Social Rank: 5
Concept: Ethereal Heathen
Fealty: Valardin
Family: Greenmarch
Gender: female
Marital Status: single
Age: 22
Birthday: 6/27
Religion: Shamanism/Pantheon
Vocation: Noble
Height: average height
Hair Color: blond
Eye Color: blue
Skintone: milk

Description: Neve is a wild thing brought up in a world of deep forests and reverent silence. She is full of wonder, generous lips nearly always smiling. Blonde hair falls in wild waves and curls and braids, framing her sky blue eyes, and often adorned with little gifts of the earth; glass beads, feathers, twigs. While she loves the many silks and satins and laces of Arvum, wearing them well on her graceful frame, in the warmer weather she's often barefoot beneath them, doing her best to embrace the duality of her heritage.

Personality: In the Greenwood Forest, Neve was always known as a bright, smiling, bubbly girl of whimsical nature. When she ran through the forest, the sun shone just a little brighter, the wind blowing through the boughs a little more talkative. They seemed to give just a bit more shade in her wild, wondering presence.

Grown now, she wears her heart on her sleeve, filled with whimsy, love, and a curious nature borne from the dichotomy of her upbringing, blending the wildness and abandon of the forest into the refined echelon of the cities.

There are moments when Neve longs to retreat back to that bastion of greenery, when the city is foreign and overwhelming, the customs to learn abundant. But inevitably, the daughter of the forest finds some new spark of joy in refinement, some solace in a quiet place, some understanding of family and home, and her unquenchable spirit is renewed.

Background: Neve's parents both died the day she was born. In fact it is said that they both took their last breath the same moment she took her first. A battle had arisen, an old feud for territory and Roark rode out with his brothers to defend their home. At the same moment - Moira went into labor. It is almost impossible for anyone to know the moment of death for each of them - but it was simply understood that they died together - as though some unseen force had willed it so. In her world, that meant something. No sacrifice was made in vain, no offering went ignored or unappreciated. The world moved around them, and they with it and a part of it and always in tune. However, what that may have meant for Neve was always a mystery for her and nothing but a story of long ago, about people she had never known and knew nothing about other than they had loved her.

Neve was saved that day by Muiryn Greenmarch. He had watched her father die and laid prayers upon his body and made promises to a dying man that he never forgot. Neve has often wondered about that moment, how horrible and heavy it must have been for him to have suffered such deep loses and simultaniously have been shuffled neatly and unexpectly into fatherhood. But 18 years later, they were no less the worse for wear from it. So what if she may have spent her early childhood with her hair cropped like a boys because he could not deal with her howls when he tried to braid it. He put her atop her first Elk and taught her how to hunt, how to make her own bow and fletches and how to give thanks for every living thing that offered it's life to sustain them. He taught her how to skin and use every part of the beast, so nothing went wasted. He taught her of their people and their culture and for better or worse - her childhood was as charmed as a little heathens could be. It instilled a wilderness inside of her that could never quite be capped or tamed. As though she were always waiting for that moment when the wind would come along and whisk her away to all the things she's not done before.

Neve was Thirteen when the Greenmarch took the steps to join the Compact - and while her world was thrown into a temporary chaos of passions and pride - Neve was utterly charmed. She loved the life her ancestors and family have carved out for themselves, the work of their land and the hearts of their people but she was born knowing that possibility was endless - and finally... finally they may begin to see just how endless it may truly be. The night Muiryn told her they woulnd't be leaving Greenmarch for Arvum any time soon, was the first time she'd screamed at her foster father - and while it probably wasn't the last, it was the only one that lingered like heartache in her memory. She'd been more careful after that and bided her time - knowing that her wind would be waiting. So now five years have passed and she has grown into a woman - though still windswept and wild. She is finally in Arvum - the heart of Arx - where she expects every light to sparkle and every voice to sing and praise. She's heard tails of parties and gowns and dresses... She's heard stories of the elves and other creatures thought lost to lore and myth... She's heard of the beautifully appointed salons, the lush, rich finary... and all manner of things that she's never quite been able to manage. She has nothing but confidence that her two worlds the old and the new both, will be able to live in beautiful harmony.