[center] [b]Name:[/b] [i]Eveline Lancer[/i] [b]Age:[/b] [i]17[/i] [b]Appearance:[/b] [img]https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hP7oyto35Q0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAI0/cP96hbcZdMU/photo.jpg[/img] A small girl of lithe build, even after years of picking and pruning wild flowers her hands have remained smooth and soft. Standing around 5'6" she's rather lanky and has been know as a fast runner. Probably from the long summers spent in the forest with her mother. Besides that her physic is rather unremarkable unless you count her obscure blue hair and blue eyes stark contrast against her pale skin. [b]Occupation:[/b] [i]Florist[/i] [b]Personality:[/b] [i][u]'Let us dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in our hair and let us huddle together as darkness takes over. We are at home amidst the birds and the trees, for we are children of nature.'[/u][/i] They call Eveline a wild child, a changling,that she belongs with the fairyfolk of old. A happy child since birth, she's always seem the brightness in the world especially in the flowers. A giddy child, some would say she was touched in the head for her happy demeanour seemed to be her only trait. She spends her time skipping around with a flower crown and handing out flowers with a gentle smile on her face as if there was nothing wrong with the world. Yet Eveline is very observant, she watches and doesn't talk at most she'll tilt her head and smile or frown childishly in dispute. She hates modern things preferring to transverse the forest near her homes and take from nature, so is slightly frightened of metal tools and sciences. [b]History:[/b] They say the girl was born to a hedgewitch in the forest, a witch of the wilds, a herb dealer, the one you call to save your failing wife, the midwife of the peasant folks. Her father was a gypsy they say, a wandering man who loved life and found the joy in the simplest things. A broad boisterous man, with a hearty laugh and a healthy appetite for many a thing. His wit was only matched with his quick hands, taking woman's purses and heart with an easy grace. Such a strange outcome the girl was, a flower child, they say she was born in a fairy circle, a gift from the forest and the young witch mother did little to dispel the rumors about her and her babe. A glimpse of superstitious in a barren town, to far from the kingdom to be told of newer things, they cling to the old and ancient believing the rumors and myths. Silly Mortals~ So the child grew up on the village fringes learning basic trades and letters but spent most of her time in the forest learning plants and flowers from her mother taking them into the village to sell and trade. And so the years passed in this manor and the girl grew into a teenager humming softly she walked down the roads a hand waving at the approaching caravan, it was fall and trade season they always came this time of year and she had still yet to figure out her farther or if he actually existed. [/center] [b]Quote by Susan Polis Schutz[/b]