Do you have any prior experience with Requiem? If so, please detail when (and what characters, if desired) you previously played?
Yes! I currently play Rhys Morgan.
How did you hear about Requiem?
I've known of Req for years now, but Meriel is the one that brought me back this time around.
CHARACTER QUESTIONS:
What will your character’s name be?
Cecily Atwood
Please briefly describe the physical attributes of your character, including age, looks, height, weight and any notable features:
Cecily is a young woman in her mid-twenties at latest, with clear markings of Barony bloodlines - most especially that of Redholme. She is slight of build, still a girl in so many ways what with limbs a little too long and not much in the way of curves. A bubbly innocence shines through her moss-green eyes, and high freckled cheekbones make her smile all the brighter. She has a mess of wild red curls for hair that she fights with on the regular, preferring to keep it in plaits when she can.
Her favorite colors are purple and green, which are oft made evident in the clothing she chooses to don. There's a magpie-esque habit of hers to collect anything that shines or looks remotely interesting, pockets always full of gemstones and rocks and odd bits and bobs. Flowers are to be found there as well.
At a glance, she is the picture of naivety.
Until she has to break a bone to reset a bone, which she does with unflinching precision.
Please provide a few short paragraphs with pertinent details or notable qualities of your character’s history. This does not have to be exhaustive nor revealing of any information you wish to keep secret:
Cecily was born the daughter of a thrice-removed cadet branch of some minor Prelacy family in the heart of Redholme. Her mother, a skilled seamstress. Her father, a shrewd merchant of wines and fine things. She is the eldest of four, and the only one with any sort of gap in ages - she, 24 years. Her two brothers and sister 16, 15, 13 and 12. A wild mess that she misses sorely, but likewise is so terribly glad to escape.
At sixteen, the girl was granted an early apprenticeship with the Venerated Apothecary Corps after much begging and bartering with her parents. There was a wicked fascination she held with the likes of medicines, in which she demanded more knowledge to satiate her.
It failed.
By twenty, she had entered into the University of Medicine and Disease, the first of only a handful of women to be accepted. A sharp wit, an eager mind, and an unflinching smile when she proved she could set a shoulder with the best of them won her a modicum of respect amongst her peers. There was rivalry and unspoken jealous amongst the lot around her though, and Cece suspects to some degree that it was this jealousy that got her handed her writ of passage one sordid, disgustingly humid summer day.
Briefly state your character’s intentions or motivations for entering the First Province:
Evidently there's a terrible lack of skilled apothecary and medicinal minds within the Province of late, and it's terribly convenient that the University decided to ship off an overly-adroit little tart to help out with the situation.
Scenario Response:
Decus' balls...
That was all the girl could think as she stumbled off of the train and into the glaring midday sun, not a cloud in the sky to offer respite. Her back ached from the long and horribly bumpy ride, and she was quite certain she'd have to cook up a bruise balm for her rear end after that particular trek. With an accusatory squint up at the sky, Cecily moved aside and took stock of her surroundings with a wrinkled nose and pursed lips.
Not many were filtering into the Fort that day - the lines were blessedly small, and every soul around her looked utterly destitute. Each one of them were suffering the sweat and stink of the day as she was, probably dreaming of a cold bath just the same.
She wondered if she remembered to pack that bar of lavender soap her father had given her before she left.
Probably not.
Damn.
With a heaving sigh, Cecily adjusted the satchel at her side with a shrug of narrow shoulders and quickly trotted across the way toward the line of officiants barring further passage. It felt hours that she stood in line behind a ratty young man who needed a brush, comb.. possibly razor... taken to the nest of filth that was his hair. She was quite certain she saw lice crawling around in it as she stood there, which promptly made her own scalp start itching.
It was just the sweat. Surely.
Eventually though, she found herself stood before a slightly pudgy man in a slightly too-small uniform. He barked his orders, to which she fumbled for a moment in the satchel. Eventually, a letter was procured - sealed with that of the University's own seal mark. With a cursory look over the parchment and wax, the man arched a brow.
"Redholme?" he inquired. She responded with a bobbing nod of her head.
With a frown of consideration, he parted the seal and read over the folded bits of parchment detailing her stationing at the fort, her duties, and to whom she was meant to report.
"About damned time they send us some more medicos," he mumbled under his breath. He reached for a stamp, marked the missive with unnecessary force, and handed it to another man behind him.
"Go on," he then motioned, thumbing to her quickly as she found herself ushered through. She'd lie if she said she hadn't hoped he'd deny the missive just a bit so she could get right back onto the train home. So as she stepped through, Cecily rubbed at her sternum to dispel the lingering sense of disappointment to be found there.
Go on, he said so casually. Go on, she sighed as she eyed the road before her. May as well.
