Fort Weyr

Dark, lightly curling brown hair that brushes chin-length and rich brown eyes are the trademarks of Mathier's appearance, enough in and of themselves to have earned him a "pretty boy" reputation, never mind the fact that his lips are full and his lashes are long. Despite these unfailingly effeminate traits, there's an undeniable masculinity to the man, something about the self-possession of his aura that makes it clear that he's very much his own man. His complexion is one that pales in the winter and darkens in the summer, not quite olive-toned so that he occasionally boasts sunburn or windchap. He's not the most reliable when it comes to a razor, often sporting the stubble of a beard's beginnings, occasionally allowed to lengthen to real scruff.

Close to average height at just over 5'10" tall, Mathier has the sort of build that speaks of maintenance. His physique speaks more of quickness than brutality, whip-quickness rather than bull-strength, a trim firmness that probably requires attendance to form. He dresses with care, well-groomed in his attire, preferring dark colors in shades of charcoal and navy, black and burgundy, obviously tailored specifically for him.

HIf Mathier's history began at the age of twenty, everything would make absolutely perfect sense. But it didn't, of course. There were twenty Turns leading up to this point, and they're twenty Turns that he doesn't talk about except in the vaguest of terms, using the broadest of strokes. What's clear is that…

Up until about his 20th Turnday, Mathier was a trader of sorts, plying wares mainly consistent of spices and perfumes, working aboard a fast-moving ship. Never officially a member of the Seacraft, he served an apprenticeship of sorts aboard a vessel known as Fleetwings, carrying perishables from one port to another and selling them at a tidy profit. It was good work, and he was good enough at it to have stashed away a tidy nestegg over the Turns - not that there was any purpose behind it, apparently. He wasn't sending money home to his family, wasn't supporting a wife and child, just keeping marks for the sake of having them.

Then the broken leg, the one that put him off Fleetwings. A man who can't even stand on his leg can't be said to have sealegs, after all, and he would need a few months before he was back in working order. Thus, Mathier was land-locked, at least until he was whole again.