Post by thorn! on Aug 23, 2010 21:58:47 GMT -8
NAME:
Dyani LaDuke AKA "Laughing Fawn"
AGE:
24 years old
GENDER:
Female
HERITAGE:
Apache ( pure )
JOB POSITION:
At the moment, she works as a quiet saloon girl. Waiting tables and keeping an ear out for any passing rumor of the where-abouts of her brother.
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:
Dyani appears to be a powerful woman, both in physical and mental aspects. Her heritage as a Apache rings true in her features and has allowed her a more leaner, stronger-looking body. Though, she still retains some feminine features. She's a small woman, standing at the height of about 5' 3" and has a slim, pear-shaped build. Her gracious bust slopes down to a well-toned waistline that, in turn, gives way to wide hips.
Long black hair flows down past her tawny-colored shoulders, it's often left loose or tied back in a tight braid. Framing her exotic, round face and delicate features. Her soulful, dark eyes hold a wild look about them. Even in the happiest times they seem to be fearful and cold.
She dresses in worn dresses and hand-me-down clothes. Stuff the other girls can't fit into or simply don't want anymore. They are of various patterns, often stained with dirt, blood or alchohol. Though her favorite is a tattered buckskin jacket, given to her by an old miner.
Dyani doesn't like shoes and usually isn't forced to wear them, it's only when she's working will you see her don a pair of heels. The ill-fitting boots often cause her to move stiffly, as it tends to blister her usually calloused feet if she slides around too much in them.
PERSONALITY:
From a distance, she seems distant and bitter; Like a caged bird, her spirit longs to be free again. Dyani's sorrow stems from her capture and violent flashbacks from her past. She longs for the comfort of a woven dress, or the feel of a pair of old moccasins she used to adorn. The girl absolutely detests the tight clothes and rags society expects a woman of her rank to wear. It's not an uncommon sight to see the tan-skinned maiden bolting from the saloon completely stark-naked.
Dyani is a naturally a quiet person. She wasn't raised to talk for the sake of talking, feeling it foolish to simply make noise. The young woman is far too wise in the ways of others for her age; She fears the motives of strangers and doesn't particularly enjoy the company of them. Distrustful by nature, she feels the only one she is able to trust is her little white tom-cat, Misae, for reasons that he would never abandon her and that his love is unconditional. In spite of the fact she's not accepted by her peers and that she's always making mistakes, her companion has always remained at her heels.
To put it simply: She probably hates your guts until you give her a reason to like you.
Her trust is not easily gained, but offerings of homemade sweets, flowers or beads seems to make her warm-up to you a little faster. When and if she accepts you, her steadfast loyalty goes unmatched. Willing to lay down her life for yours and with several ties to high-ranking families, she's a powerful ally to have. Though, she can be quite clingy at times. Having lost friends and family in massacres against her people, it's no wonder she's inseparable from the few people who make her feel safe.
A "savage" in a developing world, she tries desperately to hold tight to her customs. She's a proud, feisty woman who's quick-fire temper is matched only by her stubborn will and a deep-rooted hatred for militia men and soldiers. Impatient and quick to judge, she's not the easiest person to get along with.
Though despite her flaws, she's a hard-worker with a honest demeanor. Her determination to triumph over the adversity is one of the few qualities many find admirable.
As a result of working in the saloon, Dyani is fluent in several languages... Though she rarely lets on that she knows them. However, she is completely illiterate, if asked to read something off the menu, you'll only get a confused, worried glance.
PAST:
Born in a traditional, Apache tribe, her life was relatively calm. While there was talk of fighting the white men, nothing she knew of actually came of it. When she was just seven years old, she remembered cutting hay and harvesting barley for ranchers with her father and mother.
The memory is etched in her mind. Playing and replaying like a tape-recorder.
In the early light of dawn in spring of 1871, shots rang out . 148 armed soldiers, Mexicans, Papagos and Angelos set upon the tribe while most of the men had gone out hunting. Her people were sleeping and unarmed.
Screams of women, cries of children and the roar of guns still shriek through Dyani's nightmares. The smell of blood and of gunpowder and the feeling of panic and chaos swept through the camp. Those who ran for the near-by safety of the trees were killed. Dyani was swept up with some of the other children, torn from their families by brutish men.
In the period of just half an hour, her tribe had been massacred. Eight men and 110 women and children were murdered, 28 children were taken for the slave-trade.
Dyani was sold to a house of ill repute. Another toy for the aging head mistress, she was forced into the trade at twelve and told to 'earn her keep.' At eighteen, her mistress died from typhoid. Though recommendations were made by her mistress to keep Dyani in the house, the madam's son refused to allow the girl to stay any longer. She wasn't pure enough and was thrown out with their African/Mexican, Samuel.
Sam never strayed far from Dyani and eventually, he'd taken on a guardian role. The pair have formed an odd brother-sister bond and he promised he'd take care of her, just like any good older brother would. His gentle nature seemed to keep even the fiery Dyani calm in times of crisis. He got her a job with the Crazy Wolf Saloon as a serving girl. Sam left her with a smile and a hug good-bye. Knowing she'd be safe there while he went and looked for a job of his own, he made her a promise to come back when the time was right.
Dyani still waits for him to this day, listening in for any rumor of his where-abouts.
