Post by Ceridwyn Moreau on Aug 17, 2017 20:02:27 GMT -5
 ceridwyn basil moreau i'm in love with the shape of you/i'm at an all time low general info
personality
appearance Standing approximately at five feet, Ceridwyn is relatively short and slender. Despite not looking it, her legs and arms are well defined from being relatively fit. Her calves curve outwards strongly, while her powerful thighs give her the strength to sprint for a solid fifteen minutes if she wished. Slender, yet strong arms stretch out from powerful yet small shoulders, giving her the ability to hold herself in a fist fight pretty well. A slightly square-ish face shows a smattering of freckles that dance across her nose and beneath her pale blue eyes. Arching pale blonde eyebrows give Ceridwyn a rather sharp, if not considered disarmingly pretty face. Her eyes are thickly lashed, sharply shaped and slightly upturned. Small ears are hidden behind a shoulder-length curtain of straight pale blonde hair. Ceridwyn usually likes to keep her hair pulled into a messy bun or a french plait. When she was seven, Ceridwyn and her mother were attacked by a pack of wolves. While her mother never survived her wounds, Ceridwyn has slashes on her back and four parallel scars on the inside of her right thigh. biography Born in the middle of winter on an ancient holiday that no-one probably remembers from textbooks, Ceridwyn was a healthy, squalling infant in the arms of her widowed mother. Jacquelyn Frosti nee Hardy raised the young child in the middle of the Maw, taking what she knew from the basic teaching she received to home-school Ceridwyn. Admittedly, it wasn't much, but it was able to get Ceridwyn trained with her weapons sooner than later. She proved to be a quite similar to the boys and girls of her age, her fascination with fighting only increasing with each year. However, it was her choice of weapon that differed from the various wooden blades each child received. Ceridwyn wanted to wield the crossbow, a powerful weapon that would shoot small projectiles and hit things from a fifty yard distance. Luckily, the other kids didn't chastise her for it. However, in the hidden confinements of her mother's room, Jacquelyn told Ceridwyn that the child reminded her too much of her father. Said father was named Basil Frosti, a pale blonde who had died in the jaws of a wolf. His fatal mistake was trying to reload his crossbow, which actually took time to load. It had been too late to save him. In Jacquelyn's rising paranoia and the suspicious looks of the other adults, the young woman bundled her child up as well as she could, packed their few belongings, and stuffed them in Ceridwyn's patchy bag. In the middle of the night, they disappeared when Ceridwyn was approximately seven, leaving all of their friends and close relationships behind them. Admittedly, that hadn't been the best choice. Aggressive animals of the night stalked them their entire way to Ashwatch, and attacked the duo just outside the boundaries of the tree-dwelling compound. It was the screams of fear and pain that drew out several adults, yelling war cries and slaughtering the wild wolves that had attacked them. In the end, Ceridwyn gained some impressive scars on her back, and four parallel scars on the inside of her right thigh from hiding from a cougar. Unfortunately, Jacquelyn died from blood loss before the Witchdoctor could try to heal her wounds. The only thing the medicine man could do for Ceridwyn was treat the young girl with an anti-infection herb concoction that could act as a smearing cream. Ceridwyn refused to speak for a long time, probably for a good eight months. The teas and herbal medicines that the Witchdoctor and his apprentice shoved down her throat were effective in healing her wounds, but they would leave rather impressive scars. Two months after her rescue, she was taken outside of the Witchdoctor's Hut to be introduced to the rest of the compound. Quite frankly, she was shy. After the attack, anyone would be traumatized, right? She had just lost her mother, and it was a miracle that she was even up and about. The only evidence of tears were when she would curl up into a corner and silently grieve for her mother. This all changed when three young children joined her one day, all of them giving her curious stares, but they were supportive. Two guys, and a girl. A pair of twins, and their best friend. It took them awhile to get Ceridwyn to warm up to them, but she still didn't talk much. It was more of hesitant smiles, head nods or shakes, with the occasional vocal agreement. Not quite words, but they were getting there. Soon after she met the three, she learned their names. Damian and Angelique Moreau were the twins, while their friend was Joseph Helton. A few months after meeting the three, she slowly started to accompany them on their mischievous missions. It took a couple weeks after that for her to start laughing in a carefree way, and not long after to begin speaking to them. Who knew that befriending the trio would loosen her grief and give her another reason to survive in her life? She met them when she was seven and a half, and by the time she turned nearly nine, Ceridwyn was on speaking terms with them. When it came to speaking with others, her voice would turn quiet, almost timid. However, it didn't take long for the mischievous trio's influence to rub off on Ceridwyn. Her sarcasm and morbid jokes were something that eventually came about, though some part of her likes to think that it started with the death of her mother. When she was seventeen, Ceridwyn started to become distant from the compound. There was something about her that was... distinctly different. Where the children of Ashwatch were carefree, mischievous, and stayed up in the huts, Ceridwyn liked to sneak down to the ground and watch nature around her. She was quiet, and liked to be alone. Her serious nature brought loneliness to her, despite her best friends being one of the most mischievous groups out of them all. Ceridwyn liked to think that she reigned them in, but at this point, she didn't really notice the attention that Damian gave her. It had started when they were twelve, and she didn't really think much of it until she turned seventeen. What had started as an innocent crush had turned into something much more profound. Admittedly, her returned affections blossomed into something more serious. All of a sudden, the two were in a deep relationship. Ceridwyn knew that Damian loved her to the end of the world and back, while she herself adored him in return. However, their confessions started something slow to burn. At approximately twenty-four years old, Damian promised himself to her, and their engagement started. Now, their jobs were vastly similar, yet different. While Ceridwyn was part of the guard of Ashwatch, and occasionally hired to do mercenary work, Damian hunted animals to keep their compound alive. Ceridwyn's first crossbow, by the time she turned twenty-seven, had been with her for the majority of her life. One of the biggest surprises came with their wedding, and the stripping of her birth name Frosti. Her wedding present from her new husband was a brand new crossbow, carved by the man himself. Ceridwyn knew that Damian had a particular gift for wood-carving and weapon-making, but she was immensely surprised to get an intricately carved, much bigger crossbow for her to use. She was beyond happy with it, while her own gift to Damian was a hand-stitched cloak. It was something Ceridwyn made in her own time, and as she gathered supplies for it. A supple, beautiful wolf skin hide had been carefully scraped and tanned to get it to a smooth texture beneath the fur. Since she was eleven, Ceridwyn had been particularly talented in cloth-making, and often made high-quality clothing to be traded among each other or to the maw. However, on the day that she was ready to present the cloak to Damian, he was struck down by one of the cannibalistic Lamia. Once more, Ceridwyn was wrought with grief, but instead of her hiding away, the young woman's grief turned into pure rage. Despite the fire that simmered within, she snappily turned away her friends and the people of Ashwatch, watching them indifferently from afar. Where would she belong now, even among the people of the compound? Her best friends were grief-stricken as well, but instead of going to Ceridwyn and leaning against each other, the two turned from Ceridwyn. Oh, they remained friends, but their closeness was strained. With the death of Damian, he was the last tie that kept Ceridwyn knotted to Ashwatch. His absence was felt strongly among the people of Ashwatch, but eventually it became too much. At twenty-nine, Ceridwyn fled the compound, only seen from afar by its people. "While physical wounds can be healed in a span of time, scars of the heart never exactly heal over. Take your time, Ceridwyn. Perhaps you'll come back eventually." These were the words of Angelique, who had become remarkably serious in the aftermath of Damian's tragic demise. A small, warm smile between the two cemented Ceridwyn's decision. After packing everything away in baskets and a bag, she took her possessions and fled in the middle of the night. Like her mother did so long ago when she was seven. Crossbow in hand, and bone knife tucked away in the sheath strapped to her thigh, Ceridwyn found herself in the northern parts of the remains of the city that housed everything she knew. An ancient piece of metal that had collapsed had a faint writing on it that read 'Portland' and with that, she knew that she came to the right place. Throughout her journey, which had taken her a few months, she had met the various loners that survived off of the forest. With the forest that took over the land, she created her own home over the past couple of years. Even now, she's still piecing it together. | ooc info  ☆ NAME Jinn ☆ OTHER CHARACTERS N/A ☆ FACE CLAIM mercy street AnnaSophia Robb, frosti ceridwyn THIS CHARACTER BELONGS TO JINN. DO NOT STEAL. Glitch |
MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS & THQ
