Javairea al'Hira
xxxxxxxxxxxxAge:
18 years old.
xxxxxxxxxxxxGender:
Female.
xxxxxxxxxxxxHeight:
5'5".
xxxxxxxxxxxxWeight:
147 lbs.
xxxxxxxxxxxxOccupation:
Assassin.
xxxxxxxxxxxxSkills:
Stealth, long range combat, medicine.
xxxxxxxxxxxxWeapons of Choice:
Longbow, crossbow, throwing knives, poison dagger.
xxxxxxxxxxxxPhysical Description:
Over this way, please.
xxxxxxxxxxxxPersonality:
Javairea--or Javed, for short, for those who can't take the fact that she's a woman--is a very self-sufficient person. Arguably, this comes in conflict with being part of a brotherhood of assassins, however she's managed to get past her independance and has come to recognise that the greater good usually passes before her personal interests. (It took a long time to get this through her thick skull; many scars and bone fractures came from harsh lessons.) She mostly likes to keep to herself and doesn't converse much with the rest of the brotherhood. Most conversation she's in are one-sided, as she only provides basic one-worded replies. Though she is improving on her people skills, they still aren't quite up to par.
In battle, Javed is relentless and impassive. Though she rarely misses her target, she often divides her attention between too many people at once. This comes from a bone-deep impulse to take care of everything herself. She will sometimes admit defeat and ask for help. These occasions happen once in a blue moon.
xxxxxxxxxxxxHistory:
Javed was born and raised in Acre. Her mother was a foreigner but her father was native to the land. Her mother was Anneliese, a beautiful but narrow-minded Englishwoman who found so-called "love" during a trip with her father. Javed, however, frequently overheard arguments, often hearing that she was forced to marry her father as some peace offering between two families. How a quarrel could have happened with two countries so distant forever escaped Javairea, and she never sought answers to her questions.
When she was six years old, Javed's father began to beat her mother. She avoided the beatings but was just as much offered to older, leacherous men as her mother was hit and kicked. At the age of eight, Javairea's father introduced her to her fiancé, some Muhammad or another, in his late thirties, with balding, graying hair. It wasn't too long afterwards that she ran away to avoid it; although it went against every fiber of her being, she refused to suffer the same fate as her mother. She was brought back home and married off at the age of nine. The night of the wedding, Javairea took what she could of the money that had been given to her husband and left in the middle of the night. It was two days later, starving, exhausted and what she thought was "dehydrated", though she wasn't sure what the word meant, that she was found by a man in white. She'd seen him kill two or three guards, single handedly, and begged him to take her with him.
Needless to say the man in white didn't take her with him. After living off stolen food for some two or three more days, another man in white appeared, and she demanded the same thing. Instead, he taught her how to be quiet, use the crowds to steal her food. Another day passed, and another. She was a street urchin like so many more. She found another boy, younger than herself, and taught him what the man in white had taught her.
The man in white came to see her again. It had been eight days--she counted!--since she'd seen one last. He pointed to the coin pouch on a rich-looking man. He said, "If you can take it and bring it back to me without being noticed, I will take you with me." She failed. Two nights later, she and the boy saw him again, and he repeated his request. "Bring it to me, without being noticed, and I will take you with me." This routine continued for a while, thought Javairea couldn't say how long, until finally she stole a pouch and brought it back to the man in white, but not without stumbling at least once. The man in white gave the pouch back to Javairea, who in turn gave it to the younger boy. "So you don't have to steal for a little while."
She left in the middle of the night on a midnight-black horse with the man in white. If she had known that she would be brought back to a brotherhood of assassins... no, if she had to be honest with herself, Javairea knew what she had gotten herself into. But sometimes, at the beginning, when her training was at its worst, she wondered why she hadn't stayed home, married to that awful man her father thought suited her.
Nine years later Javed only regrets her decision when the other, younger boys call her names behind her back. She lets it run like water over her back; she may not be better than them, but at least she knows how to aim.
xxxxxxxxxxxxLikes:
Leather-bound books, learning to read, shooting practice, hand-to-hand sparring, making various poisons, suturing other brothers' open wounds when called upon.
xxxxxxxxxxxxDislikes:
Seeing any and every member of the brotherhood getting hurt or killed, Templars, treachery and treason, misunderstandings, missing her target.
{{ the history's a little wonky, maybe. i'm totally up to changing it if it's not up to par. aside from that, i really hope this is okay. and i really hope you don't mind that i prettied up the profile a bit? i just like it better that way, sorry. D: }}
