FFXIV Characters

[Baddamobs]

Oleane Juivont

Oleane Juivont - Single-minded lady in waiting

Name: Oleane Juivont, ward of the Voss estate

Race: Elezen (Duskwight)

Intro/overview:
"For my lady, there is nothing I would not do…"
= A lady-in-waiting to a family with deep roots in Old Sharlayan, Oleane Juivont has travelled to the far shores of Eorzea to find the trail of her wayward charge. Calm, intellectual but driven like woman possessed, Oleane is always at your service. =

Job: The world's most singularly driven (and dangerous) lady-in-waiting

Personality:
- Unflappably calm and collected, possessing meticulous presentation and intellect, and all with a soft tone and careful way of thinking, Oleane could be used as the picture of the perfect lady-in-waiting. Indeed, her years of vassalage to the noble house she is technically a ward of has made her someone more comfortable out of the limelight, and happy to support and defer to others. She prefers to avoid conflict whenever she can, though when push comes to shove, she can be surprisingly wilful. Likewise, when presented with an obstacle that impedes her or someone she is supporting, Oleane will tackle the problem with a focus and determination of a soul on a warpath. All of these traits are amplified by several folds when the subject matter drifts towards her charge, to whom Oleane shows complete and utter devotion.

Family:
- Orignal Duskwight parents (Currently missing and presumed dead; left behind during the Sharlayan exodus from the Dravanian colony. Oleane has long since accepted that they're lost to her, though an ache remains.)
- Erica Voss (Oleane's charge and oldest friend both, though the Elezen still acts fairly formally towards the girl. While their relationship somewhat 'complex,' Oleane's loyalty to Erica is absolute, and there is nothing she wouldn't do for the Voss scion.)
- The Voss matriarch and patriarch (Oleane is in one essence their ward, and she hold great respect for them. Does not relate to them much on a personal level due to maintaining a kind of 'professional distance.')

Affiliations:
- Lady-in-waiting to the Voss Family Estate (A minor but preserving family in Sharlayan; renowned for its habit of sponsoring the training and management of a fair number of Gleaners, making them nominally more connected to the world outside of Sharlayan. Not poor by any stretch, but their minor position in Sharlayan hierarchy make them a somewhat understated group.)

Background:

Origins

- Origins -
Oleane Juivont was born, like many Duskwight children, in what essentially amounted to a hole in the earth. Her family was part of a small hunter-gatherer community eking out a rough existence in the region of the Dravanian Hinterlands, the primarily Duskwight people finding some small comfort and safety from the dragons above by building their homes in the caves that snaked their way through the area's mountains. This nameless group had kept themselves hidden from the Sharlayan colony that had settled into the region, preferring the idea of isolation to the risk of having to co-exist with the scholars and researchers which called the colony home. To the fiercely independent tribe, the Sharlayans moved about with a single-mindedness that seemed all too similar to the nearby Gnath hives, and they wanted nothing to do with them. This state of affairs might have continued if not, strangely enough, for Oleane's birth.

The girl had been born sickly and weak, and with an illness that threatened to snuff out her life before it had a chance to begin. Listening to the baby's weak cries and feeling the clamminess of her skin, Oleane's entire tribe knew that no medicine they possessed would save her. This was significant, as the group was small already; even the loss of a single child would be a tragedy to the gathered community as a whole. Swallowing their trepidation and pride both, they went against their own wishes and sought the aid of the nearby Sharlayans. What happened next was complicated; many of the colony's leadership wished to help these newly appeared people without delay, while others were wary, either with genuine concerns this was some kind of ruse or simply unwilling to lend aid to Duskwight scavengers.

In the end it was the Voss family matriarch that broke the stalemate. Aid would be rendered from her family's own coffers, and in return all she would ask is that the Duskwight tribe help guide the colony's researchers to the hidden places in the Hinterlands, AND that Oleane be placed temporarily as a ward (read hostage) of the Voss household to ensure no undue business occurred. While there were complaints on both side, this eventually became the decided course of action. Thus, in a strange twist of fate, Oleane became the ward to the Voss estate, and was saved with medical knowledge that could only have come from the world's centre of learning.

Thus, Oleane spent much of her years as a babe swaddled in clean Sharlayan silk, rather than the rough cloth that would have otherwise been her destiny. The strangest twist, however, was that she did not grow up alone; only a few years after her unofficial 'adoption,' the Voss family was blessed with their own child – Erica. Oleane has almost no memories of her earliest years, no recollection of the Hinterland's chill or the complicated rush that followed her birth. But the one crystal clear memory she possesses is, at barely older than a toddler herself, the first sight she had of the newly born Erica. To Oleane, that loudly weeping, red faced and heavy baby seemed all at once to be the most beautiful thing in the world.

Early Years

- Early years -
Eventually, after enough time had passed that Oleane could comfortably be called a child rather than a babe, it was decided the little truce between the Sharlayans and Oleane's tribe had reached its natural conclusion. The researchers had been shown all there was to discover of the surrounding area, and Oleane's condition was confirmed to be perfectly stable. Indeed, she had been so well cared for many joked that Erica was technically the SECOND daughter to the Voss estate, though none ever had the gall to say that to the Voss family themselves. Oleane was returned to her parents, and the tribe disappeared back into the mountains, with the girl's father promising this was the last the Sharlayans would ever see of them.

This turned out to be less than true. And this time, it was Oleane herself that twisted fate around.

A handful of years had passed since she and her tribe had disappeared back into the mountains. On a day otherwise unremarkable, Oleane suddenly reappeared back in one of the Voss estate's sitting rooms, playing with the still young Erica like neither had a care in the world. Despite only being around nine summers old, the Duskwight had somehow managed to evade all of the estate's guards and staff, and indeed had passed through the colony unseen as a ghost. She explained to the shocked housekeepers that she had made her way down to the colony of her own volition; her tribe disapproved of her little trip, but had allowed her go after hearing her reason. It turned out that, she simply missed Erica.

Indeed, the two had grown close in the short time Oleane had been a ward. While Erica had no small number of playmates, she seemed to favour her unofficial 'sister,' and had wilfully insisted that the Duskwight child be allowed to play alongside whatever game they both got up to no matter the other children's misgivings. Oleane herself seemed more or less attached at the girl's hip, following behind her like a puppy and seemingly happy enough as long as whatever she did entailed being around Erica. Her parents and community had misgivings, but understood that Oleane's situation was unusual (and that barring the girl would have likely meant she would have simply snuck out anyway) and had allowed her to make the trip in her own time so long as she was back before the sun set. The Voss family were perplexed, but eventually settled on letting the matter slide. Afterall, the only time they had seen Erica truly miserable had been the short time she had been apart from Oleane, and she already looked happier now the pale girl was back in her life.

This strange but blissful state of affairs might had continued forever…if the drums of war hadn't already been beating and sounding so thunderously for several years before hand. With the fall of Ala Mhigo and great quaking steps of the Eorzean city states mobilizing their military might, it had become clear that peace talks with the Garlean Empire was hopeless, and Sharlayan's policy of non-intervention and avoiding the consuming fire of conflict meant that the Dravanian colony was no longer secure. Oleane had reappeared, blissfully unaware, on the third year of the five-year plan to evacuate the entire colony back to the old country as set into motion by Fourchenault Leveilleur and other members of the Forum. Oleane, upon hearing that Erica and her family would soon be whisked away, likely never to be seen again, was near inconsolable for a while.

However, after she had cried what had felt like every tear in her body, she resolved to make the best of the situation; she would spend every waking moment she could with the girl who had become so important to her. The only question was, how? While she was quickly becoming something of a permeant fixture at the Voss estate, there were still misgivings from the other Sharlayans about having a strange, disquieting girl ghosting through the colony, and likewise her absence from her tribe would mean she was not helping to keep the isolated group afloat.

It was Erica that suggested the solution; the Voss family would hire Oleane to be lady-in-waiting to Erica herself, giving the Duskwight a fairly legitimate reason to spend as much time as possible down at the Voss estate, returning to her original tribe basically only to show she was fine and to drop off the payments from her work to her family. Erica had intended this measure to be more of ploy – to the youngest Voss scion, Oleane was more of a sister than a servant. It was slightly more complicated on Oleane's side, as she always held a kind of deference to Erica, and thought that she should take her new position seriously. While they would never quite agree on this one matter, those two years were perhaps the happiest Oleane had felt, both before and maybe since.

However, in the end, it was but passing phase in time. The day that the colony was to disappear back to their motherland grew close, and all at once it was clear that this part of Oleane's life was soon to be over. Already something of a serious young girl, Oleane grew despondent, and withdrew more and more into herself. On the final day before the colony was set to leave, the Duskwight seemed be little more than a mammet; all her actions mechanical, and her gaze empty. Erica tried to draw her out, to close the gap that was quickly widening between the two, but in the end she too felt the inevitability of what their future held.

However, for the third and final time in those chilly hinterlands, fate seemed to twist in and on itself.

"Go with her, to Old Sharlayan."

It was the simple instructions given by Oleane's parents, to the dumbstruck girl who stood before her own clan. There was a bittersweet energy to the order; they were asking her to go and be safe, to live a life that she would have otherwise never had the chance for, and to be with someone who had clearly become so dear to her. But this was also a farewell; if she left on the journey back to the Sharlayan homeland, this would be the last time they would see other. Oleane had tried to say something – maybe a half-hearted objection, maybe a plea for her parents to come with her despite the impossibility, or maybe just a word of gratitude. But with her words choking in her throat and eyes burning with tears, the only thing she had managed was to embrace them, kiss each on the cheek, and turn and sprint back to the colony. The sun was falling as she ran, and half stumbling through the growing night, never once looking back. She knew if she turned even a single time, she wouldn't have the heart to move again.

She arrived to find most of the Voss estate empty, of objects and people both. For a heart stopping moment she thought she was too late; night had truly fallen, and most of the colony had already disappeared. But, just as she was moving in a daze through the house, she turned into Erica's room. The girl was there, taking what seemed like a final look at the space she and Oleane had spent so long in, and seemed to almost think for a moment Oleane was some kind of memory come to life. Oleane, a wreck from her run and her face twisted with warring emotions, felt a fragile smile cross her lips. Burying herself in Erica's shoulder, pale fingers twisting around the girl's frame like a drowning man clinging to driftwood, all Oleane could manage was to say,

"I'm home."

She, like everything else from that colony, would disappear in the night. Gone, across the sea to the Sharlayan homeland. The old Voss estate would be reclaimed by nature, and within the bedroom that had been Erica's domain, would grow a single silver lily. The goblins that would eventually overrun the old ruins would strip the family estate of anything they could use, tearing down old walls to build pipes and engines and to prepare to make their own lives in the house. But, for reasons none could ever name, never once did any disturb that gentle lily.

Life in Old Sharlayan, The Calamity, and the present day

- Life in Old Sharlayan, The Calamity, and the present day -

Oleane settled, for all intents and purposes, into her new life in Old Sharlayan with a fair amount of ease. While there had inevitably been questions and a few wondering glances given to the strange Duskwight that had come off the colony's transport ship, the scholars of the world's foremost place of learning held little prejudice for the girl and treated her with kindness. Likewise, despite growing up for a fair number of years in the rough upbringing of an isolated clan, Oleane took to the more formal and polite society of Old Sharlayan like a duck to water, quickly grasping the poise and lexicon of her new surroundings. Though, that only occurred after Oleane finally stopped clinging to Erica like she intended to never let the other girl go, an apparently difficult task that took no small amount of mental effort on Oleane's part.

The main struggle Oleane faced was trying to figure just how exactly she could define herself in this strange new location. On one hand, the Voss family called her a ward, and Erica treated her like a sister. But Oleane never felt like she was part of the family exactly; not because of physical differences, but that something of that wild girl that had been trained to hunt and scavenge never truly left her even as she was taught proper refinement and etiquette. She was not exactly restless – indeed she took to the lessons from the studium with a singular focus, and her tutors were impressed by her hunger for knowledge. But the idea of being adopted by a family (even a family she respected and loved) never seemed to agree with her, not while she still saw herself as the daughter to the community she had left behind in the hinterlands.

In end, she found that she was only truly comfortable when she took on her old role, that of Erica's lady-in-waiting. Erica was exasperated that Oleane would continue with this when it wasn't necessary, and found the Duskwights somewhat formal mannerisms when she was in this role overly stuffy, but in the end accepted that Oleane was free to do as she wished. And besides that, both she and Oleane found that the quickly growing trend of Sharlayan house servants wearing butler suits regardless of gender was somehow agreeable.

Thusly did Oleane spend the next years of her life. She was kept busy between her duties to Erica and her studies, especially after she discovered there was a course on stealth and espionage that made the most of her already budding talents of keeping out of sight. When asked why she even wanted to sign up for the course, she could only answer honestly; she had someone she wanted to protect above all else.
While inevitably always busy, this space of years were ones of content. Oleane found having a solid routine helped to ground her, and the fact that it gave her plenty of time to spend with her now much beloved Erica was all she needed. She grew from slightly gangly young girl into a confident woman, full of poise and composure.

…The fact that Erica seemed endlessly miffed that Oleane had grown into the taller of the two also helped, of course.

Speaking of, the two of them were closer than ever, and had truly settled into a comfortable pattern. While Erica still seemed to desire that Oleane drop the formal role she had taken for herself, she accepted their strange dichotomy for it was, and in her turn grew to be a promising inheritor to her family estate. The only divergent point between the two was, oddly, their stance to the world outside their bubble of existence. Oleane had quickly found Old Sharlayan's stance on foreign policy was one that agreed with her most assuredly. To her, it mattered not what occurred outside of her tiny realm of existence; as long as Erica was safe and happy, nothing else seemed to matter. Erica, however, took just the opposite. It seemed her time in the hinterland's colony had given her more of a mind that worried about the world at large. She regularly and loudly complained of the Forum's stance of non-intervention, and believed that the growing conflict in Eorzea was more reason to take action, not less. This difference of stances was something that both debated frequently, but never with heat. Despite their differences, Erica and Oleane truly were harmonic, and for the longest time it seemed nothing could occur that would split them apart again.

As with many things, the decent of Dalamud promised to change all that.

Like many even in Old Sharlayan, the Voss family watched the slow fall of the red moon with fear, and even Oleane felt ice slowly grip around her heart as it became clear the celestial body was not changing its course. While Eorzea would be the sight of the impact, none could pretend to hope that they wouldn't be affected by such a titanic event as this even so far from its landing spot. Oleane felt this concern most keenly, but not from a physical standpoint. Instead, she watched as Erica turned slowly more and more stricken as the potentially catastrophic events over the Carteneau flats begun to play out, eating less and spending more time staring out across the sea, seemingly in a daze. Oleane attended to her as best she could, but nothing seemed to be able to shake the girl from her stupor.

Oleane had been in her room, fitfully trying to sleep, when she learned of the horrific shattering of Dalamud. Almost as horrifying was how she learned of it – Erica had slipped into her bed, pale as a ghost, and whispered out the news with the tone of a woman broken. Oleane had held her, and tried in vain to brush away Erica's tears, as the world seemed to shift in the space of that one night.

Over the next five years, things changed a great deal. The Voss family had most of their prestige in the Gleaners they both trained and employed, but the temporary breakdown of link pearl communications made it difficult in the years following to maintain their established systems. Erica eventually recovered from the initial shock, but was both more withdrawn and yet more outspoken than ever – she rarely shared her thoughts with Oleane anymore, but was more adamant than ever that Sharlayan non-intervention was the poison that was slowly rotting the centre of learning from the inside out.

Oleane for her part warred with herself over those five years. Did she support Erica, who was so dear to her, despite the belief that they would both be safer if things stayed the course? Was it better to act in her mistresses' best interests despite her wishes, or should she forgo this hesitation which had gripped her and allow herself to believe in the cause which Erica seemed to wholly put her faith? What even was the RIGHT thing to do, for a woman who had so thoroughly convinced herself that she was only truly comfortable in the place of an aide to the person she loved most?

Erica herself asked her directly, once. She had, like the very night of Dalamud's fall, crept silently into Oleane's bed, quiet as a ghost. In a voice that sounded almost ethereal as it slipped through the still darkness, Erica had asked,

"…'Lean, do you believe in anything? Anything at all?"

Oleane, heart somewhere in her throat, had simply said they should talk in the morning, and turned over in the bed. Erica had said nothing.

The very next morning, the very worst thing that Oleane could imagine occurred – Erica was missing.

She did not leave a note, but likewise her room showed no signs of a struggle. It appeared, for all the world, like the girl had simply up and vanished into thin air. Oleane herself searched Old Sharlayan high and low like a woman possessed, forgoing even sleep or rest for three whole days until it had become clear that Erica was no longer within the confines of the city. Indeed, the only solid lead that could be found revealed the worst-case scenario, that Erica had slipped aboard an outgoing ship, almost certainly headed for Eorzea.

The Voss family were besides themselves with concern, and were sorely tempted to divert all Gleaners still under their employ to search high and low for their missing daughter. But Oleane (for once acting like the adopted daughter of the house she technically still was) vetoed the idea. The Voss family had been hit harder than most in Sharlayan following the Calamity, and their once great fortune had been stretched to the breaking point trying to recover their network of Gleaners, and to divert them from their work now would ensure that there wasn't a Voss estate for Erica to come back to. This was especially the case as, for reasons unknown, the Forum was suddenly ramping up its Gleaner operations, and to disregard the orders of Forum was simply something none could afford. No, the course of was clear. Oleane would sail alone to Eorzea, and track down Erica herself.

It was the only thing she could do. After all, she had yet to give Erica the answer to her question.
Oleane stood on the rocking deck of the ship as it slipped away upon the waves, Old Sharlayan quickly becoming little more than a speck on the horizon. Strangely, Oleane didn't feel as sad as she had during the boat ride that had taken her to the Sharlayan motherland. On that journey, it had felt like she had been leaving something precious behind, and the only thing stopping the weight of despair from crushing her had been Erica's hand so firmly wrapped around her own. Now, however, she felt almost nothing. Nothing, except maybe a still burning determination to find the one most precious to her.

Afterall, this time she wasn't sailing away her home. If anything, she was sailing straight towards it.

Oleane turned, looking across the infinite expanse of blue.

"Wait for me, milady…wait for me, Erica…"

RP Hooks:
- Her endless quest to find her charge means she can pretty easily slot into any endeavour that entails journeying across the wide expanses of Eorzea, and to join any large-scale group that could help her gather info. Likewise, since it's a long-term endeavour she can often justify stopping to help out others along her path.
- Any connection to the perception of Duskwights or Sharlayan matters.
- Also open to shifting so a character is in the position that Erica occupies as a default; will be done on a case-by-case basis, ask if interested!

Quirks/Extras:
- Glasses aren't cosmetic; she actually gets pretty bad eye strain trying to read without them, and has just started to wear them all of the time out of habit.
- Is now more comfortable in a butler suit than out of it. Has a strange tendency of wearing gloves at all hours, making her fingers and knuckles oddly sensitive during the rare times she isn't wearing any kind of hand-wear.
- Enjoys sweet tea, something Erica teased her endlessly about.

 

[Baddamobs]

Musing Willow

Musing Willow - Coliseum Entrepreneur, and lover of appealing distractions

Name: Musing Willow

Race: HellsGuard Roegadyn

Intro:
"It can't be considered time wasted if its time spent with those you care for. Case in point, I wouldn't consider spending a while snuggling up to you a diversion. More of a necessity, really."
= A Coliseum Sponsor whose open affections and flirtations go hand in hand with both her protective nature and easy-going approach to life. Though, between her Coliseum work and her personal goal of finding her Calamity scattered adoptive-siblings, she's kept busy enough – never so much she can't find time for a nap with you, though. =

Job: Coliseum Sponsor/Manager (ex-fighter)

Personality:
Mellow in tone and attitude, Willow can seem somewhat low-key at first thanks to her understated way of going about things, and thus it can be something of a surprise when her flirty and openly teasing nature comes to the forefront. Confident enough in herself that she feels no shame in cooing over everything and everyone she finds cute, Willow has a habit of trying to act as a doting figure to everyone she comes across that she remotely likes, though she respects others boundaries. Despite having a life filled with conflict of every nature one can think of, Willow has no great love of fighting itself, though will also have few scruples about using everything at her disposal if push finally comes to shove. Likewise, she drives hard to achieve her aims and goals, and is quite determined when pursing them, even if she often reverts to a somewhat lackadaisical and irreverent attitude when not actively working towards an end goal. Willow is open with her affection, and could be described as 'free spirited' when it comes to relationships, though she at least has the sense of mind to make this clear from the outset. Willow would never seek to betray another, and overall holds loyalty as a quality of great importance.

Family:
- Several others who were raised alongside her in the Children's Ward: of various ages and different races, the group was around half a dozen or so in total. While not the only Roegadyn in the group, Willow did become something of a big sister to the crew. With one exception, their current whereabouts and states of being are unknown.
- Extended family back in Abalathia's Spine: it is likely that Willow has some extended family back in the hidden Hellsguard tribes that sequester themselves in the mountains, but Willow wouldn't want to know even if she was allowed to go back; they are as strangers to her.
- Deceased mother and father: killed by criminals in a confrontation born of a situation with Somnus. Willow was very young when it occurred, and can recall only a little of her parents; her mother's red hair tied into a ponytail she would tug at, and the smell of sword polish on her father's hands.

Affiliations:
- Has a cadre of fighters under her employ, though her gladiators lean more towards eccentric or unconventional displays rather than brawlers gunning for the top billing. Are sometimes used as side-shows in the Masked Carnival. Not a massive operation by any means, but does bring in a good amount of gil.
- Has close tie to the Children's Ward of Frondale's Phrontistery, and most of the profit from her ventures goes towards donations to the ward. Will occasionally stop by when time permits, and enjoys coddling the children as much as she can.

Background:

Early Life and the Children's Ward

- Early life and the Children's Ward -
Willow is a Hellsguard Roegadyn that, like many in modern Eorzea, has never seen the supposed 'gates of hell' mountain range that her people have as a namesake. Her parents did originate from the hidden villages and tribes in Abalathia's Spine, and had descended in their exile to the twisting streets of Ul'Dah where they would meet each other and eventually bring Willow into the world. Tragically they would not have long to enjoy with their only daughter, as their work as sell swords for the Brass Blades led them into a confrontation with a criminal group smuggling Somnus that would end up costing them their lives. Willow had only been a few summers old, barely more than a babe, when she was hastily and unceremoniously dumped into the care of the Children's Ward within Frondale's Phrontistery. Struck by the grief of losing her family and being shunted into a cramped space with strangers was nearly enough to break the girl entirely, and she nearly wasted away from refusing meals and staring blankly out over the crowds that came and went through the Scholar's Walk. This might have been her fate maybe forever, if another child in the ward hadn't dared to approach the girl and try to be her friend – a tiny Hyur girl that the already sizable Roegadyn lass towered over. Despite her clear apprehension, the girl made an earnest attempt day after day to talk to Willow, and to try and encourage to eat or at least play. Despite her grief, this open and free show friendship did eventually chip at the black sadness that had consumed the newly orphaned Willow, and eventually the tiny spark of life came back into the girl's eyes. Her voice, croaky from disuse, responded to her new friend for the very first time, and with it the Roegadyn lass seemed to slowly creak back to life.
Saved from the brink, and now actually able to look around herself, Willow found life in the Ward was not entirely horrible. While a lack of funding forever stopped them from having more than the bare essentials, the other children were united by their tragic circumstance and showed each other care and affection without motive. Likewise, the adults who kept the Ward (while constantly overworked and perpetually tired) were good people, and did their best to make Willow and the others comfortable. Slowly, still sore from grief, Willow allowed herself to integrate more with other orphans, and to begin eating and playing as girl her age should. She found, if not always sensitive, the other children were goodhearted friends and boon companions. She even finding herself smiling again, the very first time she had fallen into an exhausted heap alongside the hyur girl that had become her very best friend. It was also around this time that Willow gave herself her current name; before this point, she had been using a different name given by her parents. Her old name had been associated with her family's linage, and like the tradition of a Hellsguard changing their name when they left the clan's mountainous home, Willow decided she could no longer be defined by it. Thusly, over time, she became to known simply as 'Big Sis Willow' despite actually being younger than most – she was tall and gangly even in her younger years.
A few years would pass in this peaceful if financially strained existence – Willow find herself reaching the awkward age where one was older than child but not quite yet a teen. During this time, she would busy herself by helping to care for the younger children, and likewise to help out with errands and jobs for the Ward. Between tasks, Willow and the small group she had become most familiar with – a motely ground of about half a dozen – spent their free time making games along Ul'Dah's main thoroughfares and darting through its shadowy alleys. In was during one such game that Willow discovered the place that would become her second home after the ward – Ul'Dah's Bloodsands coliseum.
Perhaps a place of blood sports, wherein competitors would be considered lucky if they only lost a limb to a towering monster, was not exactly a place for young children to sneak their way into because of curiosity. However, Ul'Dah is very much a city built on its martial prowess, and thus not many paid too much attention to the waifs that had drifted in to stare wide eyed at the gladiators in battle. Some of orphans whooped and cheered, other turned queasy and rushed off to lose their lunch. Willow, however, was transfixed. For that young girl, everything in that space – the shouting crowds, the clash of steel, the overpowering smell of blood – seemed almost otherworldly. Like for just a moment, she had stepped out of Eorzea and into the hell her ancestors had once guarded the entrance of. And, strangely, it felt nostalgic too. The blooms of red were a almost familiar shade, and the smell metal grease applied to swords and armour was one that Willow felt like she had once known intimately.
That very day, she announced to her carers in the ward that she would taking up a job to help pay for the Phrontistery's care. Namely, she would find work amongst the bloodied and glorious fighters of Ul'Dah's most deadly occupation.

Time in the Bloodsands

- Time in the Bloodsands -
Willow's proclamation did not exactly please Willow's carers. They had not raised the girl for so many years for her to throw herself into the danger of working at the arena on a whim. She clarified that she would naturally not be actually fighting, at least not yet: she was far too young and essentially just skin and bones. Even in the bravado of youth, she was aware she couldn't take to any fight and hope to survive as she was. No, instead she would begin at the very bottom of the ladder. While not exactly something the arena advertised, they did pay youths to run about and do some of the grunt work, helping to carry supplies into various store rooms, helping clean up around both the audience seats and the titular gore-soaked sands. It was long hours for shoddy pay, but Willow used the time and opportunity to catch whatever glances she could of the arena's gladiators. Between mere seconds of snatched glances over a course of several years, Willow slowly learned how gladiators trained, who they spoke to for equipment, and how they cultivated the mentality one had to fight and kill. Likewise, in whatever time she had, Willow began to train herself, starting humbly from simply running laps up and down Ul'Dah's main streets to swinging a weighted training sword until her arms grew numb from the motions.
Summers and winters passed, children came and went from the Ward, and Willow grew tall and powerful. She had just about reached the age where she would have been too old to stay at the Ward, when she finally submitted a request to take to the Bloodsands herself. While certainly a memorable event for many reasons, the one thing she can recall with perfect clarity even years later was that, for that first otherwise low attendance amateur bout, all her friends from the Ward had been cheering her from the stands. And that, when she drew her blade, it felt like everything in her life finally clicked into place.
For the space of the battle, in the seconds that seems to drag into small eternities, everything else sunk away. All the heat of the desert, all the concerns that her ambitions were too great, even the still lingering grief that she had never really known her parents. Everything faded into the background, until all that remained was the familiar motions of a sword swing or the crash of a weapon against a shield, and the stark practical facts of two bodies trying to harm each other. All thoughts greater than simply moving her body in practiced motions faded away. And then – so fast that it took a moment to understand what had even happened – Willow stood over her opponent, her ears ringing from her friends' relieved cries.
What followed after was something of a humble but profitable career. While she never grew to the heights of the more renowned fighters that the Bloodsands had seen, Willow did have something of a reputation as a fairly consistent fighter. And for the numerous betting and gambling rings that hovered around the arena like vultures about a corpse, 'consistency' is the literal golden word. Combined with both the considerable wage for gladiators and a few intermittent sponsorships, Willow found herself with a sudden windfall of gil.
For a girl that had been raised on mostly scraps and spare coins, the amount of income a successful gladiatorial career brought in was nearly overwhelming, despite in reality being fairly humble. She had enough sense about her to spend some of it on practical ends like a place to stay and replacing the rusted scrap she had been using as equipment thus far, but was quite at a loss for what to do with the rest. She did, with a guilty start, realize the obvious answer of sending some to the Children's Ward, but around this age she was disappointingly covetous. The amount she sent was minor, and most of her cash she hoarded away. Similarly, she became busy with training and soaking in the roar of the crowd enough that she went to visit the Children's Ward less and less, spending more time boasting in drinkeries. She did stay in contact with her friends, but even they became less vital to her as she fully immersed herself in her new work.
And thus, for a good many years, life entered into an enjoyable if bloody structure. Willow would continue her fighting career, honing her techniques, strengths and growing a little in affluence but never much in fame. Likewise, she herself grew and changed, until the confident and irreverent woman had replaced the quiet girl she had once been entirely. While she always tried to keep focused on the next step, it wouldn't be a lie to say that her ego had received something of an unearned boost from her minor renown.
This period was also where Willow's somewhat 'free spirited' idea of relationships started to form. When one spends their days fighting for their life, they begin to use the time in-between trying to make the most of things; what few coins Willow didn't secret away or were spent on equipment were almost immediately spent guzzling down drinks by the flagon at whatever inn or tavern she stumbled into. Likewise, with her blood running hot after a successful fight and her mind abuzz with alcohol, she found herself sharing a bed with an appealing stranger more often than not. It may have also been the place where her more teasing nature found its birthplace; many of the ones she took abed had been the few bright-eyed fans she earned, and she found the fact that a few careful words from her would cause them to flush. It was a fact that was endearing as it was oddly gratifying. This habit did earn her a few unflattering names, but she was never truly vexed by this. Let the detractors say what they will, many would be the same ones cheering when she won the next fight anyway, and those that weren't rarely crossed her mind anyway.
She was, undoubtedly, happy in this period of time. Life was simple, she had seemingly found her calling, and on the cushy seats of the victors table even the growing trouble with the beast tribes and the Garleans felt far away. Her old life at the Children's Ward felt long behind her, when she cared to think about it at all.
It was around this time, when the red moon of Dalamud begun to make its descent.

The Calamity

- The Calamity -
Much like the growing red glare in the sky, life and reality crept up to Willow slowly but with malicious purpose. As doomsayers started filling the streets, the stands around the Bloodsands began to empty. While some still came, mostly for the distraction from the growing feeling of dread in the air, a great number of others had locked themselves away from the descending moon, and even more had fled the city entirely. Not helping matters was that many of the more affluent sponsors and managers had pulled away, many now seeking to save as many coins as they could to prepare for…whatever the falling moon would bring.
The City States had mobilized what forces they could, and there was talk of some adventures working to repel both the foreign invaders and seeking to stop the moon from making its cataclysmic descent. However, on the eve of the battle of Carteneau, there was a feeling in the air of hopeless inevitability.
Willow found herself suddenly feeling very small, very powerless, and very alone. She wandered through the empty arena like a ghost, footsteps echoing down stands and among seats that should have been filled to bursting. All at once, her shining, comfortable life had been stripped away, and she found herself wondering what it had been all for. If Dalamud really did represent the end of days, would she be able to look at everything she had done and be content when the falling moon finally did impact the star?
For some things she found she could be content. She was proud of her efforts to become strong, for that was exactly what she had become, and she was glad that she had made something of a name even if it would not ring particularly clearly in the history books. But when she thought about all the gil she had placed away, hoarding it like a dragon, she only felt empty. What was the point of collected wealth, if in the end one was alone? Why now, when she had worked so long and so hard to amass such coinage, did it all feel so pointless? It was this thought that, almost without her noticing, had caused her to drift through the city and find her way back to Frondale's Phrontistery. There she found not only the children and their carers, but the hyur girl who was her oldest friend. When they locked eyes across the room, the Hellsguard feeling such a rush of emotions she had no name for that she was almost paralysed, all the other girl had done was smile and hold out her hand.
When Dalamud burst open and the Elder Dragon came roaring out into the world, Willow had been huddled in the corner with the rest of the Ward's occupants, a bundle of waifs shivering in her protective hold. Even as the thunderous strikes of Bahamut's blows caused the earth to shake and for cracks to go snaking up the Ward's ancient and unstable walls, she had simply held them tighter. And when the rain of dust from the ceiling was joined by the sound of rending stone and collapsing beams, she had held them tightest of all.
When at least dawn came, and found Willow still alive, it also found her almost hidden by the great cloud of dust and rock around her. It would have almost been comical, except a large chunk of the ceiling had given away directly above her, and a block the size of a shield had landed heavily on her. She had tried to hide the damage, but it had quickly become apparent the blow had been severe; it had bounced off her shoulder and knocked the bone and muscle out of place. Even as her arm hung limp by her side, however, Willow just smiled through the flares of pain. She was glad she had been there – better she had been hurt then one of the children she had been covering. Better her body had done so good protecting someone, rather than its trained purpose of harm.
Willow's smile had faded, however, when the motely group had looked out over the city, through the newly created hole in the wall. In the event that quickly became known as the Calamity, Eorzea had been ruined. Great rents marked the star where the dragon's furious power had struck, and the horizon was marred with the scattered pieces of Dalamud like the ancient moon was now one giant corpse over every hill. It was clear that hardship awaited all who had survived the night, made all the harder because of sheer loss of life that had occurred in those scant few hours.
Despite everything, however, Willow did not feel despair at this. Indeed, she felt oddly resolute and determined, something that surprised her. She eventually came to the conclusion, as she looked up at the sky on that cruelly grey day, that for the first time in a long while she had something to work towards. Something worthwhile.
She, like most of the people of Eorzea, had nearly lost everything. But in that moment, where life had hung so precariously in the balance, she had also found the perfect clarity of everything she still had yet to live for.
It was a comforting thought, as she held the hand of a crying child and listened to the wails and shouts of the living, as the dawn rose on that very first new day.

Post Calamity and the Present Day

- Post Calamity and the Present day -
The next five years saw a great many changes, though some came faster than others. The first and most immediate effect was how much Willow's life shifted to find a place within the chaotic whirlwind that followed the Calamity. With so much displaced or destroyed after Carteneau, much of common life was completely upended; trade was non-existent for a long while, and basic supplies had become dangerously scant. For those first few years, Willow simply did what she could to keep herself and those of the Children's Ward safe and fed, an unsteady and slow process that all of Eorzea was attempting to do at large.
However, it became easier with time, as more and more of Eorzea began to steady itself. Those years were still harsh, and for many of them Willow was simply glad to live through to the next day or to secure even a single meal for the Children's Ward, but she felt oddly sure that things would improve. More than anything the public addresses that the sultana, Nanamo Ul Namo, appeared to deliver helped to buoy Willow's spirits – while life was hard, it was also true that every day more and more people helped to support each other. Willow herself spent almost as much time helping complete strangers in the later days as she did help caring for the kids that had come under her care, and day by day it seemed Ul'Dah managed to pick itself out of the muck a little more.
It was around the fourth year where the topic of recommencing the fights at the Bloodsands started to be made in earnest. While there had been diversions and distractions to help lift the battered people's spirits before this point, there hadn't been much talk of the arena. More than anything, the money had simply not been there. However, all the old sponsors and wealthy elite were returning, and the status quo had been at least somewhat restored, and thus it seemed the perfect time to get the old tournaments up and running again. Willow, however, would not be joining as she had previously. While her arm had long since healed enough for most daily purposes, the blow against her shoulder meant she would never fight quite as well as she once had, and the fire that had once burned for glory had mellowed in the intervening years. However, she still had a good amount of gil saved up. Most had been spent on helping in the years following the Calamity (when gil could actually be spent – most preferred trading in food or goods over shiny metal in those first years), but she still had some stored away for exactly this occasion.
While she would never again step up as a fighter, she knew the ways of the arena and its subtitles and 'politics' better than anyone. And thus, she was in the prime position to help others get the start she herself had once strived for.
Thusly, it was the during the fourth year after the red moon's fall that Willow began her profession as a Bloodsands sponsor and manager, helping to fund the efforts of up-and-coming fighters seeking a name for themselves. It seemed like her style of fighting must have been the same as her efforts at leading others, as she never did find a true star amongst her roster, but she had a very solid line up of reliable gladiators. They never soared high, but they earned the fans they did get with sheer grit and effort, and likewise both they and Willow ended up with a tidy profit. This time, Willow had not even a single doubt about where she would be sending the lion's share of her money, and the Children's Ward enjoyed a new stream of regular donations. Though, Willow did keep some to one side; while she was hoping another earth shaking near-apocalypse was not something she would have to worry about, it never hurt to be prepared.
This new arrangement has continued to the present day, which has found Willow as a fairly successful manager. While nowhere near the wealth of the members of the Syndicate, she does now have enough to be fairly comfortable, and to continue to invest in her roster of fighters while still supporting the Children's Ward. This new comfort, however, has given rise to a new line of thought. While the Ward survived the Calamity and she can confirm her oldest friend as still amongst the living, the other members of the orphan crew she used to be close to had never surfaced. With communication entirely shut off for nearly five whole years, such tales of lost or missing friends and family are not uncommon. However, with her new position, Willow has begun to think that maybe it was about time she actually makes an effort to start reaching out and trying to find them. While she prays that she will find them alive, even if they didn't survive those harsh years, at least she will know for sure.
Thus it is that, with the Bloodsand's off-season just about starting and good amount of personal funds saved up, Willow sets out to travel wherever rumour, the wind of curiosity or just a good distraction will take her. Much like her attitude with everything now adays, she doesn't intend to rush: there's a lot of life out there to find, after all.

"I'm glad that, just when I think I've seen it all, something new comes around to prove that the world is still full of wonderful surprises. And you, I think, are the most wonderful of all…"

RP Hooks:
- Connections to the coliseum + masked carnival, and fight entertainment in general: whether you're seeking a sponsor or a manager, running a rival competitor, or simply seeking a diversion, Willow will happily answer any calls.
- Endless quest to find her scattered adoptive-siblings: while she knows it's not a mission that can be completed quickly, Willow is continually seeking hints of her lost siblings, and will personally set up for any clues. [Can set up something wherein a character is one such, if there's particular interest.]
- Love for life and everything in it: Willow's free-spirited nature means she's always on the lookout for the next activity, venture, or just distraction. People she finds are the most delightful diversions of all, and thus anything that sounds interesting enough will catch her eye.

Quirks/Extra:
- An absolute cuddle-bug; will try and hug and be open with her physical affections as much as propriety and the subject of her sentiment permits. One of her favourite things in the world is to lay hugging someone to her and dozing for a couple of hours.
- Has an oddly sensitive neck; built solidly everywhere else, Willow is oddly weak to any attention to her neck, and a sure-fire way of earning her tenderness is to pay apply as much ministrations to it as possible.
- (More than usual) Flirty drunk; while against other mind-altering substances, Willow enjoys a good drink, and her normal flirtations and teases reach a kind of new plateau when she's deep enough into her cups.