<a class="username" data-user-id="1030" data-username="@Morrigan" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/1030/">@Morrigan</a><br/><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"><span style="font-size: 10px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"><br/>
</span></span>
<div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
<button class="bbCodeSpoiler-button button" data-xf-click="toggle" data-xf-init="tooltip" title="Click to reveal or hide spoiler" type="button"><span class="button-text">
<span>Spoiler</span>
</span></button>
<div class="bbCodeSpoiler-content">
<div class="bbCodeBlock bbCodeBlock--spoiler">
<div class="bbCodeBlock-content"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"><span style="font-size: 10px">Name: Flanna “Red” O’Brien<br/>
<br/>
Age:  19<br/>
<div class="bbImageWrapper lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="/proxy.php?image=http%3A%2F%2Fi65.tinypic.com%2F122j9u1.jpg&amp;hash=ff5a7fca654b24f4b13b57b948bcf87d" title="122j9u1.jpg">
<img alt="122j9u1.jpg" class="bbImage lazyload" data-src="/proxy.php?image=http%3A%2F%2Fi65.tinypic.com%2F122j9u1.jpg&amp;hash=ff5a7fca654b24f4b13b57b948bcf87d" data-url="http://i65.tinypic.com/122j9u1.jpg" data-zoom-target="1" height="" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" style="" title="" width=""/>
<noscript><img alt="122j9u1.jpg" class="bbImage" data-url="http://i65.tinypic.com/122j9u1.jpg" data-zoom-target="1" height="" src="/proxy.php?image=http%3A%2F%2Fi65.tinypic.com%2F122j9u1.jpg&amp;hash=ff5a7fca654b24f4b13b57b948bcf87d" style="" title="" width=""/></noscript>
</div>
</span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"></span><br/>
<span style="font-size: 10px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"><br/>
Red’s long braid swung just over her shoulder as she bent down to slip her brown moccasins onto her feet. The hood of her hickory-colored cloak tumbled just over her freckled nose. Brushing the hood just to the top of her head, the woman quickly averted her eyes towards the mirror in the hallway. Satisfied with her appearance, although there wouldn’t be much of anything or anyone to please in this part of the woods, she turned back to the door before proceeding to make her exit.<br/>
<br/>
It was still early. The birds had yet to begin their morning ballad and the sun was only slightly peeking from behind the green spring hills in the distance. The humidity in the air had left a rich, wet dew settled upon the ground. Red drew her cloak a little closer to herself. This part of the forest was so serene, especially before the woodland creatures began to wake from their own slumber. She certainly understood why her grandmother had appreciated this region so much. Even though she had been cast from the village, she couldn't have chosen a more peaceful location to take up residence. <br/>
<br/>
The woman's brown eyes surveyed the forest before her, slowly. Its tranquil essence made it easy for her to forget that the forest could still be quite a dangerous place. Her grandmother had always warned her about the beings that lurked around trees and lived in the most undisturbed areas of the forest. However, Red had heard the stories and warnings for so many years and without her own anecdotal validation, they became harder and harder to believe. That was until she’d discovered her grandmothers mangled remains several days ago. The young woman swallowed hard, pushing the thought from her mind. She’d done what she could to provide her relative with a proper burial and although she wouldn’t be laid to rest with her children, she would be at peace in the area that she loved the most. A sigh escaped from between Red’s rosy lips and she pressed onward, eager to get to that particular area before the sun had the opportunity to cruelly beat down on her.<br/>
<br/>
The meadow couldn’t have been more than a fifteen-minute walk from the cottage. Its tall cool season grasses flirted with the woman’s pale legs beneath her vanilla-colored tunic as she approached an abnormally large maple tree, beneath which her grandmother lay. Its green and auburn leaves danced as a slight wind blew, almost as if it were beckoning for the woman. Her bronze hues were cast downward and her eyes followed the irregular delineated patch of dirt over the grave. Red had made a habit of coming to visit her grandmother every morning, however, she had also wanted to make sure that the site continued to be undisturbed by any hungrily roaming wildlife. The woman sank to her knees on top of the lumpy heap, letting her bare legs melt into the damp soil. She found herself plucking several adjacent flowers from ground to contrast the grave site's heterogeneity. The woman eyed her condolence grievously. Though her tears had finally stopped falling, it didn’t distract from the fact that Red still missed her grandmother greatly and her absence had left her with a gaping whole in the center of her heart. </span></span></span>