Rowan M. Carling
Brilliant:: No ifs, ands or buts about it, Rowan is a smarty pants. Her talent showcased itself early in her young life. Possessing a brilliant mind, Rowan is marked by unusual and impressive intellectual acuity. She possesses sound judgment and rationality; she has the ability to cope with new problems and to use the power of reasoning and inference effectively. She always learned quickly and with great ease. Rowan always possessed the capacity to grasp difficult and abstract concepts. She is quick to understand. Rowan has always been ruled by reason and rationality. She enjoys thinking critically, which lends itself well to her career as a lawyer.
Educated:: She was always at the top of her class. She was Valedictorian when she graduated high school, and graduating Suma Cum Laude before she attended Harvard Medical School, where she again graduated at the top of her class.
Sarcastic:: Woah, boy. Rowan has always been one for words. Usually quippy, clever, always sarcastic. She tries to down play her vulnerability, and emotions by putting on a tough face and using words to parry like swords. Her words are her best defense. This lady has been crowned the queen of sarcasm. It's pretty much her one and only means of communication, at least her preferred method. Her speech is typically marked by or given to using irony in order to mock or convey contempt of others. She is quick, witty, and snaps back with retorts that suit her mood. She never lets anyone get away with insulting her. If she doesn't say something, she will stare down her opponent, and since she is a witch, there is something in her eyes that dares those to defy her at their own peril.
Enchanting:: The epitome of an Aries, Rowan possesses incredible personal magnetism; she is a bundle of energy and dynamism, brimming with charm and charisma. She exudes it, and people are drawn to it, drawn to her, like moths to a flame. Rowan is enthusiastic, full of life; many people are shocked such a petite frame houses such a large personality.
Independent:: Rowan is fiercely independent and self-sufficient, she has been that when she was quite young. She possesses the ability to quickly and cleverly overcome difficult situations through her own creative means. She is highly capable of devising ways and means to resolve problems through inventive solutions. She tackles crisis with resourcefulness and sarcastic remarks.
Perfectionist:: Strives for flawlessness, setting excessively high performance standards. She refuses to accept any standards short of perfection. She is overly critical of herself and of others. Rowan can be compulsive. She measures herself worth by productivity and accomplishment. She is utterly competitive
Confident:: Rowan possesses incredible charm, and always appears cool and composed. She is somewhat aloof, interesting and secretive; and has only a few close friends that she trusts. Rowan never appears nervous, shy or weak, she puts on a brave face and is always up for challenge. She is a fighter to the end, never backs down, she does not give up and always fights back.
Insecure:: However, as confident as she is, Rowan is fairly insecure as well. While she can be somewhat haughty despite a confident exterior, she still struggles with feelings of insecurity. A result of this insecurity, Rowan does not trust easily, and when she does is always tremendously hurt when she feels betrayed.
Seductive:: She catches people's eye, and won't let go. She is tempting and attractive, entirely irresistible. Alluring to those around her, she doesn't abuse it, but knows how to use it to her advantage.
Haunted:: Although she is a powerful witch and a banshee, things are far from perfect for the young talent. Sometimes she finds the Spirits playing tricks on her, spells backfiring, or not even working at all. Although she is strong, she sometimes loses control, always in the wake of hearing the Spirits whispering in her head, usually with serious and sometimes disastrous consequences. She has episodes where she has blacked out, where she finds herself called to places and people without knowing how or more importantly, why. As someone who maintains obsessive control in all facets of her life, losing control is her biggest fear. Especially when it comes to something as potentially deadly as her magic
Rowan was born the Daughter of Death; Daughter of Morgana Le Faye, famed Necromancer and Head of the Spellcaster Council, and Merlin, the Trickster Fae, banished from the Seelie Court long ago for breaking the greatest of Faerie laws. Merlin and Morgana had a long sordid love affair that resulted in Merlin tutoring Morgana in forbidden magic. The immortal Fae was cast out of the Seelie court, banished to the Unseelie realm where his trickster ways were readily welcomed. The banishment from his home court hardened the Faerie's heart and he blamed Morgana, despite the inexplicable pull and desire he felt for the ebony haired Spellcaster. Consequently, their relationship became more complicated over the centuries, but still they were bound, their all consuming affair always eventually pulling them back to one another.
Twenty Seven years ago, they were pulled together yet again. In the heat of passion, two creatures with Death magic running through their veins created the ultimate Life; a child of their very own. Neither knew what magic had been created, and went their separate ways again, torn apart by their own troubles. It was only weeks later, the great sorceress Morgana realized that she was with child. Still scorned from centuries past with Merlin, she told him nothing of the child he had fathered. And brought the child to term, hiding her pregnancy from those on the council, knowing it could be used against her for political reasons. Merlin discovered her betrayal by mere happenstance, and the betrayal cut deep as he still love Morgana, no matter the games they played, and as the Trickster, there tricks he had up his sleeves even she couldn't anticipate. At the birth of their child, Merlin appeared, feeling the call of his Blood, and appeared at Morgana's side, much to her surprise. He gathered of the mewling newborn into his arms, and using Fae magic, wiped the memory of their child from Morgana's mind, until nothing but a soulful ache remained. And Merlin disappeared into the night with his child.
Although he had been exiled from the Seelie court, the Queen kept a close eye on the Great Trickster, and her little spies brought word to her of what the exiled Fae had done in anger to his lover. The Fae hold their secrets dear, and when Merlin had shared forbidden Fae magic with Morgana, the Queen had promised him punishment. And still Merlin had not learned. So the Seelie Queen was forced to act again.
She found Merlin, the babe in his arms, and quickly wove a great illusion over him, and stole the baby from his very arms. The same magic he had used on Morgana was now used against him, and he forgot his child, as he has forced Morgana to do the same. The Queen, feeling the magic coursing the the child, knew then she needed to be protected, and holding the baby close in her arms, brought herself to the Faerie mounds outside of the city of Seattle, where a strong ally could be found.
It was under these circumstances that the babe was given to a great Alpha name Fenrir Lovell, who promise the Seelie queen without question that he would protect the babe. In the first moment she was placed into his arms, the great wolf's heart was softened, and he claimed her as his. From that moment, the girl had a father, regardless of blood.
Rowan was raised among the werewolves of the Farkas pack, growing up in Portland, Oregon, entirely unaware of the origins or parentage, aside the fact that Fenrir was not her biological father, not that it mattered. She always knew she was different, and simply assumed it was because she was the only member of the Farkas pack who was not a werewolf. But there was something always at the back of her mind saying that it was more than that. She tried to ignore the nagging feeling, pushing it aside. Rowan had suffered from nightmares from the time she could remember, wakening frequently in the night with screams that pierced that household. Rowan could never explain them, but they continued to haunt her from her earliest memory. It was how she bonded with one of the wolves within the pack, Caleb, a werewolf neighbor living next door. Rowan was a just a wisp of a thing, a tiny child, fiery and passionate. But one night, underneath the plush covers of the small girl's bed, she lay twisted in her sheets, screaming as her nightmares ravaged her in her sleep. She was dragged to consciousness when she heard the sound of tapping at her window. Her copper hair was matted to her forehead in sweat, and opening her eyes she saw another pair reflecting back, watching her, curious and concerned.
The boy cocked his head curiously, and assuredly called out, "Don't worry, I'm here. I won't let anything hurt you." The kindest words a stranger could utter to a terrified, little girl who felt all alone. She sat up in bed, tears still streaming down her face and he whispered, "I'll watch over you." Barely audible, she choked back the words "Why?" And his replied with an absurd grin, "Because that's what friend's do, silly Tiger-lily."And in that moment, that's exactly what she craved, the bond seemingly formed for life in that very instant. She smiled for the first time in weeks, and his own smile grew in return. Sheepishly she crawled from her bed, letting the covers fall, her bare feet on the rug that covered her wooden floor. She waited only a moment before the words came tumbling from her mouth, "Can I stay with you?" His sharp eyes suddenly wide, he nodded his head, and it disappeared into the darkness. She rushed to the windowsill, and saw his dark form offering her a hand as she climbed through it. Crawling through her own window with ease, she accepted his hand, and hand in hand they crossed the lawn their properties shared to his own open bedroom window. Without a second thought, she followed him into his cluttered bedroom, walls plastered with comic book heroes, and followed him to his race car bed. Mirroring him, she slid into it, and curled up in his bed, he sat up, covering her gently with a sheet, patting her shoulder sweetly, he calmed her with tender words, Turning, she kissed him on the cheek and rolled over once more, falling asleep the second her vibrant emerald eyes shut, sleeping without being haunted by terrifying nightmares for the first time since the spirits had begun to torment her. From that moment, they were inseparable, often sneaking into each other's bedrooms to sleep in the comfort of each other's arms. The best of friends.
She had a fairly uneventful childhood, besides the fact that she was the girl who ran with wolves, the girl plagued by nightmares. But that all changed when her powers manifested. She was only eight years old when she sense death for the first time, an uttered her Death wail. She didn't understand it, couldn't wrap her brain about how she had an inexplicable call to Death. It was a week after she had wailed, and the pack was shocked when one of the werewolves was killed by a hunter. They began to whisper that her wail had preceded i, hushed tones uttering those words that sent chills down her spine, Harbinger of Death.
And that was before she raised an animal from the dead. It was only a month after her wail and while the whispers had subsided a little, some in the pack gave Rowan a wide berth, wary of the non wolf, curious if she was something truly more than human. She was inside studying a book of anatomy, one of the first editions of Gray's Anatomy that the curious young girl devoured when a bird flew into the window. The violent crunch sounded loudly and Rowan jumped up to see what had happened, running outside she found the bird, it's neck crumpled, a broken thing. Kneeling, she pulled the delicate thing into her hands, cradling it to her chest and closed her emerald eyes. With her eyes closed and the bird held against her, carefully, in the recesses of Rowan's mind, she could feel the tug of something inexplicable. A flutter of something unseen but felt remaining inside the bird. She couldn't explain, but knew in that moment it was the thing's soul, still tied to it's broken body. Unbidden, eyes still closed, Rowan suddenly found a well of power within herself, tapping into something that had always been there but something she had never understood. Not till now. And with that, somehow she intrinsically knew how to tug on that power, unraveling it like a delicate wire, and psychically stretched in from the well within her to the bird cradled in her small hands
Her best friend was a werewolf, raised together, and the pack was all she knew. From an early age, she showed great scholastic aptitude, excelling in school, and was always setting the curve, the top of her class. Eventually this led to graduating valedictorian from her high school, before she enrolled at Harvard, and later Harvard medical school. Her father was loathe to see her go, and even went so far as to have a friend from a local back in Boston keep an eye on his daughter.
Rowan has only just returned from Boston and school and is currently an intern at the local teaching hospital, working toward her dream of becoming a doctor, specifically a neurosurgeon. Rowan continues to suffer from crippling and disturbing nightmares and knows little about the nature of her powers, sheltered as she was by her Alpha father. She has no idea who her birth parents are, though her blood and magic call to each of them. Nor does she know that her adoptive father's brother, Thorulf Lovell has been watching her over the last twenty six years, and now that she's back, he plan's to use her as means to an end. Starting a war between the Farkas and the Volk.
It's good to be back, eh?
Copper hair danced in the early morning's late winter breeze, as Sophia pulled her peacoat tighter around herself. It only quickened her pace as her shoes made fast work of the pavement underfoot. A small hand, pale fingers tipped in neatly manicured nails, curled around the door's handle, and the petite redhead pulled the glass door open, high heeled feet clicking over the threshold. She was dressed impeccably, fashion foremost to appearance, but hardly the only feature. As an attorney, Sophia knew how important impressions were, that image conveyed and instilled confidence. Patent black leather Mary Jane pumps adorned her feet, adding several inches to her lacking height. Her lean legs, frequently displayed, were bare, thighs covered only by a thin sheath of fabric. Despite the revealing length of the skirt, it was still tasteful in its crimson bloom, and was paired with a silk top, delicately painted with black flowers. She shrugged the strap of her camel colored purse over her shoulder as she shook the cold from her petite frame.
Wide emerald eyes rimmed softly in pale gray and thick lashes painted black, studied the bookstore silently, cranberry tinged lips slightly parted. It was wall to wall books, stacks heavily laden with books of every size, color and imaginable subject matter. A hole in the wall bookstore in the city called the Open Book, three stories of books tucked away into a narrow but neat old brownstone. It had been an favored escape of Sophia's growing up in the city, tucked away in Brooklyn. A piece of history revisited.
Sophia brushed long errant copper strands behind the curve of her pale ear, as her emerald eyes sparkled, rolling towards the carpet covered staircase. The heels of her Mary Jane pumps whispered against the carpet as she strode towards the stairs. She pulled up the strap of her purse a second time over the dark fabric of her coat before her hand fell to the smooth wood of the carved banister, feet climbing the first step. She rhythmically climbed the subsequent steps, making her way steadily to the second floor.
When her feet fell at the top of the second floor, heels tapping onto wood, Sophia veered left, setting off to explore a room brimming with books, in a store whose shelves threatened to break and whose floors almost groaned with the weight. She walked slowly, purposefully, knowing where she was going, having walked the steps a hundred times before. But that didn't stop the smooth glide of her stride as her feet carried her to her destination. Her emerald eyes searched the shelf, reading the spines quickly, searching the titles word by careful word.
Sophia sucked her lower lip into her mouth gently, chewing it softly as her eyes roved carefully over the titles. Book by book she searched. Sophia went until she found one that caught her eye. Flipping the book open, Sophia leaned against the bookshelf, as she turned the pages one by one.
The smell of books permeated the air and flood her senses, a familiar scent, comforting as it coiled through her synapses, eliciting a smile, full lips curling absentmindedly before her lower lip slipped into her mouth as teeth chewed gently. The bookstore was a friendly reminder of much simpler times, and a welcome escape from the continued chaos only building in Sophia's life upon her return home. Finding a book while searching the familiar shop was ultimately a happy and necessary distraction. Manicured fingertips delicately pulled the book carefully from the shelf, clasping it lovingly in small hands as she opened it with a gentle flip of the cover of the old book. Emerald eyes fell onto the page, quickly devouring the words before them. Keeping her eyes on the page of the book steady in her hands, the petite witch spun gently on her heel as she leaned back into the bookshelf so she could more comfortable fixate on the words her jade pools darted over between tender flips of the pages. She was fully engage in the material, enraptured by the printed words, the hum of the Spirits a constant din in her head.
She was oblivious to the struggle outside, as another witch was assaulted by the Spirits as the dark haired impeccably dressed stranger attempted to move along her way, her path taking her beyond the shop. The Spirits had other intentions as their shrieks howled and burned their way to grab the dark stranger's attention, stopping her dead in her tracks at the sheer force of their demand. Crying out to her, they ushered her into the shop, all the while the redhead was lost, a floor above, to the book in her hands. The Spirits remained ominously quiet, never raising the volume of their drone as they buzzed in her head even as the strange dark witch laid piercing dark eyes on her. The Spirits, the source of magic as she knew it had a nasty habit of playing with the young witch, leaving her vulnerable to outside forces. As they left her clueless to the approaching storm, the witch studied the red head in silence, even as she stood leaning against the bookcase, ignorant of the steely gaze. It was as if the Spirits wanted her to remain, frozen in place, fate seizing its destiny as she remained unaware.
The Spirits remained equally silent through the vision that rocketed through the mind of the newly arrived stranger, intent on keeping the younger witch where she was, leaning against the heavy bookshelf reading as if by divine providence. Eyes fixated on her with renewed interest as her jade eyes continued to flip through the book, lips now pursing as her eyes roved over the words.
The petite witch remained oblivious to it all until a rather large bookcase separated without warning from the wall supporting it, and hundreds of books toppled heavily to the floor, crashing violently. She dropped the book she was holding so lovingly in her hands as the bookcase fell loose and toppled, emerald eyes flying to the source as they widened in such sudden surprise, mouth opening in shock as her brows furrowed in worry, fingers into fists, magic tingling as she innately tapped in the well of her power in automatic response, defenses rising, mind on high alert.
Heart pounding in her chest, the little witch tried to catch her breath as someone talked to her, adrenaline channel her vision through a tunnel as her mind tried to focus in its fear. She took several deep breaths as the roaring from the sudden rush of blood settled enough for her to concentrate on the voice talking to her. Jade orbs rolled over to the source, mouth still open wide as she considered the words “Oh shit. I’m sorry, are you alright?”
Sophia steadied herself against the solidity of the wall between shelves as she caught her breath, eyes closing briefly before they opened and locked on umber ones, books littering the floor all around them. "Nope. Not even a little bit," she muttered with a sharp edge of bitterness as she heaved a heavy sigh.
She just couldn't catch a break.
Her heart skipped in her chest, still tripping from the scare of the bookshelf's precariousness. It seemed in the time she had cast a spell for her oldest friend, she had awoken the bond with some ancient evil, condemned herself and Amelia to nightmares running from the original vampire, and stepped into an ancient curse spanning millennia and waded into the center of a battle of warring species. Fear and confusion splayed across the fine features of her pretty face. She breathed heavily as she worked to catch her breath, the experience more startling given the edge she was currently living on, nerves on high alert. Her head bowed, copper tresses tumbling forward, blocked the view of the dark haired woman as her lip curled upwards, emerald eyes pinching as she glanced towards the floor, still startled. She breathed deeper catching her breath before she lifted her head, emerald pools turning to study the dark haired woman.
She heard voices around her, corporeal, the voices of patrons and employees mingling in the wake of the accident, bookcase tearing from its brackets in the walls. It could have killed someone, it was a miracle it hadn't. At the thought, the copper haired girl heard the distinct tones of phantom whispers mingling with the voices of the people around her. She jumped at the sudden sound of knuckles cracking as fingers pushed together before the stranger stepped forward, stepping over books that had tumbled precariously, landed haphazardly, weaving over them in ebony heels, moving towards Sophia, who found herself inadvertently trapped against the wall, pinned in by the other woman, imposing despite her stature, danger steeling the gaze of her dark eyes peering as if they could, to the depths of Sophia's soul. The copper haired witch shuddered where she leaned against the wooden shelf.
The sound of her voice was like the edge of a blade slicing delicately over Sophia's creamy skin, threatening to cut deep at the slightest provocation. Tinged with danger and darkness as it danced across the distance between them, "Careful," as she felt tendrils of power push into her, crawling through her, searching. The Spirits wailed suddenly, and gasping, she inhaled suddenly at the invasion, choking against the sensation. A second wave hit her when dark ringed umber eyes captured emerald pools, locking onto them as a surge of magic washed over her, as the other witch reached out with her mind, digging through it as she seethed, “What are you hiding, child?” This time she shared the vision with the other witch, mind pulsing with energy and heat as the image of Sophia, standing with Amelia and Nick spun through her psyche. Nick's words echoed in her head “ Oh my dear, Amelia. You are still as lovely as I had seen before.” The air around her seemed to suddenly feel heavier, pressure rising before it ebbed back out, the strange witch's words searing over her as she breathed Sophia in, tasting the other witch's magic on her tongue. The sound of others was distant and muffled, even as patrons and workers dashed up to them, the dark haired' witch's words echoed in Sophia's head as she whispered, “Who is Amelia? She is someone important, and there are a lot of dangerous people looking someone of importance.” Dark eyes roved over Sophia's body before they returned to lock on her own gaze, her hand tensed, and the magical grip on Sophia's throat tightened as the air cut off, and she choked against the feeling, clutching at her throat with desperate hands as her emerald eyes widened in terror. “Who are you?” The words burned in Sophia's mind and she closed her eyes against the pain and fear, fighting to breathe, her eyes shot back open, wide as she fought for air, another question cutting into her with the magical edge of its blade. “What is your name?” echoed, sharper this time. The grip on her throat tightened as tears fell from widened emerald pools at the pain, as her brain screamed for air.
The world was spinning around her as her brain struggled and began to sink into blackness as it lost its oxygen. The edge of her vision was tinged with blackness, creeping slowly inwards with each moment that passed. The other witch's magic seared her, body burning from the inside out as she didn't care the damage her brutal search did to the younger witch, as tears rolled from emerald eyes pinched in terror. As she thought she might slip under the weight of the blackness blanketing her, she felt for the tendril of magic coiled within herself. Finding it, she tapped into the well of magic within herself, the gift of the Spirits, the people before her that harnessed the same collective magic she did too all these millennia later. Tapping into it, it crashed over her, pouring from her as she screamed, eyes closing, hands finding their way to cover her ears, voice raw and pitched as energy flooded outwards, seeping from her very pores as the crackling current rolled off of her, taking over as it surged from her being.
The petite copper haired girl collapsed to her knees, falling back against the sturdiness of the wall as she trembled as the magic left her body, sucking in air, finally able to breathe once more. Her emerald eyes searched the spot in front of her where moment's before had stood the other witch. And now? Nothing. She lowered her hands from her ears, and felt the skin of her throat, tender and raw, bruised by hands not much bigger than her own. She drew in a breath, stretching the skin of her throat slightly, and even breathing burned, tears rolling thickly down her cheeks. Her eyes were wide on the spot that now stood empty, breathing against the impossibility of what had just happened. She trembled as she felt strangers hands on her, helping her to her feet as they eyed her with concern and disdain, unsure of what to make of what had just happened, or if it had been some trick of the eyes.
Helped to her feet, her emerald eyes searched the open building for any signs of the other witch, but her gaze saw nothing but the empty stares of scared and curious strangers as they watched her carefully, trying to steady herself on her shaky legs. The weight of the stares, the fear in the eyes of strangers, the fear still coursing through her at the pain of the bruises on her neck, evidence of some corporeal attack despite the disappearance of the attacker, Sophia threatened to break under the sudden weight, tears still rolling down her eyes, she turned on her heel, and fled from the shop, fear fueling the hurried pace of her steps as she descended the staircase and rushed out the door, strangers turning in shock at her brusque departure, door clanging shut behind her.
Sophia didn't bother to regain her composure as she ran in fear from the shop, task forgotten as her brain surged under the flight response ingrained in her will to survive, copper hair flying behind her until trembling hands found keys and throwing open the door, turned the key, speeding off, presumably to find some safe haven.
But none would be found. Not as long as the same pair of dark eyes watched her as the woman emerged from the shadows of a neighboring shop, watching the exit with a cruel smile twisting full red lips. The dark haired witch spoke, words traipsing across the wind as the car peeled away, "You can run, but you cannot hide, Sophia Sumner." Dark eyes sparkled with malice and an edge of violence, "This is just the beginning of our story."