There's still a whole novel I have to type for this but it's 6am and i'm going to bed. Onward to another day!
Name: Allora Kensington aka “Matches”
Title: Little Match Girl
Fairy Tale: The Little Match Girl
Age: Appears 19
There was a period during which she was dead that isn’t reflected in her visible age
Frostmares are creatures born of a tortured human soul that met it’s end in the frosty cold. They are reborn of the snow and are driven to walk in the ice and cold and pull others into a frigid, miserable death much in the way they themselves died.
With the aid of a small flame Matches can catch glimpses of possible futures. Then again, she could just be hallucinating. It happens.
An ability born of her unnatural connection with the fire that guided her on her last night, she can control and manipulate existing flames. Creating and sustaining them causes physical strain though as the element is contrary to her icy nature.
Having grown up on the streets Matches has a quick mind and tends to find creative ways out of sticky situations.
→Using her fire manipulation—
Controlling fire causes a physical strain on Matches and drops her body temperature more and more the longer she uses the ability. She runs the risk of freezing over completely if she expends too much energy this way. Because of this she developed the firebombs she carries as it is easier to burn something covered in an accelerant.
Matches prefers cooler places for a reason, if she gets too hot she becomes very ill but she fears if she gets too cold she'll lose herself in the ice again.
Despite her upbringing, she naturally tends to place faith in people that don’t deserve it which has led to much trouble in the past.
Despite being an optimist, Matches seems perpetually sad with soft lidded eyes. This tends to keep people from talking to her and further alienates her from others.
She’s a waif of a girl. A stiff wind might knock her over so getting into fights is something she avoids heavily. That said she has no problem firebombing someone from a distance
Her namesake for a reason, she’s got them hidden everywhere on her.
Small round containers made of wood and wax that contain a mixture of highly flammable liquids inside them.
Set of small ivory handled carving knives that Matches uses to carve and decorate the candles she makes. These are regularly sharpened to a fine edge and are hidden in the folds of her bustle. They do not leave her body unless she is naked or encounters danger that cannot be burnt into rethinking getting near her.
→ Cool places
→ Happy music
→ Hopeful people
→ Love and Romance (namely the watching of people who are in love since she’s too awkward for that)
→ Getting too hot
→ People yelling or fighting
→ Being alone
→ Abusive people
→ Her father
At first glance Matches can seem like a very sad and grumpy person but in reality she’s an eternal optimist. This is one girl that can find the silver lining in the most tragic of events and she uses this to keep going day after day even when the forecast for the future is bleak. She is very soft spoken, a leave over from the abuse she suffered as a child, but is well mannered and kind to almost everyone she meets though she does have a tendency to be brutally honest with people. Matches spends much of her time quietly watching people and observing their interactions. She would love nothing more than to be part of their groups but she knows she’s different from them and doesn’t want to be a bother, so instead she watches and learns how the world works by living vicariously through others. To her the world is a show and all the people it’s players.
Poor but hopeful, Matches was tossed into the cold to sell her matchsticks just as she was on most nights. But unlike most nights on this one she’d run particularly afoul of her father’s anger and as she stumbled through the streets trying to sell her wares the results of the beating stood out clearly. No one wanted to be near something so broken and lowly and as the night crept on she found herself alone in the darkness having sold not a single match. Fearful of inciting her father’s wrath further the child slunk into an alley as well as her bruised legs would allow her and slid slowly down the wall until she found a small alcove with which to hide in. Having no real alternative Matches tucked herself into that alcove and lit her matches one by one to keep the darkness at bay. The flames showed her beautiful things as the cold crept in; they showed her of the meals she might one day partake and of her grandmother who loved her as no one else did. Match after match the girl watched the flames until without her notice the cold rose up and swallowed her, snuffing out her soul like it had the matches she had lit. In the darkness the cold stirred, and as it learned of the girl’s life it paused. Frost grew up the child’s arms and snow lightened her hair where the matches had not singed. Delicate skin shattered under the pressure and come morning’s light where had once been a broken child rested a perfect young woman. But what seemed like one night had been many years and when she woke she was not in the alley anymore, nor anywhere she recognized at all but an entirely new place filled with entirely new people and even stranger things. The cold south wind whispered to her of all the things she had done in her sleep-- of how the small child had burned down a town that had shunned her, of how she had terrorized and shamed a father that had broken her and left her to die. There was no way she could go back, no reason she would want to. This new world was her home, and she would bring it light to burn out the darkness.
Thank you so much! I stumbled on your group the other day and loved the premiss so I thought I'd toss my hat in and then had way too much fun designing the character. :3 I'll try to stop by shortly, I'm cat-sitting and the hell beast has decided to monopolize my time.