Post by Animus on Jul 2, 2010 18:04:47 GMT -5
Name: Aran Eraes L'Tomme
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Physical Description:
- Roughly 5'10” (quite tall for a girl) and approximately 140 pounds. She is lanky in stature and she is not particularly attractive, though her features are for the most part quite average. Her hair is a dark brown and generally falls in curls to the middle of her back, tied half back into a single plait. Her face is fairly round with a sharp chin and nose, a prominent yet well-trimmed brow, a thin-lipped mouth, and eyes of dappled hazel and blue. Her wardrobe is plain, featuring an olive-green vest of rough material laced at the neck with a thin cord of leather, a pair of dark brown trousers, frayed and well-worn and tied at the waist with a short length of ribbon. About her neck hangs a cord of black leather knotted to a small ring of tarnished gold and an assortment of metal bangles decorate her thin wrists. Over one shoulder, she often carries a cloak of weather brown leather, a burlap satchel, and an over-the-should sheath containing a cutlass.
Personality:
- Though notoriously introverted, she has the ability to be civil and polite in most social situations, though she tends to favor short, to-the-point responses often heavy with sarcasm. Her general disposition is one of quiet observation; conversation has never been her strong point. However, she is an intelligent girl and not one to be underestimated in a trial of wits.
Back Story:
- Having been raised in the small, sea-side village of Whitmoore, by Tomas and Evyan L'Tomme, her childhood was relatively quiet and more or less uninterrupted by anything more serious than life's trivial problems. Her family was never well-off, but they got by and she was provided all of the necessities for a comfortable life. On occasion, she revisits the memories of her life as a child, and finds herself wishing things might have been more...difficult, for lack of better terms. With difficulty comes excitement, and her childhood -though comfortable and filled with love- could have used more excitement.
Her father was a fisherman and spent many of his days pulling in and out of harbor on the family's fishing boat, setting out at dawn and returning in the following days with nets sufficiently filled and coated in the salty brine of seawater. She remembered how in those days, she would spend most of her time down at the docks, running along the wooden planks, chasing gulls or playing boisterous childhood games with the other children of Whitmoore, all the while casting glances of admiration and longing out at the glimmering horizon along which she knew her father drifted. She remembered the smell of his skin when he would return from a trip; the sharp, tangy scent of the sea. How she longed for the day when he would hoist her up on deck and the two of them would set sail, headed for the unknown glories of the sea and the horizon that she had for so long admired from afar. But that day never came.
It wasn't until she reached the age of 13 that her life took an unfortunate, yet no-less exciting turn. For on one brilliant summer morning, following hugs and the usual farewells, her father climbed aboard the fishing boat and drifted out to sea. As always, she'd watched the distant speck of the vessel grow gradually smaller until it disappeared into the bright orange glow of the horizon. For days, the family waited for his return. Her mother, growing distraught with each passing day, was responsible for keeping the children -Aran and her two younger sisters- at bay and calm, and most importantly, away from the harbor. In her gut, she knew the day would come when someone would bring her the news of what she knew must have happened. It was, in essence, inevitable..but she did what she could to keep the spirits up around the house.
The knock at the door came nearly two weeks later, and Aran could see the pain in her mother's face as she returned to the parlor. Following that night, her mother never said a word to the girls as to what the message had been and what fate their father had been met with, and it was her mother's persistent refusal to believe and to explain the truth to her and her siblings that eventually drove Aran to her decision.
Late one evening, while her mother slept soundly in her bed, Aran snuck into the parlor and removed a set of keys from a vase upon the mantle before making her way to the front door. Following the disappearance of her father, her mother had taken to keeping the children indoors, rarely allowing them to venture outside to play, and she had outright forbidden them to ever visit the harbor. To ensure that her rules were adhered to, particularly by Aran, the eldest girl and the one most prone to late-night escapades about the village, her mother had had a set of half a dozen locks, each different in make, installed on the inside of the family's front door and she must have felt the vase in the parlor would provide a quality hiding place for the keys. However, Aran was always quick on her feet and highly observant, so the location of the keys remained a secret for no longer than a week following the implementation of the locks. And so it was that, without a further glance at her mother or younger sisters, Aran quickly undid the locks, careful to remain as quiet as possible, and slipped out and into the darkened village street.
Years have passed and she has yet to return home or send word to her family, and she prefers it this way. Surprisingly, she holds no severe grudges against either of her parents, and when rarely asked about her reason for leaving, she generally responds by saying that it was her childhood thirst for adventure, for excitement, that had never been fulfilled, that had driven her to take her leave. However, while she harbors the knowledge of what must have happened to her father, the mystery of his disappearance has never left her well-enough alone, and she often finds herself scanning the faces of people in the various villages and markets she passes through, burdened with the false hope of one day finding him there, right as rain and smelling of the ocean, with his arms spread wide and a smile on his lips.
However, that day has yet to come and with every town and village, her hope dims little by little. With this in the back of her mind, she travels with -never with any particular destination in mind- across the countryside, partaking in whatever random or trivial adventures or opportunities that happen to present themselves to her along the way.
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Physical Description:
- Roughly 5'10” (quite tall for a girl) and approximately 140 pounds. She is lanky in stature and she is not particularly attractive, though her features are for the most part quite average. Her hair is a dark brown and generally falls in curls to the middle of her back, tied half back into a single plait. Her face is fairly round with a sharp chin and nose, a prominent yet well-trimmed brow, a thin-lipped mouth, and eyes of dappled hazel and blue. Her wardrobe is plain, featuring an olive-green vest of rough material laced at the neck with a thin cord of leather, a pair of dark brown trousers, frayed and well-worn and tied at the waist with a short length of ribbon. About her neck hangs a cord of black leather knotted to a small ring of tarnished gold and an assortment of metal bangles decorate her thin wrists. Over one shoulder, she often carries a cloak of weather brown leather, a burlap satchel, and an over-the-should sheath containing a cutlass.
Personality:
- Though notoriously introverted, she has the ability to be civil and polite in most social situations, though she tends to favor short, to-the-point responses often heavy with sarcasm. Her general disposition is one of quiet observation; conversation has never been her strong point. However, she is an intelligent girl and not one to be underestimated in a trial of wits.
Back Story:
- Having been raised in the small, sea-side village of Whitmoore, by Tomas and Evyan L'Tomme, her childhood was relatively quiet and more or less uninterrupted by anything more serious than life's trivial problems. Her family was never well-off, but they got by and she was provided all of the necessities for a comfortable life. On occasion, she revisits the memories of her life as a child, and finds herself wishing things might have been more...difficult, for lack of better terms. With difficulty comes excitement, and her childhood -though comfortable and filled with love- could have used more excitement.
Her father was a fisherman and spent many of his days pulling in and out of harbor on the family's fishing boat, setting out at dawn and returning in the following days with nets sufficiently filled and coated in the salty brine of seawater. She remembered how in those days, she would spend most of her time down at the docks, running along the wooden planks, chasing gulls or playing boisterous childhood games with the other children of Whitmoore, all the while casting glances of admiration and longing out at the glimmering horizon along which she knew her father drifted. She remembered the smell of his skin when he would return from a trip; the sharp, tangy scent of the sea. How she longed for the day when he would hoist her up on deck and the two of them would set sail, headed for the unknown glories of the sea and the horizon that she had for so long admired from afar. But that day never came.
It wasn't until she reached the age of 13 that her life took an unfortunate, yet no-less exciting turn. For on one brilliant summer morning, following hugs and the usual farewells, her father climbed aboard the fishing boat and drifted out to sea. As always, she'd watched the distant speck of the vessel grow gradually smaller until it disappeared into the bright orange glow of the horizon. For days, the family waited for his return. Her mother, growing distraught with each passing day, was responsible for keeping the children -Aran and her two younger sisters- at bay and calm, and most importantly, away from the harbor. In her gut, she knew the day would come when someone would bring her the news of what she knew must have happened. It was, in essence, inevitable..but she did what she could to keep the spirits up around the house.
The knock at the door came nearly two weeks later, and Aran could see the pain in her mother's face as she returned to the parlor. Following that night, her mother never said a word to the girls as to what the message had been and what fate their father had been met with, and it was her mother's persistent refusal to believe and to explain the truth to her and her siblings that eventually drove Aran to her decision.
Late one evening, while her mother slept soundly in her bed, Aran snuck into the parlor and removed a set of keys from a vase upon the mantle before making her way to the front door. Following the disappearance of her father, her mother had taken to keeping the children indoors, rarely allowing them to venture outside to play, and she had outright forbidden them to ever visit the harbor. To ensure that her rules were adhered to, particularly by Aran, the eldest girl and the one most prone to late-night escapades about the village, her mother had had a set of half a dozen locks, each different in make, installed on the inside of the family's front door and she must have felt the vase in the parlor would provide a quality hiding place for the keys. However, Aran was always quick on her feet and highly observant, so the location of the keys remained a secret for no longer than a week following the implementation of the locks. And so it was that, without a further glance at her mother or younger sisters, Aran quickly undid the locks, careful to remain as quiet as possible, and slipped out and into the darkened village street.
Years have passed and she has yet to return home or send word to her family, and she prefers it this way. Surprisingly, she holds no severe grudges against either of her parents, and when rarely asked about her reason for leaving, she generally responds by saying that it was her childhood thirst for adventure, for excitement, that had never been fulfilled, that had driven her to take her leave. However, while she harbors the knowledge of what must have happened to her father, the mystery of his disappearance has never left her well-enough alone, and she often finds herself scanning the faces of people in the various villages and markets she passes through, burdened with the false hope of one day finding him there, right as rain and smelling of the ocean, with his arms spread wide and a smile on his lips.
However, that day has yet to come and with every town and village, her hope dims little by little. With this in the back of her mind, she travels with -never with any particular destination in mind- across the countryside, partaking in whatever random or trivial adventures or opportunities that happen to present themselves to her along the way.
' Bloody heck, two jobs and a BUNCH of kerfuffle later, and I'm back AGAIN.