Aster Vega Blumenthal

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* App (1.0)
* App (1.2)

## Personality

Through an outsider’s perspective, Aster is the perfect model of an ideal worker—one that doesn’t complain, doesn’t falter, and always keeps to their work, no matter the circumstances. The closer one gets, however, the more they discover what had to be sacrificed in order to be this efficient.

From the lighthearted to the sombre, he always finds something to think about and take apart inside his mind, quietly and privately. There is a certain analytical air in the way he observes the things around him, absorbing most details with relative ease. Though it certainly allows him to see the clear picture in almost everything, the filter through which this information goes past clouds it with worry and uncertainty, despite his best attempts to stop it. One of the only solutions he has to this is to pass that information over as he’s seeing it, before he has the time to think and his thoughts become contaminated, but a habit of generally keeping things to himself usually crosses that possibility off. Even when pushed by a friend, there’s little chance that he’ll open up in any capacity that’s more than casual or fleeting; in fact, he’s more likely to be transparent when in a professional setting or when in a dire situation. As such, if someone is really desperate, they could simply get an authority figure to crack at him—there’s a higher likelihood that he’ll then confide in someone, usually said authority figure or a friend, though it’s not definite.

His tendency to follow the leaders and the general status quo leads him down a path where he begins to disregard his own opinions and perspective, just for the sake of conformity, and perhaps due to his need to keep some sort of balance or peace. He’ll accept whatever role is given to him, even if he despises it (or especially so, because it must ring true since he does not like it), and will rarely rebel against something unless he has hit a crucial breaking point and feels the need to escape. A sense of doubt and self-consciousness usually comes following from this—if he doesn’t express his opinion, or generally doesn’t need to, then it most likely doesn’t matter at all, or must have some other sort of fault in it that makes it utterly useless. Time and time again this vicious cycle of repressing his thoughts and then questioning them eventually drags his feelings into the mix, albeit in an unusual way. He doesn’t actively hide his feelings, in fact he displays them openly, if a bit overly so, but any explanations as to what he’s feeling or why he’s feeling it, he won’t provide. Instead, he’ll wallow over the reasons why he must be emotional in private, where his proneness to over-analyze muddles things up, and leaves him with more questions than answers.

Still, despite the gaps in his confidence, Aster clearly presents himself as someone of a “higher” status; he carries himself with a sort of poise and politeness akin to royals, and treats even those who could be deemed undeserving of such treatment the same way as he would anyone else. It shines through in his manner of speaking the most, though just as often it shows even in arguably insignificant things, such as the way he stands or how he eats. He’s also a figure of high reliability; if you need something done by a specific time, and done in a specific way, he’s the person to go to. Although he may be limited by his own abilities at times, when he is not, his expertise with tasks can seem almost artificial, even though he would argue he’s ‘doing his job just like everyone else’.

## Biography

In the depths of the Eastern Reach, the fourth child of the Blumenthal bloodline sees the light of day for the first time. The mother places an affectionate hand on his cheek, before leaving him cradled in her arms as she looks out the window; distant from her attention despite their closeness.

From the moment he was home, Aster lived a life of ease comparable to nothing else; expertly crafted food on his plate; the softest blankets on his bed; the highest view of the city, through windows plated in gold. He never took it for granted. Not when his parents kept a constant reminder over him that he was lucky he had a roof over his head, and an expensive one at that. He was too young yet to understand what his parents fully meant.

He was aware he had his future planned out for him, just like most other parts of his life: to follow the path his parents and siblings did. Though being a fisher isn't exactly the most lucrative of jobs, the path his family followed in the career, by eventually advancing onto becoming fisher captains, allowed them to make the most profit out of it—a sense of discipline and a strict work ethic was what made them the best of the best. It was hoped, or rather expected, that Aster would carry on their skills, like some of his siblings were already beginning to. A private tutor was assigned to him, and he began his education as soon as it was possible to do so.

Aster studied the standard curriculum for the next few years, with added lessons for subjects that would benefit him in his future fisher career. The tutor took pity on him, in a way, though Aster did the same; both, at some point, told each other of their life stories, after having grown closer over time. While the tutor had difficulty with money in his life, he had incredible skill with teaching in various subjects—Aster, on the other hand, practically lived in wealth, and though he had the skills, most were simply honed for the sake of his future work than himself. Thus, the two struck a deal; the tutor would teach Aster what he wanted to know, with some help from his colleagues in regards to subjects he wasn't that knowledgeable in, and they would keep it on the hush as to not get in trouble.

Despite Aster having never "rebelled" against his parents, at least not willingly, he felt a sense of desperation; if he would not live now, then he, perhaps, never will.

There were a few subjects that came and went, that Aster either couldn't fully pick up, or didn't pique his interest enough; mathematics and technological studies he struggled with, but he naturally gravitated towards the arts. He developed a sort of affinity for the harp and voice, which his tutor guided with him with. There was also poetry, and later on, psychology, both of which Aster immersed himself in. His contact with people had been limited outside of events his parents let him attend at times, or when he occasionally wandered outside, and the two fields allowed him to get a better grasp on what human behaviour was like… at least in his mind, that is.

Aside from those, only a couple of subjects in the curriculum interested him. Astronomy was one (which his parents would've expected of him anyway), but next to it was archery, for far too many reasons. It was one of the only times in his lessons where he was freely allowed to go outside, to wander and to stare at things from afar, which he heavily enjoyed. He didn't mind not interacting with anyone, at least not at the moment, not when he knew when they behaved from his books. Still, he yearned a little to know what it felt to talk to someone who wanted to talk to him too, someone he hadn't met before. It was one of the things that fueled him in regards to his studies; if he did well, maybe his parents would finally let him talk to whoever he wanted.

At some point, they did. Seeing his performance along with how old he was at the point, they didn't see any reason not to let him out once in a while. If he was going to become a fisher, it would do him good to socially and know what place he's living in, lest he become completely clueless as to what world he lived in. It was at that point where his vulnerabilities showed the most, even after how confident he was about how people interacted.

It built upon itself, through every single thing he saw. He saw up close how confident and affectionate people were with each other. How they'd hug, and laugh, with their families and their friends. He heard the hushed jokes told between coworkers, before they rushed to work with a smile on their face. Strangers fawning over another stranger's baby. Kids running together, yelling.

He never saw any of this in his life. He never felt anything like whatever they must be feeling. He thought all the pressure he experienced, however his parents treated him, was what everyone else had; that it was normal.

Aster went home that day and sat quietly come dinnertime.

Everything felt painful after that. The way his parents, whenever they were around, showed their high expectations of him and his siblings. Reading at his lessons, when he knew that his life was planned and others weren't. There was a day where all he wrote was the title and the date, and then the rest was left blank. His tutor had tried his best to console him, but there was only so much he could do in his position.

Aster didn't have many ways to cope through this outside of what he was learning; diving head first into the depths of great poems and tragedies, showed him that his experience was at least written in books. And his music let him expel whatever he was feeling through song, as pitiful as it felt sometimes. Both soothed what was in his mind a little, but they never made everything really go away. It was better than doing nothing, though. At least he was being productive.

There comes a time where a lie eventually becomes unveiled, and that came shortly afterwards. One thing led to another, and his parents found him plucking on the strings of the harp in the quiet of a room—within the same hour, his tutor was fired. Aster heard the whispers and rumours of his reputation, but he chose not to believe them. A man like that didn't deserve the slightest bit of hatred, not when he had taught Aster everything he knew. And yet, he felt sick to his stomach. If his tutor had faced that sort of consequence, he didn't know what was waiting for himself.

Aster would be assigned a new, trusted tutor, and a stricter schedule; he would not go outdoors without a supervisor, within limited times of the day; and he would surrender any belongings of his that aided him with his prior lessons.

There wasn't any running from it. Aster knew that. If he even attempted to slip by, and they found out, which he was now sure they would, he feared what sort of punishment would come next. Disownment, maybe. Or worse. He wasn't ready to face that sort of thing yet.

He gave up everything. His harp, along with his sheet music. His books of poetry and psychology. He had practically nothing left. Everything he owned was now only meant to grant him some sort of knowledge, to further his education.

His new lessons were completely different. There was barely time to think or speak, not that he was encouraged to anyway. His tutor spoke directly from his own notes, and Aster would copy it down. Then, he was expected to have memorised everything within days. And naturally, he would. But there was a daily sense of dread that came along with it unlike before, where it, at least, felt like his studying had a true purpose. Where he was learning for himself, not for someone else. Even then, he could handle his studies, as he had time to pursue other hobbies and fields of interest. Now, he had nothing.

There wasn't any room to complain, so he didn't. He only worked harder, in hopes that his parents wouldn't become any more disappointed in him. The same hidden insults and demeaning comparisons to his siblings persisted, however, no matter how much he studied. His hope that they would turn around and finally accept him faltered with each day, though it never disappeared completely. Even after everything, he had some semblance of optimism.

It all came crashing again when Aster took his first Psych Evaluation. It was barely below the threshold for becoming a fisher—a measly 796—which made the coming judgement even harsher. At the very least, he could've passed, even if it was in the lower numbers. If he failed, he could've done so clearly, where at the very least it would've looked like he just wasn't meant for it, despite the possible scrutiny. But from this position, it only seemed as if he wasn't "trying hard enough". He failed, but he could've easily succeeded.

The following years were just repetitions on top of each other; Aster would attempt to retake the test, and would fail, and his parents would apply greater pressure on him to do better as he got closer to becoming an adult. He would comfort himself at night, reciting the poems he's read to the best of his ability, and then eventually just thinking up his own. He would try to study even harder, sometimes staying up at night just to read, only to wander around half-awake in the daytime. It was a sort of numb lifestyle he had developed, but… it worked.

Either by luck, or truly because his hard work paid off, at the age of 18 he managed to pass with a score of 801. He took the Fisher Exam shortly afterwards, and within a blink of an eye, he had fulfilled his purpose. He was a fisher now. His parents couldn't complain. He may have failed before, but this time, he didn't. That had to earn him some sort of pat on the back.

The only form of validation he earned from it was that his parents skipped on belittling and criticising him until he was signed up with a crew they'd picked, on board, and ready to work.

It was a completely different sort of environment. A crew that was deemed one of the best called for expectations from him that they would be cutthroat and cold, especially when they earned his parents' full respect. And it seemed like that, when he first stepped upon their airship. But he found the people there all too friendly, as if they'd known each other all their lives. They helped teach him the ropes, and welcomed him as if they were family. And in a sense, they were. A family he wished he had, and now did.

They worked together for almost a decade. They went through trials and tribulations, just like any other crew, but they stuck together. Over time, Aster grew to be more open. He let himself be vulnerable. It took years to get to that point, but he got to it, and it helped him become even closer with those he now considered his true loved ones. It even made seeing his parents every once in a while more bearable, because he knew that he'd be returning to people that truly loved him, despite how he was. People that he trusted, and who trusted him. Who encouraged him to return to his interests, to pursue what he wanted, because he had the freedom to do what he wanted to. He was allowed to be his own person, without judgement. And though he had still a long way to go until he truly got better, he was certain that the crew would help him along the way.

Mid-winter, Aster's crew hit a bad spot with their work. Things had been miscalculated, some might've just been from sheer bad luck, but they all descended into the jaws of a brutal accident, because something went wrong along the way. Though all of them had been lucky to pass with varying injuries to bear, the HQ had to deal with the consequences of their mistake, intentional or unintentional. The crew decided it was for the best they split up, and some decided to quit the field entirely; Aster had no choice but to stay, despite the stain it might've left.

Aster retook the exam, and found that his mental fortitude had dipped after it was steadily rising over the years: a 802. He sat as he faced the disappointment of his parents for another time, as they berated him for not matching up to their other children's skill. It was generous of them, but they considered giving him one more chance, throwing him back to the pits where they told him they'd better expect he picked a suitable crew where he wouldn't fail—lest he be disowned completely from their family's name and their house.

Impulsivity got the better of him. He wanted to leave, he wanted to do something because he wanted to, and go somewhere where his parents wouldn't find him again. He gave himself little time to think, purposefully, before gathering up as many of his belongings as he could. It was akin to running away, and Aster hoped it was, in a sense; because if it worked, he'd never be making any true contact with his parents in the future.

The first arguably "low-rise" crew he found, he applied to join. He'd heard rumours that the captain wasn't particularly the best, but that meant good news. The less pressure from outside to be perfect, the better. It was only when he was signing papers that the realisation hit him though: with no one to depend on as he did before, he didn't know how well he would fair in his duties. He knew he'd still had habits and fears inside him, conditioned from before, but he was afraid to let them go. Because they were part of him now. Because he was afraid of true change.

He looked at the airship, wistfully, as he thought. Though change was scary, through the ship, it looked... welcoming. And, maybe, it would be.

## Trivia

* Likes stargazing, plums & figs, moths, having everything planned out, arts, height; Dislikes peer pressure, harsh/gritty noises, bad table manners, surprises, heavy crowds, talk of family.