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Wren
Dawn Court Soldier
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Age:

3 [Year 501 Spring]

Gender:

Female

Pronouns:

She/Her/Hers

Orientation:

Demisexual

Breed:

Gypsy Vanner x Arabian

Height:

14 hh

Health:

11

Attack:

9

Experience:

10
Offline

Last Visit:

09-20-2019, 04:13 PM

Joined:

07-08-2019
Signos: 210 (Donate)
Total Posts: 2 (Find All Posts)
Total Threads: 0 (Find All Threads)

14hh || Gypsy Vanner X Arabian || Alicorn || Minimal Paint

A flash of muted starlight in the obsidian night, Wren is a ghost of the twilight hours. Standing just shy of her sister’s 14.1hh, she is a slip of a wraith, taking on more of the Arabian blood in her veins. Starlight rabicano marks her throat and chest, speckling out in a galactic shower of ivory across the void of her coat. Minimal muted white strikes up her left legs and falls in a haphazard splash upon her tailbone, staining the base of the tresses before bleeding back to obsidian. Upon her sooty, delicately dished face, there is a rake of white that trails like a scar from her left ear down to her jaw. Set in this shock of ivory is a baleful ghost eye, barely clinging to its turquoise color in its paleness. Her right eye is dark and plain, an unassuming brown so deep it seems she has no eye at all.

Upon her brow, two blackened kudu horns twist through her forelock. Feathers run the backs of her slight legs, and her hair is long and luxurious. Were it not for the care of her twin, her mane would be a snarled mess, but it is braided in a lovely running braid to match her sister’s. The ends of her tail often fray due to her inattention to frivolous things such as beauty and appearance, though it is wavy and skims the earth no matter how she wrecks it. The strength of her thicker neck, chest, and hindquarters shows she is no mere porcelain doll, with Vanner strength that threatens where her stature cannot.

Sprouting from her strong shoulder blades, two ebony wings nearly kiss the earth in their breadth, with the outermost primaries the same ghostly blue of her eye. In contrast to her wild locks, Wren’s wings are kept in pristine condition. Hidden on the inside of her wings are downy, muted white coverts that she conceals by keeping her wings tucked with militaristic rigor at her sides at all times.

Around her neck, a simple pale golden sun pendant brushes her breast, matching Kindred's. On her left forearm is a leather holster for a small dagger - unfortunately lost during their travels and battles.

- Analytical | Impartial | Perfectionist | Disciplined | Scholarly | Moral -

- Asocial | Distrusting | Unempathetic | Transient -

In the wake of her sister’s eloquence and kind-heartedness, Wren is the galactic night she embodies. Sparse of word, she relies more on body language to convey her thoughts, often confused as mute in passing. Though her dry wit and sarcasm can be unexpectedly charming for some, Wren is not one for humor or comedy. She devotes herself to the protection of her sister, and her loyalty is nigh impossible to win or buy for any clan or group because of how they were raised.

Wren is highly critical of superstitions, gods, and religion. The existence of it effectively ruined her life and stripped her of a normal childhood, and this is a topic on which she is more bluntly vocal to the point of being tactless. Despite this, Wren has a deep thirst for knowledge and skill acquisition. Raised in such a militaristic fashion, she strives for perfection in all skills, and to constantly broaden her intellectual horizons. Wren will often force herself to deal in gossip and information, aware of its power in the world. Nevertheless, Wren is surprisingly moral, with a fierce sense of right and wrong. After being raised as an assassin and condemning this path, she has a deeper appreciation for life and how it struggles to flourish against all odds. Wren is particularly protective of the vulnerable, from the simply naïve to foals and elderly.

It is difficult to break into Wren’s heart. It is not well-guarded because of any past heartbreak. Instead, she is merely apathetic to most individuals, too wary of their intentions and potential for harm to trust. However, if you do succeed in winning her over, Wren is a fiercely loyal and devoted companion. She thrives on physical intimacy because of her inclination towards body language and will go to great lengths to keep her loved ones happy. At this point in time however, that singular loved one is her twin.

Where the Crow Flies

The past Wren and Kindred share is similar, yes. Afterall, there was never meant to be one without the other – or so they were told. Wren, however, tells a far different tale then that of Kindred’s if you were to ask her. I suppose the best place to begin is that of when and where the twins were born. So, get settled – it might be a bumpier ride than you are used to.

Kindred and Wren were born late one spring evening. It should be normal, after all many are born on spring evenings – it's just a fact of nature. Alas, this one was special. Well... special to the roving band which they grew up in, though we shall get to the reasonings on that a little later. As the twins emerged from their mother’s womb a lunar eclipse started, and by the time they were struggling to stand and get their bearings it had finished. This is very climactic, no? It wasn’t intended to be that way – no one could have planned it. The band of roving assassins for hire, however, found this to be a sign. Usually those of a religious background would find twins themselves to be a sign, as rare as they are, but coupled with the lunar eclipse... it was almost befitting of a prophecy. So, what caused the band of assassins to believe this to be a sign, you ask? Good question. The simple answer was a preoccupation with death. Kindred would call it a religion... the worshipping of life and death. Wren? Wren calls it superstition. Both no longer believe in this religion/superstition, but the reasoning as to why will be explained as we go forward – no need to rush our little story time.

I guess the next step would be to explain this little band of killers for hire. How they were raised will make little sense without a solid foundation to build off. No real name was ever given to them, though they had a mutual understanding in the group to train and rear the strongest disciples possible. All were taught in the ways of either poison, assassination, or subterfuge, with a base understanding of all three different types. Romance was not a factor in any of the parent pairings – instead they were placed together in assigned pairs to provide the strongest offspring possible. Due to this most children did not have strong familial ties, and never gained many attachments to others. Generally, siblings (twins especially) were separated at birth to ensure that the bond between the two did not form. After all, making decisions based on emotion was considered rash and would compromise the mission ninety-nine percent of the time. Then, upon learning the basic skills the children would be split into groups based on which skill was the easiest for them to pick up. From there it would be specialization training and the missions that the herd was hired to do.

The twins were an odd case, however. They were not separated at birth – in fact they were kept together during their basic training. The ideology of life and death was woven into the fabric of their existence, along with the murmurs of elders who believed that the twins would bring their band great power (even the possibility to rule over other lands). Some of the mentors said that building them up together, making them a single unit who could be in two places at once would be the best option. After all, one was attached to the ground due to being born without wings (a birth defect they claimed – reminding them of their imperfections and stoking their need to strive to be better) while the other could claim the skies. It was during this time that Kindred and Wren began to strongly rely on each other – not one without the other. Kindred at peace with the brush of Wren’s wing during difficult training sessions, and Wren taking comfort in the softness of her sister’s touch. Each learned to spar both separately and together – even having to fight each other to get a better grasp of the other’s weakness and how to protect their partner from it.

From these teachings, however, Wren started to have doubts – Kindred was engrossed in the thought of how we are helping the gods usher those to the places they belong. Wren believed them fools and manipulators, baleful and disbelieving from an age much younger than her twin. This enchantment with life and death does not linger long for Kindred, though. Especially not as the pair is split for the specializations. Thanks to her lack of wings Kindred is forced to begin to learn the art of being a poisoner. Kindred’s mentor was harsh and allowed for no mistakes. Wren watch and despaired as her sister’s mental health took a spiraling decline in the wake of her absence, her bitterness and hatred growing with every tear upon her sister’s cheek, every panic attack defended against with the flare of her wings like swords bared to the throats of those who tried to harm Kindred in her presence. Yet there was little that could be done. Each day was another spent apart, each hour of solace after training losing its staying power of comfort over Kindred. Wren grew restless, frantic, as the whispering began to spread.

It is not long until she spies upon the elders as they begin to talk in quiet about exterminating her twin – saying that Wren was all that was necessary to show the power of their band. Though Wren would have preferred to watch them bleed out in retribution for their attempt to destroy the only love she’d ever known, it would have been a suicide mission. Instead, she consulted with her mentor – a defector, a snake in the grass who had let far too much slide in his teachings when it came to Wren’s behavior. Together they plotted, until Wren came to Kindred in the night with a promise of freedom and stole them both away to the horizon. In their travels Wren protected her twin, consumed by the haze of her panic, and kept them moving ever onward in search of a new home – or, as close to a home as Wren could understand.

On their third birthday the twins made it just outside the Novus border, both willing to believe that even if they were still be hunted that it would be some time before they would find them here. Now, they just had to find a way to make a new life here.

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