Salvaje Geneviève Arseneau
Calypso, the Sea Witch, She-Pirate, etc
Standing at just under five feet, she cuts a less-than-imposing figure. She's athletic, muscular, but despite her efforts she can't erase the wholly feminine flair of hips and breasts from her body. Her skin is a light mocha, a gift from her half-African father, while her hair is a soft auburn--a gift from her French mother. She has slender fingers, made to create music--which they do on frequent occasion--with short but nice nails. Her arms are slender yet muscular, strong enough for the gymnastic stunts needed to access forbidden buildings or climb walls. She has long legs, and despite their soft appearance, they are hard with enough muscle to break a man's bones, or propel her from one roof to another. Her face is made strong, with a noticeable jawline and high cheekbones (inherited from her father's Chinese mother). Her eyes are large, almond shaped, and luminous. She has a rather unique trait here as well--heterochromia. Both eyes contain a rich brown background, with rings of green-blue and flecks of gold as highlights. Beautiful over all, no? At least until you look beneath the clothes at her back. A mass of scartissue, her once smooth skin is now more silver than mocha. Some of the scars are thick and ugly and white, while others are thin and silvery. All of them tend to inspire horror in those who see them.
A druid who is just as handy with poisons as with healing herbs, she is not a woman to cross. Forever unruffled by outside influences and always prepared for any situation she might be needed for, she is an indestructible island of calm. However, always just under the surface, barely constrained, her explosive temper lies in wait. Witty retorts and acidic comments are constantly on the tip of her tongue, though rarely spoken aloud, preferring to fix other people with a rather unnerving stare. She never laughs, and rarely smiles, all emotion locked away with enormous self control and careful calculation--while she is a passionate person and feels very deeply, she maintains a facade of calm detachment as though her life depends on it. A confusing map of contradictions and broken rules, the woman makes little sense to others and doesn't care to. Shrouded in a wrap of mystery, she does nothing to dissuade others of their notion that she is a witch--or, more frightening, Calypso in human form. She sails the seas with her crew and takes contracts for assassinations and for healing, her experience despite her age making her a powerful woman in both areas. She has very relaxed views on certain things in life, and a seemingly calm philosophy of "what will happen, will happen," though she is not nearly so calm about it as she leads others to believe. Many things enrage her past logic, but always, her self-control is there to trap her passionate nature behind a wall of stony indifference. No one has ever broken her passions free, not since her control grew to such magnitude, and many have tried. Despite her gratitude toward the experience that gave her such control over her emotions on several occasions, she longs to let her passion run free again, even with only one person, even for only one moment, yet she has no hope of ever finding someone to match--let alone unleash--her passionate nature.
Michael and Lucifer, her twin blades--used for high-risk missions where she might not be able to slip from a location unseen after an assassination
Hidden Blades--for stealthy assassinations
Raziel, her crossbow--for long-range assassinations. the bolts are dipped in potent venom, so that even if her shot only grazes a man, he will still die.
Poisons--for assassinations where she must get close to the target and remain undetected
Lilith--not exactly a weapon, but the source of the venom on her crossbow bolts. the sea witch can always be found with this creature draped across her shoulders while on her ship, and oftentimes on missions where her own senses might not be enough to keep her alive. the cobra snake has been with her since hatching, and is seemingly devoted to the druid.
Strength of will
Crippling pains in her back if she doesn't take herbs to remedy said pain, which can be incredibly bad if she forgets to take those herbs before carrying out a contract.
Unable to do anything requiring brute strength, such as bowling over a large man or blocking attacks from a large man for too long a period of time.
She has asthma, though it is a mild form, and so she must rest more often than her healthier counterparts or she risks an attack. This also means she cannot afford to panic--yet another nail in the coffin of her self control.
A massive temper that sometimes leaks from a few cracks in her control, she can become violent if pushed too far.
She's unable to put her past quite as far behind as she'd like to, and those who know of her history can use it against her--it is one of her bigger weak spots, capable of bringing her to her knees with the force of memory.
She is self-destructive, often willing to place herself in situations she knows she might not walk away from.
Disorders & Phobias:
Arachnophobia. The fear of spiders.
Agraphobia. The fear of sexual abuse.
Aphenphosmphobia. The fear of being touched.
Written in her perspective.
Violence, a bit of gore, and other possibly uncomfortable themes and/or references may be made. Read at your own discretion.
It's our ninth birthday today, so my frère and sœur better be up! Mère says that our Shūshu Baridi will be coming over for the celebration, but I wish he wouldn't. He's an old, lazy, fat pig, and he's not nice at all to Père. I don't feel safe around him. Sometimes when he looks at me... it scares me. I think he wants to hurt me, but I don't know why. I haven't done anything to him!
With a start, I snap my diary shut and stuff it under my pillow as Mère knocks on my door. "Geneviève? Are you up?" I hop from my bed and rush to my door, throwing it open with a wide smile on my face. "Of course, mama! I've been up for hours." Mère laughs, ruffling my hair before turning and leading me down the small hallway to our little family kitchen and dining room. My frère and sœur are already there, dressed nicer than usual, and I give them a huge grin. We're triplets, see, and Gwendolyn looks exactly like I do, right down to the freckles. Jean-Claude does, too, but a boy version, so we can't very well pass him off as Gwen or I to play a trick. Gwen runs up and throws her arms around me, squealing excitedly into my ear. I cringe, but return the hug and kiss her cheek. "Happy birthday, Mèimei!" We speak at the same time, saying the same thing-- as usual. Laughing at us, Jean-Claude comes over with a smile.
Père & Mère-- French words for Father and Mother, respectively.
Frère & Sœur-- French words for Brother and Sister, respectively.
Mèimei-- Chinese for sister
Shūshu-- Chinese for Uncle.
Baridi-- Swahili, meaning "Cold." Her uncle's name.