E L S E W H E R E C H I L D
CHARACTER INFORMATIONCharacter Name: Saoirse Märchen
Gender: Female
Age: 6
Bloodline:Halfblood
Parents/Guardians (Are they currently played characters?): Mother Anaise Märchen; deceased, grandmother Roan Märchen, both unplayed
Residence:At the moment taking residence with Swan, Wolf and Red Märchen
Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the daycare)?Nope
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason? Nope
Please list any other characters you already have at the site:Ava Adair, Rose Märchen
Biography: (100 words minimum.)The villagers rarely ever spoke of the cottage over the cliff. If any passersby were to inquire about it, the answer would come in the form of a whispered local legend that has been told through two generations.
They say a sailor once lived in the cottage, the best in the village, some say the best in all of Ireland.
No matter the weather or chill he would be on his boat, catching the largest fish even in the midst of winter. He was not a good man though; nasty and crooked, the rest of the villagers stayed well away unless they were in desperate need of food. This frustrated the man, making the anger in his heart take hold twice as strong.
They say that on a cold autumn evening, when he returned from his work with a
net full of fish, he came upon a seal skin hidden in the hollow of a fallen tree. A low gasp came from behind him; he spun and faced young woman staring at him with frightened and angry eyes as dark as coal.
He glanced at the seal skin and sneered »It appears you are mine, my dear.« The selkie woman glared, but did not leave; for she could not return to the sea until her seal skin was hers once more. The two returned to the cottage and the man hid the seal skin well.
The selkie searched the cottage, the cave and cliffs, even the village, but could never
locate her seal skin.
After bearing the fisherman a child, she took his life, deciding if she was to be held captive on land for the rest of her days, she will at least be rid of the horrid man who trapped her there.
At least, that is what the villagers say.
What they know for fact is that, whoever the woman in the cottage was, she had a child, who years later bore a child herself before passing soon after. No one knew who the father was, some say a traveler, some say a village lad, but alas the truth of the matter was buried with the young mother in the garden behind the cottage.
No one dared go near the cottage in fear of the old woman's wrath, but rarely some brave soul would throw over a toy or sweet to the child trapped behind a wall of rock.
The child, named Saoirse, grew up with only glimpses of the world beyond her grandmothers cottage, the now old woman certain she could learn all she needed to from her and never permitting her to leave.
One warm summer evening the child saw a crack in the wall and taking her chance, she squeezed through and out, taking off to the beach below and far, far away from the cottage over the cliff with no destination in mind. The villagers say they could hear the old grandmothers anger all the way down to the church the next Sunday morning.
No one dared look for the young girl, but they hoped she'd gotten away. One old sailor who had returned very late that evening seemed too smug not to rouse suspicion and rumors, but no amount of questions had gotten more than a word past his lips.
Meanwhile, across the Irish sea, a young girl arrived in Liverpool when the sun was just rising, with a small bag of pounds and a fisherman's coat draped across her shoulders. Some people stared. Some ignored her. It didn't matter much to Saoirse though. She knew where she was going, even if no one else did.
Roleplay:Reply as your character to the following:Godric Park.
Overhead, the sky was a crisp blue, for once clear of the ever-pervasive spongy clouds and rain. The sun was a lemony-yellow presence, high in the Eastern sky, and in front of it zipped three broomsticks in a straight line, or something very like one. One... two..... three... the boys passed, their shouts of excitement echoing as they chased the snitch, a tiny shimmer reflecting the sunlight.
Far below was another, much smaller broomstick.
It trugged along the ground, hugging close to it like a sluggish choo choo train and occasionally shuttering in protest. This was because said stick was currently being occupied by a very small girl who was tugging upward on the front of it with all her might, trying to coax it into doing what it had been expressly designed NOT to do.
"John, I said
wait up!" The tiny girl squealed, giving the broomstick another tug.
Begrudgingly, it drifted upward a foot, and then sank, depositing the troublesome girl safely on the ground. Janey Hurst was not pleased. In a huff, she hopped off the toy safety broom, grabbing it firmly and thrusting it handle first into the turf.
Her brother was such a beast. He NEVER let her play! She folded her arms, seething blue eyes fixing on another figure nearby. "You!" She barked, much more sharply than she meant to.
"...Do you want to play?"
Roleplay Response:Type your response here.The park was nice, in a controlled kind of way. The trees grew a certain distance apart, the path cut through the grass and around the open space, but to Saoirse it seemed to tame. She had grown up near a forest in Ireland, where the nature was as wild as the creatures that resided within it.
She couldn't quite see why they decided to bring her here though.
There were far too many people here for her liking, so she'd found a nice shady tree to lean against and wait for her guardian to come back and take her home, where she could curl up in a nice warm pile of blankets and fall asleep in peace.
She heard a shout and startled, two small hands clutching her rapidly beating heart as she raised startled dark eyes to the girl before her. She blinked once, twice, and raised a hand to point at herself in a silent question.
It seemed rather odd for her to want to play with her; most of the time, people tended to either shy away from her or be much too close for her comfort, making her draw back and away herself.
Shrugging, she took a few tentative steps closer to the girl and gave her a curious look, her dark eyes going to the broom in the girls hand. She pointed to the broom, then at the older kids flying above them with a raised eyebrow.
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