Post by Rebekah on Jun 9, 2014 7:40:12 GMT
Name:
Rebekah
Age:
Nineteen
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Physical Appearance:
Rebekah is a lanky thing, with dark hair and dark eyes. Her skin tends to run fair during the winters, not unlike her half-white mother's but she becomes her father's coloring during the summers; brown and tawny. Her hair hangs down in loose black curls, which are sometimes braided or beaded. Rebekah has long, thick legs that help her carry her weight during field work and her hands, while small, have grown rough and raw from said work. She dresses plainly, even for church, but she has an eye for prettying up her appearance with flowers and spices.
There's a mischievous air about her. She tends to side glance or giggle when no one's watching. She'd give this look that'll make you think that she knows more than you do, and she's been a slave since birth. This has gotten her in trouble, obviously. Her entire body is a patchwork of scars and burns, yet, that look will still remain.
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Background:
A slave girl's story should have never been long. Born in Georgia to slaves, she learned to work with the other children, but every so often she would sneak off -- make her own adventures to watch the robin's eggs hatch and swim. Swimming was her favorite past time, and whenever the other's had some free time, mostly on Sundays, they'd steal off to the stream near their tobacco plantation and race. This rebellious nature was frowned upon and she'd find herself on the receiving end of a switch for many a time.
Her childhood was a turbulent time, with her father being sold when Rebekah was four and her mother's lot in life as a house maid and an overseer's mistress, like her mother before her, the girl had naturally felt trapped. In nature, she could calm down. The trees were her friends, the grass was her bed, and the sky would be her blanket. All around her, she would be fascinated with how the natural world worked, and soon, her beatings didn't bother her so much.
When it was determined that she was old enough, at 12, she was sold to be a field hand among ten other people for a manor in New York and she's been stuck there ever since. While she's learned to balance her work with her dalliances, as she's grown older, she's grown more questioning of her station in life. And as this war brews, this white man's war, she wonders if she's as happy as she should.
Rebekah
Age:
Nineteen
Physical Appearance:
Rebekah is a lanky thing, with dark hair and dark eyes. Her skin tends to run fair during the winters, not unlike her half-white mother's but she becomes her father's coloring during the summers; brown and tawny. Her hair hangs down in loose black curls, which are sometimes braided or beaded. Rebekah has long, thick legs that help her carry her weight during field work and her hands, while small, have grown rough and raw from said work. She dresses plainly, even for church, but she has an eye for prettying up her appearance with flowers and spices.
There's a mischievous air about her. She tends to side glance or giggle when no one's watching. She'd give this look that'll make you think that she knows more than you do, and she's been a slave since birth. This has gotten her in trouble, obviously. Her entire body is a patchwork of scars and burns, yet, that look will still remain.
Strengths:
- Nature Lover
- Introspective
- Hard-worker
Weaknesses:
- Secretive
- A slave
- Does not trust easily
Background:
A slave girl's story should have never been long. Born in Georgia to slaves, she learned to work with the other children, but every so often she would sneak off -- make her own adventures to watch the robin's eggs hatch and swim. Swimming was her favorite past time, and whenever the other's had some free time, mostly on Sundays, they'd steal off to the stream near their tobacco plantation and race. This rebellious nature was frowned upon and she'd find herself on the receiving end of a switch for many a time.
Her childhood was a turbulent time, with her father being sold when Rebekah was four and her mother's lot in life as a house maid and an overseer's mistress, like her mother before her, the girl had naturally felt trapped. In nature, she could calm down. The trees were her friends, the grass was her bed, and the sky would be her blanket. All around her, she would be fascinated with how the natural world worked, and soon, her beatings didn't bother her so much.
When it was determined that she was old enough, at 12, she was sold to be a field hand among ten other people for a manor in New York and she's been stuck there ever since. While she's learned to balance her work with her dalliances, as she's grown older, she's grown more questioning of her station in life. And as this war brews, this white man's war, she wonders if she's as happy as she should.
