Navigator Anelia is the mystic navigator of the void-faring hackle-lo clipper Saint Alessia, serving currently under the (in)famous Count-Captain Lysander Porphyry Spiros IV. Though little is known and less is certain about her life before coming aboard the Alessia, the ship's crew could not ask for a finer navigator - though they do, more often than not, dream of a better-disposed one.
| Navigator Anelia | |
|---|---|
|
Position |
Navigator (obviously) |
|
Age |
??? |
|
Gender |
Female |
|
Race |
Nibenese |
|
Height |
5'4 |
Appearance[]
A scrawny little ball of hate for all things mortal and mundane, the Navigator barely brushes up to five foot four. Some might call her bony form undernourished; Anelia insists it is instead proof of her exceptional talent as voidstrider, her physical anchor whittled down to so small a sliver as to barely interfere with any extramundial promenades she might wish to attempt. Be that as it may, she'd hardly strike anyone as the very model of athleticism - but is surprisingly durable for all that, shielded by a trueborn Niben's casual disregard for tropical rainstorms and stifling heat alike.
Of course, that's not the only Nibenese quality about her. Indeed, her skin itself is canvas; as is often the case with these things in the Heartland. Head to toes, and not unlike some manner of prized carpet, the Navigator is decorated in beautiful patterns and maddening geometry alike, still and quiet most times - but occasionally, painfully restless, revealing themselves then to be, in fact, a map (in the loosest sense of the word; to hear her tell it, it is the pain and sensation of movement itself that is her guide, as much if not more so than the actual ink) of the most frequented and stable void routes known to the Empire. How or where one might acquire such a thing, she has never revealed to anyone; and as to the why, such a question seems not to register with her at all.
To watch her when the beat and rhythm of the voids takes her, though, is to witness one of her few moments of genuine life. There is a fire, then, to the deep blue of her eyes otherwise still and hazy - almost diluted; and burning red hair stands on ends like fire, and thin wisps of incense wrap round her like tattered cloth. With a trembling, spasming hand, but unfaltering confidence, she guides the Alessia through the Waters of Oblivion - and those moments are nearly (nearly) enough to justify the ridiculousness of keeping her on board in the first place.
History[]
The Navigator does not share much about her life before coming aboard the Saint Alessia; and most of the ship's crew knows better - or cares less - than to prod. The best that anyone's ever been able to come up with is the obvious fact that she is thoroughly Nibenese in manner, descent and upbringing - and that she has (or, at any rate, had) a sister. Other than that, the woman who has been plotting the ship's course for near a decade now remains a shrill, high-pitched enigma to all - save, perhaps, the captain himself; and if Count Lysander Porphyry Spiros IV knows any more than anyone about who or what she is, or has at any point been, then he is not telling.
Possessions[]
The Navigator in one of her typical outfits
When the Navigator does deign to leave her cabin - and that is not as often as one might think - she will emerge, inevitably, wearing some form of robe-like item. It might be inappropriately grand, it might be tattered and lousy with moths (those are her favourites); nobody knows, or has yet dared to guess, the basis on which she outfits herself for any given occasion. The only constants seem to be two black soul gems - very obviously filled, as their faint, cold glow makes uncomfortably clear, - one hanging from each of her wrists; a holster for incense that she uses for a hairpin, doubtless enchanted in some ingenious fashion as her hair hasn't once caught fire (to date - and as far as anyone aboard the Alessia knows, anyway); and an absolute mess of amulets and medallions, at least a dozen in all. Some are enchanted, or otherwise seem to serve some discernible function; others, she might wear simply because she likes them, though it might be that they, too, have a sinister purpose all of their own, even if it is as yet indiscernible.
Other than what she has on her person at any one time, Anelia also lays indisputable claim to everything hidden away in the recesses of her cabin. This includes a collection of fifteen masterfully cut wooden charts detailing the famed Niben Run of Imperial City-Solitude (seven of them are dedicated to the Niben itself, of which two focus entirely on Lake Rumare alone); an inkstone and a collection of surprisingly elaborate calligraphy brushes of varying tip-shapes and sizes; a seemingly inexhaustible supply of incense sticks, all of them the same size and length and used by the Navigator as a way of sweet-scented time-keeping (several members of the crew pointed out, not without a measure of exasperation, that an hourglass might be more expedient; those members of the crew then continued to experience recurring nightmares featuring a steel-toothed gentleman until they desisted in their efforts); and roughly one tabletop's worth of miscellaneous navigational paraphernalia.