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Backstory
Her father ran a small shop, a fairly popular one in the district of the island they lived on, but small nonetheless. She would often, when she had nothing else to do, go and watch her father work on his jobs. Compasses, clocks, carts, guns, and her favorite, ships. Whenever he was called to touch up something on a boat, she tag along with him. She was always in awe at the grandness of them, how they towered over you and held so much. People lived on these things. They went across vast oceans, floating on top of sea monsters, fighting other pirates, carrying mass amounts of fortune. It was unreal to her. Her home life wasn't the most eventful. She explored and played pranks with her friends, and stuff like that, but the island was small, and things got repetitive. As soon as she was old enough, she packed her bags, her smarts, and joined the first pirate ship she could.
Motives
Mathilda is naive, so she doesn't realize how dangerous her motives can be. The largest part of it is to gain enough knowledge so she'll be able to build her own ship someday, and run her own crew. But for that, she'll need money, supplies, and a good, or dangerous, reputation. What better way to get these things other than becoming a pirate?
Appearance
She's average height, around 5'6", but very wiry and bony. She is perpetually covered in dirt and grease, her skin looking ten shades darker than it is, which is already tan. She walks barefoot, and usually sports leather gloves and a pilot hat. All articles of clothing are, or were, white. Now they could pass for a light grey at best, a smudgy night sky most of the time. She has multiple scars and burn marks on her arms, and a couple on her legs. Her long blonde hair is matted and oily. She could wash it every day, but by the end of it, it always ends up the same. She has sharp amber eyes (though covered by goggles half the time) and dark eyebrows, and while those are quite mean features, a slight smile plays on her lips when she's alone, like she's hiding a secret. She probably doesn't know what it is, though.
Role on ship
Mechanic
Skills
- Very handy
- Has capable endurance and agility
- Carries her toolbox at all times
- Goggles and leather gloves
- She's not a big weapon person
Mathilda rolled off the wooden floor, every bone cracking in her body as she stood and stretched. She took a big breath of the familiar scent, salty water and oil. She sat on her bed, one that she had always attempted to use, but angry sleepers don't get the privilege of sleeping in a bed. No, they get that whole wonderful falling off the bed onto the floor and being so used to it that it doesn't wake you up anymore, you just have mysterious bruises in the morning. Yes, her favorite feeling. She put on her hat, slid down her goggles, and slipped on her gloves. With her toolbox in her hand, it was another day of work.
The sky was bright and calm when she walked out, and the water gifted her a refreshing coolness as it sprayed from below. Her favorite kind of days, which was almost every day, happily for her. And to make it even better, everyone was getting ready for a battle. She watched everyone scramble for cannons and guns and swords, and though it filled her with excitement, it also pissed her off. She grabbed a crewmember rushing by, "Why didn't anybody wake me?" she asked, clearly offended.
"Well, I guess no one thought of it. You're not the most memorable fighter, Mathilda," was what he said to her, and off he went to his duties. Y'know, the ones of people who actually could fight. She crossed her arms in a stance of childish defiance, but was pushed out of the way by someone rushing to his station. She wanted to fight too! She was about to sludge over to grab a sword, when someone called her name. She turned, grateful for the attention, and lucky her, someone needed help. A cannon wasn't moving like it should've been, which was probably one of the simplest fixes in the world. A couple loose screws tightened and the thing was back in order. But when she stood, she was screamed at to move instead of given thanks, they had met the other ship. Mathilda's heart pounded, with fear this time, not adrenaline like it was before, and ran to hide from the oncoming cannon balls. She really wasn't the best fighter.
Other: #519A95
