Cersei Kavanagh / Vertan / Sailor

Overview.

Name: Cersei Kavanagh
Gender: Female
Birth Date: 3rd day of the Frozen Rivers 1642 A.S
Age: 22
Race: Human (Vertan)
Location: Voldar
Occupation: Sailor
Title: Captain's Lass

The Captain’s Lass is a physical rendition of the notion that one should never have faith in stereotypes. Cersei is emotionally strong where she is physically weak, precocious where her silence may suggest the alternative, and dedicated where she may seem unfocused. This level-headed sailor is no stranger to hard work and, whilst her physical appearance gives some reasons to doubt her resolve, the girl is an esteemed member of a respected society with a knack for rising above the expected.

Personality.

Sexuality: Straight
Marital Status: Single
Dominant Hand: Right

Cersei appears the essence of self assurance and security, whose voice carries a softer timbre, unknowing of the rigours of yelling or raising her tone. In possession of a calm and logical mind, she is one not known to vocalise her anger or grief. Known for being a collected, serious individual, Cersei will speak the honest truth, and will be direct in doing so. Sarcasm will take the form of the faintest smirk upon the leftmost corner of her mouth, and rage will portray an evident thinness of her lips. Ever the diplomat, Cersei will take the road to finding a solution as opposed to making a scene, in dire situations, contrasting heavily with her Vertanese roots, whose culture is heavily supportive of acting without thought for consequence. (She does, however, share their tendency for impulsiveness, though to a lesser degree.) This rational line of thinking probably stems from her (adoptive) Centoraurian parents, whose moral views and free-thinking nature would surely have made an impression.

As a sailor, Cersei puts her problem-solving skills to frequent use. In the presence of older, more able-bodied men, she is the recipient of much good-natured ridicule, and others less civil (for the sake of superstition) in their meaning. Having learned the art of the ‘smile and wave’, she has something of a sense of humour and a knack for retorts in equal measure. Her heritage owes much to the fact that Cersei is self sufficient, in that the Vertanese are a people who will do what they must in order to survive, with minimal resources. Cersei’s Centoraurian influence allows for the projection of a charismatic, even if quiet, individual, unafraid to hold her opinion in the face of ridicule or doubt.

Despite Cersei’s projection of a clever, logical, yet slightly impulsive individual, most of her confidence and equally opinionated characteristics are kept, loosely, to herself. Typically an introvert, any spontaneity shown is usually due to comfort in a situation or trust in those surrounding her. When outside the company of her fellow seamen, Cersei is almost an entirely different person. Trust is a value she holds quite dear, and which is not easily procured by strangers. Honesty, too, follows that same line, and those with deep knowledge of her personality will agree that to lie to the girl is to ostracise oneself from her completely.

That said, Cersei’s serene nature makes her a studious individual. It is not uncommon to find Cersei alone, studying a room full of people, or with her head in the pages of a book. From interest stems dedication and, with that, it is easily said that Cersei will not abandon a task without seeing through its completion. However this trait is one not easily praised, as the demand for completion often leaves the girl unsettled in everyday life. It shortens her view of timing and perspective, leaving her as equally impatient as she is driven. Relationships with people are hard to obtain, as a result of both this and a slight obnoxiousness to her nature, which is mainly due to public opinion instead of behavioural tendencies.

Given that she may be of childbearing age and, if she had remained in Vertico, would have certainly been married off by this stage, Cersei remains somewhat comfortably alone. Her sailor companions had provided her with the ability to flirt harmlessly, as they do back and forth from time to time, though men are something Cersei cannot fathom, let alone the idea of being joined to one by marriage, leaving her quite awkward in suggestive situations. Overall, the girl is a strange kind. Her gentle temperament might be easily disrupted, though with the aid of a clear mind and a dedication for success, there is little that the quiet Cersei Kavanagh will not do.

Appearance.

Height: Approximately 1 Ped and 1 Fore (Average for a female)
Weight: 6 Hebs (Allowing for the natural emaciated look of her kinfolk.)
Eye Colour: Cerubell, though the colour is unnaturally light.
Hair Colour: Cyhalloian Snow, tainted with the faintest shade of Cerubell.
Skin Colour: Pale.

At twenty two, the sailor is still a lass. Standing at a teeny 1 Ped and 1 Fore, Cersei is commonly mistaken for a child, or as a skinny hobbit. Skinny, however, is quite the understatement. Cersei’s smaller frame is held with pride and self assurance, which is a wonder amongst her, considerably taller, Centoraurian neighbours. Her eyes are cerubell in colour, yet the colour is indefinitely pale. Carrying some shy intrigue, they are the telltale signs of an introvert at heart, despite the seemingly courageous nature which is portrayed. Soft, rose coloured lips are typically curved into a lopsided smile or a natural pout which many find alluring, though not obtrusive. It might be more easily said that Cersei carries a natural grace, without need for cosmetics or youth-retaining concoctions.

Still young, porcelain hued skin ordains this gaunt physique, with a gesture toward a doll-like quality. Most will look upon the lass with grief, noting the sharpness of her facial and bodily features with a growing need to feed her a pastry or six despite ardent protest from the Vertan girl. The curvature of her face, hips and chest, act to smooth this bony form in an almost enticing way in which only early womanhood might be able, without appearing disproportionate. Thick tresses of pale waves frame Cersei’s face, swaying gently down her back to hover only barely above her hips. Though usually restrained by a braid, her hair looks clean and exceptionally soft, with its extremely light hue catching even a hint of light to add to the unusual ethereality of the visage.

One might suggest that the only faults of Cersei’s appearance, without stating the obvious, are her hands. Though small, they are weathered and often bruised from constant work aboard her father’s ship. Whilst Vertanese hands are characterised by their more robust appearance and strong nails, Cersei’s hands are slightly thin, her nail beds often bloodstained as a result of catching and pulling the nail during work. To avoid this, they are kept trimmed and clean, though their length cannot be maintained for long. Her feet, though less abused, are similar in that they, too, share the same rapidly-growing nails. With a natural affinity towards harsh conditions, Cersei’s appearance says nothing for her tendencies. The contrast between the sharpness of protruding bones and a womanly curve in the desired places maintain Cersei’s only relationship with those of her kinfolk; the blue strangers from the north.

Clothing and Belongings.

As far as clothing is concerned, Cersei’s choices are minimal. Her profession denies the wearing of a dress, and whilst the lass remains as shy as she is, that is a desirable fact.

A nor’sidian tunic clings to Cersei’s torso, accentuating the surprising curvature of her breasts and hips which grace her scarily thin frame. Beneath this is a long-sleeved cotton shirt, usually in the colour of lyth’be pollen, or yealm. It is through the v-shaped neckline which her protruding collarbone is visible, though there is no effort made to hide it by the sailor, who is convinced that she is of good health. The sleeves of this shirt are fastened around her small wrists by buttons so as not to have them flying about during work, and the hem is tucked into a pair of form-fitting trousers. To match the tunic, these jodhpur-like bottoms are coloured black, and cling almost desperately to the woman’s legs. Cersei’s feet are typically clad in dark leather boots, which reach above the trousers to settle just below her knee. Laced from top to bottom and featuring a small heel, the final visage of Cersei is quite picturesque in that, should she don a feathered hat, she might just be able to go into piracy.

A formally dressed Cersei is a rare sight, indeed. It is through simple, yet form fitting dresses that Cersei’s beauty is truly recognised, regardless of her seemingly gaunt appearance. In these occasions, Cersei chooses a floor-length dress, injohue in colour. The skirt flows prettily from a tight, corseted bodice, which is cut horizontally along her chest. The sleeves are minimal, loosely hugging the sides of her shoulders. Paired with a long, leather cape, usually dark in colour, the outfit is complete. No embroidery or accessories garnish the outfit, to match the girl’s more conservative tastes, though she does don a pair of short, black leather boots to wear beneath the gown.

Cersei rarely ventures out of Vardynn unless upon her father’s vessel. The contents of her backpack are minimal, but substantial:

-   3 sets of clothing (Two sets of work clothes, and one formal set.)
-   A small wallet, with some coinage
-   A line of fishing wire, with a small saiph-stone beaded onto it
-   3 sets of undergarments
-   A serrated fishing knife
-   A leather cape (for cooler climates)
-   A pair of bifocal lenses (for use in reading and writing)

Bifocal Lenses: A symptom of albinism is often sight impediment. Whilst Cersei’s melanin deficiency may not be recognised as albinism by physicians, it is noted that the condition has affected her sight, though to a small degree. A pair of bifocal lenses (glasses) was prescribed for times when the girl would read and write; acting as magnifying lenses to ease the ache from constant squinting and blurriness.

Weapons.

Blood Thirst Dagger:
Being a sailor has its graces. (Meaning that the burlier, braver men can bring back the strangest things from a port used to trade in.) As the story was told to Cersei, this knife was considered plagiarised, due to the relative size in proportion to the larger blades fashioned by the Kasumarii. It was too small, and the handle poorly fashioned, thus leaving the blade worthless to the trained assassins of Cyhalloi, who insist on perfection to induce precision. The knife is a menacing thing, in its own right. Both edges are serrated in a deathly manner, with the tip sharpened to a tapered point from the line of the silvery metal. The handle proved to be quite adequate for Cersei’s smaller hands, with the bend of the grip just close enough to the curve of her palm. Given that the size of the blade is approximately two palmspans instead of the typical two and a half, with the handle maintaining its proper length at one palmspan, the blade is somewhat unbalanced, with a slightly heavy feel to it when held stationary.

The blade is kept inside a worn leather sheath, gained from a trade with Kyranian merchants in Redmond’s (Cersei’s adoptive father) youth. Of course, he hadn’t immediately favoured the possession of the blade by his daughter, though she was deemed trustworthy after much begging on Cersei’s part, and a recommendation by members of the crew. Without use for the sheath, he passed it on to his daughter, and turned a blind eye to the fact that she’d given it a home in her boot.

Strengths.

Literacy: Adopted into a fairly well respected family, Cersei had no trouble procuring a basic education. Having seen no worth in extending her education towards scientific or historical reaches whilst in her youth, Cersei, of an able and willing mind, grasped the skills of reading and writing with ease. However, her aspiration to one day find herself as a navigator calls for some mathematical and scientific training, though this is a fact she cheerfully ignores until it becomes an imperative matter.

Dagger: The famous Kasumarii blade. There is some speculation as to whether this deathly weapon is a copy of the real thing, made by sly traders trying to make some coin, or whether it is another skilfully fashioned blade, which just happens to be a touch too short. Either way, the blade is a valuable asset to the Vertan sailor, who owns no other formidable weapon to speak of.

Agile: Cersei is quite agile, despite her appearance. Her small frame, accompanied by her light weight, allows the lass to be quite quick on her feet. With the ability to remain composed and alert in times of need, Cersei finds herself easy to adapt to situations which require a little bit of extra thinking. Upon a ship, this aspect of Cersei’s tiny frame is one of few graces needed to make her an able sailor; should one have to suddenly climb a mast or repair a sail in times of peril.

Quick thinker: Some people are quick on their feet, others quick on the draw. Somewhere in the middle, Cersei is a fast, analytical thinker in dire situations; being able to weigh pros and cons with relative ease. Whilst her conclusions are not always entirely logical, Cersei tends to take the most direct route to diplomacy – at any cost. (That is, as long as those ‘costs’ do not extend to violence). ‘There are two roads to an outcome,’ she often says, ‘the easy way or the hard way.’ This ambiguous belief leaves Cersei comfortable in pressured situations, with the ability to use a sound mind and clear conscience to make decisions based on finding only the ‘next step’.

Self sufficient: This is not to say that Cersei can do everything herself, but instead to note that if ever she is on her own, she does have enough basic knowledge to keep out of strife. This knowledge typically pertains to basic camping skills, such as creating a controlled fire, or to some small-scale fishing using a net or handline. She might be able to fashion a primitive arrow or spear from a thick enough stick, if given the appropriate resources and time, although this is not normally necessary in Cersei’s lifestyle (for what are strong and burly seamen for?). Furthermore, any weapons she might require are usually found upon the Seyella – or else the needs are handled by someone else. Cersei’s independence is matched only to what she needs, or what needs to be catered for; from cooking simple meals to mending a net, Cersei’s training upon a trading vessel has secured her ability to perform a range of tasks relevant to her profession.

Comfortable wealth: The lass earns a modest sailor’s wage in working aboard her father’s ship, the Seyella. Matched with Redmond Kavanagh’s success in trade and young Cersei has little to desire from a comfortable lifestyle. Protective over her earnings, these wages are locked in a vault within her family home. In a small wallet, Cersei keeps only a substantial amount of coin; that is, enough to purchase food and lodgings in any tavern in Vardynn. (This is because the only travel Cersei does is upon the Seyella, and does not tend to linger in any other place than home without reason.)

Able to swim: What is a sailor who cannot swim if thrown overboard? Cersei’s love for the sea developed from early childhood, and swimming was never an uncommon occurrence. A strong swimmer, she has the ability to make her way out of a rip or a forceful current if ever it happens that she finds herself in the clutches of the sea.

Horse-riding: Having been raised into a family of Centoraurians, it is almost customary to expect that one spends a lot of time around horses. Though Cersei has no horse of her own (as yet) due to the amount of time spent abroad, her parents had ensured that she learned to ride from a young age, however Cersei did not form the immediate bond shared by all Centoraurians and their horses.

Weaknesses.

Albinism: Light coloured skin, with hair and eyes to match, as well as slight impairment of vision; these are the symptoms of a rare disorder suffered by Cersei, who has proven that, despite the ‘normal’ colouring of her parents, it is possible to produce an albino child from two unaffected parents. The sailor’s unusual colouring earned her immediate disregard by her birth parents, whose blue-hued skin and hair proved quite a contrast from that of their snow-coloured daughter. Whilst it does not bother Cersei’s Centoraurian family, it leaves the girl rife with insecurities when placed under scrutiny. The lack of pigment has also led her to be more sensitive to light; gaining sunburn more easily than the normal person.

Impaired Eyesight: While not the most noticeable symptom of Cersei’s disorder, it does take the most effect. Though Cersei’s condition is hardly close to blindness, without her spectacles, she is prone to short-sighted vision with further troubles in focusing in poorly lit areas. Reading books, tying knots and often catching things thrown from a distance are only a few of the activities made easier with Cersei’s use of the lenses for, without them, her position on the Seyella is limited to more simple, menial tasks.

Introversion: Despite her confident exterior, Cersei is not as spritely as it may seem. When in unfamiliar company, she appears withheld and often snobbish, in that there is little conversation made on her part. It could be a fear of people, or a fear of rejection, but Cersei’s serene and often antisocial nature isn’t a redeeming quality.

Short stature: The brunt of many jokes, Cersei’s height is to blame for the her mistaken for a child or something similar. Living amongst a race of people considerably taller proves to be somewhat difficult and is oftentimes demeaning, in that the same tasks that might prove menial for others, like reaching a top shelf, might be an adventure in itself for the teeny lass, who stands a little over 1 ped. However, this was not to deter her from her profession, as the challenges to be faced on board a trading vessel give rise to the chance to prove that one’s size is not a measure of their courage.

Obsessive Compulsive: To say that Cersei strives for perfection is a slight understatement. Cersei’s obsession with the need to fulfil tasks to their completion is both commendable and a cause for one to pull their hair out. So stubborn does the sailor become that, if prematurely removed from a task, she is known to release a form of anger. Typically, these situations end violently, in that Cersei will attempt to regain her task by somehow eliminating her obstruction (usually by tackles, blows or strings of strangely, calmly ordered profanities). Note that only during these times will the girl ever show so much aggression, and those close enough to her have learned never to venture towards the path of separating Cersei Kavanagh and whatever project she is working on.

Severely underweight: Cersei’s body is considered to be maliciously thin by most, though she is convinced that she is in good health, and good form. By Vertan standards, the girl is of average build, if even a little tall for her gender. However, in the eyes of her Centoraurian family, the girl needs to gain a few hebs. Realistically, Cersei’s weight is an obstacle for her general lifestyle, in that it hinders endurance and sustainability whilst on board her father’s trading vessel. Though she is a worthy sailor, it is not uncommon for her to request help in lifting or moving things, or to gain small injuries from over exerting herself. Also, it is quite the hindrance, in that Cersei is left vulnerable in times of peril, for not every attacker comes in the form of a pint-sized human or an angry dwarf. Her physical strength is lacking as compared to most other human races and hence, the girl’s overall stature is her greatest weakness.

History.

1642 A.S: An unlikely trade.

On the third day of Frozen Rivers, 1642, a strange and unusually pale child was born in the heart of Vertico. With skin the shade of the ice shelf surrounding the city, and a small head of hair to match, the child was viewed with much confusion and distaste by her parents, with whom her colouring was such a drastic contrast. Even as the infant lay on her mother’s breast, they considered her weak; useless, that her role would never be fulfilled with the chance of producing more unsettling offspring – if reproducing was at all possible. Without bestowing a name upon the baby girl, Kressnech (the mother’s first husband and, thus, the infant’s father), quite unceremoniously, placed her in the arms of his youngest son, Sethven, a boy of six, with the instruction that she was to be tossed into the sea.

As the boy stepped into the cavern, the child wrapped in a thin blanket in his arms, he was greeted by none, though watched by all he passed. The news of a child as ‘pale as snow’ had reverberated through the underground city, with rumour naming the child cursed, and its mother the same, but the boy was unperturbed. He, like his father before him, had begun to accept the very sexist nature of their tribe and although, if even for a short while, this infant was his sibling this unnatural occurence would not last long. With determination, Sethven ventured upward and onto the ice. Harsh winds whipped his face and knotted his hair, but not once did he contemplate retreat.

On the same day, a large trading vessel from the south had made port in Vertico. The ‘Seyella’, a Centoraurian vessel, was in the midst of unloading a cargo of weapons and materials, when the Vertanese boy approached the dock with a newborn child in his arms. The sailors craned their necks downward to see the tiny blue human, frowning, with many a backward glance as they went about their duties. Sethven remained in silence, his youthful curiosity overshadowing the growing discomfort he’d felt upon seeing these taller, foreign men.

What had made Sethven turn his back on the sea would forever taunt the boy, for it was a question he could never answer. Perhaps it was guilt, or a fear of being seen throwing a child into the unforgiving coast, but Sethven turned away from the sight of the Seyella and her strange crew, and hugged his unlikely burden close to his chest. A pair of dark boots on the ground before him, then caught his eye.

“What are you doing?” Kylar’s eyes were wide as he looked at the infant in the strange, blue boy’s arms. Sethven turned his head slowly upward, silently holding his arms out to the captain’s mate. For mere moments, the pair stood quietly amongst the fray until, finally, the Centoraurian boy took the tiny, pale bundle. “Whanno,” Sethven murmured, pointing to the sea. He pushed the babe into Kylar’s chest and pointed again, repeating the word before he sprinted from the dock as if his feet had suddenly sprouted wings.

At that time, Kylar hadn’t known that ‘whanno’ had meant ‘water’, as he had also been unaware that Sethven had placed the task of disposing of the child in his hands. Bewildered, the captain’s boy returned to the ship to place the babe in the care of the cook’s hand, Saoirse, until the captain would return.

Redmond Kavanagh held one arm against the doorframe, unable to believe his eyes. “Saoirse,” he quietly said, “this does not help you hold true to our agreement.”
Saoirse shook her head violently, doing her best not to disturb the child on her breast. “She’s not mine, captain.” The kitchen hand used her head to gesture to the boy, to Kylar, who had perched himself on a stool across the room. “He found her.” Redmond looked to Kylar with a slightly forlorn expression, and gave an audible sigh. “I told you not to leave the ship.” The words were bitter, and they struck the boy like any hard blow to the stomach.
“Captain,” Kylar whispered, “what does ‘whanno’ mean?”

Redmond Kavanagh was not an uncompassionate man. He took in the infant, regardless of its condition, and placed it in the Saoirse’s care for the trip back to Vardynn. His wife, Roisin, had been unsuccessful in maintaining a pregnancy to full term, and it was then decided that he would adopt the infant upon landing in Vardynn, before he bestowed upon her the name Cersei Kavanagh.

1649 A.S: Boys will be boys... and so will girls.

At seven years old, Cersei had lived a truly remarkable life, for a child. She had been welcomed into a privileged life, her father’s slight wealth easing the girl into a simple education and a comfortable lifestyle in Voldar, Southern Sarvonia, without disclosing the details of her origin. The girl was led to believe that, whilst she was physically different, she was the product of a loving marriage, and no amount of difference would alter her acceptance into their lives. By this stage, the girl’s slightly recessive nature had made Kylar, now seventeen, her dearest friend and role model, inspiring Cersei to follow in his stride, and dream of life at sea.

Kylar smiled, placing both hands on Cersei’s shoulders as he desperately tried not to look over the top of her head. Saoirse was leaning against the post at the end of the dock, her arms across her chest and a knowing smile on her face. The child bore a tearful expression. “But you promised you’d show me Papa’s wheel!” she pleaded, gripping the front of his jacket with such strength, that her nails embedded themselves in her palms through the material. Kylar, now over twice her height, had to drop to his knees to look the child in the eye. “I know what I promised,” he said, tapping her lightly on the nose, “but I am going to be stuck with you on this boat for the next two weeks, while Saoirse stays here.” The newly promoted Leftenant got to his feet and Kissed the tiny Cersei’s forehead, before he strode along the wharf. “Besides,” he called from Saoirse’s side, “your father wants to see you!”

“Papa?” Cersei clung to the doorframe of Redmond’s office. He was sitting by a spherical window, a book in his hands. “I was wondering when you were going to show up,” he grinned, crossing the small space to crouch beside his daughter. “I have a question for you.” The child nodded, widening her pale eyes. Redmond looked away to hide a chuckle, and rested his arm over one knee. “As you insist so heavily against pleasing your mother and being at least a semblance of a lady,” he gestured to the old sailor’s shirt draped around Cersei’s tiny frame with a laugh, “and you refuse to leave young Kylar’s side... how about we make a sailor out of you?”

Cersei could only grin.

Training the child was easy. The days flowed into weeks, and into months, and Cersei’s presence on her father’s trading vessel had become more than a childlike adventure. The men had accepted Cersei as their own, having remained loyal to Redmond Kavanagh through the years, and before long the girl could recite the alphabet and count to ten in two languages (Tharian and Remusian; due to her father’s understanding of the Ice Tribe’s dialect)... and also recite various curse words, though the latter was kept strictly beyond the ears of the captain.

“The little lady’s a sponge, Captain.” Svend ‘The Bear’ had the girl perched on his knee, and the sheer girth of the muscle made it a comfortable seat for her small frame. The midshipman beamed at the child through his greying beard, and took the length of braided rope from Cersei’s hands. “Did this herself, she did.”
Redmond flashed a grin and chuckled. “Perhaps her mother finally taught her something after all.”

Cersei’s clever nature made her a popular character on the Seyella, her respect for the seamen forming a glowing reputation which, in a sense, led Cersei to be not just the daughter of the captain, but of the crew as well. Their contributions to her learning and to her growth, despite her evident physical disadvantages, nurtured the child’s ambitions to remain at sea, and to pursue the path of navigation in the coming future. Kylar and Saoirse would marry, much to Cersei’s dismay. However as she came to mature, the captain’s lass had forged a bond of love with the ocean so strong, that for the coming years the girl would spend very little time with her feet on Sarvonian ground.