Closed Duskbound (A Dark Fantasy Role-play)

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Closed Duskbound (A Dark Fantasy Role-play)

Name: Farah Arwyn Cabot

Age: 26

Gender: Female

Home: The Willows​

Appearance: Farah has always been known for her slight stature, the girl's head coming not to most men's chins with her height of 5 feet and 3 inches. Many a comment had been made comparing her to that of small mammals and birds, her body made up of slim delicate lines and gentle curves that pronounced her to be more of a woman than the child many expected her to be upon first meeting. Her features held a similar mixture of maturity and youth, her heart shaped face housed a mouth that was slightly imbalanced.
Her lower lip a tad fuller than its companion, her nose above held a slight upturned tilt, gradually sloping to meet the deep blue of her eyes. Catlike in their composition, years of mistrust and paranoia created a harsh veil behind them while thick lashes practically created a similar barrier before them.
The delicate hairs matched that of which rested on her head, golden in the sunlight but a pale blonde in shadow. Her hair was one of her only sources of pride, her mother spent long nights maintaining the waist length locks so the curls sprung around her face instead of lay flat in a sorry state as they tended to when she lazed on its care.

Personality: While her looks write her off to the average viewer as innocent enough, her surroundings required a sharper edge than her appearance allowed. Farah created a persona for herself whenever she left the comforts of home. While she walked down the dilapidated streets she was an ice queen. Cold and deadly, using shadows to her advantage while keeping one hand on her knife beneath her cloak at all times. She had trained with the small blade as much as she was able with no teacher, late nights spent with the post turned imaginary foe behind her run down home. More than a few accidental self injuries had gone along with it. That little knife was her only security while she wandered alone through the overcrowded streets of the willows where the sun rarely seemed to show its face.

Her guard was lowered the moment she stepped foot into the sagging door frame of her home however. The glamour she used outside shed like the cloak she removed every night. In the old walls she was allowed to be herself with the only family she had ever known, she and her mother stayed up late almost every night just laughing and enjoying each other's company. Haven Cabot brushed her daughters hair each evening before the small fireplace they lit only on special occasions, her wrinkled face split in a smile at Farah's animated story telling. Farah was always good at that, telling stories. It kept their minds off the reality of their world, the dark and chill that crept to take them from every corner.

History: Farah's mother had once been a glorious woman, beautiful in every way and just as charming, but a cruel reality reared its ugly head once she reached her maiden maturity. Her family had little by means of survival, her father was a right alcoholic and her mother was half dead by the time Haven was 13.
One evening, in a fit of rage, Haven's father threw her out to the streets and the wolves that prowled there. Haven lasted a month before the chill almost took her. A man named Brecken Brand found her shivering in the gutter like a drowned rat, the monster never let a weakness go unexploited so he held out his hand. The only offer of help she had seen in practically her entire life, Haven took it.
For the next 10 years she was worked to the bone as a prostitute, forced to lay with men she may or may not see again with little care for her own health. When she finally got pregnant she was almost entirely broken, useless now as a bed woman she was once again cast to the streets. But this time she had a home for herself, a meager house on the outskirts of the willows. This was the place where Farah was born.

Haven did her best for her child, filling the cold home with warmth and love even when the days were hard and their stomachs empty. Farah couldn't be more grateful for her mother, she was the one person in her life that was a constant, a beacon of light that Farah knew she wouldn't survive without. Haven taught her everything she knew, spending their meager earnings from the pub Haven began working at soon after Farah's birth on books of all kinds. Haven wanted her daughter to be educated, even if she couldn't attend a real school. So she taught her daughter under precious candlelight. She taught her how to read and write, add and subtract. Everything she could get her hands on, and little Farah soaked it all in. Maybe a little too well, the stories of heroes that Haven taught Farah to read with gave the young girl dangerous ideas.

Growing up Farah wanted to be just like those heroes and had the unfortunate habit of speaking up when people were doing something she didn't like. Child Farah would run after bullies with sticks if she saw them hurting anyone smaller than themselves or antagonizing an animal, pretending to be a knight riding in to protect the innocent.

This lasted up till she had just turned 8 when the blacksmith's son, Yenlear, gave her the soundest beating she had ever experienced after she hit him for almost killing a frog. He had broken her little finger on her right hand and the blasted thing had healed slightly crooked, a firm reminder that she was too weak to protect herself against true cruelty. From then on she went about her justice-bringing quietly, petty revenge like tying boots together or spilling rain water on doorsteps so they were slick from the morning chill.

Aside from the few bullies Farah had a friend or two in her youth, they never did stick around long enough for whatever reason but they helped Farah grow in ways her mother just couldn't. They taught her that she really liked going on picnics and following wildlife through the woods, a forbidden place her mother would kill her for going to if she ever found out, but it was so beautiful she went frequently even as an adult between her job at the local pub with her mother and her studies at home.

Magic: Farah never had the opportunity to pursue magic in any capacity.

Weapon: Her knife
 
Looks good! Farrah is accepted!

And with that, the final character has been accepted!
 
i'm gonna retcon the don into having some minor magic, i'm gonna spice up this ENTIRE lack of magic we've got going on
 
I was definitely going to give Farah an ability or two but I didn't want every girl to have magic and none of the men haha, I think it would suit your character well!
 
We were given this resource and we all IGNORED IT.
 
Is anyone going to post, or shall I proceed the road with another post of mine?
 
I can post again, I was just waiting for the other girls to get something in
 
They haven't been active for a while, so I'll double check with them, otherwise I'll make a post.
 
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