About
W'bhenti can be described as many things. Beautiful, wealthy, calculating...hotheaded, arrogant, ignorant, loud, rash...perhaps even loyal, greedy, and resolute; the list goes on. All sorts of goods and bads that come together to form one woman
Despite it all, W'bhenti touts herself around as a professional. Granted, she is one, though her demeanor outside of official business would have you think otherwise. Many people quickly come to hate her and her loud, abrasive attitude, yet at the end of the day, still come back with propositions for monetary gain; one of her favorite things in the world.
Besides family, money drives W'bhenti heavily, aside from her hellbent conviction to see something done, when she wants it done, no matter why she wants it done. Teachings from her father and her heavy background in business have turned her into a greedy, ironically silver tongued tycoon, knowing how to weave her way through a conversation. Something the common man might rarely see, as they're being blinded by her sailor mouth.
Thankfully, fun is something she is still capable of having. Being a machinist - on top of other things - she enjoys tinkering with whatever she can get her hands on, namely the firearm she keeps at her side during nearly every public outing. Though she'd rarely show it, she is more than willing to literally get her hands dirty with grime and grease just to squeeze 0.3% more efficiency out of something. On the opposite end, her wardrobe is extensive, and blowing gil on luxury goods is always a delight for her.
Background
Born to a wealthy father and now estranged mother, W'bhenti has known naught but riches and luxury her entire life. Her father, W'rinha, founded Vylbrand Mahogany and ran it until only recently, intending to hand it down to W'bhenti after his passing. He saw great fortune, tapping into a niche and creating a monopoly off of it due to his own knowledge of it, its uses, and how to make it something people would prefer over other materials.
W'bhenti was raised in this mindset, being taught how to run a business alongside the usual things a child would be taught; a privileged one, at that. W'bhenti only ever really knew her father, as her mother was banished from their estate only a few years into her life after it was found she had been involved in an affair. She hadn't seemed to mind too much, continuing on only with her father - learning from him and yearning to be like him. She loved him dearly.
Along the way to the present, W'bhenti picked up machinistry from W'rinha's business contacts in Ishgard. For some reason that not even she can figure out, she was drawn to it immediately, engrossing herself in it for almost 3 straight months. She saw profit in it, of course, but she envisioned so many possible things that could come from the craft. Whether it was a business mindset or pure imagination running wild, not even she can say, but she immediately commissioned a workshop to be added to her family's estate upon returning from Ishgard for the first time, which she still uses to this day.
Alas, all good things must come to an end someday. In the near present, her aging father was tragically assassinated in his own home by one of the many servants on the estate; an alchemist named Robin. W'bhenti was too late to arrive at the scene, where she found her father's cold body face down in the hall. After the initial shock and tears had passed, through a brain that could barely process the information she'd just received, she found a bloodied alembic by the side of her father's corpse, and everything before her turned red. Her brow furrowed, her mind ran wild with violence, the fire in her chest burned hot enough to melt steel. She had a new conviction seared into her chest: track down and kill Robin, no matter what.
After a funeral service was held for her father, W'bhenti - heir to and now CEO of Vylbrand Mahogany - put future business proceedings on hold, selecting a trusted associate as a proxy to run the company before setting off on a manhunt that would span the globe. One she has no intention of stopping until her hands are stained red.