Difference between revisions of "Mekarie"
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==Description== | ==Description== | ||
| − | + | "Tick tock, goes the clock, she took all he could give her...tick tock, goes the clock, and now he eats her liver..." The sing-song voice was childlike in descant, a soft soprano as the girl sang. Rhymes and macabre little tunes were always being sang, a variation of a song in D minor often times hummed without much thought as the girl known as 'Mad Mek' goes about whatever she does. The dark hair was tangled, long and usually in her face like a veil, shielding her appearance from scrutiny and making her age hard to tell, though the swell of hips and breasts determine she is no child, but someone older. Clothing was of charity type--used, handed down discards and over-sized, the tunic cinched around her waist with a length of hemp rope to keep her too-large brown trousers on her slight frame. The thin frame and simple clothing was usually hidden from sight beneath an old cloak, age fading the undyed wool to a color more a brown with time, the hem dirty and torn, but the madwoman did much to keep it with her. A gift, perhaps? | |
==Background== | ==Background== | ||
Revision as of 22:59, 6 February 2015
| Mekarie | |
|---|---|
| Information | |
| Title(s) | Mad Mek |
| Archetype | Madwoman |
| Hair Colour | Dark brown |
| Eye Colour | Dark, dark brown |
| Height | 5'1" |
| Build | Waifish |
| Born | Unknown Unknown |
| Spouse(s) | Unknown |
| Children | Unknown |
| Profession | Unknown |
| Religion | None |
Description
"Tick tock, goes the clock, she took all he could give her...tick tock, goes the clock, and now he eats her liver..." The sing-song voice was childlike in descant, a soft soprano as the girl sang. Rhymes and macabre little tunes were always being sang, a variation of a song in D minor often times hummed without much thought as the girl known as 'Mad Mek' goes about whatever she does. The dark hair was tangled, long and usually in her face like a veil, shielding her appearance from scrutiny and making her age hard to tell, though the swell of hips and breasts determine she is no child, but someone older. Clothing was of charity type--used, handed down discards and over-sized, the tunic cinched around her waist with a length of hemp rope to keep her too-large brown trousers on her slight frame. The thin frame and simple clothing was usually hidden from sight beneath an old cloak, age fading the undyed wool to a color more a brown with time, the hem dirty and torn, but the madwoman did much to keep it with her. A gift, perhaps?
