[hider=Sachevia]
[center][h3][b]Sᴀᴄʜᴇᴠɪᴀ [/b][color=333333]. . . . . . . . . . . .[/color][sup][center][color=333333]. . . . . . . . . . . . [/color][color=darkred][i][b]ᴏf ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏᴜsᴇ ᴏf sɪʀᴇɴs[/b][/i][/color][/center][/sup][/h3][sup][sup][sup][sup][img]https://drfhlmcehrc34.cloudfront.net/cache/7a/2e/7a2eca87d796d9fd03a702d75817da61.png[/img][/sup][/sup][/sup][/sup]
[hider=][img]http://i.imgur.com/GRkKlZO.jpg[/img][/hider]
ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ʙᴏʀɴ[color=black][b] ☿ [/b][/color]ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ɴɪɴᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀs[color=black][b] ☿ [/b][/color]ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ[/center]

[b]P[/b]ʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ Dᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ.
[indent][color=gray].Her stature was unassuming and average in repose, but her shadowless form had a dancer’s gait; one that reached beyond the oculus and stoked longing with measured and curling rhythms. Upon the faultless pale skin fell dark hair, dipping beyond her waist intermingled with woven charms, feathers, neat dreadlocks, thin braids and loose curls. The form was draped in tight leather and loose silk that seemed to flow and nip at her exuded aura with a movement of its own. The most common façade of the demon kin was one of upper class ignorance; a fragile and innocent nature. Thick lashes bat over stark gray eyes, paling in betrayal of her rotting soul and lined in charcoal. Her face was further complemented by a sickly sweet smile curled over plump bloodstained lips that wavered between refinement and primal compulsion. Fate’s favor expounded when the lips parted and melodious tones candied each word and fully muffled the underlying sardonic humor she occasionally failed to repress. 

But there was another side, one that came as quickly as the tides ever enslaved by the moon and would drag a man to his gasping death. An ancestral boon on her end, to be sure, the eyes narrowed and pierced into the most weathered, the apathetic pale replaced with an unforgiving ink, and darkening lips curled into something else, something malicious and sadistically tempting. Fingers, once lithe, seemed to extend with aggravated twitching and the tips of her hair seemed to join in the aura caressing dance, licking at static around her.[/color][/indent]
[b]S[/b]ᴋɪʟʟsᴇᴛ.
[indent][color=gray].Sneak[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]stealth. pickpocket. lock picking.[/color]
[color=gray].Charisma[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]situation adaption. silver tongued.[/color]
[color=gray].Enchantment[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]compulsion. charm.[/color]
[color=gray].Apothecary[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]general knowledge.[/color][/indent]
[b]H[/b]ɪsᴛᴏʀʏ.
[indent][color=gray].People prefered many terms but witch seemed to resignate well enough. It wasn’t like they cared to name themselves. Being named meant being seen and there were few species that didn’t hunt the witches. Hell, even witches hunted witches. So there was no question upon her birth that she would be hidden away. 

Many witches favored hardier species to conceal their offspring, due to the difficulties inherent in raising. It spoke volumes of respect, if only within an eclipsing species, that Brand was gifted with the burden of Sachevia. Witch offspring are untrained and unfocused, dangerous, but Brand was not an ordinary man. His patience was unrivaled; he taught her control through meditation and hard work.
[center][sup][color=darkred]idle hands are the devils playground[/color][/sup][/center]He taught her the importance of self and community, rarer things still: love without question, fairness. Sure, he wasn’t the tea party and tears over teddy type, but he was strong and [b][i]good[/i][/b]. It would forever resignate within her that there existed such a giving and caring man as Brand. It helped to curb the gnawing cynicism of reality that whispered into her soul about the evils of man.

She couldn’t stay though and at sixteen the driving hunger to experience life lifted her from the home and into chaos. She wanted to see the world, change the world, maybe even rule the world. But she was unskilled and untrained outside of the woods, unprepared for the blows and punches. For two years Brand bailed her out of unspeakable situations whenever he could, babying her to an extent that only spoiled her further. The last time she saw Brand he was paying for her freedom after she was caught trying to steal from a high born she had met at a tavern. He had tousled her hair on their way out, as he had done when she was a child. “I would ask you not to get any more trouble, but that seems an unreasonable request.” He had smiled, joking, but she was a petulant thing and she had only sulked and scowled.

It would be years from that moment until her realization of how much Brand had shaped her, how much he meant. The good within her was Brand. By the time he arrived at her last fiasco, she was gone. He received only shrugs and murmurs of the sin trodden beauties that had claimed his charge. A year later she had sent him a secret missive informing that she was alive and well, but she wouldn’t be in touch. She signed in a cat bunny creature she had drawn in her youth. There was nothing left to do but move on without her, and around ten years had passed without mention from the young witch.

There are a multitude of deaths in any life. When she joined the House of the Sirens much of her had to die; one who collects secrets should be careful to bury their own, and bury them deep. Her love for Brand, her loyalty to her family, to their community, all of it was dangerous and so it died, at least to the prying eye. She kept tabs on a few of them, discreetly so as not to draw that attention of the Sirens upon her family. 

She trained continuously in the beginning, honing her skillset for years until missions began. The Sirens weren’t a selective group when it came to clientele, and so their fingers traced across the maps; a web of secrets and scandal that catered to the wealthy and the desperate, as long as they had something of value to trade.

When she heard of Brand’s execution it was only a few days before her sisters whispered names, locations, and curious other facts of occult from the mouths of the King’s inner circle. Brand was the good in her, and the loss would be rectified. She knew her siblings would not go silent into the night, but she was selfish in her revenge, foolhardy in brashness, and so alone she sought this whispered Veredict Daigon, this “Butcher of Green River”.[/color][/indent]
[b]P[/b]sʏᴄʜᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ Pʀᴏғɪʟᴇ.
[indent][color=gray].After the death of Brand there was a silent attack within Sachevia; a loss of a piece that she had desperately clung to without knowing it. She is tactful, apathetic, and hell bent on fitness in the survival of the fittest. The overwhelming need to succeed and impress the Siren’s masters has been replaced with a drive for balance, as much as a sociopath can hope for. High emotions weaken her sanity and drive demon instincts within her and should be avoided, so she is well trained at focusing and faking emotions as needed, though Brands loss does have her a bit shaky. Prior to Brand’s loss she was rather pleased with life. She had a purpose and she was exceedingly good at bringing fruition to her jobs. She has been rather lonely and is self conscious in her lack of “life affirming” relationships. The only praise she receives is via chain of command of the House of Serpents, which has warped her sense of self.[/color][/indent]
[b]E[/b]ǫᴜɪᴘᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ.
[indent][color=gray].Throwing Daggers[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]made of a deep black metal and hidden upon her persons[/color]
[color=gray].Hand Maidens[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]quiet little things that trace behind her, skills unknown.[/color]
[color=gray].Messengers[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]ravens are widely used by all Sirens to spread secrets.[/color]
[color=gray].Apothecary Supplies[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]herbs, oils, animal skins/skulls, assorted others[/color]
[color=gray].Clawed Gauntlets[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]lightweight and decorated in runes and puzzling patterns.[/color]
[color=gray].Trunks of Clothing[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]what courtesan doesn't travel in style? Everything from leather to silk, midnight black to summer peach.[/color]
[color=gray].Carriage & Horses[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]sleek black metal carriage with well groomed gray dapple horses.[/color][/indent]
[b]Y[/b]ᴇs, ᴀɴᴅ.
[indent][color=gray]WIP - Veredict Daigon[/color][/indent]
[hider=Rᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘs]
[indent][color=gray].Varrick[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]Knew him from his age 9 to 11.[/color]
[color=gray].Masef[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]Knew him from infancy until he was 9.[/color]
[color=gray].Ashira[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]Knew her from her age 5 to 7.[/color]
[color=gray].Grey[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]They have never met.[/color]
[color=gray].Beren[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]They have never met.[/color]
[color=gray].Loden[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]Knew him from his age 4 to 14.[/color]
[color=gray].Kiera[/color] [color=black][b]↠[/b][/color] [color=darkgray]Sachevia is 5 years younger, knew Kiera from her arrival at 12 until Sachevia departed (Kiera was 21).[/color][/indent]
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