Physical Description
At first glance, there's nothing quite remarkable in the young woman with mousy brown hair. Vaguely tall and lanky, she stands or sits where the eyes does not naturally fall into, behind a wall of people- greater people than she- and quietly observes the situation unfurl with surprisingly alert brown eyes.
Nothing remarkable, surely, but once the attention is held by a briefest moment, the eyes are forced to wander back, seeking and probing to examine at a greater detail. Oh, there is something so very fragile in the way the young woman holds herself. The softness of her features, the uncertainty that skims along her gaze, the tensed shoulders, the thin red line of her lips... attractive? Maybe. Something akin to a doe in hesitance. Something akin to a small animal preyed upon by larger creatures.
But talk, converse, with the woman, pour out secrets in the ears of an seemingly empathic soul, find a common ground in her quiet voice, hear her little whispers in a greater volume... and try decipher the pause that snags at her words and movements waiting to be revealed.
A simple woman, the slave is. Dresses cut off by the knees, shoulder swept hair tied loosely at the back, sensibly worn boots or maybe a grey cloak draping over the form... tastefully modest suiting to the elegance of the city that she reluctantly calls her home. But what else? Surely there was more to her.... the eye catches the sight of a mark burned boldly at the back of her hand, a half black sun. Ah, a slave. Nothing more.
Character Concept
Sit her down, speak to her. Find a discourse that suits both. She would smile readily, a hint of force belying the action. While she talks, although attentive and often sensible enough, behind her words lie tainted by a dash of melancholia, strained and pulled from a memory of the past. But she'll never yield these memories, jealously keeping guard over them with petty words and pettier actions, drowning them out task after task.
She is slave, first and foremost. How could one forget?
Nothing about her truly belonged to her- not her actions, not her words, and not even her thoughts fully. And yet, she pursues the wishes of her masters with almost avid zealousness, a grim figure buzzing about seemingly without care. But why? For safety? Affection? Nay, none of those. A routine, she calls it. An unbreakable routine. Oh, but she is still a creature craving of desires- in the haze of actions, she'll steal moments of petered out memories, divulge in the miasma of melancholia, dither in fleeting wonderment... and then plunge back into reality as quickly as she can.
No, nothing is ever quite permanent here...
Not when she knows and dreads the harsh consequences of the physical existence. It haunts her, this knowledge. Keeps her from sleep, clutches on to her and never bores of the torture. She'll nod, she'll smile, she'll dance and sing, but never will they ever be as sincere or wholehearted. In the nest of her bed, she puzzles over the missing pieces, wondering if her plot will fall perfectly into plan. This single mindedness a paradise to her constant distress.
Character History
She knew of love once, of security. She knew of hearty simple dinners that could summon full bellied laughter. She knew of a mother's gentle touch, of a father's strong embrace. More importantly, she knew how to share this love with another- a year younger brother that gave away smiles and pranks as quickly as his trust. Truly naive, truly precious.
They called her birth city Sunberth, a city that forced her parents in taking in jobs that was surely not with their sweet natures. Although she dwelled on this loose fact, she could never truly grasp the memory of what her parents were involved in. It was always kept secret and hidden from their younger eyes. Something dangerous, probably, as it forced them to escape the city in an effort to build a better life. Or at least, that's what her fraying recollections told her.
No, such memories before the event was rather weak, diluted, in comparison to her eventual capture. With startling detail, she could recount the texture of the ground she and her brother crawled in, of twigs snapping beneath their little feet and hands, dry leaves complaining of their weight. Oh, how she obsessed over those details.
It was innocent, the begin of her tragedy. She remembers scolding her little brother as they jostled with the bumpy roads of a faint trail into different city that she couldn't quite recall. It was another afternoon for the family- of strained patience and muffled laughter whining for another activity other than waiting. Sensible as she was, she kept her brother in line, although tedium gnawed at her. But her brother had a way with the child; his sparks of mischief was infectious and soon, even she wavered and gave in to his plans.
They took their chances when the family wagon stopped for a brief rest, running merrily towards the direction of a twisting wilderness, freely and without care, teasing and skipping until they lost track of time and the sense of blinding ignorance began to wear off. Dread and panic replaced merriness, body and mind moved with a single purpose of finding familiarity.
It was simply too bad the children were caught by fate's interference. Stranger's hands shot towards them, grabbed them violently by their arms and torsos, wrestling with them until the children ran out of energy and hope. With a cackle of laughter, they had hauled them through the wilderness, bringing them to a more familiar sight- of their family wagon stationed feebly next to majestic horses and caravans. Oh, how they screamed for their mother and father, how their throat burned for them, trying to reach for them. But nothing. They watched as a man emerged from the back of their wagon, cleaning off a curved dagger, silencing them with glint. Not a word or a sob escaped the two, not even when the long day and nights were spent with children their own again, only clutching on to one another as their young minds struggled to comprehend.
Years passed, the siblings grew and separated by their new city of beauty and elegance and kept them far from each other. She, to a well to do family that bought her and groomed her for their purposes, he to a family struggling that liked to see the little boy suffer. He was precious and naive and they were cruel and heavy handed. She was quiet and obliging and they were willing and sophisticated. Did they see one another? Rarely. Was she bitter and vengeful? Very. |
by Neryl on April 15th, 2012, 5:02 pm 
