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As a very young child the memory of screaming, jostling and the scent of just everything that can burn blazing away - Filusae still stares into the dark at night, remembering the dim gloom of days being carried away by frantic hands and a trembling voice she can only remember as Mother's. The sound of cracked lightning and feeling constantly soaked upon a small, questionable vessel through dark waters and heavy rains. Clammy hands, attempting to be comforting only creating a more horrifying experience to gaze upon a once serene face tear-stained with pale hair disheveled. Where was father? What was happening? The capacity to understand escaped her, only to be brought to light as she grew in the home of her Mother's inlaws, among House Groverfield, far from the destruction of the Sack of Tydehall and the fall of House Tyde. Murmurs through the years from her mother revealed that maybe it could have all been different if her grandfather were alive, were there. While the years passed by, Filusae was brought up fairly sheltered but well educated in things that brought her interest, taking a past-time in collecting objects that would shine or make pleasant sounds she naturally found an appreciation for coin and dealing with it. Only twice did those in the home she was raised by and with attempt to take her near the docks and ships, ending in a wildly violent exchange with some staggering away nursing scratched arms or a face. The absolute panic of being so near a ship for so little a reason as 'a fun trip' did not strike her well; Maybe just being at the docks would not have been so bad were it not for the intent to convince her to board the vile ship for such an unacceptable reason. Maybe were it to visit a pen-pal, one of two she would have been encouraged to try. Maybe. Recently a worn-looking old man has come to the door, blue eyes as so many. She shut the door in his face, a hint of unease settling over her. Only later to find the very same man in the parlor with her mother looking pale and confused... What grandfather? Who? That man would be ancient and was supposed to be long-assumed dead.

Delicately built, Filusae will likely never be able to see over the heads of others. Her eyes of molten amber gleam with a mischief untamed upon a face of alabaster, framed by stark white hair that falls to her middle back loose and free. She walks with an eerie grace, though is not likely to remain demure for long. Pale pink lips curve at the corners, a hidden grin waiting to break into laughter at any moment. The most strange feature of her face are noted to be her eyebrows, kept groomed in a strange style. There is little strength in her frame, but a face that holds a malicious intelligence could be something to be wary of.

Vain to a fault, Filusae is proud of herself in all things. Though she may struggle, she is persistent to the point of obsession; Do not give up, try better. This will only account to things or situations she has decided are interesting enough to hold her attention which - once lost, is very difficult to regain. Though she may seem stubborn and often times easy-going, She has both a venomous temper and deep-set fears alike. Foremost of this nature she keeps is a keen sense of mischief and rhyme. Absolutely terrified of large bodies of water, Filusae is hardly able to get near the sea or even a pond without freezing still as the cold deep itself. Befriend Filusae at your own risk, as there have been over the years many injuries through her whims and games though none inflicted directly of her design.