† Application †

[scissor_blade]

Player
Name – Kris or Jinx
AIM Name - CorsetJinx
E-Mail – beloved-belial@hotmail.com

Character
Name – Faustina Collari
Fandom – Assassin’s Creed
Canon Point - A month after leaving Cento Occhi
Age - 26
Gender -Female

Appearance – Il ladro

Faustina is a short young woman, standing at roughly 5’ 5” and weighing in at 120 pounds. Her hair is short and dirty blonde, falling in gentle waves around her face. Her face is round, a perfect match for her slender build. The blonde has dark brown eyes framed by thick lashes-although not terribly thick actually. Just enough. Her lips are always curved into a smile which can be a little off-putting for most if not all. Her skin is tanned from days spent out in the sun for hours on end, but it is not a dark tan, it is simply a healthy glow.

As for Faustina’s clothing she wears a man’s garb. A dirty white laced blouse with long sleeves falls to below her bottom in the back, although it arches in the front, coming up to her lower abdomen. The edges of the shirt have obviously seen better days. They’re filthy, nearly black in color, and covered in holes and tears. Over top this shirt she wears a blue and brown velvet doublet with a low v cut. The front of her doublet is brown with ornate markings while the sides are checkered and blue. The sleeves are also brown but have been pushed up slightly so that more of her blouse’s sleeves are exposed. Faustina’s pants are simple, falling to mid shin and dark brown with lighter brown vertical stripes. Like most pants of her era they lace up in the front, although one cannot see such due to her shirt. As for foot wear she wears battered leather boots that come up to just below her knees.

Personality –
Faustina is a young woman born in the most unique point in history, the Italian Renaissance, and was born in the poorer district. With that in mind one can already begin to build an interesting assumption on her personality. She is young and smiles quite a bit. It would almost seem like all she does is smile and never grimaces or frowns. But that is not the case, she still shows quite a bit of expression on her pretty face and her personality is not so one dimensional.

But let’s get to the basics. Faustina is quite cheerful. Some might even say that she is one that verges on creepy with her unusual cheer. Whether speaking with a friend or running over rooftops, slicing a man’s throat open or twirling her funny little weapon, this woman will have a small, perfect little Mona Lisa smile on her sweet pink lips. The whole, fucking time.

She is a cheerful brat, occasionally mocking as she calls you a bambino, which is Italian for little boy or girl (in which case it’s bambina). And she will talk down to the one she’s speaking to if the mood is right. She will mock them and walk away with their purse while they are still fuming and throwing insults her way. And when they notice their purse is missing she will already be gone.

Faustina is the kind of woman that wants to get under your skin. She wants to pick you apart and find out what makes you tick. What she can use against you. It is a skill she learned on the streets of her homeland, one that has stuck with her since she was a young girl. But when she isn’t practicing her thieving skills on her targeted audience, she might actually be a worthwhile companion to speak to. Certainly, she would know how to listen. You never know when a potential target may let something important slip from his or her lips before she must strike. A glimmer of information that might please Cesare or, perhaps, another group of thieves. Whoever she is working for at the time.

In those times when her average, if slightly mocking, cheer fails her, you might be on the receiving end of a more somber thief, that bright light in her warm eyes slipping into the background as the reality of life is processed in her brain. In this time she will not crack her usual jokes, there might not be the predictable childishness you come to love and hate her for. If you are so fortunate (or unfortunate, as the case may be) to catch her in a bout of sadness, do not expect to escape without noticing how her eyes seem to fall to a tearful muddy brown or the bow of pretty pink lips tremble.

She is, overall, very human. She hurts, she feels and she laughs. She is a marvelous piece of work who will be in your face and dancing on your very last nerve even as she sashays away twirling your coin purse by her gloved index finger. Faustina Collari is a woman of sass, showman’s mockery and a self-made sense of confidence that lets her be everything and nothing you might expect of a thief from the Renaissance era. With a capable sense of resourcefulness, she can get by with her own life and buy time for another day; with her lone scissor blade she can look into her own past and regret nothing as she cuts your future to a premature close. She is not a woman to be coddled, but she is a woman worthy of some praise. And an occasional smack over the head. Just be prepared for the consequences of the latter.


History –

First thing I want to say is that Faustina Collari is the Thief in Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood Multiplayer.

"Born and raised in a world of poverty, the Thief was taught how to steal, run and climb to survive, alongside her brother. Always together, acting as a team, they once split a pair of scissors to make a weapon, swearing to protect each other. It's been 10 years now... and she's never forgotten the day she broke her promise."
― Ubisoft description

That is all we know about her. She has only appeared in Multiplayer, and unlike others she does not appear in Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood or Project Legacy. Why she betrayed her brother, if she is a Templar or not, it’s all up to… well, the player. All the information below is headcanon. Now on to Faustina’s simple history…

Faustina Collari was born on a warm day in August, 1477 Roma, Italy. She was the second child born to the Collari family, a rather small family living in the slums of Roma. She was the last child born to the family, and the only daughter-a male child having been born three years prior. For all the family was small and held no wealth of their own-paying the bank every cent they could earn to live within a small two room house, they still managed a somewhat pleasant existence. But they were not a stable family, Faustina’s father was often away, traveling on merchant ships-although his job was to keep the ships a float. He wasn’t a merchant. And their mother… well the children needn’t know what their mother did to bring food to the table.

But such things aside, Fasutina still managed to enjoy her childhood. Her world, at a young age, revolved around her elder brother. Like any child she envied and adored her sibling because of his advanced age and knowledge of the wide blue world. She spent her every waking minute at his side. Her days were spent learning to do what he did. Climbing trees, crates, and later walls (much in a freerunning/parkour manner). She also learned to blend in with crowds and steal without getting caught-although this came with much trial and error. He taught her the skills to survive and she taught him that the world was not all doom and gloom. In fact she brought light into his every waking moment. Brought a smile to his lips every time they ran around all of Roma. Carefree and… surviving.

They were surviving.

Their young lives took on a simple pattern. The pattern that was shared amongst all thieves. To run, steal, find shelter and flee from the Papal Guard whenever they came near. To survive the fairer side of Roma and the gloomy disgusting poor side. It wasn’t long before they drifted from their mother’s home. From the place they had known for so long. By Faustina’s seventh birthday they were living on their own. Living freely as thieves, a destiny unbound. Although that did not mean that Faustina was without any schooling. No, she learned how to read and write-although it wouldn’t be until she was under Cesare Borgia’s employment that she really understood these things. Her teachings came from the monks who she spent some time watching when the weather was bad.

Life remained so very simple for Faustina and her brother, following this pattern. However upon her fourteenth birthday things would… take a turn for the worse.

The day began as any other for the siblings. They moved through Roma carefully, always on guard now that the guard was moving through the city more. Always watching for thieves to beat. But it was Faustina’s birthday and so they needed to find a special place to hide. A place no other would find them. A place that no guard would check-not right off the bat anyway. They searched around the streets for such. A church, an empty villa, but none would do, not today. Instead they moved to the roves where small hideouts where built here and there. It made the perfect hiding spot-one Faustina would later return to again and again.

Her sibling only spared her a smile and told her to be still as he withdrew a pair of large sheers from the back of his britches. The sheers themselves were nearly as long as her forearm and had seen better days. They hadn’t come from some grand barber from the looks of it. But Faustina could only stare with wide eyes at her brother. It was then that he broke the scissors, passing her one half of the set.

“From now on we will have protection,” he said with a boyish grin. “Tonight we make a promise. Never leave each other’s side. Never face a guard alone. We will always protect each other, and these scissor blades will be our weapon.”

It was a promise that Faustina readily agreed to. And one she would later break. Months later, sadly. Just a few short months later. In the mean time Faustina learned to fight with her new weapon, the crude scissor blade. Every move she made was carefully choreographed by her brother to make them more fluid and unexpected. Every swipe of her blade, every step she took. She learned that being childish, young, was an advantaged she needed to grasp at. She learned that the easiest ways to kill a person came from tricks she had learned to steal coin. Just a few Florins and no more. Her every waking moment began to fall into a more carefully constructed routine. They bathed when they could at least once every few weeks, but they kept to themselves. They avoided the guard more, although they could surely defend themselves. They stole with more care and listened to the gossip and news…

But things would soon go downhill. A downward spiral that could not be stopped.

It all began on a warm December day in Roma, the sun bright and the breeze gentle and cool. But today her brother had come up with a simple plan. He had seen the Papal Guard carrying quite a large trunk that morning. One that appeared quite heavy for all it was extravagantly made. He was sure, positive that luck was on their side. That they could steal this trunk and have it made for the rest of their lives. It was going to be easy, right? A smoke bomb to shake the guards, which Faustina would throw from the roof, and he would slip in, steal the trunk and run. But plans like this never go as one plans. Never go the way they should… and this would be a lesson that Faustina would never forget. They made their way from the poorer section of Roma to the richer and more extravagant area. They followed the path of the Papal Guards, passing shops and courtesans on the way, even the occasional group of thieves and mercenaries. It was something they had seen for years, an unchanging feature of their homeland-even if the people did change. But they were focused. Finding that Guard, finding that trunk and escaping…

The duo split apart with the small blonde taking to the roves. She moved carefully, climbing from crate to windowsill and jumping to catch at the next window or small hole in the wall. She lifted herself easily enough and it was in a few short moments that she was gripping at a red terracotta shingle. She pulled herself up with a little effort, careful not to dislodge the shingle. Her brother, thankfully, had been waiting below for her to get on the roof. The moment she was standing upon the tiles he began to move again. With his eyes set on their target he got into position just as she did. Things were going according to plan. Luck was on their side. They had no need to worry. No need to fear the danger just waiting for them. He gave the signal, she lit and threw the smoke bomb. As expected the guards doubled over, coughing or some swiped at the air. Her sibling took a dash, slipping between the heavily armed guards and into the room…

But he-and she-had not anticipated the guards that would be inside. The guards that were waiting for thieves as unlucky as them. He screamed for help, for her. But Faustina, terrified as she was, ran. She ran and never looked back.

She had, all in all, betrayed him. Broken their promise. And it would haunt her for many nights after that.

The small blonde, in her depression, remained in hiding for many years. She stole little, and was wary of large groups and the Guard. She began to weave out of the old pattern she had once held so tightly to with her brother. She moved from the Centro district to the Antico district, looking for new prey to fall into her trap. Her skills grew greater, her fingers faster and her blade just as fast. She spent much of her time running or hiding in plain sight. But stealing and running was not all Faustina did. No, it was a small fraction of her work. She also began to sell the information she had stumbled upon through gossip. Information pertaining to secrets about those in power. And when she had to Faustina killed. And she killed with a smile, as if she were imagining someone else in their place-perhaps the faces of the guards who had slain her brother. This would continue for the next nine long years.

Midsummer of 1500 Faustina found herself face to face with the merciless and notorious Cento Occhi gang. A large group of vicious young thieves that were well known for pushing men off of buildings, ruining lives, and terrorizing the people of Roma. It was upon walking through the Antico district in search of a contact that she was cornered by seven men. Each one eyed her like a piece of meat, unaware of the danger this small woman was. The blonde didn’t back away any further, a building between her and these men. Instead she moved forward, towards the man that seemed to be in charge of the group. Her fingers twitched at her side and her hidden weapon was dislodged from its hiding spot up her sleeve. She struck first, swiftly. She was a thief, just as they were. She had grown up, lived here all her life. She had seen blood and shed it. That night would be no different. She had faced Papal Guard and drunks alike, fought to survive. Her lips held that familiar smile as she defended herself against these brutes that fought with stilettos, her scissor blade allowing her to hold her own against them. After taking out three men on her own they were called off by a man that was smaller and younger than the lot. It dawned on Faustina that he was, indeed, the boss of the dangerous gang.

It had seemed, for better or worse, that she had attracted his attention. A woman as small as she and as agile had proven herself to be a worthy fighter and perhaps worthy of membership into their gang. With a smile upon his lips he extended his hand to her. It put the woman off, making her look at him questioningly. That grin only expanded on his face and he simply said, “won’t you join us bella?”

To say the least Faustina didn’t know how to react. What to do in this situation. She had never sought to attract attention to herself nor had she expected that a gang leader would want anything to do with her. She was a loner-had become so, but deep down… perhaps she missed what she had had with her brother. The comfort of a friend, an alley. Someone to talk to on rainy days when few were out and about. That, perhaps, is why she had accepted and become one of his thieves. One of the Cento Occhi. She took to this new life of crime and violence with nary a blink of an eye. The only difference it held was that she now had ‘brothers’ and was no longer on her own as often. Three years would go by quickly, a routine of violence in their wake. Three years spent arm in arm with her fellow thieves. It was by luck that Lanz, her leader, had managed-with help of his thieves-to steal from a Borgia carriage and during their celebration he was approached by the courtesan Fiora Cavazza, a woman who worked for Cesare Borgia the son of the Pope.

And only a few months later, Lanz was killed by the assassin Ezio Auditore.

Faustina was quick to disappear from the gang, returning to her solo ways. It stung worse than she had thought, but one cannot help coming to see your fellow thieves as family. The void was open once more and there was little she could do about it. Faustina Collari was a thief, and she knew better than to let her heart get in the way. She had to live, to survive.

There is no such thing as peace in Roma… and the carnival-well, its lure was just too good to pass up.

Skills/Abilities/Powers – Faustina is a thief, always has been and always will be. This means that she is fast on her feet and quick to think of solutions to all sorts of problems-usually escaping the Papal Guards. Faustina is knowledgeable in simple things like picking pockets and catching someone off guard. She is a killer and knows how to surprise someone. Kill them quick and efficiently and leave the scene of the crime with little notice.

Power Restrictions – N/A

Job – Knife throwing, although Faustina will gladly pull all sorts of parkour related stunts.


Mark Location – Four fingers beneath her clavicle (in case you’re wondering that’s your collar bone), vertically.


Samples

First Person Sample (Communicator, Bulletin, or Mirror) –

Day # - Accidental Mirror

[The woman you see before you is a little on the short side and dressed quite strangely. In fact those velvets and silks look very Renaissance era. Her lips are curved into a perfect little smile, or smirk rather, and her brown eyes are vibrant. Pretty. Yes, she’s pretty. But slowly her lips pull down into a thin line. Her eyes, still so vibrant and full of life, darken just slightly. And when she speaks it is only in Italian.]

Dove è quella cagna?

[The words are growled out. Her head turns this way and that as she looks around the room. She raises a gloved hand, her sleeve is filthy and so is the dark brown fingerless glove. Blonde hair sways this way and that. When she next speaks her words have been translated, thankfully.]

Where is the bastard who locked the gate? I cannot remain here, I must go-I have things to do.

[She turns to leave then, and for a brief moment a flash of metal can be seen in her hand.]


Third Person Sample (Log) –

Go!

The word broke into her thoughts like a flash of lightning across the sky. Her feet dragged over a shingle as she finally registered who she had caught a glimpse of. Had finally realized why that man would be coming her way with all the determination he only showed when hunting down a target. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest as she looked around.

Go, go, go!

The mantra filled her head, her very being. She had to go. Had to keep moving or he would catch her. Kill her. Il Lupo. Why he had been sent after her, by Cesare she assumed, was an utter mystery to Faustina, but she had heard plenty about the killer. His prowess was considered far superior to others under Cesare’s hold. In fact he was the closest thing the Grand Master of the Templar order had to those damn assassins. This man was their secret weapon, their perfect assassin. Well, he was supposed to be from what the blonde thief had heard Fiora say. Not that she had really spoken with the courtesan, all their meetings had been in passing or the thief had simply listened in on the woman’s conversations. By her own fault she had become fascinated with the secretive hooded man, and she had gotten too curious about him… but that didn’t matter right now. She needed to escape him if she wanted to live another day. Another second.

The blonde moved swiftly as she ran across the terracotta red tiles, the feeling so familiar beneath her booted feet. The lavish and beautiful scenery of Rome was almost a blur as she took off. She knew these roves. She knew this land, this way of life. She knew how to escape and which of the rooftop hiding spots were regularly checked by the guards and which weren’t. She also knew which places you could jump from and land safely in a flower cart or hay stack. And right now that information was all she desired. She didn’t pause as she neared the edge of the roof, instead she pushed off and propelled herself forward as she lunged for the roof slightly below but a short distance away. A soft grunt passed her lips as she landed hard upon her feet, hardly pausing in her run. She knew he was still following her. Judging by the sounds of his boots on the shingles he was fairly close behind. Her fingers moved to jerk her scissor blade from its hiding place in her sleeve. The crude weapon was all she had to defend herself against the more lethal trained killer.

The darkening sky was beginning to make each red shingle look almost bloody, as if reveal all the dirty secrets littering the tops of these lovely villas. The blood that had been shed here by others, Papal Guards, Assassins, Templars, and thieves alike. And, perhaps, her own blood soon would stain the hard ceramic tile beneath her booted feet… well, not if she could help it. Faustina refused, absolutely refused to die at the hands of this killer. She came to a halt, turning almost fluidly to face her pursuer. Momentum, and maybe gravity for once, was on her side as she swiped at him. The man that had been following her since she had left La Volpe Addormentato.

He was tall and immaculate in his appearance. And he was swift, managing to lean out of her range even as he paused. His lips were curved into a predatory grin, one that sent a shiver down the smaller woman’s spine. She tried not to over balance as she continued to swipe at his midsection and chest, only once going for his throat. All her attacks were in vain against the far more skilled man she faced. He moved gracefully out of reach, gloved hand curling at his side. As she made to strike him once more he twisted out of the way and caught her across the face, his fist coming into contact with her mouth and brushing across her cheek. Pain blossomed almost instantaneously, lip splitting beneath the assault. Blood spilled down from the wound, dribbling down her chin. Her retaliation was instinctive and unplanned, turning her blade so it lay horizontally as she swiped at his belly.



Any Other Details We Should Know – THIS TOOK FOREVER! Fuck yeah it’s over now.