BASICSname: maddalena “lena” elinor stelmariadate of birth: october 31st, 1993residence: officially
BASICSname: maddalena “lena” elinor stelmariadate of birth: october 31st, 1993residence: officially washington, d.c.occupation: classical philologist, extinct languages expert, inquisitor for the past four yearspersonality: (+) witty, caring, observant (-) proud, quick to judge, vicioussexuality: bisexualpalette: silver, blue, grey, white, forest green, brownadaptability: 8/10athleticism: 6/10charm: 7/10courage: 8/10knowledge: 10/10star sign: scorpioalignment: lafwul neutralmbti type: infjplanet: mercury (intelligence, friendship, communication)major arcana: the magicianhogwarts house: ravenclawilvermorny house: horned serpentasoiaf house: arrynlotr race: edain (gondor)godly parent: daughter of athenaatla element: waterbenderHISTORYlena’s first love was latin. being born in rome, italy, latin and its never-ending culture were everywhere around her, and lena remembers forcing her paternal grandfather giulio to bring her down to the roman forum, navigating masses of tourists, just so she could crouch down and look at the old insciptions at the bases of columns and statues. it was quite a walk from the stelmarias’ mansion on the aventine hill, but one her grandfather made gladly until his legs could carry him.in the bright, old house on the hill, the rich area of rome, the only thing that was discussed was politics— people coming and going at every hour of the day to talk with alessandro stelmaria, lena’s father and minister of culture for the then-current government. lena used to think it was the most beautiful job ever, and that the whole political side of it was only a pain that his father endured to be able to live out what must have been his dream job— caring and protecting for all the art and beauty and history italy had to offer. lena’s mother, american-born victoria hammer, would warn her, even as a child, not to let her fantasies get a hold of her, but lena never listened.she would accompany her father at every museum opening, every festival, every event— all prim and proper in her designer dresses, reciting latin mottos in front of the delighted eyes of journalists that would make her father’s chest puff with pride. lena loved it all, even though she loved history and latin lessons with her grandfather giulio the best.it was because of him that she started teaching herself latin and ancient greek from a very young age, around the start of middle school; it was always because of him that she chose to go to classical high school, where those two languages became mandatory classes, and also had her father pull some strings so she could sit some lessons and the public la sapienza university— latin and ancient greek became so intertwined with the person she was becoming that there was going to be no separating her from them. fourteen-years-old lena also started to learn that dead languages weren’t dead at all, and got more and more fascinated with sanskrit and germanic and the worlds they could open her. she got high grades at school, spent almost all her free times between her books and the fencing lessons her father insisted on, still dragged his grandfather down to the forum on weekends. and then, of course, her sixteenth birthday rolled along.the thing about italy is that corruption is like a cancer, growing silent and hidden until it can’t remain unnoticed anymore. and the thing about politics is that it looks like an honour and a dream job only from the surface— on the eve of her sixteenth birthday, lena’s naive eyes snapped open and stayed open, seeing how her father cared more about paying for their aventine hill mansion than for preserving italy’s culture. he had sold artefacts to smugglers, the police said. he had taken bribes, had falsified documents, had done everything and anything that would keep him in power and inflate his bank account. bank account that got promptly frozen, as her father was taken away from their house in handcuffs. lena remembers her grandfather’s steadying hands on her shoulders, and her mother silent tears of rage, as if she had always known this day was going to come. turns out she had, and she had taken every precaution necessary to protect herself and her daughter from it.victoria hammer, resilient, strong and with a level-headedness that belongs only to americans, immediately started the divorce process, and hired the most shark-like lawyers in the business to make sure it would get done speedily and irrevocably. she moved away from the mansion (which belonged to the police’s investigations anyways) and into a small but comfortable apartment in the city centre which she had bough with her own family’s money. she transferred lena from her high school to another one, and lena did her best to endure her classmates’ stares and jokes and insults. she powered through, burying herself in not-so-dead languages, taking out her frustrations in kickboxing lessons as well as fencing ones. the summer of her final high school exams, the maturità, was also the summer her mother obtained her divorce, two years after everything had started— lena got the highest grade in her whole school and her mother packed their bags and their life and bought them both a plane ticket for the united states, leaving behind her father, still in the grips of the italian judiciary system, and the long process in which they had both had to testify. now eighteen years old, lena knew very well moving away was the best choice, but she still cried hot and burning tears at the thought of leaving the country she considered her own, and her sweet grandfather, who had declined victoria’s offer to follow them to the united states.waiting for lena and victoria in washington d.c. was victoria’s own family, her parents and her two brothers, who welcomed them both again with open arms— lena spent that summer with her cousins and felt less empty, less bleeding, less sad. she even enrolled at new york city university, in the philology department, and thought that she could really make a new life for herself on this side of the atlantic ocean. and then she saw the news that her father had finally been condemned to twenty-five years, and her trauma caught up with her. the only thing keeping her in university was the thought of her grandfather back in italy, and how sad he would be knowing she had dropped out of her undergrad. but she did everything she could to leave the united states— took studying programs everywhere around the world, language and archaeology seminars, travelled wherever new and foreign words were waiting for her. victoria never questioned it, because she probably knew far too well what her daughter was doing. lena’s bones became more and more etched with forgotten words and her soul grew more and more wary, the italy-shaped hole in heart bigger and bigger. she never returned, though, except for her grandfather’s funeral.and it was at her grandfather’s funeral that her life changed. she saw there someone she never expected to see— her own classical philology professor at new york university, who sat her down after the ceremony and explained how her grandfather had kept tabs on her and her progress and her activities, and had reported everything to the organisation he had been part of himself in the days of his youth. lena’s professor offered lena the same position her grandfather had held as a young man as soon as she would graduate, and she accepted. the day she closed her hands on her philology and extinct linguistics degree, at twenty-one years old, was the day she officially became a member of the inquisitors. and with every day spent in the organisation for the past four years, her weariness slowly but surely started to heal.PERSONALITYthere’s a part of lena that still holds the naivety and innocence of when she was nine and living in rome’s golden summer. she thinks that it’s what has kept her going, and also what fuels her undying love for knowledge. without it and without her grandfather’s example, she wouldn’t have persevered on the path that would have brought her to the inquisitors and a life where she finally feels content and belonging.lena firmly believes that now, at twenty-five years old, she is a reflection of her grandfather’s and her mother’s best qualities— observant and learned, resilient and caring and decisive. and yet, just like her high school classmates would never stop reminding her during her teenage years, she’s also her father’s daughter— she’s proud, and quick to judge, and she has developed an ugly tendency to viciously lash out at whatever or whomever questions her worth. she thinks the conflict over her feelings for her father will always be caught in this seesaw, hate and love, and she will never truly get rid of it.she tries not to linger on it too much, though— books, dictionaries and grammar manuals are still her refuge and her safe haven. when she was first recruited into the inquisitors she was very much attached to them, buried herself in them too often and for too long. ogma was the first person who managed to coax her out of her shell, but it’s truly thanks to the entire team of the inquisitors that she managed to flourish into the person she is today— still quiet, still observant, but more open and ready to help and have a laugh around a mug of coffee while working out the latest problem the team has to face.while she will always be the kind of person who works best by herself, or in a really small team (a duo or a trio at the maximum), she has learned that some things are too big for her to handle alone no matter how brilliant she is, and that asking for help isn’t a defeat but a victory. she takes her job very seriously and loves every second of it, even the her eyes feel tired and heavy behind her reading glasses or when she has to run for her life while on the field. she will never be the most athletic or charming person in a group, but she’s proud of the fact that she can safely say she’s always one of the most brilliant.of course, there are still dark days, bad days, days when everything has a grey veil over it and nothing feels good. days when she wakes up and then has to fight to get out of bed, days when she feels alone, when she misses her mother in washington and her grandfather in an italian cemetery. but she powers through, just like victoria hammer taught her. she might be her father’s daughter, true, a legacy she might never shake off her shoulders, but she’s also very much her mother’s daughter as well.LINKSpin board -- source link