0
This topic is locked
AVRIL SORELLE
Misting
Contact: PM via the board or Discord
Type: Misting
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Place of Origin: Eastern Dominance
Occupation: Lady of House Sorelle
Relationship Status: Single, her father is actively seeking out a match
Metals Used:Pewter
Degree of Skill: Novice
Status: Partially known, as her father tries to use her allomantic status to attract suitors
Avril garners comparisons to her late mother, something that outwardly gives her father pride, and privately gives him grief. He makes sure to let her know where she falls short. oo skinny. Blond strands a dull wheat rather than a silken gold. A nose less delicate than it should be. Skin a touch too pale. Freckles here and there that make her appear common, like a skaa milkmaid rather than a descendant of a noble bloodline.
Avril has no illusions about her appearance. She knows she is no great beauty by Final Empire standards, but she doesn't place a lot of importance on it and doesn't try too hard, as she has more important matters on her mind. The old, hand-me-down dresses and gowns refitted to her smaller frame don't do much to improve her appearance; instead they provide more fodder for criticism, as they're years out of fashion.
Beneath the outdated frocks, Avril has small collection of scars, most of these are old and faded. The worst of these is across her back. Where her flesh was once smooth and white, raised scars crisscross where the lash cut her open. She's quite self-conscious about those markings and will never wear a dress or gown that shows her back.
She learned to take physical and verbal abuse. It was the norm in the Sorelle household. She didn't pity herself for it, and she wouldn't let Aric pity himself either - or her for that matter when she was hurt.
She knows sometimes being quiet is the smartest form of action, but that doesn't always keep her from answering her father. She's become used to the feel of his hands on her. Sometimes it is more worth it to say her piece. Other times it isn't. Sometimes it depends on where Arick is, as she knows it pains him to see her hurt.
She hates her father. She can't imagine hating anyone more than him. She isn't afraid of him so much as she's afraid of the damage he could do to Aric. She's survived this long and she intends to continue to do so. Ultimately, Avril doesn't think she can be shocked by anything. She's seen firsthand that monsters can parade around in the guise of humans.
Avril lessons in the arts were neglected. She never saw learned another instrument after her piano was taken away. She never took up drawing or painting. She can, however, sew. In a rather unpleasant series of lessons from her drunken father, supplemented by their steward, she learned a bit of dancing. While she hasn't been taught to charm by masters of conversation, she is generally a sweet person.
She was taught to value her old blood, but it doesn't seem to mean much. She was taught to look down on skaa, but that lesson never took root in her brain. The skaa servants that used to care for her home did a good job of it, and never treated her badly despite her father treating them like slaves. They never treated her poorly, in fact, they treated her better than her father did and often patched her up in the aftermath of his rages. While she has missed out on formal lessons, the few skaa staff that are left at her family home have helped fill some gaps. They've helped her continue to improve her sewing, mending, and clothing alteration skills. They've also helped her learn cleaning, basic cooking skills, and some folk medicine to help care for the wounds she often carries.
Most of the time she is in Lynwood, where it doesn't matter what she wears or what she looks like. But outside, in public, she is a bit embarrassed at having to wear antiquated gowns. She tries to avoid it if possible. She doesn't let her embarrassment show, though. Not because her father would make her regret it, but rather because she'd prefer he embarrass himself without involving her at all.
Avril's life, though riddled with suffering, has purpose. She works for the day her brother will be Lord of their house, so she and her brother could work on restoring their home, their name, and standing in society. She isn't concerned with getting involved with politics and intrigue, but with regaining their footing, making an honest living, and a contribution to the Empire. She's doing her best to prepare her brother for his future.
Avril is still a teenager and even though she was forced to grow up very fast, she's still subject to some aspects of being a teenager, like wanting to fit in, wanting approval, and having crushes.
Strengths:
Avril is a survivor. She's been beaten over and over but she keeps getting back up because she has purpose. She has inner strength and determination, and thanks to pewter, a bit of physical strength that helps her withstand the physical blows that come her way. As she has already been through a lot, she is determined to keep pressing on with the business of life, even though her circumstances are not optimal. She is a quick learner and persistent in tasks that matter to her.
Weaknesses:
In many ways, Avril has been neglected. She has not gotten the full education expected of noble ladies and lacks the artistic skills that are often expected. She isn't the most charming of ladies, and tends to be on the quiet side. Similarly, though an Allomancer, she is untrained and raw, so she has never learned to fully harness the power of pewter.
Above all, her brother, Aric, is her weakness. She has devoted her life to him and needs to continue protecting and raising him.
While Avril is not the most prideful of people, she does have a sense of shame. She is ashamed of her father and the mess he's made, and she is embarrassed of the scars on her back, and the hand-me-down clothes she's forced to wear. Their ancestral home and their townhouse in Luthadel are both sparsely furnished and falling apart in places beyond a few public rooms. She has no choice but to carry these secrets about the extent of their financial ruin.
Despite her inner strength, she is still only the daughter of a broken Lord. She has not been able to overcome his will in certain areas, like sending her brother away to be raised in a better environment. Similarly, she knows she'll have little sway over her fate as her father tries to negotiate a marriage arrangement that will financially benefit their family. Once she's sent off to live with her husband . . . she won't be able to protect her brother from their father's wrath.
Trust is a difficult thing for her. She hasn't had close relationships outside of those within her household (her brother, the house steward), and she's seen firsthand how monstrous humans can be - even family.
Little Avril was happy to be a big sister. Any time not spent in lessons, riding, playing piano, and sewing with her governess, was spent playing with baby Aric and watching him grow. She even tried to teach him to talk, taking credit for sounds that weren't near actual words yet. Word reached her tiny ears that she would have another little sibling to look after and play with. Thus, the little one spent time fussing over her pretty mother and her delicate condition and asking all sorts of questions including those about baby names and if the new addition would share a room with Aric.
But her Lady Mother seemed to be tired most of the time. Sometimes, apologetically, too tired for her questions. Avril worried at that. Her worries were justified when her mother went into premature, complicated labor. Avril was swiftly pulled away when the blood began to flow and confined to another room with her baby brother and some servants. Aric wouldn't stop crying until she took him from his nurse and did her best to soothe him. But any calm she managed to create for her brother was shattered when her father was dragged into the room, yelling, and screaming, and breaking whatever he could get his hands on. Predictably, Aric erupted into tears once more. Jasper yelled for the brat to be silenced lest he do it himself, as he stood, menacingly, over his little girl as she clutched his one year-old son.
The short, skinny child held on to her baby brother all the more protectively, trying to quiet him down in the face of the monster her father had become, tears trailing down her face. The news all of them had feared came some hours later. Avril cried louder then. As did Aric. As did her father. But he made no move to comfort his children or be strong for them in any way. It was his loss that filled him up completely. That day Avril lost her mother. But she also lost her father, too, just not to Death.
The monster who she first glimpsed when her mother's situation became more dire was there to stay.
Gone were the days of happiness in Lynwood. They were replaced with something much darker, as Jasper seemed perpetually in a black mood, perpetually with a cup in his hand. He didn't shave often and his hair grew out. He looked more like an animal to her eyes by the day. She stayed with Aric as much as possible, even though she didn't think he was old enough to understand what had happened, he seemed to pick up on the black mood in their home, and didn't laugh much like healthy babies ought to. She made herself his protector, always putting herself in the middle when her father made her brother the object of his anger. She would take him to sleep in her room, feeling he was safer with her to defend him should her drunken father try to retrieve him in the middle of the night. It wasn't uncommon for him to wake them up out of sleep to drag them into another room to witness his drunken ramblings, and to fall victim to the violence it often sparked. Why did you LIVE and not HER? Avril always bore the brunt of it. She was always fiercely protective of Aric.
Things didn't get better with time. They grew worse. His gambling and drinking habits, in conjunction with his lack of will to work, to forge new contracts, started to drain the family coffers. Items were taken from the house and sold off. Her beloved piano, the most prized of her possessions, was taken away. Probably so he would no longer be annoyed by the sounds of her playing it. She had tried to keep the men from removing it from the music room, but her father pulled her out of the way by her hair.
She hasn't shed a tear since that day.
Her fear turned to hatred.
More of Lynwood was sold off before her eyes, and the staff was cut down, bit by bit, too. Despite letting go of many servants, her father kept their Terris steward, because he thought it would look like an obvious cost-cutting measure. Heved had served House Sorelle since Jasper was a child, he’d seen the ups and downs since that time, and apart from admitting financial hardship with the gesture of shedding the trusted steward, Jasper wasn’t ready to let in someone new, someone he didn’t trust, to help manage the House’s business. So Heved stayed, fortunately for Avril, but unfortunately for him.
Her maid was dismissed, and she was told to clean her own rooms, which had grown continually more empty. Dolls were for babies. They, too, were sold away. Avril had to grow up faster than was normal. She took a more prominent role in her brother's upbringing in the absence of her mother, and in the face of her father's neglect. She took to following their Terrisman steward, Heved, around until he agreed to teach her about what he did to manage the family keep as best he could, and how he decided what to sell. She shadowed him and as she grew, she became a greater force in the management their ancestral home, as her father didn't consistently involve himself in the decision-making.
She was twelve when she petitioned the steward to have her mother's ruby and diamond necklace sold instead of numerous volumes from the library. He advised her against it. She insisted her father wouldn't notice. But he did. Scarcely a day later, he had visited Ashley's chambers, trying to smell her perfume from the old gowns, running his hands along the jewels he had bought for her in better times. He noticed the missing necklace and grabbed the person responsible for selling it - Heved. But Avril wouldn't let the man be blamed for her folly, despite the look in his eyes that begged her to leave, that he could take it better than she could. She took credit for what she did and pulled her father's attentions away from the older Terrisman. The feel of his fist and his open palm was not new. More often than not the Sorelle daughter sported black and blues.
But this time was different.
Jasper decided to see what his daughter was worth. He grabbed her by the wrist and took her and Heved up to the winding steps in one of Lynwood Manor’s towers, to what was known as “the breaking room,” where Lords had everything they needed to attempt to snap their offspring. A vial of metals in alcohol was forced down her throat, then he beat her until she was bloody, until her bones were broken in multiple places, until there was a fire in her belly that wasn't there before. Jasper hadn't even bothered to bring in a Seeker, since he'd pursued this with a hot head and no formal plan beforehand. Heved was forced to help crudely figure things out, asking questions, and trying to illicit specific allomantic reactions. Throwing coins at the bleeding child didn't spark steelpushing or steelpulling. Despite Jasper’s taunting, were ill-equipped to detect the invisible and emotional arts, though Heved had hoped Avril would turn out to be a Soother like her mother. They knew she was an Allomancer, she had described the burning sensation, but they didn't know what she was until some days later. At Jasper’s insistence to ashing figure it out, Heved kept dosing her with metals, and helped change out the dressings on her wounds. She always seemed a bit healthier after each dose, some color returning to her pale face. He came to notice she was - thankfully - healing faster than the average person, while continuing to report that burning feeling inside.
She was a Pewterarm.
But she was left raw and untrained. Her father didn't want to financially invest in her skills, and he didn't want her to gain an edge over him when it came to fighting.
Avril continued to try to stem the damage to Lynwood, but she and Heved never received any support from her father who continued to send them deeper and deeper into debt.
She taught her brother that he must be harder, that he mustn't feel bad for himself or for her no matter what happened. Self-pity was a destructive force, as they well knew, as witnesses to their father's existence.
Around age thirteen, things got even worse. When her father got drunk, he'd call her Ashley. He'd look at her differently, in ways that a father should not look at a daughter. At night, he'd haunt her bedroom door, knocking on it, crying and calling for his dead wife. One night he went as far as her bed, but Avril fought to get him off. She pulled a dagger from her bedside table, but he managed to yank it from her hand and make her regret that decision. Aric found his way into the fray and jumped on his father's back to get him away from a badly bleeding Avril. Avril ended up with multiple fractures and broken ribs. Jasper decided to bring in whores in an attempt to prevent a repeat of the event that nearly went too far.
Avril made it known she thought Aric should be fostered outside of their holdings. Jasper didn't react well to that suggestion. Wanted to take his boy away from him, did she? Over his dead body maybe. He was the Sorelle heir. Everything he needed was in Lynwood. He could learn everything here, just fine. For that particular offense, Avril was whipped, her back torn apart by the lash, leaving the worst of her collection of scars.
Having lost the fight to move her brother to a healthier environment, Avril incorporated Aric into her work managing Lynwood with their steward. Their father didn't teach Aric much of anything, except maybe, what not to be like. She had him start training with dueling canes, swords, and knives. He needed to be able to protect himself, against their father and any other threat that might come his way. Still only a child, the lessons made Aric feel empowered enough to declare himself a man. He said that he should be the one to protect her, but Avril hasn't changed her protective behavior despite his arguments.
She wants to be there to keep him safe for as long as she could. Aric gives her purpose. One day he'll be Lord and he will help restore their House to what it once was. She lives for her brother and for the dream of that day.
But her father has thrown the "m" word around recently. She's not afraid of having a different man to call her Lord, but she is worried about what it would mean for her brother's welfare. She'd rather stay in Lynwood until her brother has ascended to Lord of their House, regardless of the fact that it would make her an old maid.
Jasper yelled, his white shirt partially unbuttoned, only half tucked in, soaked from sweat and whiskey that had missed his lips when he’d taken an uncoordinated swig from the glass decanter. There wasn’t much of the amber liquid left. He’d gotten close enough to draining the ornate bottle that he’d had it refilled once already, and then he’d realized the inefficiency of his ways. Why keep pouring glasses when you could cut out the middleman-er-cup? The fewer obstacles between himself and his drink, the better.
“ASHLEY! Why’d you not come when I call you?! ASH!”
He seized the doorknob to the mauve sitting room, one of his wife’s favorites. The brocade wallpaper was missing in places, drooping down the wall in others. The floor was bare but for dust, scraps of wallpaper, and bits of plaster that had fallen from the ceiling. The rich floral rugs that had warmed the floor had long since been sold, as had the lush divans, cushioned chairs, and lacquered furniture. The room had once been filled with ornate vases and fresh flowers; now, it was just a broken shell. That fact didn’t register with Jasper. Instead, he remembered what the room had been. He remembered the sound of his wife’s laugher trailing down the hallway, the scent of gardenias. The way she looked at him when he opened the door to her domain, the way her lips would spread into a beautiful smile that reached all the way to her pale blue eyes, an expression sparked by him, an expression that belonged to him. His soul had been filled with happiness and peace.
She was his joy, and he needed her now. She had to be here somewhere, in one of the other rooms. This had always been her favorite part of the manor, with the mosaic tile floor, the vaulted ceilings . . .
He slammed the door shut and moved down the hall, calling her name with anguish, with need. But no answer came.
He rammed his fist into the next door.
Avril rose from her bed with a tired sigh. A few more minutes and his fists would threaten to break down her door. Why his whores couldn’t keep him in their rooms, she’d never understand. He prioritized paying for those services above many others, for those women knew too much, had seen too much, and Jasper considered them a necessity rather than a luxury. So lack of payment was not an excuse. Perhaps they were too lazy to do anything besides lie on their backs. Or maybe they cherished these breaks from his company, when he wasn’t good for much apart from sloppily crying against their chests.
She couldn’t blame them for wanting to escape her father. Lord Ruler knew she wanted to, as did Aric.
No one had the guts to try to keep this man in line. He had to have woken up the rest of the house, but no one moved to redirect him back to his rooms. No one dared to tell him to shut up, despite his drunken screaming. Everyone knew that made everything worse before it made it better. Everyone knew that would make them the target of his grief and anger, moreso then every living person in this house already was.
She had to bear the brunt of his madness. Over and over and over again. It was a life sentence for the crime of staying alive after her mother died.
She retrieved her robe from where it was draped over a simple wooden chair and put it on. She didn’t have much furniture to speak of. A bed. A chair. A mostly empty built-in wardrobe in the corner. Most of her clothes weren’t hers at all, but her mother’s, and they still hung in her mother’s chambers. Her father took stock of it often.
More banging. More drunken screaming.
“WHY DO YOU HIDE FROM ME?”
“Noo,” Aric begged with mournful eyes, sitting up, still holding the coverlet.
“He won’t shut up otherwise,” she said, shaking her head.
“Please, Avril, just ignore it!”
“Aric, go back to your room,” she gestured towards her closet. Her room was connected to her brother’s through a somewhat hidden passageway, which would be better concealed if she had more clothes hanging in the wardrobe.
He looked at her with disappointment. She knew he wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening. Maybe they could just let him scream and pound on doors until his strength drained away and his voice eroded to nothing. Then they could sleep in peace.
“Av-”
She swallowed. Experience told her that idea wasn’t likely to work. She knelt down and grabbed a vial of pewter suspended in alcohol from a box under her bed. Heved had given it to her, for situations like this. “Go,” she said with a pointed look before downing the metal.
“ASHLEY!”
Huffing, he got out from under the covers and retreated through the passageway. He closed the door behind him as quietly as he could manage, the hinges of the old built-in creaking. Avril moved to the door, her bare feet quiet on the hardwood. She took a deep breath and her hand hovered over the flimsy lock.
Her eyes widened at the groan of a door opening nearby.
Inquisitor’s eyes.
She hastily turned the lock and flew into the hallway to find her little brother standing in front of their inebriated father.
“SHE’S NOT ANSWERING BECAUSE SHE’S DEAD!” he yelled, his face turning scarlet, though not as red as the drink had made their father’s.
“DON’T TALK ABOUT YOUR MOTHER LIKE SHE’S NOT HERE!” Jasper screamed, water pooling in his bloodshot eyes. Everytime he was reminded of the truth, he felt the heartbreak anew. Avril knew that anger was quick to follow.
“But she’s NOT!” Aric yelled back, defiance on his young face. “I should know! She left me here with YOU!”
“. . . Because you killed her,” Jasper responded quietly, his nostrils flaring. His face morphed from sad longing to fury. He threw the whiskey bottle into the wall. It shattered, sending tiny pieces of glass everywhere. Then, he moved to grab Aric by the neck of his pajamas but Avril moved in front of him, shielding him from whatever came next.
Jasper just looked at her for a moment, at hair like wheat and eyes a pale, striking blue. Avril stood there, breathing, her feet hip distance apart to better grip the ground. She felt a light burn in her stomach. She didn’t have good handle on how much she was consuming, and how to adjust, but she knew she’d need the help, to heal.
“Ashley?”
“IT’S AVRIL! MY SISTER!” Aric shot back, his young voice pained and emotionally exhausted. He’d gotten around Avril and was now punching his father’s arm and kicking at his legs. Jasper pushed him away with one large hand.
Avril caught her brother as he fell, and shoved him behind her. Jasper grabbed at her wrist and pulled her towards him. Clenching her teeth, she tried to resist, but his grip was tight, strong. A question flickered in her father’s eyes, and he opened his mouth to give it voice.
“Why-?”
“I’m Avril. Not one of your whores.”
He smacked her across the face, and her head moved with the force of his hand. Her blue eyes were on fire when she looked back at him, glaring at him like he was the most awful person on the planet. No. He wasn’t the best man. Maybe not even a good man. But he was not the worst. That much he was certain of.
“No,” he answered. “They’re much prettier.”
He pushed her wrist back towards her, but she kept her balance and didn’t fall.
“Good. Go back to them,” she spat.
But that only fanned the flames of his anger. He moved quicker than a drunk person had any right to, slamming her against the wall, where the decanter had struck earlier. Her bare feet crunched on the glass, a hundred tiny pieces cutting her pale flesh. But her pewter dulled the physical pain, a slight flicker of it shown on her face, a little sweat shined on her forehead. Jasper’s big hands held her frail form back by the shoulders as he moved his face close to hers.
“This. Is. My. House. I will do anything I want. DO YOU HEAR ME?”
Avril’s lips spread into the shadow of a smile. It was because of him. It belonged to him. But it gave him neither peace nor joy.
“Yes,” she answered. “That’s the problem, Father.” She swallowed, feeling the only a fraction of the sting from glass shards mingled with whiskey, as she continued burning pewter. “We’d like to hear less of you.”
His hands moved to her milky neck but didn’t squeeze. Why had she gotten so much of Ashley? Aric wasn’t even blonde.
He needed another drink in his hand. That would help him.
He dropped his hands and walked back down the hall the way he’d come. Avril and Aric watched his back disappear down the hall and around a corner. Once he was gone, Aric moved toward his sister, but she put out a hand to stop him from taking another step.
“The glass,” she said in a hushed tone.
Her brother looked down at the shards all over the floor, and the blood pooling beneath her feet. His eyes began to water.
“I’ll wake someone,” he said in a small voice. He moved back slowly, still focused on the blood puddling on the floor, until he forced himself to turn about and run down the hall.
Sighing, Avril lifted one foot and turned it so she could survey the damage for herself. The damned thing a little hurt more as she looked at it, her brain reacting to the sight of the blood flowing and jagged pieces of glass sticking out of her skin. She stepped over most of the glass and moved to Aric’s room on her toes. She grabbed two washing cloths and moved his waterbowl from the dresser to the floor, sat down, and started taking the glass out of her feet one shard at a time, as best as she could with her fingers, until her brother came back with Vela and Heved.
The Terrisman did his best to remove the tiniest beads of glass with tweezers, and Vela cleansed the wounds with ointment that stung the cuts anew. She’d endured far worse, and pewter made it much easier to take.
Too bad it didn’t dull emotional pain. She wished she could shield Aric from that aspect of things.
When she was all bandaged up, Aric lay with her, leaning his head against her chest, with an arm loosely stretched over her waist, his fingers holding on to her side, as though if he just held her that way, if he kept her here, he could protect her.
“Why couldn’t you just ignore him?” he asked, his voice heavy with sadness.
“Why couldn’t you just stay in your room?” She kissed the brown strands at the top of his head, and brushed her fingers through his hair.
“I wanted to take care of it before you tried to . . .” He was crying now. And he hated that. It made him feel like such a baby. But he wasn’t a baby. He wasn’t. He was a man of twelve.
“I didn’t want him to hurt you.”
Edited by Mora, 20 January 2018 - 08:11 PM.
I do need to ask you to adjust Kheved's name slightly, to differentiate it from Jah Keved, but pending that tweak, she's Approved! Great job!
