Forger, Meize WIP

[Guest]

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CASE FILE: Vazentian Militant

Swim til you drown.
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FULL NAME:
→ Meize Forger

AGE:
→ Twenty-seven

SEX:
→ Female

BIRTH PLACE:
→ Babylon, Vazent

RACE:
→ Vazentian (Indigenous)

DEPARTMENT:
→ TBA

DATE OF BIRTH:
→ May 6, 1986

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HEIGHT:
→ 147 lbs

WEIGHT:
→ 5'6"

PICTURE:
→

Spoiler:

DESCRIPTION:
→ The first thing one would notice about Meize is her terrible posture. She slumps like no other, crawls on the floor like a cockroach, and does not know the meaning of manners. She is in every way unladylike, never crossing her legs, and burping like a slob. Even so, she is not used to the typical ridicule found in everyday society (seeing as she was isolated her entire life). The concept is alien to her even at her age, causing her to often appear younger than she is and take on toddler--almost feral movements. This can be confusing to those who have never encountered a Vazentian before, but Meize is both working on appearing more normal and having more patience with people who do not understand where she is coming from. Especially considering her lack thereof of coordination, she oftentimes breaks things with her abnormal strength, usually causing an uproar of bewilderment. Being unused to that kind of reaction, she is displaced--miscast--a Christmas ornament hanging in the dead of summer.

Meize is that rare gem, festering in the darkest of places, grown, manicured, and thrust into the dazzling sunlight. She gleams brilliantly, utilizing her skills with finesse, and attracting a lot of unwanted attention. Yet still, she thrives anywhere, wielding her unusual strength genetically built up through her family's line as a gift rather than a burden. She is the forger, having had spent most of her life pounding metal into shapes, carving names into fire, and building blueprints for 'The Objective'. Because of this work, she not only has obtained monstrous physical strength, but also many scars. Her hands, for one, have various leftover gashes where she has missed pounding the tool and hit herself, usually cracking a bone out of her skin. She has broken every one of her fingers at least once in this practice, burned herself up to her elbows, and lit her hair on fire when she was five. Going through hell has had its benefits, however. Though Meize's strength isn't apparent on the outside, her muscles feel as if they are made from the metal in which she forges. This poses a problem when, say, one falls out of tree. Gravity hurts the heavy, and for a girl, she weighs a hell of a lot.

Even after having had caught her hair afire at such a young age, Meize has never cut it. The ends are still singed a faint black like the shadows of craters on the moon. The rest is a ethereal silver, melded from the indigenous Vazent now just a commodity. Along with that, her eyes are always serene, like the smooth surface of water unrippled, azure. She walks with a dainty stride, and has a voice like a music box, soft, distant, feminine. Skirts she has found an interest in, clutching desperately to the color pink as if it would disappear just a quickly as she discovered it. She says it reminds her of the flowers back home in Vazent, billowing out like a blossom. Even before coming to Esparia, she would fiddle with braids in her hair, but after seeing other methods, she has obtained a more balanced style, adding one on each side. Needless to say, she is still learning, still developing an interest in clothing and her looks. For now, she simply takes what she likes and applies it.

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PERSONALITY:
→ Growing up in the shadow of a single goal, Meize was malleable from the get-go. She bent and adapted in order to fit--blended into the overall melancholy of 'The Objective'. Her first word was 'why' because that was what she had heard the most of. But soon she learned she had to fill in the blanks herself; there were no answers. The only solution was her own hands and the tools she forged for the pursuit of progress. Her entire existence soon revolved around that progress (as everyone else's did); however, she found herself always on the brink of collapse, tiptoeing around hushed whispers, afraid of shifting the balance. Something was always off--always wrong, but there was only one way out: to relentlessly continue and find happiness in that progress.

Her whole life, Meize was molded and coaxed into what she is. It started when she was very young, taught to grip--to hold. As she grew she was taught to hit--to aim. Her expertise widened with her father's words in the night over a pit of flames. She sweated, she cried, she bled, but she never ran away. She hadn't a choice but to grasp the art passed down her family from generation to generation. She was her father's only child; his other applications for sex were declined, landing him with only the choice of honing her for succession. She was quick to learn despite appearing to be a frail little girl. By no means was she. Common thought was slashed to pieces as she emerged from the ash, presenting metal works that rivaled the best of Vazent. Her father was proud. She had achieved that much, but being imaginative, Meize's mind wandered. In her spare time, she designed new, state-of-the-art tools that would accomplish more in less time. Expansion was thicker in the air than the smoke. It was no time before even Thaddeus Dante Osiris Lawes XXVI himself came to her. Bedded without need for an application, her father was ecstatic that his daughter had climbed the ladder all the way to the sky. But what was left then but more sky?

Able to think backwards in sequence from an early age, the infant tests declared her fit for forging more than just metal tools for working. The design of 'The Objective' itself was handed to her in a matter of moments, before she could walk. She was named 'Maze', translated over as Meize: the bearer of the blueprints. Layouts, walkways, stairs, windows, were all a part of the end that never came. She had to continue it--devote her lifetime to keep the path going, twisting--a catacomb of confusion no one could navigate without a map. Even so, people disappeared everyday and never returned. Could she accredit herself to that--place blame on the mazes she made or 'The Objective' itself? Swallowing guilt and the mourning of others, Meize continued with her given task, contemplating her next moves whilst getting commissions for new tools to forge. Her art, her gift for forging paths and the tools to make paths was what attracted Thaddeus' attention to her. That, and her natural beauty crafted an inkling of desire in him.

They had five children. All of whom were quickly cast away from their father. At first she fought to keep them, but they were quickly thrust into the working class of slaves, forced into the type of labor that needed tools. A tier below their mother, there was no way down to them. She never knew them, never named them, but thought of them always. The pain of labor, the act that created them was safely tucked away in the recess of her mind, remaining there only to emerge in nightmares. Why couldn't she raise her own children? No, she couldn't ask that question. She couldn't ask. She had only to look the other way and hope for the best for them. Powerless and out of options, Meize was very aware that she herself was only a tool for Thaddeus. Her entire life revolved around tools, but where were the fruits of her expertise? Those hands that melded walls, when did they ever stop? Lifetimes and lifetimes were spent building the unknown, constructing concrete secrets no one could ever know. Would this generation too become skeletons in the backyard?

Regardless, Meize found happiness. She continued smiling through the pain, through the degradation, knowing no better. This was reality. Asking for more was an impossibility. She made the tangible, touched the walls that appeared on the blueprints, and walked on alone. At night, she'd sneak out and continue walking. Sometimes she'd bring back berries for the neighbors that slept in the dusty alcove next door. They carved out windows to let in light. She felt for them--an old couple with no children. Their art was dying, makeshift skills thrust on the young builders to apply. Meize is empathetic to a crime, caring relentlessly about people she doesn't even know. Is she overturns a rock, she puts it back, leaving hardly a footprint in her wake. There are no traces of Meize save for her tools and her maze. No one truly knows her. No one truly cares about her. She is just simply an entity among the crowd, brandishing a higher skill than expected.

She knows every facet of Vazent's geography. Despite being at work for countless hours during the day, Meize draws off exhaustion and illegally wanders. She has mapped out the entirety of the island, running her hand along the scars of the past generations. The map is kept locked away in a box she built in her forgery room, hidden under a removed floor stone. She has told no one of it. It is her treasure. She loves nature, the sea, and fishing. On her gifted off days, she will spend time fishing with the men who do it for work. People laugh and say she's crazy for working when she can lounge around and do nothing. Nothing? It's a concept she cannot grasp. Overworking and constantly in high spirits, Meize finds joy in helping others and maybe just maybe getting a smile out of them.

In a lot of ways, she is careless. She holds little to no value in materialistic things. She'll throw her clothes on the floor and step on them, splay her tools all over the place. She's messy to say the least, finding organizing things to be something too bothersome to waste time on. She'd rather be exploring or discovering something new to map out and include in her never-ending maze meant for 'The Objective'. However, that isn't to say that she doesn't find value in other things. Meize goes so far as to communicate with nature. She'll talk sweetly to birds, whistle back at them, touch flowers in greeting, and so on. She cares about all natural things and, like most Vazentians, pays her respects to them for giving her what she has: survival. Under no circumstances will Meize complain, grateful for what she has. Knowing nothing else, she is happy where she is, wherever she is.

Even after the horror of technology and learning that the world is much larger than just their little island, Meize's ideals still stick. She was able to assimilate quickly into a shocking culture she can barely grasp fairly easily. She still goes out for long walks to feel the form of the land, registering it clearly into her photographic memory for possible later use in both constructing mazes and navigation. Meize never gets lost, not even in unknown territory. She is adaptable and quick to pick up new languages, having had been lucky enough to learn how to write Vazentian via carving the names of the people whose tools she forged. Esparian was a cakewalk. Speaking of cake, it's one of her favorite things ever. Encountering free samples once on a walk, she indulged and has never forgotten the taste since. Meize isn't greedy and doesn't usually take anything ever. She leaves no ripples, and tiptoes her way through life, leaving but echoes of her presence in the memories of others.

LOVE:
→ The sea, Flowers, Fire, Embers, Hitting things, Forging, Showing off her strength to other races, Lies, Ignorance, Smiling, Obeying, Rules, Restrictions, Order, Working, Simplicity, Sex, Having big boobs, Seeds, Making wishes, Aspiring toward 'The Objective', Mazes, Designing mazes, Exploring, Mapping, Humidity, Swimming, Fishing, Fish and papayas, Cake, The color pink, Baby chicks,

HATE:
→ Ashes, Ants, Coffee grinds, Cars, Airplanes, Boats, Traveling, Getting motion sickness, Taking medication, Being alone, Boxes, Sidewalks, Glass, Locks, Losing keys, Guns, Shooting ranges, Change, RIOTE, Things made easy: Alchemy, Magic, Flyswatters, Flower-pickers,

DEEPEST SECRET:
→ Her nighttime walks.

IDOL:
→ The moon

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HISTORY:
→




Rain falling through the window and dampening his clothes
Give children tests to determine what they are good at.
applications for sex.

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TRIVIA:
→ Her name is actually 'Maze', but she misspelled it when carrying it over into Esparian.
→ She can solve a maze in three seconds tops.
→ She is better at thinking backwards than forwards.
→ The Forger's skin has genetically adapted to become fairly fire resistant.
→ She learned how to write by carving people's names into their forged tools.
→ She is quick to learn a new language.
→ She can identify every star in the night sky.
→ She gets motion sickness very easily.
→ She breaks things very easily.
→ She is used to people snoring.
→ She is a mother of five she never met.
→ She is fluent in Vazentian, Esparian, and Saamaltat.

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ALIAS:
→ Aki

OTHER CHARACTERS:
→ Aurel, Spade, Elastor, Toss, Ophelia,

CREATOR'S COMMENTS:
→ On behalf of plot... 83

FACE CLAIM:

Code:

[b]VOCALOID[/b]/[i]IA[/i]

CUSTOM RANK:
→ SMILEY SKELETON

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