A dense coat of true black wraps around the child, and at birth, that will be all. As her coat begins to come in, thick and plush, paler colors will begin to seep in and break through, markings settling (above) by the time she hits half a year. They are the pale creams of her mother’s underpinning, and the places where the colors bleed together are left somewhere in the middle. Henbane has her father’s eyes, a violent, soul-searching red. When Hen opens her mouth (likely to bite you), you’ll realize that her tongue and the insides of her mouth carry the same darkness as the rest of the flesh beneath her coat.

Her build is decidedly masculine, as are her features. At a distance (and even up close), she’ll often be confused for a boy. A pretty boy, with high cheekbones that could cut glass. A brick shithouse of a boy, who could knock you off your feet with a charging, sundering blow. Hen hits hard, with strong shoulders and a stable foundation. Until she learns how to navigate the use of her broad, strong paws, she’s going to be a bit clumsy. Still, what Hen lacks in elegance, she makes up for in sheer, raw power.

Hen has her father's tusks and they are terribly pointy.

Scent: spearmint & wood smoke
Accent: a bit of a mess?
Languages: common, Icelandic, Macedonianappearance

Can you build up an entire persona around being reckless, relentless, and violent? Probably. Henbane is all three of those things, and she’d let everyone else believe that it’s all she is. A skilled combatant that’s at her best (read: most wild) when her back is up against a wall. Corner her. Hen dares you. Hen dares you.

In a fight she’s fearless. Henbane is fearless at the heart of a brawl because she understands fighting. It makes sense to her. Hen knows she can trust her paws beneath her, the sky above her, and the teeth in her mouth. By the same token, she knows that she can trust those who make the choice to bleed by her side in battle. Trust is paramount: trust in herself, trust in others. It’s this trust that makes her feel safe, even in situations that are inherently unsafe.

When it comes to affairs of the heart, Hen will be extremely uncomfortable. She doesn’t trust the sticky red mass in her chest to make choices. Choices are made with the head. Feelings outside of familial love are gross– she’ll swear by it. Anything resembling romance? Hen will pretend it’s revolting, but in reality, she’s just fucking scared of it.

Learning will, in the least dorky way possible, make Henbane happy. There’s a constant search, hunger, and search for knowledge. Filled with questions and never enough answers, trying to sate her desire to know will be a chore. Fighting techniques, crafting techniques, healing techniques– she wants to learn them all. She wants to know them all. Gods help any captured slave that speaks a different langauge or knows a different skill, because Hen will be bugging them to teach her things as well. No one is safe from this pit of endless hunger.

Though she’d be hard pressed to admit it, Hen absolutely glows when praised. Sure, she’ll tell you all day every day that she doesn’t give a flying fuck what anyone thinks of her, but it’s a lie. The praise of someone in a position of authority is something that she seeks, though she’d never admit to it. This will start with her father, and he will always be the most important. personality