[hider=Nadalena Kofenstein, of Espenova]
[center][h1][u]N a d a l e n a   K ᴏ ꜰ ᴇ ɴ s ᴛ ᴇ ɪ ɴ[/u][/h1]
[img]http://i.imgur.com/itxy5Ej.png?1[/img][/center]
◤  [sub]N A M E[/sub]  ◢

[color=gray][list]Nadalena Kofenstein[/list][/color]
◤  [sub]A G E[/sub]  ◢

[color=gray][list]15[/list][/color]
◤  [sub]G R A D E[/sub]  ◢

[color=gray][list]4ᵀᴴ[/list][/color]
◤  [sub]N A T I O N A L I T Y[/sub]  ◢

[color=gray][list]Espenovan Commonwealth
[list][*]Equivalent of Poland-Lithuania
[*]Located in Eastern Europa on the borders of Germania[/list][/list][/color]
◤  [sub]A P P E A R A N C E[/sub]  ◢

[color=gray][list]Nadalena is on the short end of height equivalent to her ethnic background and gender at five foot even. Her skin is light, possibly paler than others due to the mountainous environment of Espenova and her preference for indoor tutelage but she has been one to go outside so it isn’t simply a complexion born of a recluse. She has irises born of burgundy and her long blue-black hair gives her the impression of a girl of trueborn espenovan descent. In addition to her physical appearance she tends to gravitate towards practicality in her dress thus wears simple yet still elegant gowns of dark colors such as ebony, charcoal, burgundy, mahogany, midnight blue, and ash. These are generally accent by simple silver accessories (sometimes with jewelry enhanced with sapphires or emeralds) such as tiaras, bracelets, lockets, amulets, and rings. [/list][/color]
◤  [sub]B I O[/sub]  ◢

[color=gray][list]Nadalena Kofenstein was born in [u]Ružovec[/u], the largest city in the western demense of the [u]Espenovan Commonwealth[/u] as the eldest child of an aging monarch.

Nadalena was always a quiet child with few friends and companions; she didn’t care to interact much and instead preferred reading books of various scholars ranging from subject to subject; generally espenovan in origin. These generally gave her a perspective of her cultural and historical heritage that she found fascinating, especially those that were beliefs written about the warring kingdoms era where espenovan were not only at the throats of those in the south, but their brothers and sisters with petty kingdoms plotting to discredit, manipulate, control, and conquer their kinsmen because they felt they could not be trusted; a paranoia that seems to have been injected in the espenovan since their creation. But young Nadalena didn’t see it as delusional cowardice but rather overzealous cautiousness; a trait initiated out of precaution and earnest protection. She found it interesting how by the time the realm survived the warring kingdoms era there were only five espenovan great houses that succeeded: House Kofenstein, House Raksa, House Klasek, House Sárbon, and House Myrtrov; with her house being the most powerful of them all. 

Her father’s tutelage about how the world would come to exist framed a lot of her theological and political views as well as made her understand that she had to know people to predict them. If she needed to be a master of shadows and murmurs to do so, she would become such. Still, courtesies and manners were not something Nadalena wasn’t educated upon; after all, she was still as much as a princess as she was an espenovan. But beneath all the smiles and fragrances there was an untrusting scowl underneath it all in truth. The words “trust no one, not even your friends” would become concrete upon her mind; especially after experiencing an attempted seizing of power by her father’s own brother when she was ten years old. This would give her the comprehension that humanity was factually changing and it was not simply cynical theories and that anybody could succumb to greed. She watched her uncle’s execution with her own eyes as her father drove his sword into his chest.

A few months ago it was decided that Nadalena would continue her studies abroad in [u]Sabire[/u] — at the renowned academy known as the [u]Saint Hirst Academy for Fine Ladies[/u]. [/list][/color]
◤  [sub]S A M P L E   P O S T[/sub]  ◢

[color=gray][list]
[hider][i][color=8E7C8D]I miss Espenova.[/color][/i]

Fatigue born of nostalgia is what one of the instructors had called it. Though Nadalena disagreed. To the espenovan girl it was more like the people around her in the academy were the ones that gave her fatigue; their incessant actions and bothersome personalities were like unavoidable daggers and the anxiety she bore because of such was especially unpleasant. She supposed this was her father’s lesson – that mingling outside of one’s culture was a fool’s folly and while it was important to be able to tolerate them it was more important to be able to [i]ignore[/i] them; and by the goddess, that was the challenge for her as she had such a difficult time doing it. 

So here she was, attempting to tolerate another year and being witness to another dull opening ceremony. Regardless of that fact it mattered very little in the long term, so with a disinterested expression on her face she stood onward listening to the prattling of a individual who thought they were more important than they actually were. But she supposed that was common of men and women who held little significance, especially in the south. 

Nadalena’s brows narrowed as the speaker continued on with their speech as she began to see subtleties in their dialogue that had she not been intelligent she may not have picked up on. A light smile curled on her lips from the intriguing facts that this man tried to keep secretly hidden away. Underneath all of the politeness and inspirational flowerings of their speech were little words that they repeated: a flaw in their understanding of the common language or perhaps an indulgence they could not let go of. Words like friend, truly, and ward were meant to be used lightly but they spoke them with emphasis. A minor deduction of any individual with relative intelligence and perception would show that this was a person that loved power of others; especially those with greater prestige than they could ever wield. The power to discipline the “future” of Europa if they so wished. But they flavored it with guile and insistence on their friendly disposition. Interesting, but worrisome.  

They finished their introductory speech with a phrase from the old tongue of the south; what her ancestors had called “the summer language”. [i]E Pluribus Unum[/i], otherwise meaning “One from Many”. She supposed they were an intellectual shill who served to only exist to eat the trash thrown on the streets like a bottom feeding eel and thus liked repeating words he had heard of some decades ago. 

Pathetic. [/hider]
[/list][/color]


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