Saline Westrel

Name: Saline Westrel
Age: 22
Land/Birth: Tarabon
Physical Description: Rose bud mouth, typical brown eyes (sadder than most) and honey-coloured hair combination, slender, graceful, determined to prove herself without her Title, doesn't take jokes easily (sensitive to jesting), gambler and tends to embark on risky ventures, leader but
unwilling (has difficulty) passing control or trusting others to do well by their designated roles, honest to brink of rudeness.
= Character History =
Saline was carefully tailored to inherit the fortunes of Wastrel, being the only daughter of her Lord Father, to whom she was very devoted to, and if she was colder towards the second Lady Wastrel as a child when the girl's Mother passed away, it dissipated under the warm administrations of the aforementioned Stepmother, despite Saline's disagreeable reaction initially to her Father remarrying. Soon brief memories of Saline's cherished Mother faded and as she neared her coming of Age, she began worrying about affairs other than domestic. Father was overprotective of his little girl, though Saline was no girl anymore and wanted to experience more of the world than just the
pleasant matters the Wastrel household cuddled her with. The Wastrel household survived worst, she reckoned, a young woman of 19, filled with ideals and illusions of the outside reality. Why, she could be anything! The possibilities ahead shone overwhelmingly: A hunter for the Horn and travel to Illian, the adventurer who visited the Elders at Ogier Stedding all over, Caemlyn one day to see the Palace and even a glimpse of the Andoran Queen, Cairhien the next day and watch the pikes manoeuvred at their best. Saline grinned. How about a bodyguard, a hardened mercenary, learn the diplomacy of weapons, and perhaps earn a heron-marked sword! All the Legends and stories she heard of fame
and glory was hers to reach for. In this Saline was very much a romantic.
The woman spent 3 years wandering about the nations she speculated about all her sheltered life. At the start of her second year abroad, she fell in with a company of Tinkers and remained with the camp, happily courting a handsome youth four years her senior. But what a special man he was, willing to do any housework and a specialty in laces and embroideries. He was courteous and honorable and seemed everything she lacked, the steadiness and humour Saline admired. Their mutual interests in horticulture sparked deep understanding and kinship which was beyond the capability words. Best of all, he balanced her garrulous intuitions with his soft-spoken serenity and sound logic. The day she accepted their engagement and committed herself to the Way of the Leaf, he contracted a mysterious plague and wasted away. The caravan grieved and considered her still their own, but Saline found the familiar faces too painful to bear. She who forsakes surname to wed a commoner, abandoned her inordinate pride and seeked humbleness. She set out to be enrolled as Novice, at 22 when the others are 16 or 17. Saline knew that there would be derision and some opposition to taking a woman in at her age, but could not seemed to make herself care about the gaps she would have to weather. In front of the gleaming Tower, she sought to repay the Tinkers for more
than the fare on the ship that they sent her off with to help her reach the ports of Tar Valon. Her jaws set as if to move a mountain with her bare hands, slender fingers that had never known the callous of manual chores caressed the beautiful handkerchief that her beloved made her on his deathbed.
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