing things. She is not crazy.
She's not.
A note about how Fidget regards pain:
Pain is something to be shared. Trading pain is, to her, like trading caresses might be to other lovers. It is a personal thing, and one that it is rude to share between strangers who are not together intimately. Using pain, rather than something else (threats, blackmail, loss of an important bit), as collateral for torture is to Fidget the height of crude behavior. She understands the use of torture and how to use pain and deal it. Despite this, she does not enjoy inflicting pain on others as a means for gaining information. Use of pain, giving and receiving, is an art she has studied and continues to study. Torturing someone distresses her; this is sometimes mistaken for her form of excitement (especially because, so long as it doesn't compromise their job, she will often to go a whorehouse after). Certainly, it doesn't help others' impression of her lust for blood and pain when she turns such victims over for disposal. Rather than callousness, having the victims of her torture killed by someone else is a form of catharsis. Fidget feels it cleanses her of the act. It is something she has told no one.
That Fidget is not a sadist in the purest sense is something that is not well understood; she has difficulty in communicating her feelings through anything but action, leading others to believe she is exceptionally controlled and unemotional.
Possessions:
BURYING YOU IN DETAILS SINCE 2009!
Note that most of Fidget's blades are kept in her rucksack and used depending on need; while she will wear many blades at once she doesn't keep all of them on her person at a single time. As Fidget is very attached to things, I'm listing the entirety of that which she cares about.
1 steel rondel dagger, 13 inches.
A matched pair of ear daggers. Made of steel, they are 8 inches in blade length, 4 inches in hilt length. Fidget had these specially commissioned. They are the finest things she owns.
3 steel push daggers, all around 2.5 inches in blade length.
1 mercy knife, taken off a mark. Fidget keeps it for the potential irony of its use.
A collection of over 100 needles of different sizes, quality, construction, material and use. At least one third of the collection are specifically designed to carry poison.
2 steel utility knives.
1 steel whittling knife. While she'll sometimes use it for (rather bad) wood carving, she mostly uses it to keep her nails as short as possible. She has a thing about anything getting under her nails, and rather than clean them very frequently she chooses instead to eliminate the problem altogether. She's been known to cause herself injury by doing this.
A rather nice steel ballock dagger, which she almost always carries. Double-edged, with a thick diamond cross section and a one inch ricasso. The blade is 14 inches. The hilt is made of hickory, reinforced with a steel pommel cap and wrapped with steel wire and then leather. The cap has been engraved with a simple twisting design. The hilt is five inches in length. The metal plate separating blade from the distinctive lobes of the crossguard has two half-inch narrow arms pointing down the length of the blade. The sheath for this blade has a small pocket for an accompanying pricker -- steel, four inch blade -- that she keeps coated in poison. The stylings of this dagger are purely for the sake of fashion and have nothing to do with how she uses it -- part of the reason why she carries it openly.
All of Fidget's daggers and knives have wood core scabbards covered with leather. Some have fur lining for extra silence during the draw, and her three favorites have extra metal fittings and embellishments.
A collection of around 50 feathers of different feather and bird types.
An ever changing collection of various scraps of fabric, chosen for their texture. There is one particular piece of crushed silk that Fidget has had since she was 14.
4 or 5 chokers/collars. Fidget likes the sensation of being choked, and she also likes the look of it.
2 needle pouches. Made of leather with tightly knitted wool padding, it has both places to stick needles and to safely hold them once they've been poisoned dipped.
A deep blue velvet cloak lined with silk. Taken off a mark, it has since acquired... stains. Despite this, it is one of her most prized possessions.
Strengths:
Serenity of a sort: Fidget is so often lost in her own mind and philosophy that it is extremely hard to stir her emotions. She dances to her own beat, typically lives in her inner calm, and when it comes to her person she is very difficult to manipulate. Exception to this can be seen in her belongings weakness.
Adept with using poisoned needles. She is precise and subtle in their use. Heavy clothing or armor makes her less likely to succeed in her goal. If someone is alert and watching her closely, she is unlikely to be able to succeed. Additionally, her love of collecting needles means that she is almost never without them. They are preserved in her clothing and hair, making touching her a potentially dangerous task.
Adept with setting and creating traps. Be it simple noose traps to more complicated spring or compression, she is well studied in their use. She is a quick worker, and very good at camouflaging her work. Granted, she is not perfect by any means, but once she goes to work it is likely that she will meet her goal.
Has some skill with chemical interaction (not quite apothecary level, but enough to come up with some interesting traps). She is akin to a journeyman apothecary when it comes to poisons/toxins/venoms, and still studying. In particular she is trying to make something that will paralyze someone without accidentally killing them via suffocation.
Physically subtle and stealthy. She is a small person, and well versed in going unnoticed. She is quiet, and good at that whole sneaking around thing. As well, she has been trained in the art of blending in with her surroundings, and can change her appearance with stage tricks. She understands some role changes, and while it wouldn't be good to put her in the company of aristocracy without supervision, she is capable of changing with the circumstances.
Excellent memory and very touch-sensitive.
Barely competent at fighting with two blades (one for offense and one for defense). Would not hold against more than one average opponents or one skilled opponent. Would hold her own against an average opponent, though she'd be unlikely to win that fight. Most typically she uses her blades for quiet kills; fighting is only a last resort.
High tolerance of pain: Fidget likes pain. She understands it. She is unlikely to be swayed by it unless it rises into extremes.
Sexual: It is not necessarily a tool to Fidget, more a product of how she views the world. Not all will be drawn in by her dreamlike sensuality, but it cannot be denied that sex is part and parcel of Fidget's world, and in some cases it might help her rather than hinder.
Weaknesses:
Fixations: Sometimes another person will grab hold of Fidget's senses. Maybe it is the color of their hair, their scent, a piece of clothing they are wearing: whatever it is, it will draw her attention and she will be hard pressed to stop thinking about it. This leads to temporary obsessions. The shortest last mere days, while her longest have lasted several months. If the obsession lasts any longer than a week, she is likely to try to take the person as her own. She respects those that are stronger than she and will not risk her own life or health, but if she is able she will force the issue and the person on the matter. It is an unhealthy part of her, one that forms the backbone of her inability to have normal relationships.
No understanding of personal space: she's rude without meaning to be. She gets in trouble over it. She's suffered injury from it before, and is likely to suffer again. To her, everything is meant to be touched.
Distractions: Without someone sitting on her ass, Fidget can sometimes slip her role or task. She follows the colors of the air, the passing of scents, the desire for touch. Though she is likely to get lost in the art of mixing chemicals or building traps, when it comes to subversive work she is typically passed over in favor of others unless she can be accompanied by someone.
No: Fidget won't say it. Her reasoning is that if you accept everything that happens to you it won't hurt you. She will put herself into dangerous or bad situations because of this. Though she won't accept someone telling her to kill herself, there is very little she won't do when told.
Belongings: Fidget is very particular about her things. She gets angry when someone takes one of them, but she also suffers something like a nervous breakdown to know someone has her precious thing. It would be entirely possible to ransom one of her things against her, as well as use it as collateral.
Communication: Fidget is typically a quiet person. Though for the areas she is competent in she can have a lot to say, there are times when she finds herself unable to express herself with words. For these times, she uses a form of sign language that was developed for and, for some words, by her. However, this presents a significant handicap; her inability to function normally in the realm of communication leads to misunderstanding and complications.
Kinks: Fidget likes sex. She likes touch. Her need to practice scarification and engage in unsafe acts is perhaps when she is most vulnerable. Someone looking to harm her could very easily use her own traits against her. In this sense, there is potential to use her likes to get her to lower her guard, over time. Her habit of carrying poisoned needles on her person and in her clothing and hair would be the danger to any person to attempt this.
History:
See, when they found her she was smearing her own feces on an alleyway wall. It made sense at the time. Just like hurting others and being hurt made sense too. She didn't know how they found her. Being quiet, being unseen -- that was how it had to be. She'd always known how to hide, how to go unnoticed; the world had gifted her with that for survival. It all made sense. It was how the world was. Just like how being caught by someone stronger made sense. They caught her. They showed her a new world enclosed by walls, and blood and --amazingly -- free food and clean water. These were the tools given to her. She used them.
Expectations were something it took time to learn. Hygiene was learned, and shame, too. The world was beautiful, and there was pleasure to be had. Her misery transformed her time and time again, and sometimes she would grow discontent with the Asasiyun, her keepers. She was a child. They were stronger. But she would not be the weakest. Not that. Not ever again. There would always be someone weaker than Fidget, if she had to make it so. At first things different seemed weaker.
The other children proved her wrong.
They trained together. Fidget loathed them. She wanted them. She needed to -- to what? Have them. Watch them. Understand them. There were so many things that disgusted Fidget when it came to the others who surrounded her. They were balanced by the qualities that Fidget did understand. See, Fidget wasn't stupid, even barring her strange silences and twitching hands. She watched and waited and remembered everything she learned, picking up the traits they held that were like her own. It was then that she started to fixate on individual trainees. She would follow, mimic, and cleave to them whether they wanted her or not. It wasn't about them. It was never about them.
She caused trouble. She defended herself every time, going out of her way to still the voices of those who called her names, or spoke up against her. Isolation, in many ways, stifled her. Interactions with others became difficult for Fidget, and she never bothered to engage in the typical social activity that many of her peers did. The only time she might stir herself to approach someone was when they interested her. The rest of the time, she was often left to her own devices, to brood or train as she might.
Fidget stayed in the bounds of the trainee's compound for a long time -- until an enterprising hashashin took her under his wing when she was fifteen. Fidget was useful because she was so quiet, because when directed properly she was capable of great subtlety and even charisma. Rather than how to kill, the agent taught her how to blend in when necessary. How to act. How to use methods other than force to get what she wanted. He saw that there was already a taste for giving and receiving pain in her. He played to the things that drove her forward, and rather than having her endure torture he taught her to love it.
This agent was named Ameus. It was he who gave her her first scar: a stylized A that he branded her with during one of their sessions. She embellished it later with ink, and it rests under her right collarbone. She often displays it. It was he who started her along the path to poisons and traps, for he recognized her inability to maintain the focus required during combat. She had speed, and she had skill, but she was so often lost in herself that the advantage was lost. She would never be a master with swords or daggers -- or any other weapon. But the act of creation, of careful measurement, was one that spoke to her restless mind. This, he foresaw, she could become a master in.
He taught her to form language with her hands, for she did not often enjoy speaking. He coddled her, hurt her, and in time she accepted him as a cat might accept a master. In turn, her oddities and broken behavior was tolerated and allowed. He manipulated her, and used her in ways she never foresaw or understood. The arrangement was to his benefit, for he believed short of breaking her she would never betray him or try to kill him. She, in turn, was allowed to continue giving in to her foibles and fixations, and she was content.
As Fidget grew older she took to going to whorehouses and unsavory places. Rumors always followed her odd disappearances, but in truth she was learning very specific things about poisons and venoms. From a particular whorehouse she learned the art of directing pain, while from a specific apothecary she learned advanced herblore and, in particular, how to best mix certain things together -- the purpose of this to make a fast acting agent that causes short-term paralysis. In most cases fast acting usually results in death or permanent damage. Fidget is still experimenting.
Fidget herself is not counted among the hashashin assassins, but instead is something of an assistant. She is given leave to do reconnaissance missions, or to provide the tools for assassins during their own often fatal assignments.
In the present, she finds herself being assigned harder and harder tasks. She is tested to see how deep her flaws run. It is a dangerous time for her, for her perceptions of the world often do not match up with reality. Youth is still left to her, and there is much promise left in her. Whomever keeps hold of her leash --whether it is Ameus or someone else -- will be the one to control the woman she becomes -- or ruin her for good.