Post by Amara Reedman on Nov 14, 2016 19:27:09 GMT -6
 | PLAYED BY Engram Seventeen (17) December (12) | Female Vytal Freshman Human |
| Amara May Reedman | ||
♤ APPEARANCE
Amara Reedman, by all counts, is generally quite attractive. The Vytal Freshman owes most of her overall appearance to family genetics, particularly those of her mother. That said, it is hard to pinpoint exactly where all her features come from, given the similarities in both sides of her family. Both of her parents have dark eyes, her mother sporting dark blue and her father displaying a deep silver. Amara appears to take after both at once with steel blue colored eyes, though they can appear to be either silver or blue from time to time. In Amara’s own words, her eyes are “whatever color they want to be at the time.” Likewise, her parents both have dark hair. Amara’s mother has dark brown hair, similar in color to the bark of an Ironbark tree, while her father has jet black hair. Though her own head of hair is quite dark, it appears most likely that she has inherited the beautiful dark locks of her mother.
Much like her mother, Amara is rather small with a frame that compliments her size rather well. She stands just below five feet tall, lingering just a few centimeters less than four foot-eleven inches tall. The young aspiring Huntress takes a great deal of care when it comes to her body, remaining relatively slim and weighing in at just over ninety-seven pounds. Her skin is pale in complexion, a feature she actually inherited from her Legion father - her mother being darker in tone due to her Setek origins. Her overall physique is lean and shaped to be as efficient as possible. This has allowed her to become an agile fighter, and has helped her to develop a series of quick - but powerful - techniques utilizing her light frame. When compared to the bulky figures of her paternal side, it becomes clearer that young Amara takes more features from her maternal side.
There are a few things pertaining to Amara’s appearance that change over time.
Some of these things, like her choice of clothing and accessories - like earrings - are obvious. Others, however, may be easy to miss if the person observing her at any given time is unfamiliar with her. The most noteable is the visual effect the manifestation of her Aura has on her hair and eyes. When active, her hair will begin to taper off and become red at the ends, wisping off like flower petals in the wind - similar to how her sister's hair behaved. It is unknown why this occurs, though it is likely tied to how her father’s Aura and Semblance interact with his own body, as his is known to do the same. Her eyes, however, are an anomaly all her own. Once active, her Aura - and even moreso her Semblance - will cause her eyes to shift to two intense colors. The most common is an ice blue, which accompanies her Aura, with a deep garnet accompanying the manifestation of her Semblance. There are also times where she can choose to display both colors - one in either eye - at will.
A quirk of Amara’s is to doodle false tattoos under her left eye. These can be any number of things, but most often take the form of a pink heart or black thunderbolt - and more often than not it is for former.
Reference Images:
♤ PERSONALITY
♤ HISTORY
**TRIGGER WARNING: Please be advised that this history contains subject matter that may be upsetting for some readers. If suicide and self harm are triggers for you, please avoid the texts that are colored YELLOW**
Where one story ends, another begins.
Such is the life of a Reedman.
The Reedman Clan has its roots in all of Remnant’s ancient histories, but their part was always miniscule at best. The first patriarch of what would become the Reedman’s, Algernon, established himself as a capable warrior in the days when their family still called the wilds home. In those trying times, he was a well known hunter, braving the wilds to provide sustenance to the small village he had been born into. His prowess in the hunt came from his Semblance, a manifestation of his Aura that embodied his love for exploring and his unrelenting desire for absolute control of his destiny.
Mijn Eigen Weg.
My Own Path
That’s what they always told her, anyway.
See, Amara’s family has always had a sense of grandeur that they attached to their name. They were a true “rags to riches” story, in a matter of speaking, despite the fact that they themselves lived a pretty boring life. Her mother, Ophelia, was born in the wilderness of Setek to and raised by a nomadic tribe of warriors. She almost literally had nothing. Her father Ezra, on the other hand, grew up rather comfortably. His parents made ends meet, and he was put through school with no problem. After graduating from Vytal, he started his own journey - with Mijn Eigen Weg paving the way before him.
By the time the two had met, Ophelia had already had her first child - Nea. Ezra got along with the child immediately, with Phelia growing increasingly smitten with the young man over his interactions with her people and daughter. As months dragged on, Ezra and Ophelia would spend countless nights discussing their dreams of the future. What would Remnant be like a decade from now? A century? Whatever the case, the two grew determined to make their own mark on the world - and make it one that would last. It was during one such night that Amara was conceived.
Amara remembers hearing stories about the morning she was born. She always enjoyed hearing about how her father cried like a child while her mother laughed, about how her grandparents “almost could have died” of joy. The Reedman Clan, as they came to be known, was the only family she’d ever want. A mutual respect among each member, even on their worst days, helped shape them into a pillar for any community to support itself. Volunteer work was, perhaps, the thing that really helped them stand out. Ezra and Ophelia often took turns between going out on mission trips and taking care of their children.
Their little girl couldn’t have been happier to have grown up with that equal exposure.
Never too much, or too little, of either of them.
“Amara, stop! You can’t do that! Someone is gonna get hurt!”
She’s always going to remember the day she first touched Kaecilius. About six years old at the time - making Nea ten, as she was four years her senior - Amara and her sister found their way into Ezra’s weapon vault. The reason for their escapade? Nothing more than the desire to explore parts of their home they never had before. It was a truly exhilarating, as far as the youngest daughter was concerned. Her retelling of the event always includes the long, drawn out walk through an unnecessarily murky tunnel - and it is for this reason she often teases that her father is a vampire.
Through a large wooden door, she saw it mounted on a wall - Kaecilius, the Venerator. Of course, little Amara ran for the sword the second her deep steelish blue eyes settled upon it. Nea did her best to try and stop her, but her little sister was too quick. Before the words “Amara, wait!” could even leave her mouth, Amara’s small hands clamped themselves down upon the handle and lifted it up. Too heavy for her petite physique, she began to teeter from side to side before spinning into a full powered swing. The sword smashed against panels of glass, cleaved through meat-like Grimm dummies.
It was a disaster, and Nea was terrified.
Gods, the look on her face.
“Holy crap! We’re so frickin’ screwed!” Nea cried. “Dad’s gonna kill us both for sure!”
Nea and Amara were, to say the very least, quite close as sisters. They did everything together, ranging from simple things like going for morning strolls through the village, to things that were a little more laborious like helping build houses for settlers or tending to the village cattle. They shared blood, as they would put it, despite having different fathers. Amara looked up to Nea because of her proud, confident demeanor - and Nea looked up to Amara because of how flamboyant and carefree the little girl was. People loved them for different reasons, and together they complimented one another.
As life went on, Amara started to grow fascinated with music and dance. It was in those days that her and Nea’s relationship began to change, the two girls once seemingly attached at the hips spending less and less time together. This wasn’t to say it was all Amara’s fault, though. Nea was changing too. As the eldest daughter began to mature, so did her interests. She spent more time away from home and more time with new friends - and boys - something that was just enough to vex the youngest Reedman daughter. Music soon became Amara’s only escape, and she began writing the things she couldn’t just say outright.
A few songs later, and she began playing at small talent shows around the Kingdom.
She was around thirteen years old when this all began, picking up and practicing a host of instruments as the years went by. Piano and guitar were the two Amara favored most of all, with the former serving as the very first instrument she ever learned. Her father had recommended it after she first expressed interest in making music, telling her she could “learn anything” after learning how to play the piano. It excited her, more so than anything to come before it, to pick something up that would unlock so many future opportunities. Those first few months of striking the white and black keys provided Amara with some of her happiest memories.
One day, in particular, stood out - the day she finally started to write her own music.
Following hours of practice, Amara sat before the espresso black grand piano and stared down at the keys. She had grown frustrated at her progress, her hands balled into tight fists as she hung her head. Defeat was the only thing she felt, despite having performed pretty well during her rehearsal. Irritated, Amara raised her fists and brought them down upon the keys with all her might. The sound that emanated from the instrument was a series of doots and chimes and plings, all of which together sounded absolutely dreadful. Just thinking about it, even today, causes her stomach to twist and turn.
Her eyes turned towards the large window to her side, her steel blue eyes focusing on the beautiful scenery beyond the small houses that littered her view. An exhausted huff, and she slowly began to sink down among the keys. Her elbows were the first to meet the surface, pressing down upon they keys and sounding off a variety of notes. She paused for a moment, taking a moment for a brief yawn, then let her forehead drop down against the white and black surface as well. This time, however, the combination of notes that sounded was remarkably pleasant.
She sat up, smiling curiously as she struck the note a second time.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
Inspiration flowed through her, her fingers setting on opposite sides of this new note, pressing down against the broken smile of the piano. If Amara could have had anything, back then and even today, it would be to re-live that one fleeting moment. If she could have had anything, it would be to share what exactly she felt as she sat there and played. No care in the world, no worries. There, alone, was nothing other than bliss. To say she was elated would have been an understatement. Letting go was euphoric. Letting go was everything she needed to do at that point.
“That’s really pretty, squirt.” The sound of her sister’s voice invaded the music.
Amara just kept playing, a wide smile on her face as Nea leaned against the piano to listen. That was the first time she noticed her big sister had changed her hair color, the once dark locks similar to her own bleached out and replaced with a vivid red.
At first, Amara thought it looked funny, and teased her because of it. She would say things like “Are you trying to look like a clown?” or call her pet names like “Big Red” or “Fire Ball”. Nea, luckily, never took this too seriously. Whenever the youngest daughter teased, the eldest responded in kind. Amara was given nicknames like “Short Stuff” or “Midge” - the latter, if she were being completely honest, her least favorite. It was odd to think that a girl like her had confidence issues with how she interacted with the world, but her height had always been one of those things she’d change in a heartbeat if she were able.
Of course, as Amara will say, whenever something perfect happens, something equally as disastrous must follow suit. That something came roughly one week before Amara was scheduled to leave for Vytal Island to begin the underclassman studies required as a citizen of one of the Four Kingdoms.
Nea, who was seventeen and in the process of preparing for her Freshman year in the Academy’s Hunter program, had been seeing a boy for roughly a year and a half. Amara had never met the young man, but her parents had. He was described as kind, gentle even, just the sort that Nea needed in her life. Ophelia, of course, worried that her eldest daughter would get too distracted with matters of the heart, and even more that she would wind up getting herself hurt. Ezra, while recognizing his wife’s concerns, insisted they let Nea experience the ups and downs of life on her own.
They couldn’t shelter her from everything, right?
Amara wished they would have.
Leading up to that fateful day, Amara had caught glimpses of her sister crying. She would see Nea tearing up paper, burning pictures, and yelling at someone - someone that wasn’t there. Something had clearly put Nea in distress, and Amara was willing to do whatever it’d take to help cheer her up. The junior Reedman daughter took to the kitchen, whipping together a multitude of ingredients into a dessert - a tiramisu - that she knew Nea would love. It took roughly an hour for Amara to complete the dish, and she bee-lined for her sister’s room as soon as it was complete. She was jubilant.
“Nea!” She called out. “Hey, Nea! I made you something!”
There was no response.
Amara paused as she approached the door, music pounding against the wooden surface, threatening to consume everything in the house as soon as the path was cleared. Their parents must have been away, otherwise Amara knew Nea would never get away with playing something so loud. She let out a relaxed sigh, pressing her ear against the door as she held the dessert in one hand, giving the door a hard knock with the other. What on earth could she be doing in there, anyway? Amara was beginning to grow impatient as her knocks became harder, eventually matching the level of the music in Nea’s room.
Enough of this!
She turned the knob and pushed the door open.
“Hey, Nea, I made you something to-...” She began, her voice cutting immediately as she entered the room. She was speechless. She was terrified.
Nea was sprawled out in the middle of the room, surrounded by a mess of blood and blood-stained papers. It was almost as if a bomb had gone off in the room, but it was clear - even to Amara - that Nea had done this to herself. Amara dropped the dessert as soon as her eyes settled on her sister’s near lifeless body, the fine china dish shattering the moment it met the hard surface below. In the time between relinquishing the dish to gravity and it crashing below, Amara had made it to her sister’s side, kneeling down in the mess that surrounded her. Tears - so many tears - streamed down Amara’s face as she wrapped her arms around her.
She was so...cold.
“Nea! Nea, please! Wake up!” She cried, shaking her sister as she held her close. “I need you to open your eyes!”
“A-...Amara?” Nea replied weakly. “What are you doing here? I thought...maybe you had gone out with mom and dad.”
Amara shook her head violently, doing her very best to swallow down the lump that had manifested in her throat. Why had Nea done this? What happened? There were so many questions Amara wanted to ask her - questions she needed to ask her. She could see in Nea’s eyes, however, that there was no time. The damage she had done to her body was too great, and Amara had not been trained in Aura to the point of using Mending. Grief set in almost immediately, with Amara lost in a battle between accepting what was about to happen and denying it all together.
She couldn’t lose Nea.
She couldn’t lose her best friend.
“I…” Nea’s tired voice began, only to be interrupted by a cough, as tears rolled down her pale cheeks. “I’m gonna miss you, sis. I really am.”
“Nea, no…” Amara’s voice cracked, the sight of her sister’s tears pushing her into a heavy sob. “Please don’t go...I need you. You’re my only friend.”
“You’ll make new friends. I know you will.”
“N-Nea...please, don’t say that!” She cried. "I don't want new friends, I want you!"
“Do good for us both, okay? Mom and dad are gonna need you. Stay strong.”
“I love you, Nea. Please don’t go…”
“I love you too, squirt. We’ll see each other again, okay?”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Silence.
Amara couldn’t cry anymore. Instead, she remained kneeling at Nea’s side, holding her sister’s now lifeless body against her chest. Everyone was going to blame her, she knew it. This was all her fault. If only she had gone to check on her sooner, maybe then Nea would still be alive. If she had tended to her sister when she first saw her there, tearing her room apart, perhaps she could have kept her from taking her own life. For the first time, Amara’s Aura flared to life. It was black and blue, twisting violently like two immiscible fluids. Her eyes flickered between two vibrant hues of blue and gold, and her hair fluttered about like rose petals.
Where one story ends, another begins.
Such is the life of a Reedman.
“I’ll do good - for both of us - I promise.”
Nea’s funeral came and went, the family was noticeably shaken by the event. No one really knew why it happened, but there was speculation. Amara believed it had something to do with her sister’s boyfriend, recounting how many of the pieces of paper that littered the now empty room were love notes to the elusive individual. Amara hated him. She hated, with the exception of those in her family, most men after that. She just wasn’t willing to let someone like that come into her life and tear her heart apart. As far as she was concerned, Amara would rather die than do such a thing.
Her appearance started to change after all of that, too. Where she once dressed modestly and wore vibrant colors, Amara soon began taking up darker garb that was slightly more revealing than she had worn growing up. Skirts and cardigans were replaced with high short shorts and tank tops that left skin exposed. Ezra wasn’t the fondest of this new Amara, nor was Ophelia. Reluctantly, they accepted it as a phase, hoping that her time at Vytal Academy would help bring her to heel. Just prior to leaving home, Ezra gifted Amara with something she’d grow to cherish more than anything else.
Kaecilius, the Venerator.
Her first year of the underclass years were nothing remarkable, as far as she was concerned. It was a lot of the same thing day in and day out, and for a while she toyed with the notion of dropped out after all was said and done. She didn’t need to become a Huntress, right? Every time the thought of leaving - of giving up - ever entered Amara’s mind, she always thought about Nea and the promise she had made her. To do good for both of them. Amara had a long road ahead of her, one that was sure to be full of all manner of twists and turns. This was just the beginning of all of that. She had to find a way to push through it all.
Training became a norm. When she wasn’t distracted by her newly developed fixation with dance, Amara made it a point to train using Kaecilius and her Aura as much as possible. It was a strange weapon, built from several small machines that - when pulled apart - resembled little bugs. Together, however, these little bots formed a nearly indestructable weapon. They really were a testament to how even the smallest of things could hold awe-inspiring levels of power. Amara was quick to master Kaecilius in sword form, but took a particular fancy to the waving, formless application of the weapon she simply referred to as “Flow”.
As she danced, Amara started implementing Flow into her routine. It became clear that it was effective as a weapon in some instances, but overall she risked severely damaging Kaecilius’s structure through destroying the small nanites as a result of her recklessness. She’d have to stick to a strict set of maneuvers if she wanted to keep her weapon in one piece, thus developing a means of using Flow Form in a manner similar to a magic carpet. She’d hop on, and fly through the air at high speeds. It was like riding a hoverboard in some cases, actually. She really quite enjoyed it.
The more she found to distract herself, the more carefree Amara became. Her mood improved, causing a noticeable shift in her grades. Ezra and Ophelia received regular updates, growing more and more proud of her as time went on. Slowly but surely, Amara was starting to fulfill her promises. All she had to do now was practice her Semblance, something her father had insisted wait until she went on to pursue the Hunter courses. She didn’t know why, but she wasn’t going to question the wishes of her father. Instead, she turned to song and dance once again, performing for small crowds at cafes that were scattered upon the island.
Once she started hitting maturity, hormones became a struggle all their own. Amara hated growing up so much, there were times she would call home begging to return and just work in the village. She could deal with a life so boring it’d likely conclude with her ending herself, but at the same time she wanted more than just a safe space. Amara was determined to do something great, she just wasn’t sure what that great thing would be. Day after day, training session after training session, and eventually Amara found her answer to that one unanswerable question.
Someday, she would become the Combat Professor at Vytal Academy.
This was Mijn Eigen Weg, guiding her down a new and exciting path without her even realizing it.
Amara’s journey through the underclass years continued, with her putting a great deal of focus in practicing in the use of her Aura. Her father continued to strongly advised against training her Semblance, fearing that she would end up harming herself if it went out of control. She didn’t know it as Mijn Eigen Weg then, and instead referred to it as her Forbidden Dance. On occasion, Amara would find herself using small flares of her Semblance while dancing, allowing her to perform certain feats without being hindered. This helped the already small girl remain lean, every bit of muscle in her body compacted into the smallest possible form.
There was even a night when, after a bit of a scuffle with a friend, it was remarked that punching Amara was like slamming one’s fist against a brick wall. She was strong, for sure, but she never paid much attention to such comments. There were plenty of people that were bigger and better than her in all respects, to try and compare her to anyone was a moot point as far as she was concerned. When all was said and done, she’d keep her attention on her studies and moving forward. To being the very best she could be and keeping the promise she had made to Nea before finally leaving home.
It’s what she had to do.
The first time Amara truly used Mijn Eigen Weg came during her initial encounter with the beasts known throughout Remnant as the creatures of Grimm. This monster, in particular, was the species known as Barghest. She remembers that night so vividly, right down to how the smell of the creature’s breath and the bristliness of its coarse, black fur. A small team of students, led by a male Hunter chaperone, had signed up to investigate reports of Grimm near the outskirts of the island. Amara was one of the first in her group to volunteer, trembling with excitement at the prospect of seeing one of these ferocious monsters up close and personal.
Boy, did she ever get more than she bargained for.
Instead of one Barghest, the group - five or six, she can’t quite recall - was met with a pack of more than a dozen, assuming memory served her right. Before there was ample time to respond, two of the students had been killed in efforts to slay three of the Grimm. The remaining students scattered, everyone parting their own way as hysteria set in. The Huntsman that had accompanied them remained close to Amara, but she was pretty sure he was the first to go once everyone split up. The screams of the man as the monsters ravaged his body, the tearing of flesh and the gurgling sounds, all haunt her to this very day.
Next was a girl, probably a year older than Amara was. She thought she would be safe up in a tree, and climbed the hulking stalk of wood in hopes the Barghests could not follow. Amara, despite knowing little about the creatures of Grimm at the time, knew this to be foolish. The Barghest were large beasts that were surely strong enough to climb the tree and make the girl their next meal. It wasn’t until her cries echoed in the night that Amara knew she was gone too. In her mind she tried to crunch numbers - how many of them remained? First two, then the Huntsman, now the girl. Four had perished so far, meaning there were two more - as far as she could remember - remaining.
It was her versus them.
Those...monsters.
She had found refuge among some foliage, her tired eyes shifting through the darkness as they fruitlessly sought any sign of movement. Wherever they were, they were hiding - and very well at that. There was a part of her that felt foolish for not expecting such behavior from these creatures of darkness - like how could they not hide in the night with ease? It was that sort of stupidity that’d get her killed if she wasn’t careful. A barely audible rustle in the leaves behind caused her blood to run cold. There was something there, and she knew it, she just couldn’t bring herself to turn around and face whatever it was.
Then she heard the deep rumbling growl.
Then she felt breath on the back of her neck.
Then...she felt a warm, wet nose against her shoulder.
The only thing Amara did was run.
She ran as fast as she could, just barely getting out of the way before the Barghest’s jaws snapped shut. Her heart raced, her pulse pounding so hard it made her head ache. She had to get away, she had to! The only question was “where?” As she ran, Grimm in tow, Amara was beginning to feel like she was out of options. Her muscles were growing weak, her legs sore from dashing and dodging through trees and thick plants. Just when she was about to give in to exhaustion, her Aura flared to life. Her eyes shimmered blue as her hair flared off like a wild fire. She started moving faster and better.
Amara’s movements became fluid-like as she twisted and turned between the thickness of the forest, eventually losing the Grimm in her path. She was so overcome with joy, celebrating in her successful retreat, that she ran off a cliff. Mijn Eigen Weg kept her on path, her feet setting comfortably along the sheer drop as if it were a bridge. Once she reached the bottom of the chasm, she jumped over the small stream that ran through the abyss and back up the other side. Her Semblance, exhausting her Aura, deactivated as she made it to the doorstep of the Academy. She was a lone survivor, and part of her couldn’t forgive herself for not being able to save the others.
But at least she was alive.
She had survived.
After that, Amara continued her training. Despite her father’s wishes, she put extensive focus on the master of her Semblance, doing everything and anything in her power to ensure she had complete control over her path. She took more opportunities to go out on small scouting missions, more chances to learn more about the monsters that stalked mankind from the shadows. She was going to be a Huntress, and she was determined to be one of the best. Her plans continued from there, connecting to her desire to one day become a teacher. After making a name for herself, after doing her part for the world, then she would do whatever it took to become Vytal Academy’s Combat Instructor.
Her aspirations caught the eye of prominent Huntsman and Huntresses, some of whom she knew from her home village. They saw a passion to do good for all people, and a drive to become the very best she could be that dwarfed that of her peers. Her desires, much like the chaotic dance of her Aura, was fierce. She wasn’t willing to let anyone tell her what to do or where to go. She was her own person, and the person she sought to be was the one she would become. Some of these eyeing Hunters offered to teach her, and every single one she denied. Amara Reedman was going to pave her own way forward.
No one was going to take that away from her.
Amara’s third year in Vytal’s mandatory course was a little rougher than she anticipated. This wasn’t because of school work, or fighting monsters, or her training. The roughness she experienced that year was, rather, much more on an emotional level. Her sister would’ve been about nineteen, digging through the school year in preparation for that fourth and final step to becoming a Huntress. Amara couldn’t begin to imagine the excitement those students felt. Seeing peers and siblings interact was nothing short of heartbreaking. Never before had Amara felt so alone.
She became a recluse.
Between nights spent fidgeting with her guitar or piano and singing, as well as those spent dancing alone in training rooms, Amara all but completely shut herself out to the rest of the world. It was this solitude that kept her on track throughout that year, allowing her to fully invest herself in her training. She grew rather skilled - though not perfect - in the use of Kaecilius, mastering the art of transforming the sword into its bow form. Getting arrows to conjure through Dust use proved difficult at first, but over time she got that down too. All it took was a little bit of patience and the ability to push herself beyond her limits.
As she destroyed those old limits, new ones were built in their place, and Amara pushed herself further and further.
It was only a matter of time before she pushed herself too far.
One night of training went particularly poorly. Kaecilius didn’t cooperate, and her efforts to channel her Semblance into her movements were fruitless. After giving up, Amara simply stood before the mirror-like wall before her and stared at her reflection. Pathetic. What a waste of perfectly good energy. Her mind began picking her apart little by little. She grew terrified, frantically running away from herself and to the house she was sharing with another small group of students. They were gone, off on a trip of their own to fight the monsters they grew up hearing stories about. Maybe they’d die, maybe they’d live. In that moment, however, Amara did not care.
Running into the bathroom, she finally broke. A fit of tears, screaming, and violent thrashing. Amara tore the shower curtain from its pins, threw whatever was loose on the floor in a flurry of anger, and drove her fist into the medicine cabinet mirror. With her other hand balled into a tight fist of its own, she brought it down like a sledgehammer against the porcelain sink and broke off a large piece. Her hand was bleeding, her Aura suppressed to let her feel something - anything - to take her mind off how much she hated herself. Things she had done so effortlessly, tonight, were impossibilities. Her eyes settled on a jagged shard of glass, the reflective surface peppered with red like the rest of the sink.
Do it.
No. Don’t. It will hurt.
It hurts already. Maybe this will make it go away?
Okay...Maybe you have a point.
Just be quick.
Okay…
The last thing Amara remembers, other than reaching into the sink and grasping that wicked shard, was the sharp pain down her arm. After that, everything went black. When she finally came to she was in the Academy’s infirmary, both her arms and her left hand wrapped firmly in several white bandages. What had she done to herself? She panicked, spewing curses at the nurse that tended to her. The woman looked unphased, but Amara could tell she was hurt by the things she said. It made her feel terrible. Here this nice woman was, doing her best to treat Amara’s wounds, and she responded with not a “thank you” and benevolence but with hostility.
Nea would be so disappointed in her.
Anxiety had gotten the best of Amara that day. In her efforts to excel, she had pushed herself - mentally and emotionally - to the brink. She was standing on a crooked edge, with no way down other than to jump. There was no way she could live up to her promise now, not after this. Such a thought couldn’t possibly have been true, though. Amara knew she was capable of living the life she and her sister wanted. She would get out there and change the world. It was all still in her power, she just needed proper guidance. For some time she toyed with the idea of leaving Vytal to study at the Cela Monasteries.
But who wants to wear stinky robes all the time and be all passive, right?
Remaining at Vytal Academy, Amara pushed herself through her third and fourth year as an underclassmen. The time then came for her to decide: would she follow the path of a Huntress, go home and stick to music and dance, or leave to the Monastery? The choice was a difficult one to make once all was considered, and for some time she leaned towards just going home. She could keep her promise to Nea without putting herself in harm’s way, couldn’t she? The thought of staying continuously nagged at her, leading all the way to the night before she was scheduled to go home.
”Do good for both of us.”
”I will. I promise.”
Amara was jolted out of a dream that featured nothing but darkness and two voices - Nea’s and her own. Despite taking no form, the dream was surreal and vivid. She could feel her sister at her side, cold and lifeless. She could taste the air as the aroma from the kitchen wafted throughout the house. It was a perfect retelling of that night without pictures. Awake and fully alert, Amara’s body trembled as she broke out into a fit of cold sweats. She couldn’t abandon her dreams - nor those of her sister. Amara had to stay at Vytal. She had to see this through to the very end, and she was - now more than ever - determined to do so.
Her story as an underclassman had finally come to a close. Now, Amara looks ahead to her studies at Vytal Academy, and the prospect of forging new and exciting partnerships. She looks ahead to bringing joy to others through her songs and dance, to protecting all of Remnant from the creatures of Grimm - as well as the newly surfaced menace known as the Rhagargoelion. Amara was going to be the voice of the people that didn’t have one, and someday be the mentor of Remnant’s mightiest heroes. This was Amara’s way. This was Amara’s own path.
Where one story ends, another begins.
Such is the life of Amara Reedman.
Amara Reedman, by all counts, is generally quite attractive. The Vytal Freshman owes most of her overall appearance to family genetics, particularly those of her mother. That said, it is hard to pinpoint exactly where all her features come from, given the similarities in both sides of her family. Both of her parents have dark eyes, her mother sporting dark blue and her father displaying a deep silver. Amara appears to take after both at once with steel blue colored eyes, though they can appear to be either silver or blue from time to time. In Amara’s own words, her eyes are “whatever color they want to be at the time.” Likewise, her parents both have dark hair. Amara’s mother has dark brown hair, similar in color to the bark of an Ironbark tree, while her father has jet black hair. Though her own head of hair is quite dark, it appears most likely that she has inherited the beautiful dark locks of her mother.
Much like her mother, Amara is rather small with a frame that compliments her size rather well. She stands just below five feet tall, lingering just a few centimeters less than four foot-eleven inches tall. The young aspiring Huntress takes a great deal of care when it comes to her body, remaining relatively slim and weighing in at just over ninety-seven pounds. Her skin is pale in complexion, a feature she actually inherited from her Legion father - her mother being darker in tone due to her Setek origins. Her overall physique is lean and shaped to be as efficient as possible. This has allowed her to become an agile fighter, and has helped her to develop a series of quick - but powerful - techniques utilizing her light frame. When compared to the bulky figures of her paternal side, it becomes clearer that young Amara takes more features from her maternal side.
There are a few things pertaining to Amara’s appearance that change over time.
Some of these things, like her choice of clothing and accessories - like earrings - are obvious. Others, however, may be easy to miss if the person observing her at any given time is unfamiliar with her. The most noteable is the visual effect the manifestation of her Aura has on her hair and eyes. When active, her hair will begin to taper off and become red at the ends, wisping off like flower petals in the wind - similar to how her sister's hair behaved. It is unknown why this occurs, though it is likely tied to how her father’s Aura and Semblance interact with his own body, as his is known to do the same. Her eyes, however, are an anomaly all her own. Once active, her Aura - and even moreso her Semblance - will cause her eyes to shift to two intense colors. The most common is an ice blue, which accompanies her Aura, with a deep garnet accompanying the manifestation of her Semblance. There are also times where she can choose to display both colors - one in either eye - at will.
A quirk of Amara’s is to doodle false tattoos under her left eye. These can be any number of things, but most often take the form of a pink heart or black thunderbolt - and more often than not it is for former.
Reference Images:
♤ PERSONALITY
POSITIVE - Astute (clever and crafty) - Easygoing (chill to the max) - Supportive (of her friends, anyway) - Confident (there's none better!) - Patient (time is her greatest ally) | NEGATIVE - Passionate (to a fault) - Arrogant (comes with the confidence) - Brusque (she can hurt your feelings) - Obstinate (try to change her mind) - Self-indulgent (does what she wants) |
♤ HISTORY
**TRIGGER WARNING: Please be advised that this history contains subject matter that may be upsetting for some readers. If suicide and self harm are triggers for you, please avoid the texts that are colored YELLOW**
Where one story ends, another begins.
Such is the life of a Reedman.
The Reedman Clan has its roots in all of Remnant’s ancient histories, but their part was always miniscule at best. The first patriarch of what would become the Reedman’s, Algernon, established himself as a capable warrior in the days when their family still called the wilds home. In those trying times, he was a well known hunter, braving the wilds to provide sustenance to the small village he had been born into. His prowess in the hunt came from his Semblance, a manifestation of his Aura that embodied his love for exploring and his unrelenting desire for absolute control of his destiny.
Mijn Eigen Weg.
My Own Path
That’s what they always told her, anyway.
See, Amara’s family has always had a sense of grandeur that they attached to their name. They were a true “rags to riches” story, in a matter of speaking, despite the fact that they themselves lived a pretty boring life. Her mother, Ophelia, was born in the wilderness of Setek to and raised by a nomadic tribe of warriors. She almost literally had nothing. Her father Ezra, on the other hand, grew up rather comfortably. His parents made ends meet, and he was put through school with no problem. After graduating from Vytal, he started his own journey - with Mijn Eigen Weg paving the way before him.
By the time the two had met, Ophelia had already had her first child - Nea. Ezra got along with the child immediately, with Phelia growing increasingly smitten with the young man over his interactions with her people and daughter. As months dragged on, Ezra and Ophelia would spend countless nights discussing their dreams of the future. What would Remnant be like a decade from now? A century? Whatever the case, the two grew determined to make their own mark on the world - and make it one that would last. It was during one such night that Amara was conceived.
Amara remembers hearing stories about the morning she was born. She always enjoyed hearing about how her father cried like a child while her mother laughed, about how her grandparents “almost could have died” of joy. The Reedman Clan, as they came to be known, was the only family she’d ever want. A mutual respect among each member, even on their worst days, helped shape them into a pillar for any community to support itself. Volunteer work was, perhaps, the thing that really helped them stand out. Ezra and Ophelia often took turns between going out on mission trips and taking care of their children.
Their little girl couldn’t have been happier to have grown up with that equal exposure.
Never too much, or too little, of either of them.
“Amara, stop! You can’t do that! Someone is gonna get hurt!”
She’s always going to remember the day she first touched Kaecilius. About six years old at the time - making Nea ten, as she was four years her senior - Amara and her sister found their way into Ezra’s weapon vault. The reason for their escapade? Nothing more than the desire to explore parts of their home they never had before. It was a truly exhilarating, as far as the youngest daughter was concerned. Her retelling of the event always includes the long, drawn out walk through an unnecessarily murky tunnel - and it is for this reason she often teases that her father is a vampire.
Through a large wooden door, she saw it mounted on a wall - Kaecilius, the Venerator. Of course, little Amara ran for the sword the second her deep steelish blue eyes settled upon it. Nea did her best to try and stop her, but her little sister was too quick. Before the words “Amara, wait!” could even leave her mouth, Amara’s small hands clamped themselves down upon the handle and lifted it up. Too heavy for her petite physique, she began to teeter from side to side before spinning into a full powered swing. The sword smashed against panels of glass, cleaved through meat-like Grimm dummies.
It was a disaster, and Nea was terrified.
Gods, the look on her face.
“Holy crap! We’re so frickin’ screwed!” Nea cried. “Dad’s gonna kill us both for sure!”
Nea and Amara were, to say the very least, quite close as sisters. They did everything together, ranging from simple things like going for morning strolls through the village, to things that were a little more laborious like helping build houses for settlers or tending to the village cattle. They shared blood, as they would put it, despite having different fathers. Amara looked up to Nea because of her proud, confident demeanor - and Nea looked up to Amara because of how flamboyant and carefree the little girl was. People loved them for different reasons, and together they complimented one another.
As life went on, Amara started to grow fascinated with music and dance. It was in those days that her and Nea’s relationship began to change, the two girls once seemingly attached at the hips spending less and less time together. This wasn’t to say it was all Amara’s fault, though. Nea was changing too. As the eldest daughter began to mature, so did her interests. She spent more time away from home and more time with new friends - and boys - something that was just enough to vex the youngest Reedman daughter. Music soon became Amara’s only escape, and she began writing the things she couldn’t just say outright.
A few songs later, and she began playing at small talent shows around the Kingdom.
She was around thirteen years old when this all began, picking up and practicing a host of instruments as the years went by. Piano and guitar were the two Amara favored most of all, with the former serving as the very first instrument she ever learned. Her father had recommended it after she first expressed interest in making music, telling her she could “learn anything” after learning how to play the piano. It excited her, more so than anything to come before it, to pick something up that would unlock so many future opportunities. Those first few months of striking the white and black keys provided Amara with some of her happiest memories.
One day, in particular, stood out - the day she finally started to write her own music.
Following hours of practice, Amara sat before the espresso black grand piano and stared down at the keys. She had grown frustrated at her progress, her hands balled into tight fists as she hung her head. Defeat was the only thing she felt, despite having performed pretty well during her rehearsal. Irritated, Amara raised her fists and brought them down upon the keys with all her might. The sound that emanated from the instrument was a series of doots and chimes and plings, all of which together sounded absolutely dreadful. Just thinking about it, even today, causes her stomach to twist and turn.
Her eyes turned towards the large window to her side, her steel blue eyes focusing on the beautiful scenery beyond the small houses that littered her view. An exhausted huff, and she slowly began to sink down among the keys. Her elbows were the first to meet the surface, pressing down upon they keys and sounding off a variety of notes. She paused for a moment, taking a moment for a brief yawn, then let her forehead drop down against the white and black surface as well. This time, however, the combination of notes that sounded was remarkably pleasant.
She sat up, smiling curiously as she struck the note a second time.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
Inspiration flowed through her, her fingers setting on opposite sides of this new note, pressing down against the broken smile of the piano. If Amara could have had anything, back then and even today, it would be to re-live that one fleeting moment. If she could have had anything, it would be to share what exactly she felt as she sat there and played. No care in the world, no worries. There, alone, was nothing other than bliss. To say she was elated would have been an understatement. Letting go was euphoric. Letting go was everything she needed to do at that point.
“That’s really pretty, squirt.” The sound of her sister’s voice invaded the music.
Amara just kept playing, a wide smile on her face as Nea leaned against the piano to listen. That was the first time she noticed her big sister had changed her hair color, the once dark locks similar to her own bleached out and replaced with a vivid red.
At first, Amara thought it looked funny, and teased her because of it. She would say things like “Are you trying to look like a clown?” or call her pet names like “Big Red” or “Fire Ball”. Nea, luckily, never took this too seriously. Whenever the youngest daughter teased, the eldest responded in kind. Amara was given nicknames like “Short Stuff” or “Midge” - the latter, if she were being completely honest, her least favorite. It was odd to think that a girl like her had confidence issues with how she interacted with the world, but her height had always been one of those things she’d change in a heartbeat if she were able.
Of course, as Amara will say, whenever something perfect happens, something equally as disastrous must follow suit. That something came roughly one week before Amara was scheduled to leave for Vytal Island to begin the underclassman studies required as a citizen of one of the Four Kingdoms.
Nea, who was seventeen and in the process of preparing for her Freshman year in the Academy’s Hunter program, had been seeing a boy for roughly a year and a half. Amara had never met the young man, but her parents had. He was described as kind, gentle even, just the sort that Nea needed in her life. Ophelia, of course, worried that her eldest daughter would get too distracted with matters of the heart, and even more that she would wind up getting herself hurt. Ezra, while recognizing his wife’s concerns, insisted they let Nea experience the ups and downs of life on her own.
They couldn’t shelter her from everything, right?
Amara wished they would have.
Leading up to that fateful day, Amara had caught glimpses of her sister crying. She would see Nea tearing up paper, burning pictures, and yelling at someone - someone that wasn’t there. Something had clearly put Nea in distress, and Amara was willing to do whatever it’d take to help cheer her up. The junior Reedman daughter took to the kitchen, whipping together a multitude of ingredients into a dessert - a tiramisu - that she knew Nea would love. It took roughly an hour for Amara to complete the dish, and she bee-lined for her sister’s room as soon as it was complete. She was jubilant.
“Nea!” She called out. “Hey, Nea! I made you something!”
There was no response.
Amara paused as she approached the door, music pounding against the wooden surface, threatening to consume everything in the house as soon as the path was cleared. Their parents must have been away, otherwise Amara knew Nea would never get away with playing something so loud. She let out a relaxed sigh, pressing her ear against the door as she held the dessert in one hand, giving the door a hard knock with the other. What on earth could she be doing in there, anyway? Amara was beginning to grow impatient as her knocks became harder, eventually matching the level of the music in Nea’s room.
Enough of this!
She turned the knob and pushed the door open.
“Hey, Nea, I made you something to-...” She began, her voice cutting immediately as she entered the room. She was speechless. She was terrified.
Nea was sprawled out in the middle of the room, surrounded by a mess of blood and blood-stained papers. It was almost as if a bomb had gone off in the room, but it was clear - even to Amara - that Nea had done this to herself. Amara dropped the dessert as soon as her eyes settled on her sister’s near lifeless body, the fine china dish shattering the moment it met the hard surface below. In the time between relinquishing the dish to gravity and it crashing below, Amara had made it to her sister’s side, kneeling down in the mess that surrounded her. Tears - so many tears - streamed down Amara’s face as she wrapped her arms around her.
She was so...cold.
“Nea! Nea, please! Wake up!” She cried, shaking her sister as she held her close. “I need you to open your eyes!”
“A-...Amara?” Nea replied weakly. “What are you doing here? I thought...maybe you had gone out with mom and dad.”
Amara shook her head violently, doing her very best to swallow down the lump that had manifested in her throat. Why had Nea done this? What happened? There were so many questions Amara wanted to ask her - questions she needed to ask her. She could see in Nea’s eyes, however, that there was no time. The damage she had done to her body was too great, and Amara had not been trained in Aura to the point of using Mending. Grief set in almost immediately, with Amara lost in a battle between accepting what was about to happen and denying it all together.
She couldn’t lose Nea.
She couldn’t lose her best friend.
“I…” Nea’s tired voice began, only to be interrupted by a cough, as tears rolled down her pale cheeks. “I’m gonna miss you, sis. I really am.”
“Nea, no…” Amara’s voice cracked, the sight of her sister’s tears pushing her into a heavy sob. “Please don’t go...I need you. You’re my only friend.”
“You’ll make new friends. I know you will.”
“N-Nea...please, don’t say that!” She cried. "I don't want new friends, I want you!"
“Do good for us both, okay? Mom and dad are gonna need you. Stay strong.”
“I love you, Nea. Please don’t go…”
“I love you too, squirt. We’ll see each other again, okay?”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Silence.
Amara couldn’t cry anymore. Instead, she remained kneeling at Nea’s side, holding her sister’s now lifeless body against her chest. Everyone was going to blame her, she knew it. This was all her fault. If only she had gone to check on her sooner, maybe then Nea would still be alive. If she had tended to her sister when she first saw her there, tearing her room apart, perhaps she could have kept her from taking her own life. For the first time, Amara’s Aura flared to life. It was black and blue, twisting violently like two immiscible fluids. Her eyes flickered between two vibrant hues of blue and gold, and her hair fluttered about like rose petals.
Where one story ends, another begins.
Such is the life of a Reedman.
“I’ll do good - for both of us - I promise.”
Nea’s funeral came and went, the family was noticeably shaken by the event. No one really knew why it happened, but there was speculation. Amara believed it had something to do with her sister’s boyfriend, recounting how many of the pieces of paper that littered the now empty room were love notes to the elusive individual. Amara hated him. She hated, with the exception of those in her family, most men after that. She just wasn’t willing to let someone like that come into her life and tear her heart apart. As far as she was concerned, Amara would rather die than do such a thing.
Her appearance started to change after all of that, too. Where she once dressed modestly and wore vibrant colors, Amara soon began taking up darker garb that was slightly more revealing than she had worn growing up. Skirts and cardigans were replaced with high short shorts and tank tops that left skin exposed. Ezra wasn’t the fondest of this new Amara, nor was Ophelia. Reluctantly, they accepted it as a phase, hoping that her time at Vytal Academy would help bring her to heel. Just prior to leaving home, Ezra gifted Amara with something she’d grow to cherish more than anything else.
Kaecilius, the Venerator.
Her first year of the underclass years were nothing remarkable, as far as she was concerned. It was a lot of the same thing day in and day out, and for a while she toyed with the notion of dropped out after all was said and done. She didn’t need to become a Huntress, right? Every time the thought of leaving - of giving up - ever entered Amara’s mind, she always thought about Nea and the promise she had made her. To do good for both of them. Amara had a long road ahead of her, one that was sure to be full of all manner of twists and turns. This was just the beginning of all of that. She had to find a way to push through it all.
Training became a norm. When she wasn’t distracted by her newly developed fixation with dance, Amara made it a point to train using Kaecilius and her Aura as much as possible. It was a strange weapon, built from several small machines that - when pulled apart - resembled little bugs. Together, however, these little bots formed a nearly indestructable weapon. They really were a testament to how even the smallest of things could hold awe-inspiring levels of power. Amara was quick to master Kaecilius in sword form, but took a particular fancy to the waving, formless application of the weapon she simply referred to as “Flow”.
As she danced, Amara started implementing Flow into her routine. It became clear that it was effective as a weapon in some instances, but overall she risked severely damaging Kaecilius’s structure through destroying the small nanites as a result of her recklessness. She’d have to stick to a strict set of maneuvers if she wanted to keep her weapon in one piece, thus developing a means of using Flow Form in a manner similar to a magic carpet. She’d hop on, and fly through the air at high speeds. It was like riding a hoverboard in some cases, actually. She really quite enjoyed it.
The more she found to distract herself, the more carefree Amara became. Her mood improved, causing a noticeable shift in her grades. Ezra and Ophelia received regular updates, growing more and more proud of her as time went on. Slowly but surely, Amara was starting to fulfill her promises. All she had to do now was practice her Semblance, something her father had insisted wait until she went on to pursue the Hunter courses. She didn’t know why, but she wasn’t going to question the wishes of her father. Instead, she turned to song and dance once again, performing for small crowds at cafes that were scattered upon the island.
Once she started hitting maturity, hormones became a struggle all their own. Amara hated growing up so much, there were times she would call home begging to return and just work in the village. She could deal with a life so boring it’d likely conclude with her ending herself, but at the same time she wanted more than just a safe space. Amara was determined to do something great, she just wasn’t sure what that great thing would be. Day after day, training session after training session, and eventually Amara found her answer to that one unanswerable question.
Someday, she would become the Combat Professor at Vytal Academy.
This was Mijn Eigen Weg, guiding her down a new and exciting path without her even realizing it.
Amara’s journey through the underclass years continued, with her putting a great deal of focus in practicing in the use of her Aura. Her father continued to strongly advised against training her Semblance, fearing that she would end up harming herself if it went out of control. She didn’t know it as Mijn Eigen Weg then, and instead referred to it as her Forbidden Dance. On occasion, Amara would find herself using small flares of her Semblance while dancing, allowing her to perform certain feats without being hindered. This helped the already small girl remain lean, every bit of muscle in her body compacted into the smallest possible form.
There was even a night when, after a bit of a scuffle with a friend, it was remarked that punching Amara was like slamming one’s fist against a brick wall. She was strong, for sure, but she never paid much attention to such comments. There were plenty of people that were bigger and better than her in all respects, to try and compare her to anyone was a moot point as far as she was concerned. When all was said and done, she’d keep her attention on her studies and moving forward. To being the very best she could be and keeping the promise she had made to Nea before finally leaving home.
It’s what she had to do.
The first time Amara truly used Mijn Eigen Weg came during her initial encounter with the beasts known throughout Remnant as the creatures of Grimm. This monster, in particular, was the species known as Barghest. She remembers that night so vividly, right down to how the smell of the creature’s breath and the bristliness of its coarse, black fur. A small team of students, led by a male Hunter chaperone, had signed up to investigate reports of Grimm near the outskirts of the island. Amara was one of the first in her group to volunteer, trembling with excitement at the prospect of seeing one of these ferocious monsters up close and personal.
Boy, did she ever get more than she bargained for.
Instead of one Barghest, the group - five or six, she can’t quite recall - was met with a pack of more than a dozen, assuming memory served her right. Before there was ample time to respond, two of the students had been killed in efforts to slay three of the Grimm. The remaining students scattered, everyone parting their own way as hysteria set in. The Huntsman that had accompanied them remained close to Amara, but she was pretty sure he was the first to go once everyone split up. The screams of the man as the monsters ravaged his body, the tearing of flesh and the gurgling sounds, all haunt her to this very day.
Next was a girl, probably a year older than Amara was. She thought she would be safe up in a tree, and climbed the hulking stalk of wood in hopes the Barghests could not follow. Amara, despite knowing little about the creatures of Grimm at the time, knew this to be foolish. The Barghest were large beasts that were surely strong enough to climb the tree and make the girl their next meal. It wasn’t until her cries echoed in the night that Amara knew she was gone too. In her mind she tried to crunch numbers - how many of them remained? First two, then the Huntsman, now the girl. Four had perished so far, meaning there were two more - as far as she could remember - remaining.
It was her versus them.
Those...monsters.
She had found refuge among some foliage, her tired eyes shifting through the darkness as they fruitlessly sought any sign of movement. Wherever they were, they were hiding - and very well at that. There was a part of her that felt foolish for not expecting such behavior from these creatures of darkness - like how could they not hide in the night with ease? It was that sort of stupidity that’d get her killed if she wasn’t careful. A barely audible rustle in the leaves behind caused her blood to run cold. There was something there, and she knew it, she just couldn’t bring herself to turn around and face whatever it was.
Then she heard the deep rumbling growl.
Then she felt breath on the back of her neck.
Then...she felt a warm, wet nose against her shoulder.
The only thing Amara did was run.
She ran as fast as she could, just barely getting out of the way before the Barghest’s jaws snapped shut. Her heart raced, her pulse pounding so hard it made her head ache. She had to get away, she had to! The only question was “where?” As she ran, Grimm in tow, Amara was beginning to feel like she was out of options. Her muscles were growing weak, her legs sore from dashing and dodging through trees and thick plants. Just when she was about to give in to exhaustion, her Aura flared to life. Her eyes shimmered blue as her hair flared off like a wild fire. She started moving faster and better.
Amara’s movements became fluid-like as she twisted and turned between the thickness of the forest, eventually losing the Grimm in her path. She was so overcome with joy, celebrating in her successful retreat, that she ran off a cliff. Mijn Eigen Weg kept her on path, her feet setting comfortably along the sheer drop as if it were a bridge. Once she reached the bottom of the chasm, she jumped over the small stream that ran through the abyss and back up the other side. Her Semblance, exhausting her Aura, deactivated as she made it to the doorstep of the Academy. She was a lone survivor, and part of her couldn’t forgive herself for not being able to save the others.
But at least she was alive.
She had survived.
After that, Amara continued her training. Despite her father’s wishes, she put extensive focus on the master of her Semblance, doing everything and anything in her power to ensure she had complete control over her path. She took more opportunities to go out on small scouting missions, more chances to learn more about the monsters that stalked mankind from the shadows. She was going to be a Huntress, and she was determined to be one of the best. Her plans continued from there, connecting to her desire to one day become a teacher. After making a name for herself, after doing her part for the world, then she would do whatever it took to become Vytal Academy’s Combat Instructor.
Her aspirations caught the eye of prominent Huntsman and Huntresses, some of whom she knew from her home village. They saw a passion to do good for all people, and a drive to become the very best she could be that dwarfed that of her peers. Her desires, much like the chaotic dance of her Aura, was fierce. She wasn’t willing to let anyone tell her what to do or where to go. She was her own person, and the person she sought to be was the one she would become. Some of these eyeing Hunters offered to teach her, and every single one she denied. Amara Reedman was going to pave her own way forward.
No one was going to take that away from her.
Amara’s third year in Vytal’s mandatory course was a little rougher than she anticipated. This wasn’t because of school work, or fighting monsters, or her training. The roughness she experienced that year was, rather, much more on an emotional level. Her sister would’ve been about nineteen, digging through the school year in preparation for that fourth and final step to becoming a Huntress. Amara couldn’t begin to imagine the excitement those students felt. Seeing peers and siblings interact was nothing short of heartbreaking. Never before had Amara felt so alone.
She became a recluse.
Between nights spent fidgeting with her guitar or piano and singing, as well as those spent dancing alone in training rooms, Amara all but completely shut herself out to the rest of the world. It was this solitude that kept her on track throughout that year, allowing her to fully invest herself in her training. She grew rather skilled - though not perfect - in the use of Kaecilius, mastering the art of transforming the sword into its bow form. Getting arrows to conjure through Dust use proved difficult at first, but over time she got that down too. All it took was a little bit of patience and the ability to push herself beyond her limits.
As she destroyed those old limits, new ones were built in their place, and Amara pushed herself further and further.
It was only a matter of time before she pushed herself too far.
One night of training went particularly poorly. Kaecilius didn’t cooperate, and her efforts to channel her Semblance into her movements were fruitless. After giving up, Amara simply stood before the mirror-like wall before her and stared at her reflection. Pathetic. What a waste of perfectly good energy. Her mind began picking her apart little by little. She grew terrified, frantically running away from herself and to the house she was sharing with another small group of students. They were gone, off on a trip of their own to fight the monsters they grew up hearing stories about. Maybe they’d die, maybe they’d live. In that moment, however, Amara did not care.
Running into the bathroom, she finally broke. A fit of tears, screaming, and violent thrashing. Amara tore the shower curtain from its pins, threw whatever was loose on the floor in a flurry of anger, and drove her fist into the medicine cabinet mirror. With her other hand balled into a tight fist of its own, she brought it down like a sledgehammer against the porcelain sink and broke off a large piece. Her hand was bleeding, her Aura suppressed to let her feel something - anything - to take her mind off how much she hated herself. Things she had done so effortlessly, tonight, were impossibilities. Her eyes settled on a jagged shard of glass, the reflective surface peppered with red like the rest of the sink.
Do it.
No. Don’t. It will hurt.
It hurts already. Maybe this will make it go away?
Okay...Maybe you have a point.
Just be quick.
Okay…
The last thing Amara remembers, other than reaching into the sink and grasping that wicked shard, was the sharp pain down her arm. After that, everything went black. When she finally came to she was in the Academy’s infirmary, both her arms and her left hand wrapped firmly in several white bandages. What had she done to herself? She panicked, spewing curses at the nurse that tended to her. The woman looked unphased, but Amara could tell she was hurt by the things she said. It made her feel terrible. Here this nice woman was, doing her best to treat Amara’s wounds, and she responded with not a “thank you” and benevolence but with hostility.
Nea would be so disappointed in her.
Anxiety had gotten the best of Amara that day. In her efforts to excel, she had pushed herself - mentally and emotionally - to the brink. She was standing on a crooked edge, with no way down other than to jump. There was no way she could live up to her promise now, not after this. Such a thought couldn’t possibly have been true, though. Amara knew she was capable of living the life she and her sister wanted. She would get out there and change the world. It was all still in her power, she just needed proper guidance. For some time she toyed with the idea of leaving Vytal to study at the Cela Monasteries.
But who wants to wear stinky robes all the time and be all passive, right?
Remaining at Vytal Academy, Amara pushed herself through her third and fourth year as an underclassmen. The time then came for her to decide: would she follow the path of a Huntress, go home and stick to music and dance, or leave to the Monastery? The choice was a difficult one to make once all was considered, and for some time she leaned towards just going home. She could keep her promise to Nea without putting herself in harm’s way, couldn’t she? The thought of staying continuously nagged at her, leading all the way to the night before she was scheduled to go home.
”Do good for both of us.”
”I will. I promise.”
Amara was jolted out of a dream that featured nothing but darkness and two voices - Nea’s and her own. Despite taking no form, the dream was surreal and vivid. She could feel her sister at her side, cold and lifeless. She could taste the air as the aroma from the kitchen wafted throughout the house. It was a perfect retelling of that night without pictures. Awake and fully alert, Amara’s body trembled as she broke out into a fit of cold sweats. She couldn’t abandon her dreams - nor those of her sister. Amara had to stay at Vytal. She had to see this through to the very end, and she was - now more than ever - determined to do so.
Her story as an underclassman had finally come to a close. Now, Amara looks ahead to her studies at Vytal Academy, and the prospect of forging new and exciting partnerships. She looks ahead to bringing joy to others through her songs and dance, to protecting all of Remnant from the creatures of Grimm - as well as the newly surfaced menace known as the Rhagargoelion. Amara was going to be the voice of the people that didn’t have one, and someday be the mentor of Remnant’s mightiest heroes. This was Amara’s way. This was Amara’s own path.
Where one story ends, another begins.
Such is the life of Amara Reedman.
♤ COMBAT NOTES
WEAPON: KAECILIUS
If there was any weapon that compliments Amara’s spontaneous behavior, it would be Kaecilius. Forged hundreds of years ago in the mountains of what is now Pinnacle, Kaecilius originally took the form of a mundane katana that measured almost ninety eight centimeters (or thirty eight and a half inches, to be exact) in length. Since being crafted, the sword went on to serve many masters before eventually landing in the hands of Amara’s great grandfather - Algernon Reedman. It wasn’t until after the Reedman Family came to possess the weapon that Kaecilius began to take the shape it now currently holds. Algernon had an affinity for Dust and Aura, training briefly at the Cela Monasteries in an attempt to harness the ultimate power of his soul. As new Dust was discovered - specifically those of the Divine variety - he went to great lengths to implement them into the sword.
The result was what is now known as Kaecilius, the Venerator, otherwise known as Venerator Kaecilius - the weapon currently in Amara’s possession.
With the addition of Void Dust, nanotechnology, and the weapons tuning to the slightest shift in one’s Aura, Kaecilius is believed to have the ability to take on up to fourteen different forms aside from a formless transformation she refers to as “Flow” - though Amara is only capable of utilizing three of these transformations thus far.
MISC.
In most combat instances, Amara will rely on her personal strength and that of her weapon. That said, there are many scenarios - such as when using Kaecilius in Bow Form - where she has to rely on several different types of Dust. She generally carries Dust on her person as an accessory, taking the form of everything from earrings to necklaces. It is never out of the question to assume, at any point, that she carries one of each Primary Dust type at all times.
If Aura truly represents the manifestation of one’s soul, then Amara’s truly fits her character to the fullest extent. It is a complex combination of various hues of blue and black, each one clinging to the other and spiraling out of control - almost violently - in a similar sense to the courtship ritual performed by eagles. It is that raw sense of passion - that strong and uncontrollable emotion - that truly speaks the words her Aura is unable to say. Those in Amara’s direct vicinity will find themselves compelled to push themselves to their very limits, possibly drawing out a resilience in them that they didn’t know they had. It is when her Aura becomes completely active that these feelings will become more intense. With that in mind, it is important to accept the drawbacks of being influenced by Amara’s Aura, as her enemies - and even allies after prolonged exposure - tend to become motion sick as a result.
When fully manifested, generally with the activation of her Semblance - Amara’s Forbidden Dance - her Aura will be accompanied by the sweet smell of apple cinnamon cider. This scent is alluring to both friend and foe, and is sometimes utilized as a means of drawing Beast-type Grimm like the Graylich into traps. Other changes accompanying full Aura activation can be seen in her physically. Her eyes glow blue or a deep gold, and her hair will begin to taper off and flow in the wind like rose petals. This shift in appearance is a homage to her deceased half-sister, Nea, who had red hair and golden eyes. The full manifestation of Amara’s Aura is regular sight among her peers, as she takes whatever opportunity she can to show it off. Over her years at Vytal Academy, Amara has taken a fancy to one particular Aura Ability at the start of her Huntress-in-Training career - Illumination.
AMARA'S FORBIDDEN DANCE // MIJN EIGEN WEG
We all have our path.
We all have our destiny.
For the Reedman Clan, that destiny is summed up best in their Semblance and motto - “Mijn Eigen Weg”, or “My Own Path”.
Many generations ago saw the first manifestation of this Semblance in many men and women in the family, each one of them utilizing it to the fullest extent over the course of their lives. Mijn Eigen Weg gave them complete sovereignty over their direction in life - with some using it to run away from the trials and tribulations they face in day to day grind, while others used it to push themselves above and beyond their peers. Regardless of the application, Mijn Eigen Weg adapted over time to become something much more than an ideology - it became the Reedman Clan’s very way of life. The first full manifestation of the Semblance was recorded in Algernon Reedman, a mountain villager from Pinnacle.
Amara was lucky to inherit the Semblance, with the other possible option being the x-ray vision handed down by her mother’s side of the family - which was possessed by her elder sister, Nea. During much of her pre-Vytal training, Amara’s father insisted that she not practice use of their Semblance, fearing that she would end up harming herself - or others - in the process. Mijn Eigen Weg is, in some aspects, a cruel mistress with a love for irony. That is, of course, what he told her growing up. Over time, and struggling with growing curiosity, Amara managed to manifest her Semblance during her very first encounter with the creatures of Grimm.
The way Mijn Eigen Weg operates is fairly simple.
When active, at the cost of 2% of her total Aura per second, Amara’s movements become completely unrestricted by the physics of the world. Her speed increases to twice that of a normal being, unhindered by the effects of weather (including temperature) and the surface she is traveling on (to which there are no restrictions, granted she can still be hurt by volatile surfaces). In addition, Mijn Eigen Weg allows Amara to treat anything - tangible or otherwise, regardless of form (gas, liquid, or solid) - as if it were a smooth, flat surface. This allows her to move across water, through thin are, and in some cases - if there is even the slightest semblance of an open space - through objects.
Amara demonstrated these abilities by squeezing through tightly grown trees and foliage, as well as running down - and later up - a steep cliff while running away from the Grimm.
This is not to say Mijn Eigen Weg is without its drawbacks.
Frequent use of the Semblance - over ten seconds per use - will cause extreme fatigue, resulting in the exhaustion of adrenaline in Amara’s body during activation. This debilitating side effect makes it difficult to use in situations where she is hard pressed for time, though she does her best to counteract this by maintaining a high degree of patience when in combat. It’s also important to note that Mijn Eigen Weg requires a great deal of focus to operate appropriately. To break that focus would mean snapping Amara, often suddenly, out of her fluid-like state. This not only dazes her, but tacks on a 5 point penalty to her Aura on top of the cost of use.
WEAPON: KAECILIUS
If there was any weapon that compliments Amara’s spontaneous behavior, it would be Kaecilius. Forged hundreds of years ago in the mountains of what is now Pinnacle, Kaecilius originally took the form of a mundane katana that measured almost ninety eight centimeters (or thirty eight and a half inches, to be exact) in length. Since being crafted, the sword went on to serve many masters before eventually landing in the hands of Amara’s great grandfather - Algernon Reedman. It wasn’t until after the Reedman Family came to possess the weapon that Kaecilius began to take the shape it now currently holds. Algernon had an affinity for Dust and Aura, training briefly at the Cela Monasteries in an attempt to harness the ultimate power of his soul. As new Dust was discovered - specifically those of the Divine variety - he went to great lengths to implement them into the sword.
The result was what is now known as Kaecilius, the Venerator, otherwise known as Venerator Kaecilius - the weapon currently in Amara’s possession.
With the addition of Void Dust, nanotechnology, and the weapons tuning to the slightest shift in one’s Aura, Kaecilius is believed to have the ability to take on up to fourteen different forms aside from a formless transformation she refers to as “Flow” - though Amara is only capable of utilizing three of these transformations thus far.
- Sword Form: The standard appearance of Kaecilius is that of a thirty eight and a half inch katana, colored in various black and blues similar to Amara’s Aura. The blade of Kaecilius in this form is about twenty four and a half inches long, while the handle measures roughly fourteen inches in length. Despite being a Freshman, Amara has proven herself to be quite skillful in the use of his weapon form, and often uses it as her go-to when in the heat of battle.
- Bow Form: Amara’s answer to opponents that push her to fight at long range, the Bow Form of Kaecilius was the first form Amara mastered after learning how to utilize Flow. In this form, the weapon measures approximately fifty four inches in length from end to end. In color, it sports a color scheme identical to Kaecilius’s Sword Form. Arrows are formed and given a range of elemental powers through the use of Dust, though Amara finds Fire and Ice to be the most effective with this weapon.
- Flow Form: An almost fluid manifestation of Kaecilius, “Flow” almost appears as a construct of Amara’s raw Aura. By breaking the weapon down into several individual nanobots, Amara is capable of using Kaecilius almost like a shawl. This form is very inefficient in combat, as damage to the nanobots that make up the structure of her weapon is costly to repair. It is for this reason that Amara uses this form very lightly, often times in tandem with her Semblance to allow her short-range flight to an extent in a manner similar to surfing.
MISC.
In most combat instances, Amara will rely on her personal strength and that of her weapon. That said, there are many scenarios - such as when using Kaecilius in Bow Form - where she has to rely on several different types of Dust. She generally carries Dust on her person as an accessory, taking the form of everything from earrings to necklaces. It is never out of the question to assume, at any point, that she carries one of each Primary Dust type at all times.
AURA
If Aura truly represents the manifestation of one’s soul, then Amara’s truly fits her character to the fullest extent. It is a complex combination of various hues of blue and black, each one clinging to the other and spiraling out of control - almost violently - in a similar sense to the courtship ritual performed by eagles. It is that raw sense of passion - that strong and uncontrollable emotion - that truly speaks the words her Aura is unable to say. Those in Amara’s direct vicinity will find themselves compelled to push themselves to their very limits, possibly drawing out a resilience in them that they didn’t know they had. It is when her Aura becomes completely active that these feelings will become more intense. With that in mind, it is important to accept the drawbacks of being influenced by Amara’s Aura, as her enemies - and even allies after prolonged exposure - tend to become motion sick as a result.
When fully manifested, generally with the activation of her Semblance - Amara’s Forbidden Dance - her Aura will be accompanied by the sweet smell of apple cinnamon cider. This scent is alluring to both friend and foe, and is sometimes utilized as a means of drawing Beast-type Grimm like the Graylich into traps. Other changes accompanying full Aura activation can be seen in her physically. Her eyes glow blue or a deep gold, and her hair will begin to taper off and flow in the wind like rose petals. This shift in appearance is a homage to her deceased half-sister, Nea, who had red hair and golden eyes. The full manifestation of Amara’s Aura is regular sight among her peers, as she takes whatever opportunity she can to show it off. Over her years at Vytal Academy, Amara has taken a fancy to one particular Aura Ability at the start of her Huntress-in-Training career - Illumination.
- Illumination (-5AP): The first of her Aura Abilities learned at Vytal Academy, Illumination is used by Amara both in and out of combat. Why? Because she really likes the flash. Amara will often use this ability to create blinding flashes of light in battle, blinding her opponent in an effort to give her the upper hand. Of course, this doesn’t work in some cases, but that doesn’t prevent her from trying. Outside of combat, Amara will use Illumination to brighten up dark areas - and even create small light shows using Dust or her Aura to alter the color of the light. Her favorite application, however, is to conjure a small orb of soft light that floats just above her whenever she chooses to stay up and read before bed.
SEMBLANCE
AMARA'S FORBIDDEN DANCE // MIJN EIGEN WEG
We all have our path.
We all have our destiny.
For the Reedman Clan, that destiny is summed up best in their Semblance and motto - “Mijn Eigen Weg”, or “My Own Path”.
Many generations ago saw the first manifestation of this Semblance in many men and women in the family, each one of them utilizing it to the fullest extent over the course of their lives. Mijn Eigen Weg gave them complete sovereignty over their direction in life - with some using it to run away from the trials and tribulations they face in day to day grind, while others used it to push themselves above and beyond their peers. Regardless of the application, Mijn Eigen Weg adapted over time to become something much more than an ideology - it became the Reedman Clan’s very way of life. The first full manifestation of the Semblance was recorded in Algernon Reedman, a mountain villager from Pinnacle.
Amara was lucky to inherit the Semblance, with the other possible option being the x-ray vision handed down by her mother’s side of the family - which was possessed by her elder sister, Nea. During much of her pre-Vytal training, Amara’s father insisted that she not practice use of their Semblance, fearing that she would end up harming herself - or others - in the process. Mijn Eigen Weg is, in some aspects, a cruel mistress with a love for irony. That is, of course, what he told her growing up. Over time, and struggling with growing curiosity, Amara managed to manifest her Semblance during her very first encounter with the creatures of Grimm.
The way Mijn Eigen Weg operates is fairly simple.
When active, at the cost of 2% of her total Aura per second, Amara’s movements become completely unrestricted by the physics of the world. Her speed increases to twice that of a normal being, unhindered by the effects of weather (including temperature) and the surface she is traveling on (to which there are no restrictions, granted she can still be hurt by volatile surfaces). In addition, Mijn Eigen Weg allows Amara to treat anything - tangible or otherwise, regardless of form (gas, liquid, or solid) - as if it were a smooth, flat surface. This allows her to move across water, through thin are, and in some cases - if there is even the slightest semblance of an open space - through objects.
Amara demonstrated these abilities by squeezing through tightly grown trees and foliage, as well as running down - and later up - a steep cliff while running away from the Grimm.
This is not to say Mijn Eigen Weg is without its drawbacks.
Frequent use of the Semblance - over ten seconds per use - will cause extreme fatigue, resulting in the exhaustion of adrenaline in Amara’s body during activation. This debilitating side effect makes it difficult to use in situations where she is hard pressed for time, though she does her best to counteract this by maintaining a high degree of patience when in combat. It’s also important to note that Mijn Eigen Weg requires a great deal of focus to operate appropriately. To break that focus would mean snapping Amara, often suddenly, out of her fluid-like state. This not only dazes her, but tacks on a 5 point penalty to her Aura on top of the cost of use.
- Use: -1% total AP per Second (1AP per second)
- Focus Penalty: -5 AP
AURA POINTS: 100
PIXIV FANTASTIA, Tian Ling Qian Ye as Amara Reedman PLAYED BY ENGRAM
coded by electric of gangnam style
