<a class="postlink" href="http://s1346.photobucket.com/user/gthicbellydancer/media/image_zps02c87875.jpg.html"></a><a class="postlink" href="http://i1346.photobucket.com/albums/p695/gthicbellydancer/image_zps02c87875.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/>Name: Rea Madison<br/>Age: 17<br/>Personality: Cold, distant, serious. She is quiet, not one to display her emotions. Something keeps her from showing them, but what?<br/><br/>Bio: When she was a child, she was adopted at a young age. The man she knows as her father was responsible for the death of her parents, though no one knows that. From a young age she was trained to be a soldier, taught that emotions were the cause of weakness. She is skilled with swords, though she tends to use an odd gun called a Caster. There are no shells to it, no way to load the chamber. It appears to fire using the wielder's energy. There is only person she remotely talks to, her training partner, and even then it's only a few words. Though without her emotions, she will only be a soldier and not a true knight.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">---------</div><br/><br/><br/>The spring air was calm that early morning. The sun was just barely visible on the horizon, much of the landscape covered in a low hanging mist. Everything about that hour seemed mysterious, magical almost, it was a scene one could capture in a photo and reflect on peacefully. But not her. The seventeen year old was running, not from anything, just to run. She was swift as she ran along the perimeter wall, following the old stone around the complex. Her footfalls were soft upon the earth and stone walkways as she passed them, her mind clear, focused as she continued her run.<br/><br/>Every morning, it was the same routine for her. Wake up, run, shower, and then breakfast. After that, she had some class lessons, a few small college courses to keep her brain sharp, and then lunch. After that, she trained until four and then another run before dinner. After dinner, it was usually down time for the soldiers and the knights, though there were some who were picked to go on nightly watches. It was best to be careful, especially with the enemy they faced. Though she didn't seemed phased by any of it.<br/><br/>Her expression was always blank, her blue eyes almost lifeless. Even in a fight she didn't show any emotion, she was a blank page. Everything about her was a mystery. She was silent, distant, and even with her training partner she was a book that was hard to open. Her steps came to a stop at the barracks, her eyes on the old stone building as she walked inside. She could hear people awake and talking as she moved to the floor the females lived on, ignoring the 'Good mornings.' some of the newer recruits greeted her with. They would stop eventually. She gathered her things, hurried to shower and changed. Her white hair was still damp as she dressed in a tight fitting white tank top and black sweatpants, the fabric loose around her slender legs. She was a small young woman, only five feet in height, her skin pale. She may be small, but she wasn't someone to be messed with. She didn't even give a second thought as she returned to her bunk, grabbed her bag and left.<br/><br/>So far, the day was going as planned, at least until flour was flung into her face as she exited the barracks, the culprits, some of the male soldiers who found themselves amused, laughing as she didn't appear angry, or even amused. She was just a black page of a book. "Violation, rule 604-3A." She said, the first words she spoke all morning, her voice flat, the tone lost. It was hard to tell if she was scolding them or not as she turned back around, heading back inside to get cleaned up.