Profile of Branwen
Character Info
Lark of the Vale
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Archer of Svalbard

Branwen 'Wren' Natalie Gillies is a Human that identifies as Female. Branwen was born on and is 36 years of age.

  • Height: 5'2"
  • Weight: 52 kg
  • Eye Color: Green
  • Hair Color: Brown
( 155 Mana )

Lark of the Vale

These highs and lows are formidable, but I can take it

The 5'2" woman although lacking in size lacks nothing in the way of the curves and sinewy muscle outlines of her body. Large, full breasts, athletic strong thighs, and a round ass. She is pleasantly voluptuous, taking a small bit of pleasure and pride that no one has yet called her ugly and that she sometimes receives some freebies from the accidental effect of the charm that she gives when she sits, walks or swings her leg off her knee in a certain way. Something that still puzzles her, having fast-tracked past puberty and not quite yet understood romantic love. She feels no guilt in following the accidental patterns of behavior that earn her some favors- an extra drink, a flower, a sweet pastry. Seeing as it is done out of an odd mixture of curiosity, convenience, and amusement (a slight women's test of character); and men, who are too easily affected by her physical presence, she assimilates with dogs. When no attention is delivered on her beauty she acts almost as if she were younger, vivacious and innocently unaware.

Her hair is thick, dark and often curly when long- turning more golden around the tips and corners of her face in the summer making her appear lighter, more amiable- angelic; as the light curls frame her face and spool over her shoulders. She is used to tying it up or braiding it behind her when she is busy, unhappy of the distraction it brings when it covers her eyes. At the moment, it's cut short for convenience and for the coin the exchange, the dark hair stopping just around her jaw. She does enjoy letting it free while she is traveling, if just for the feel of the wind through it. She also does enjoy wearing lovely colors in fine threads but alas, that is not her life now, instead, she wears simple linens, tunics and sometimes corsets- enjoying leather usually as a light kind of armoury however, when she is out in the woods. Her face is square-like with the strong corners of her jaw and cheekbones, giving her her own look of character before one even speaks to her. Her almond eyes a murky darkish green- mysterious, although lacking from a brightness that might have made her seem more beautiful. Her skin is tanned a steady olive from a lot of her time outside although it pales and fades lighter easily after a few days living behind walls. She wears small scars, underneath her clothing, usually around her wrists, shoulder blades and back; that she tells no stories of. For all the inner strength and turmoil they must have once brought her; she is ashamed.

I crash and burn like a wrecking ball, but I can change it

Branwen Wren INFJ


The joy and livelihood of her family and estate, in the midst of invisible abuse. A persuasiveness and smile that could calm down the hardest maddest temper, like that of her father's, a savior of her people even then, at the mere fragile age of three. Wren is odd as she is never quite what one expects from first impressions, rumors or otherwise. She appears patient, as she is steadfast and dedicated to her tasks. Graceful and agreeable in attitude. Meticulous even, when it is important such as trapping, such as cooking. Impatient though when she is teaching. Restless when there is nothing in her hands, frustrated when there is no plan in her head and agonized when there is no dream or goal in her heart. She is called the lark by the people in the village; the little birds that flitter around the meadow in upwards patterns, and the only breed of bird to sing in flight and not on a branch. First as a child because of how she skips, chants and sings, and her voice rises at the end, and the second as a woman for she is small and she is the first to rise in the morning, far before the day has truly started or the sun truly began to shine. Happily laboring away, 'worth twice than any man,' they'd say. A keen observer, resourceful; always vigilant and aware.

At first glance a pleasant and gentle personality, she knows her manners much better than other peasants. Doesn't gossip, or entertain lies or falsehood. Honest to the point where she's occasionally accused of being rude, or charmingly gutsy. Naive in the way she doesn't mean for it and holds little anticipation for what comes next in the conversation. More concerned about what she does then what she says. An alien, perhaps, in the way she doesn't exactly mix easily with other people. Welcomed and accepted into their warmth but wary, all of the time, of the people and whatever finger or eye lays upon her. She takes displeasure in being talked about in the third person, especially in her presence. She finds people with smart expressions and funny jokes a little weird. She's only understood common humor at the age of 15. Sarcasm earns you a blank look from her or a nervous jitter. If you find her using it later her tone is all mixed up and she sounds like she means the phrase literally or is too excited about something bizzare. "Might as well cut off your hand then," one cruel gentleman once said to her, whereas he meant, 'get your act together clumsy slut,' and in order to please him in her previously conditioned state she had. Although replaced by a talented healer there is still a slither of a silver scar on her left hand as if she were a doll with detachable joints. Impressively intelligent however in what she's learned in books, although she has learned even more from mistakes. A hunter, cook, cleaner, planner and survivor. The small delicate looking lady is capable of many things, except perhaps for chatter or trust. Although when she does trust an individual, usually after examining their soul, like a rosebud she blooms. Impressionable, curious and usually admiring of that individual, as if wanting to absorb any of their goodness or praise. Like a puppy to an owner, or whatever cause she can carry. Fully understanding the fragility of life she seeks purpose and greatness over comfort, especially after all her stolen time.

An anxious, neurotic mess- wishing and building herself to be more assertive she shrouds her demons by imagining their silence and re-imagining her strength. Her physical activity and exercise also have helped her chemically distance herself from the past's effect on her. She visually pictures letting go of things that she can not change, although it bugs her still. How could it not? A victim and distressed damsel in another writer's play, she stands up, notches her bow and says no more. She cries for her country. Tears that fell on none - for nobody is left - besides her mother of will not blood, who could no longer comprehend it, or anything else for that matter. She is sick of complaining, of fear and distress- sick to death. Of the begging and pleading of the people for things to change, for someone to rise up and do something. So she has- or at least is. Although in safety she is easily childish, in danger and matters of deciding fate she is not so impulsive.

Story Time

Trigger warning: violence, different kinds of abuse, non-con themes, addiction

‣ Daughter of a Baron and Baroness, in an estate that thrived mostly off the land and made its trade through cotton and silk farming. Their weavers, were well talented and prized by the family, an art that she had watched from afar with big curious eyes, that would have been taught to her eventually had not for the events that would soon occur later.

‣ Despite her decent childhood, it was no secret that her father was an ugly drunk that would later beat his wife and some of his servant and make a mess of the place. When the Baroness and he had first started their family and begun their trades, they were a sweet and admirable couple; she was a tall beautiful woman that held herself with grace and dressed in clothes of admirably delicate embroidered flowers and shiny colored threads. Her most prized asset being the long lovely hair that fell over her shoulders like rivers of finely spun gold. In character, she was sweet although firm, as well as very, obviously vain.

‣ The baron himself was a decent man but naturally hedonistic and a little self-centered in nature. Once their business fostered he took the liberty of rewarding himself too very often. Already having a bit of liking to beer and whiskey, it was all too easy for the habit to get the better of him.

‣ One day the baron's unpleasantness soon brought on ill effects (if there could be any reasoning behind it) when one of his most trusted and prized knights of the land betrayed him; slaughtered him, her twin brother and any of his servants that stood in his way in the night. During the siege, he also took the little Wren with him. In vengeance, and hatred of her father, he would make her his slave and later abuse her. At the abduction, she was eight years old.

‣ Branwen begins to experience another layer of abuse. Her abductor and slaver has a thing for young girls.

‣ She takes in an injured hiding dire and looks after him for three weeks. He is kind to her and she is very grateful for a friend. On the third week when he has gained enough strength she helps him leave. She can not go with him and give the man a reason to search the premises. The dire promises that he would one day come back for her.

‣ Branwen worked up the nerve for the first time to try to escape at the age of 9 but later gets found and taken back by the man in the matter of a week.

‣ At the age of eleven she takes the age of time's draught potion and ages up to 16 after pick pocking through her slave owner's supply of magical objects.

‣ After a very harsh beating that leaves her close to death she uses the last of her strength to sneak out of the house when everyone is asleep and jog, walk and then crawl across the field before her legs gave out under her and she rolled down a hill and into the bottom of a ditch. The dire that had appeared to her before found her there around midnight and carried her to a safer place, the house of a friend.

‣ Flustered at first but even after what happened, once she met the owner of the cottage she instantly trusted him, Andrick - he had the brightest soul of any individual she had ever met and although a little more untrusting of his wife Natalie, she eventually warmed up to the woman to through association and because later, also she hadn't proved it was better to do otherwise. After a few days the dire leaves. She pulls her weight in labor and learns as many new skills as they both display and are willing to teach her, although she remains unsettled.

‣ Although there was never really anything official about it, the childless couple took her under their wings. They had lost a son and she had lost a mother, father, and brother. An astrologist father and an apothecary mother. As they didn't earn much, Wren did what she could to earn a little extra money and ensure that they were all fed: hunting game, finding sellable herbs and baking bread.

‣ At the age of twenty-one, the Eximus infiltrate Svalbard and the Red Queen begins her massacres. Andrick orders her and Natalie to run into the hills with some of the others. Even so, they hadn't gotten far enough, that she watched from afar as his head rolled.

‣ After the conclusion of the chaos and all the hiding. Natalie went mad, she fell into herself. Branwen took care of her, at least to the best of her ability and some more but it was only after two months after they had both fallen asleep that Natalie had awoken in the middle of the night and somehow snuck out. From there she walked across the field and into the river and once there waded and waded until the water got too deep and swallowed her over completely, and Natalie had put up no fight. They found her body in the river bed towards the late afternoon of the next day.

‣ After selling the land that was left over she went out searching for work. Although with her own good sense of direction by how she could navigate with the stars and track recent happenings on the land she decided upon an entrepreneurial direction of escorting others to places far or difficult to find. She would have carried this on business to a dock or crew by now if she had already known how to swim but alas she doesn't and the mere uncertainty she has towards bottomless waters so far prevents her from it.

Played by Rosie
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Joined on: Mar 18 2020
Birthday: Jun 17 1995
Posts: 27 (Find All Posts?)
Status: Offline
Last visited: Oct 31 2020, 6:49 AM
Local time: Sep 26 2021 at 5:03 AM
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