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PERSONALITY

Personality Type: INTJ -A
Drive: Success and validation; her 'legacy'.

Nichola is a girl on a mission - a baby-faced intellectual, passionate debater, aspiring poet and pampered royal of ruthless persistence. Frank but sincere, near deadpan, her naivety is the only ruse she bothers to keep. Opinionated to a fault. Stubborn, very stubborn. Brusque but stylish; self-assured but self-conscious. Denies her trauma. Emotional. Nosey, near domineering; strategic and fond of structure. Counterculture for her own entertainment. Competitive by nature. Would sacrifice her likability in favor of success. Loves a good story.

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The world is a vast, fast-changing place and Nichola - boasting a sharp head and a sharper tongue, sparingly leveraging ample funds and reputable blood - spearheads revolution with vicious ambition and clear-cut strategy. Her aspirations are numerous, her ledger is kept tidy and her potential is stacked high. She is a bright kid - keenly, perhaps brutally so  - and a progeny of royalty, having been afforded certain privileges and opportunities from birth. She believes, with a bit of grunt work, that she is entitled to an equally bright future.

She believes herself entitled to many things.

When confronted on her inherent silverspoon, Nichola will vehemently deny its (obvious) influence and the ‘cushy’ life implied by her wealth. It would be easy to lose oneself to indulgence, to grow content and stagnant in luxury. She rejects mediocrity. She seeks change, to rise above the tired pedestal of pedigree. A self-starter. An entrepreneur. She carries great pride in her heritage and while she may be blinded by many naivities, patriotism is not one of them. To fix the errors of her people, she must be able to stand on her own; an individual, not a link within a bloodline.

What Nichola perceives as a struggle and ultimate victory mellows in comparison to the true, daily trails of those not afforded such a lofty backdrop.

She whittles artistic taste and a passion for perfection, measuring the value of written words and her own success above the company of others. Predisposed with the misconception that triumph is not an ever-evolving, unique process, but rather a formula - one that can be learnt and applied to any issue - she expects to have things her way. She expects achievement. Nichola’s ambition manifests into an intense, hypercompetitive need to be at the top - a valedictorian or politician in the making.

Upon meeting others, she is quick to develop an opinion and will rank them among the rest of the competition before they’ve opened their mouth. The girl is open-minded but not easily swayed. She will listen to your perspective, but (with a tendency towards long debate) will promptly see fault in it. Whether by religion or strict morals, she has always found support and security in her beliefs.

Nichola is judgemental, skeptical and critical, keenly attuned to the gossip of the world - everyone's business is hers. If there is a rumor to chase, she will hunt it; if there is dirt to find, secrets to unearth, she will dig it up. She would follow a story to the ends of the earth to satisfy her curiosity.

This judgement does not skip herself. While unorthodox in method, she is trendy in practice, longing for nothing more than to belong, comfortably, within her own skin. She wants to be adored, to have her name printed within the folds of textbooks.

Rivalry ignites her; pettiness fuels her.

Socially she has a reputable sense of justice but a colorful attitude and a terrible lack of charisma. Likely to subvert the archetypical Aodhian’s silver-tongue, Nichola makes it a point of hiding behind no veils - she’s blunt and ruthless as a club, beating not around the bush but swinging straight for the heart. There is strength in vulnerability and, having a notorious flair for boldness and dramatics, she wears her emotions on her sleeve. It's a choice she’s been told will get her hurt.

… and hurt, she has certainly been. The sting of failure and the unfamiliar bite of prejudice are alien and crushing to her ego. For the first time, she finds herself questioning her identity as a child of Ignacio. The thought terrifies her. It leaves her lost. Young enough to equate the slightest offense to a personal attack, her defensiveness is a poor fit when mated to her temper.

Still, she will not apologize for it. Nichola will not apologize for her righteous fury, will not spare someone’s feelings at the expense of honesty. She will not be censored.

Nichola will not be snuffed out - she will roar higher.

HISTORY

The latest addition to Emin Lilith’s line of wedlocked children, Nichola’s birth was celebrated out of habit rather than necessity, skimping the typical excitement garnered by a royal arrival. Gossip travels quickly in Valore and House Soleil’s newest bastard was merely another staple in a week of news.

Though the absence of a sire kept nobility from her reach and Lilith’s infamous scandal deemed her offspring ineligible for the throne, Nichola still enjoyed a lavish lifestyle within Aodh’s Hearthstone Palace. She never lacked playmates - not with her numerous siblings - and had her whims attended to by slaves, her curiosity fed by an extensive library and qualified tutors.

She poured over textbooks and devoured sappy romances. She studied foreign nations and made art of language. While temperamental and uncharming - unbecoming of her House’s name - she would find her worth through the pages of history and by the poetry at her quill.

Comfort was all she knew. The child was not satisfied, not quite, with eyes that still hungered to explore, but she was safe, sheltered from true strife. Eventually, something had to change. Something would have to topple her delicate security.

Indeed, it was only a matter of time.

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Nichola was fourteen when she watched her cousin get his throat slit. She watched his blood spill across marble floors, watched it gather at the hooves of an assassin. The Crown Prince had fallen. The New Years Ball dissolved to chaos. Amidst the destruction, the violence and the terror, Nichola was ushered away with her siblings. She was frightened - she didn’t know what had happened or why. She knew only the confusement and the swelling of shock.

The loss of cousins Alduin and Marcellus were a heavy moral blow to the royal family and the entirety of Aodh. Nichola, while not particularly intimate with her aunt the King nor the dead heirs, found herself shaken by tragedy. For months she would awaken in the night, thrashing and shrieking.

She could still see his blood. She could still smell the smoke and hear the screams.

Aristocracy was not the shield she’d so ignorantly presumed it to be. It did not guarantee that her ambition would be sated, just as it did not guarantee her survival - she was as much a mortal as the servants she required. A rose tint fell away and with it came ugliness. Terrible, blatant ugliness in this utopia of grandeur and spectacle. Nichola saw it in the young scoundrels crowding alleys, their sides punctured by ribs; saw it by the ploys of self-interest in the eyes of her aunt’s political courts. Saw it in how quickly, how easily she could be replaced by a nobler sibling.

With this revelation came denial, then a question, and eventually - action.

She turned her eyes to the outside world. A world that would be hers.

It took some debate to convince her mother. It was a test, an opportunity to see more, grow more - to ‘expand her horizons’. ‘They aren’t like Valorians, those undergrounders,’ anyone afforded an opinion on the proposal would warn. ‘They hide from the light. They bury their secrets with their ghosts.’

The mysterious Breim herd had always held her fascination. Theirs was a bizarre culture, lessly hedonistic and more so concentrated on intangible tradition and magic. A nation in which individuals and innovation were valued over pedigree and splendour.

Leveraging her academic credentials and pristine track record, she ferreted out the hesitant support of her family and left Valore on a wave of farewells.

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Her arrival in Breim was a culture shock that left her overwhelmed. Excited, but overwhelmed nonetheless. Bustling voices in alien accents echoed off great cavernous walls; elegant architecture built of stone and thin paper-walls were illuminated by gemstone light; from every corner came the smell of foreign food and exotic spices.

Her presence did not go unnoticed by the locals. For all the curiosity she amassed, she received equal amount criticism. They were a suspicious, private people; after centuries of peace, their nation still bore the scars of her God’s burning wrath.  

She kept her chin up. She found a sympathizer willing to rent her a place within the capital.

At sixteen, a mere month after her immigration, Nichola was enrolled into Nariah’s University - a renowned hub of knowledge and advancement. The workload was hefty but the payoff was gratifying. She studied diligently in subjects of language, history and science, aware that any slip-up would be jumped upon and bled dry. Whilst they waited for her to mess up - to prove herself incompetent, untrustworthy - she took to the curriculum like a fish to water, thriving in the competitive atmosphere.

Rough from the start but stubbornly optimistic, she indulged in the naive notion that perhaps she would find acceptance among these kindred people. Perhaps she could help bridge the gap between their herds. Her cousin, the youthful King of Eithne, would be leading an Aodhian delegation to Breim in a show of peace. She awaited the day with excitement.

It went well, at first.

But then Amadeus had to show off. He had to bring them dragons.

And then Nariah burned.

Her resolve crumbled with the ashes of a ravaged city.

   ---

Their hard-earned trust, fickle and meager from the start, vanished immediately. In the fallout, the public’s roving, furious eye turned and pounced on the object of their vengeance, the source of their grief. While Amadeus and his entourage were swept safely back to Eithne, Nichola faced much of the backlash.

She was watched. Always watched, always under someone’s scrutiny, another’s judgement. She was condemned, pressured from the University altogether, subjected to everyday tauntings and mantras to ‘go home.’

The rebirth of the ancient Kirins, children of Ignacio feared even greater than their modern brethren, did little to aid her descending popularity. Having spent no less than a year in Breim, she retains her perseverance, but recent months have seen her down on her luck. It takes its toll.

Sometimes, she misses home. She misses the noise, the vibrance, the bright sun, the spiraling palace towers and salty air. She misses the embrace of a God, one whose worship is not shunned but praised.

Nichola pushes such sentimentals under the rug, pouring her devotion into the role of an unlikely (and unqualified) redeemer.

TRIVIA