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Description
Name:
Anatoli Volskov (Prefers to be called "Ana")

Age:
24

Birthday:
10th of Stars (December 10th)

Gender:
Male

Height:
6'1

Race:
Human

Class:
Warrior

Occupation:
Ship Hand

City:
Belport

Allegiance:
Miras

Personality:
+friendly | +honest | boisterous | talkative | -cocky | -blunt

Ana doesn't want to let his past haunt him. He's quick to plaster an easy going smile on his face if anything should upset him. There was no use getting upset over things; life was too short to be upset, and he had things to do. Insults rolled off him like a water on a duck, but if you know what to say and how to say it, he can take it pretty badly. His touchier subjects revolve around his family, and if he even sets foot in Miras, the anxiety bubbles up again, breaking his affable mask. The only other time this facade slips is when he makes his way onto land. Then, the queasiness comes back, and he feels like throwing up and passing out--at the same time.

At sea, though, he is as comfortable as a second skin. You can smell the ocean on his skin and the sea in his hair; or he just really needs a shower. Ana isn't shy at all when it comes to bragging; he can be loud and happy, because it just felt comfortable that way. He knew he was good at what he did, with so many years under his belt, having worked up to where he is now. Sure he had no ship of his own, but he didn't want that.

When it comes to meeting new people, Ana knows when to push and when to pull. He understands some people have stories they don't want to tell, and that some didn't want to talk at all. He was okay with that; he could handle the talking for the both of them. There's a sort of charm that comes with being around other sailors all the time, and they respected each other's space. Ana had no secrets to hide, and if someone wanted to sit in on his life story, he'd be glad to indulge them. On the other hand, he doesn't have much of a talent when it comes to his choice of words. If someone's mother is a blobbery whale that stank of a year old bedpan, he felt it needed to be said. Of course, he had a sailor's mouth.

History:
Ana grew up with the sun on his back and his feet on a ship. Both his parents were merchants and ran a trade ship, where Ana spent most of his days as a child. They were both good people, and couldn't bear leaving young Ana behind on land when the trips took months. There was never a time he could remember having actual land beneath his feet, only the ocean. The sailors and occasional passengers fascinated him. They lived their lives braving the ocean and fighting against the wind; it was all very romantic, though the reality was far from it. Still, he wasn't dissuaded, and dreamed of living that same life when he was big enough to, as opposed to the dull merchant life that his father and mother lived; they just stayed in the cabin all day. What was the life in that?

As he grew older, these delusional sea-faring fantasies didn't fade. By the time he was 9, his skin was tanned dark and his hair bleached by the sun. The merchant business made a comfortable living for their family, and Ana had nothing to complain about, until the matter of his education entered the picture. At some point, he'd have to learn to take over the family business, which meant he'd have to get an education somehow. The knowledge he gained from living on their family ship wasn't enough; he needed world experience outside the comfort of home. It was a difficult decision, but eventually his parents thought it best to leave him with an uncle, also a successful merchant, despite the fact he decided to run his business from land. Ana was left in Belport with his uncle, and he couldn't hate it more.

The days were long, and he hated the things he learned. It all seemed so tedious, record keeping, contract writing, book keeping--none of it was the familiar swaying of a ship. His uncle was even worse. The man was crusty and dry, as if someone left bread in an oven too long and it'd shrivelled up. He detested the ocean, for reasons Ana never learned, and never allowed him to go to the docks unaccompanied. This wasn't the sort of man he could look up to, just an old barnacle that needed to learn what living was.

Ana lived this way for a few years, keeping in constant contact with his parents. There were letters, and even dramatic reunions on the docks, but those were too few and far between. He was 19 when that changed.

It wasn't something sudden, tragic, and dramatic. No, it was just a letter. The handwriting was neat and formal, and almost cold. The family ship was lost. They've had no contact for months now, and "they" concluded that it'd been lost in a storm. His father had somehow managed to come back on another ship, but was recovering in Miras. The news rattled him, and he didn't know how to handle it. His uncle gave him time alone, as much as he needed. It haunted him. What if he was there with him? Would he be dead too? Would they have lived? The questions resonated in him and it made him nauseous. Being on land made him nauseous. His mother must be out there somewhere; if his father had survived, there must have been a chance that his mother had managed to live through it.

A few days after he received the news, Ana left his uncle, leaving a note saying he was going to Miras to find his father. It was a lie of course, but a necessary one. He needed to find his mother.

He started as a stowaway, actually visiting his father in Miras first. The man was delusional, and it broke Ana to see him in that state. The most he could do was comfort him, tell him that his son was going to be okay. After that, he got their ship's last known coordinates and decided to set sail.

Of course, now he had no ship to sail with. His skills from 10 years ago were rusty, and he ended up being a lowly cabin boy, the kind they kept in the brig to keep a watch on prisoners. Still, it was better than nothing. Ana hopped from ship to ship, whichever one would take him. The sea was familiar to him, something safe that reminded him of home; just being on land now made him sick, as if at any moment the earth beneath his feet would crumble. He didn't bother recovering or dealing with it; he just needed to get out there again. And even now, he was doing just the same.

Additional info:
- Prefers to be called Ana since Anatoli is such a mouthful
- Travels very often, may only walk somewhere on foot if absolutely necessary
- Neutral when it comes to airship travel, though the heights are pretty damn terrifying
- Mysterious bag of goodies
- Doesn't like going to Miras, will only go as far as its outskirts unless he's forced into the city
- He's a hired hand, and doesn't really care who hires him

RP Preference:
Anything really!~ You can find me on the forum, and just ask me for my skype~ anD STUFF

Description
Name:
Anatoli Volskov (Prefers to be called "Ana")

Age:
24

Birthday:
10th of Stars (December 10th)

Gender:
Male

Height:
6'1

Race:
Human

Class:
Warrior

Occupation:
Ship Hand

City:
Belport

Allegiance:
Miras

Personality:
+friendly | +honest | boisterous | talkative | -cocky | -blunt

Ana doesn't want to let his past haunt him. He's quick to plaster an easy going smile on his face if anything should upset him. There was no use getting upset over things; life was too short to be upset, and he had things to do. Insults rolled off him like a water on a duck, but if you know what to say and how to say it, he can take it pretty badly. His touchier subjects revolve around his family, and if he even sets foot in Miras, the anxiety bubbles up again, breaking his affable mask. The only other time this facade slips is when he makes his way onto land. Then, the queasiness comes back, and he feels like throwing up and passing out--at the same time.

At sea, though, he is as comfortable as a second skin. You can smell the ocean on his skin and the sea in his hair; or he just really needs a shower. Ana isn't shy at all when it comes to bragging; he can be loud and happy, because it just felt comfortable that way. He knew he was good at what he did, with so many years under his belt, having worked up to where he is now. Sure he had no ship of his own, but he didn't want that.

When it comes to meeting new people, Ana knows when to push and when to pull. He understands some people have stories they don't want to tell, and that some didn't want to talk at all. He was okay with that; he could handle the talking for the both of them. There's a sort of charm that comes with being around other sailors all the time, and they respected each other's space. Ana had no secrets to hide, and if someone wanted to sit in on his life story, he'd be glad to indulge them. On the other hand, he doesn't have much of a talent when it comes to his choice of words. If someone's mother is a blobbery whale that stank of a year old bedpan, he felt it needed to be said. Of course, he had a sailor's mouth.

History:
Ana grew up with the sun on his back and his feet on a ship. Both his parents were merchants and ran a trade ship, where Ana spent most of his days as a child. They were both good people, and couldn't bear leaving young Ana behind on land when the trips took months. There was never a time he could remember having actual land beneath his feet, only the ocean. The sailors and occasional passengers fascinated him. They lived their lives braving the ocean and fighting against the wind; it was all very romantic, though the reality was far from it. Still, he wasn't dissuaded, and dreamed of living that same life when he was big enough to, as opposed to the dull merchant life that his father and mother lived; they just stayed in the cabin all day. What was the life in that?

As he grew older, these delusional sea-faring fantasies didn't fade. By the time he was 9, his skin was tanned dark and his hair bleached by the sun. The merchant business made a comfortable living for their family, and Ana had nothing to complain about, until the matter of his education entered the picture. At some point, he'd have to learn to take over the family business, which meant he'd have to get an education somehow. The knowledge he gained from living on their family ship wasn't enough; he needed world experience outside the comfort of home. It was a difficult decision, but eventually his parents thought it best to leave him with an uncle, also a successful merchant, despite the fact he decided to run his business from land. Ana was left in Belport with his uncle, and he couldn't hate it more.

The days were long, and he hated the things he learned. It all seemed so tedious, record keeping, contract writing, book keeping--none of it was the familiar swaying of a ship. His uncle was even worse. The man was crusty and dry, as if someone left bread in an oven too long and it'd shrivelled up. He detested the ocean, for reasons Ana never learned, and never allowed him to go to the docks unaccompanied. This wasn't the sort of man he could look up to, just an old barnacle that needed to learn what living was.

Ana lived this way for a few years, keeping in constant contact with his parents. There were letters, and even dramatic reunions on the docks, but those were too few and far between. He was 19 when that changed.

It wasn't something sudden, tragic, and dramatic. No, it was just a letter. The handwriting was neat and formal, and almost cold. The family ship was lost. They've had no contact for months now, and "they" concluded that it'd been lost in a storm. His father had somehow managed to come back on another ship, but was recovering in Miras. The news rattled him, and he didn't know how to handle it. His uncle gave him time alone, as much as he needed. It haunted him. What if he was there with him? Would he be dead too? Would they have lived? The questions resonated in him and it made him nauseous. Being on land made him nauseous. His mother must be out there somewhere; if his father had survived, there must have been a chance that his mother had managed to live through it.

A few days after he received the news, Ana left his uncle, leaving a note saying he was going to Miras to find his father. It was a lie of course, but a necessary one. He needed to find his mother.

He started as a stowaway, actually visiting his father in Miras first. The man was delusional, and it broke Ana to see him in that state. The most he could do was comfort him, tell him that his son was going to be okay. After that, he got their ship's last known coordinates and decided to set sail.

Of course, now he had no ship to sail with. His skills from 10 years ago were rusty, and he ended up being a lowly cabin boy, the kind they kept in the brig to keep a watch on prisoners. Still, it was better than nothing. Ana hopped from ship to ship, whichever one would take him. The sea was familiar to him, something safe that reminded him of home; just being on land now made him sick, as if at any moment the earth beneath his feet would crumble. He didn't bother recovering or dealing with it; he just needed to get out there again. And even now, he was doing just the same.

Additional info:
- Prefers to be called Ana since Anatoli is such a mouthful
- Travels very often, may only walk somewhere on foot if absolutely necessary
- Neutral when it comes to airship travel, though the heights are pretty damn terrifying
- Mysterious bag of goodies
- Doesn't like going to Miras, will only go as far as its outskirts unless he's forced into the city
- He's a hired hand, and doesn't really care who hires him

RP Preference:
Anything really!~ You can find me on the forum, and just ask me for my skype~ anD STUFF