Post by YGRITTE BLACKBURN on Apr 8, 2013 22:17:28 GMT -5
ygritte blackburn
[/b], yep so please call me that from now on. i've got 11 birds flying round my head and they don't half get annoying but when you've been around for 22 years you get used to it. have you heard about Fayne Undaria, Remy Duquette and Raeggos Shaelendren, 'cause they are right awesome so don't mess with me, 'cause i've read the rules and i say i swear this is my last character
[/center]
FULL NAME!?! - Ygritte Blackburn. {it is rumored that this is not her true name, that once she had one softer, less cold but for now she is Ygritte.}
NICK NAMES!?! - Once, before she was Ygritte, she was called Gritta, and mama and mother. Sister and daughter. But that was long ago. Now, she is simply Ygritte with no other name.
AGE!?! - 34
OCCUPATION!?! - Cosa Nostra Enforcer {the men offered her a chance. work for them, do what they asked and then she would be free. it is not good work, but she is no longer rotting beneath the earth where she is nothing but a useless lump who can do little but sit and wait and rage}
MEMBER GROUP!?! - Shape Shifter {the eagle --sister of her soul-- pulses beneath her skin, sometimes close enough sometimes that she can feel the brush of its feathers against her cheek. once they were closer, and not a moment would go by that her eyes didn't shine of wild}
RELIGION!?! - None. {Worshiping never won her anything, not even when she begged the gods and spirits and aye, even the devils for help}
MAGIC!?! - None. {everything would have been easier though, easier if she'd had a soothsayer's foresight but she is not the type to want when she could be doing.}
SEXUALITY!?! - Heterosexual. {She had loved a man once--loved him with all of her heart. he had been kind and cold and everything she could have ever wanted. He is dead now--buried with the ashes.}
GENDER!?! - Female.
PLAYED BY!?! - Julia Jones
[/blockquote]
LIKES!?! -
- children {the small ones in particular. they remind her of her own, bless their souls}
- being useful {doing things takes the ache off of her mind and helps her think, gives her something to busy herself with so the doubt doesn't cloud her mind.}
- weapons {they have saved her life more often than not, and cleaning her sword keeps her mind busy when other things wish to overtake it}
- music {once, she loved to dance. now, Ygritte is content to sit and listen.}
- early mornings {she likes to wake early, if only to watch the sun and see the glories bloom in the dawn's light. it reminds her of brighter times, of brighter things when she had her children by her side.}
DISLIKES!?! -
- weakness {she'll not tolerate it--not in herself and not in others.}
- waiting {waiting gives her mind time to think--time to doubt and Ygritte will not have that. Doubt is pain, doubt is weakness and Ygritte can never be weak}
- slavers {she's kill them all if she had the chance--each and every one of them.}
- gold and jewels {oh they're pretty enough to look at but Ygritte will avoid all manner of treasure if she can. Treasure after all, is the reason her family is dead and her children gone.}
- prison {she's spent too much time rotting in there already. now that she's out she does not plan on going back again.}
GOALS!?! -
- find her children {that is her more pressing goal. everything else comes second.}
- avenge her family's murder {it's been twelve years, aye, but Ygritte has not forgotten in the least. she can still remember their faces, the look in their eyes and she cannot wait to feel the slice of her blade through their guts. such scum do not deserve quick deaths.}
FEARS!?! -
- her children are dead {or worse yet, they'll not remember her--its been twelve years after all and they were but wee things.}
- dying herself {it is not the act in and of itself that she fears, but the fact that if she is not alive, who will search for her children?}
- she'll lose herself {but she's already gone so far down--how much further does she have to go?}
STRENGTHS!?! -
- strong sense of morals
- resolute
- loyal
- straight forward
WEAKNESS!?! -
- judgmental
- single minded
- reckless
- cold
OVERALL!?! - A woman with a strong sense of morals, it's strange to think that she's a criminal. But years and years of working, of toiling towards one goal and one goal only, have made her more realistic than not. She'll steal if she had to yes, and murder as well but someone who she does not think deserves it. Unfortunately, her rather straight forward personality makes her easy to manipulate and coupled with her tendency to judge someone at first glance she has taken a few lives she hasn't meant to.
One thing however is certain--she will not raise a hand towards a child and she hates slavers with a passion and oft times will destroy their caravans with reckless abandon. She's intelligent enough to not touch them should they be in a town but once they are out into the wilderness she's of the sort to make sure each and every one of the rotten bastards are dead whilst freeing the poor souls they have in their grasp.
The years have hardened her, leaving her ruthless and rather cold towards those she deems unacceptable and her stubborn nature can make it hard to change her mind.
[/size]
EYES!?! - a deep dark brown spotted with eagle gold.
HAIR!?! - thick and black, it is shorn short and just barely brushes the top of her shoulders.
FACE!?! - She has full lips, with a straight nose and an exotic tilt to her eyes. It's a pretty enough composition, were she not always frowning.
BODY!?! - She's tall for a woman, with lean muscle and not a lick of fat. She has a full figure, with the rounded hips of a woman who's given birth. Once, she'd been soft, but now she's nothing but sharp bones and corded muscle.
UNUSUAL!?! - Once, before everything, Ygritte's body had been untainted by ink or blade. It is not the case now. Many a scar is painted on her, and she's got two tattoos inked on the flesh of her right hand--one in the space between her index and thumb and the other between her middle and index fingers. Of her many scars, two are the most prominent--one a giant white ribbon that runs across her chest from her collar bone to navel and the other a scar that runs clean across her side--almost as if she'd been cleaved open.
OVERALL!?! - just by looking at her, one can tell she's a fit woman. her stance is always ready and there is a nearly tangible line of tension present in her spine. She stands straight, stiff and rarely--if ever slouches. On cold nights, she tends to move a bit more gingerly as the scars dotting her skin ache more than they should.
She tends to wear light armor or chain mail, preferring the increased mobility in contrast to the slow, if durable, heavy armor. She almost always has a sword at her belt and an ax on her back--tools of the trade if you will. Fairly tall, she is not a small woman by any means of imagination and can appear rather frightening
MOTHER!?! - Sveina. housewife. deceased. Had she lived to this day, she would have been 62.
FATHER!?! - Herarr. miner. deceased. He would have been 64 had he lived.
SIBLINGS!?! - two brothers-- Anvarr and Einkell. They had been twins. Inseparable, even in death.
IMPORTANT!?! - she had three children once. Two bright little girls and a boy too serious for his own good. they had called her mother, had clutched at her feet and she had been happy. now they are gone. but not dead--not dead. she can feel it. {but sometimes, when the quiet gets too great and there is no sound of tiny feet and high pitched giggles ringing in her ear, her heart begins to doubt. it has been twelve years now and they had been so young when they'd been taken --two, four and five--surely there'd have been a sign? A whisper?}
FINALLY!?! -
Once, Ygritte had been Gritta.
She had been young when she'd married--barely a day over sixteen but oh she had been in love. he had been cold but kind and she had loved him so dearly. he had held her hand as they walked beneath the boughs, proposed to her beneath a tree and gifted her with smiles that he showed no one else.
they had loved, had married and within a year of their joining she had a son, a beautiful strong son with hair like the sun and eyes that shone like gold. they named him Ari, for Gritta could feel the bird in him as well, the soft downy feathers and the shining eyes. they had been happy, the three and when a girl--sweet, soft Lifa and though she did not scream of eagle but of dove, Gritta loved her all the same. things grew dark then, but they had stayed happy, safe in the mountains.
Tyra, feisty Tyra, came into the world in a fight. her birth had been difficult, hard and leaving Gritta pained but no less victorious as she looked at the ruddy cheeks of her newest daughter who the midwife also told her would be her last. the pain was hard to swallow but Gritta loved her child all the more.
her children were sweet, precious--her treasures, their treasures and Gritta and her beloved guarded them fiercely.
it was on the second anniversary of little Tyra's birth that her husband found the jewel--glistening and shining like a star beneath the mountain.
'Look Gritta' he had whispered, holding up so she could stare in awe, 'It is beautiful isn't it?' and then he had turned to her, placing the gem against the hollow of her neck before he smiled and whispered in her ear, 'it will be even more beautiful on the most beautiful woman of all.'
she had laughed then, cheeks red as she slapped him on the shoulder because for all he was cold at times, he loved her truly and thought her the greatest jewel of the world.
her husband went to town that night, taking the jewel with him.
when he returned, he no longer had it. instead, he was rushed, his eyes panicked as he gathered their small family up. "Gritta--Gritta you must run--they are coming--the jewel--" and then he said nothing else as he fell, an arrow in his back.
Gritta remembers screaming then, loud enough to call her mother and father and brothers from where they lived in the house over and then she screamed a new as she watched them fall. miners were strong, but they could not hold their own against a horde--and a horde it was.
strange men, all in strange clothes with greedy eyes that spoke of dark things and smiles that spoke of things even darker. Gritta ran then, or tried to, bundling her children--her precious treasures--up in her arms only to have them ripped from her with a scream.
Gritta can remember their tiny hands grasping at her even as Ari, brave little Ari fights them tooth and nail while Tyra screams and screams, loud in their ears and even sweet Lifa claws at their faces.
It does not help in the end, not when the men bash their heads against the stone to quiet them and Gritta screams and snarls curses at them even as men pin her to the floor.
As they take her children away, they hurt her. They rip at her skirts and then take their fill of her while asking her questions she cannot answer. where are the jewels, the ones like her husband had had and when Gritta cannot answer, they beat her, slamming her head against the stone and kicking at her sides until everything hurts and it is only when Gritta can barely breathe, when her breath is little more than a stuttering whimper and she can no longer curse or even move towards her children, that they leave, spitting on her prone body and ransacking her house.
'no jewels here,' one of them calls out.
'no gold either.' calls another.
there is silence, a contemplative one before she can make out the sound of boots against the wood floor of the hut and from the corner of her fading vision she can make out a man bending down to look at the prone--still, so still--bodies of her treasures. 'the children.' the man finally states, his voice dark with cruel humor, 'they are pretty enough. they'll fetch a nice prize--the woman is likely to die anyways'
as they leave, Gritta cannot keep her eyes open.
Gritta dies that night--a long, whimpering death as she claws her way to her prone forms of her family and husband. Gritta dies yes, but Ygritte--born of cold and pain and hatred--rises in her place.
Gritta had been a soft housewife, smiling at her husband but Ygritte was not that. she was hardened, ruthless and when she pulled herself up on broken hands and bleeding fists, she screamed her rage to the air and made a promise--a vow that would not be broken.
The years that followed were cold, harsh. Two stints in a jail left her with tattoos--thieves marks on her hands--and a scar down her front.
Ygritte would not be cowed though--she searched and found and while she was not a good thief, she was a good killer. it was easy--too easy--to kill when she pictured that night, pictured her children's frightened faces and then their slack bodies--but people hired her for it and even when she went to prison for the third time, this time not on a simple charge of thieving but for the murder of an entire caravan (all slavers, scum not worth living and besides, she did not touch the slaves, not a one--set them all free before the guards came) her ability to kill worked in her favor.
it was the reason after all, the men came to her.
they called themselves the cosa nostra--and there, in the dingy cell that she called her own, they made her a deal.
work for us, they said. work for us and we will give you everything you need.
and in the end, that was all they needed to say.
so all lyrics used are credited too PARAMORE, thee best female fronted band in the world. everything else is credited to rawr_dinosaur at caution. don't steal this template or take the credit off, if you do i shall be forced to come and pull your eyes out with a spork!?! 'cause you know you love sporks!?! and they are the best extracting eyeballs.
