Sansa Stark

Name: Sansa Stark

Alias/es:

Title/s: Oldest daughter to House Stark

Age:11

Gender:female

Martial Status:single

Allegiance:House Stark

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Strengths: She is well versed in courtly ways and can present herself well. She has natural grace and has learned the basics of all things a courtly wowman would know such as needlepoint and poetry and knowledge of pedigrees and housholds and how to account herself in royal company. She reads well and can ride as well.

Weaknesses: Sansa is clearly a gentle soul, does not readily see the evil in people. She is sometimes blind to the unsavory side of life and sometimes on the shallow side, making judgment based on appearances (as in her reaction to the Hound’s visage). She clearly knows little about survival as she does not hunt nor knows how to forage, nor does she know anything about fighting or defending herself as she normally had others attend to such things.

Paraphernalia: her direwolf Lady who is always protecting her at her side, a small knife as is proper for all folk to carry.

Other:

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History: (from Wikki) 

Sansa is traditionally beautiful, taking after her mother's family (the Tullys) with her high cheekbones, vivid blue eyes and thick auburn hair. She is eleven years old at the start of the series. As she has grown up, her figure has been described as tall, graceful and womanly.


Sansa was raised a lady, and possesses the traditional feminine graces of her milieu, with a keen interest in music, poetry, singing, dancing, embroidery, and other traditional feminine activities. Like many girls her age, Sansa is enthralled by songs and stories of romance and adventure, particularly those depicting handsome princes, honorable knights, chivalry, and love. Initially those song and stories were Sansa's vision of the world beyond Winterfell, a world she desperately wishes to experience, but she was later disabused of such innocent romanticized notions. She keeps faith with both the old gods and the Seven.


Sansa's relationship with her sister Arya is often strained, and the two are opposites in most respects. She was briefly accompanied by a direwolf pup named Lady. She is fond of lemoncakes.


Sansa is the eldest daughter and second child of Lady Catelyn and Lord Eddard Stark, head of House Stark and Warden of the North. She was born and raised at Winterfell. In her eleven years, she learns the duties of a noble daughter and is tutored by septa Mordane in the traditional womanly arts. Sansa has a younger sister Arya. She has an older brother, Robb, and two younger brothers, Bran and Rickon. She has a bastard half-brother, Jon Snow.


With her father's appointment as Hand of the King, Sansa is delighted at the prospect of life at court in King's Landing and is thrilled by her betrothal to the handsome Prince Joffrey she is living in a romantic song.

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RP Sample:

Sansa Stark Loved tournaments. The pageantry and majesty coupled with good food, wonderful games, and the chance to show off her latest garb, her house crest of the wolf stitched in her own hand upon the breast, to all in attendance just made her shine proudly at her achievement. Then of course there was Joffery. He looked so young and handsome as he sat upon the dais, occasionally waving to some noble across the way. There was no way she would believe the rumors of him, that he had an evil streak in him as if he were possessed of some demon. She had looked deep into those robin’s-egg blue eyes and saw only love and compassion.


She founder place seated next to Arya. It was a rare site indeed as her younger sister would probably be more at ease flouncing about at swords behind the braced seating rather than sitting upon it as she was now. Of course she still insisted on a fencing jerkin and boys leggings instead of a proper dress, but she at least seemed to show some interest in the upcoming jousting.


At least Sansa had that much in common with her wilding-like sibling; she did so enjoy the spectacle. Her own heart would begin racing as the rider charged each other at full bore, the thunderous charge of their mighty steeds shaking the ground as they clashed headlong, lances snapping upon impact against the thick, sturdy shields. Indeed it was enough to get anyone’s heart racing. The Stark heir would cool herself with the intricately laced fan brought on the latest shipment from Dorne, the fibers infused with the heady scents of their musky perfumes. It was enough to make any lady swoon….