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~ Winter Sunrise ~ historical fiction roleplay between packs 258691 and 86803 reboot of the role inked (here) |
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Information Time Oregon Territory, US || October 9th, 1965 || early evening Plot Summary: wip |
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Name Lilith Jameson Alias(s) Red, Lil, Lily, Lil Jamie Age Twenty years old Gender female Family Arthur Jameson (father) Madeline Jameson (mother) Patrick Jameson (oldest brother) Petha Olden (oldest sister, deceased) Job Mostly a messenger or ranch hand, but at times is helping put at the doctors or hunting, occasionally even getting onto some trouble racing. Eye color Silvery light blue Hair color Reddish Brown Hair style/Texture Her hair is wavy and stops at her mid back while to her left side she keeps some hair in a small braid, for character. Her hair is smooth, a but soft and has a shiny texture Height 5'2 Scars 4 Scars across the right side of her face from an animal attack, seemingly. The marks go across her right eye atkeast to one, otherwise across her nose and right cheek. She was spared from being blind rage her right eye. Has a second scar down her back which confirms an attack. She has scard knees and a scar across her upper chest near her collarbone, more to the left side. Significant features The freckles across her face and body while her eyes stand out. She has fairly long eyelashes and wide eyes General summary Lilith is a fairly attractive young woman with fair skin dotted with dark freckles. She stands at 5 foot 2 inches and isn't super thin, but does have a semi-tiny build. She has womanly curves and isn't super thin, but isn't super big neither. Just in between. Her hair stops stops her mid back and is wavy—smooth in texture and shiny with a red brown hue to it while she keeps a small bit early the front to the left side in a braid. Her eyes are a startling Silvery-blue. She has an abundance of scars, one across the right side effects her face and doen her back, representing an attack whether animal or posed to look animal. She has scarred knees and one across her chest more towards the collarbone. Her lips are relatively thin but full and she has a round face ship. She is muscular from working. Positive traits Kind, mostly polite, cautious, cheerful, positive Negative traits snappy, free, rebellious, stubborn, easy to panic Likes Fall, animals, horses, adrenaline, clinics, snow, flowers, sweet bread Dislikes Being contained, judgement, drunkenness, Charles O'Neil and Mirands O'Neil General summary Lilith us a pretty kind person and is patient. She loves chidlren and animals, taking great joy in spending time time the woods with her horse Perdenna and Ophelia. She loves adventure and a rush of adrenaline, finding a greta laugh is it. She worries a lot of others but doesn't care much for what happens happens herself or how she appears to others. She has a tendency to find trouble and is tempted by curiosity many times. She is a hard worker but in some cases she is very snappy if she feels a situations calls for it and Dislikes being told what is expected of her or being told what to do. She is stubborn and Dislikes people who get iverky drunk and act stupidly woth their actions. She doesn't like feeling trapped in a knowingly dangerous situation and she thinks rather creativity. Stress huts her hard and she can can a very anxious mess at times. She has been told she has s somewhat motherly touch to her. Extra Lilith owns a mare, a silver-dapple horse. The mare is young, only 2 years old now and is belives to be a silver-dapple Missouri fox trotter while she she owns owns older stallion named Palladin, a silvery colored or gray Clysdale shire mix. Lilith knows how to handle guns and weapons and typically is dressed in men's clothing, but occasionally is in a skirt or dress. She helps out on her families ranch which has began growing in the valley they live in between the mountains. |
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Martyn Swift || he/him || twenty-two Rain and blood mixed as they trickled down the side of his face. Martyn gasped, eyes fluttering open as his chapped lips parted beneath the press of moisture. Day had come, gone, and come again since he'd drained his canteen of its last bitter drops of water, and his broken body was desperate for fluids. The chill of death already clung to him, yet his body fought, unable to give in to the fate he'd already accepted. A quiet end, Martyn thought, and lonely. Perhaps better than I deserve. His fevered gaze roamed the leaden sky, blurring the grey shaded vault into a marbled mural of shadows and suffering. Around him fell the rain, each windblown sheet a cold jolt of reality to his drifting and troubled mind. Every breath was agony, and Martyn dared not move, lest he awaken pains dulled by the cold.
Lucky that, he thought, closing his eyes against the heavy raindrops. I need not be a doctor to diagnose myself with injuries consent with a nasty fall of several yards. Martyn would have been dead had he fallen straight down. Upon losing its footing on the slippery trail, his horse had sent them tumbling down an embankment 80 degrees or so. The animal had died, impaired upon protruding rocks Martyn had only just avoided. He'd come to rest on a muddy bit of ground in the lee of the rocks, which acted now as a windbreak, sparring him the worst of the storm's fury. It had not saved his life—an impossibility without aid—but it had offered Martyn the dignity of being allowed to accept death. Broken left wrist, cracked rips, untold scraps and bruises, Martyn thought, listing again his injures, a nasty cut to the side of the head, probably concussed. Shattered left leg and hip, fractured right, possible damage to the pelvis and spine, possible internal injuries. "Damm," he muttered, "I'm a mess, aren't I." The trouble with being a doctor, Martyn reflected, was that he could do nothing for himself. He knew what should be done—could have directed another through the prosses—but without aid, that knowledge was useless. Alone in the wilderness, with the nearest living person perhaps hundreds of miles away, his skill came to nothing. And so this is how I die. Martyn thought, closing his eyes. Above, on the muddy pathway still marked by his horse's lost fight for balance, hooves of another struck a stray bit of flit, sending sparks and a few stones tumbling in Martyn's direction. |
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Lilith Jameson || she/her || twenty Preparing for upcoming winter was a pain. They hadnt yet seen their first snowfall of the years, but the rian and cold was a bitter reminder of what was to come, but no snow. Hence the town was as busy as ever. Farmers had collected their cropping earlier within the year, storing the food for winter while others were collected from nearby towns where the railway system was, collecting ehat food was delivered and trading other valuables in return. Of course, Lilith was the errand girl, atleast for her families end of it. The woman knew the hulls and mountains fairly well, having spent plenty of her childhood running around them as a child — even having her very own accident in them, but not with falling, rather a wild animal that should have killed her. Now she was seen as her fathers precious gem, though a young woman, still considered fragile. Yet here she was, out in the woods against her fathers word, returning back from the last town woth supplies in a cart hitches to her clysdales back while she hummed softly against the bitter cold. The sing was haunting, echoing as the humming went to singing, a soft tone and almost....mystical like. She even wore a red jacket around herself to provide from warmth against the cold. Shd wore men's clothing, stolen them from her brothers old drawers and gone out. Her mother knew where she was, other townsfolk did too, just not her father. Lilith would slow Pallidan, her silvery coated Clyadale, to a stop. Skid marks? That of an animal that fell...and that of a horse with horse shoes. Had someone fallen. Surely not....no one from town has turned up missing. From the other town possibly? But why if so? Liliths thoughts were ablaze with curiosity, sliding off Palladins back, her booted feet gracefully hitting the ground as she investigated. Whoever or whatever had gone over the edge, and so, curiosity ablaze while Paladin grew anxious she looked over the edge. She saw the horses corpse impaled by stones, cause Liliths breath to tighten...but besides that she saw another form. The rider? "Hello?!" Liliths voice called down now, grabbing for Palladins reigns so the horse would remain calm, soon beginning to guide the large stallion, wagon still attacked, down the road a bit. She needed a safer way down, there had to be a path or something. Bingo! It took a bit of searching and going further down the trail, but she found the end of the mostly downhill to the level he was at, now tying Palladins reigns to a tree. She couldn't risk breaking the wagon, and so let him remain on the trail while she moved forward. She was met by mud upon getting closer. Mud and a nasty scene. A Rider had indeed fell down the hill. Maybe hdise lost balance? Thats what it had appeared as, that the horse fell down hill. Gkancibg at the corpse her stomach tightened. Poor thing. Lilith thought than crouched down to look at the person. They looked dead, so she reached out to try and carefully feel their chest after sliding the gloves off her hands. It would have been startling, to see a pale, almost ghostly, freckled hand just reach out. Shd jsut wanted to check, even speaking. "Hey, are you alive?" She asked softly, head tilting to the side. |
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Martyn Swift || he/him || twenty-two Martyn drifted in a fevered haze, forgetting for a time the harsh and barren lands surrounding him. A voice echoed through his dreams, calling out, but he brushed it away as the last hope of a dying mind. It was not until the sound of footsteps—of mud giving up its grip on leather—that realization dawned. Someone has found me. However, not until a warm hand was pressed lightly to his chest did Martyn believe it. "Hey, are you alive?" Someone asked. The tone was soft, like one might use with a sick child. Opening his eyes, Martyn blinked as the shadow kneeling beside him took the form of a young woman. She wore a red coat, and one ghostly hand rested against his chest, glove discarded nearby. "Yes," Martyn rasped, his throat dry as sandpaper, "at least I think I am. Are you a demon come to take me to hell?" There was an inquisitive tilt to her head, and with what little sunlight there was behind her, Martyn could not make out her face. Still, the hand pressing against him seemed too real to belong to a demon or some figment of his tormented mind. Still, I am dying, Martyn thought, and the mind of a man upon the brink is a strange place. Who better to know than a doctor? He witnessed the death of hundreds and killed a few dozen himself, and Martyn had long ago concluded that nothing was more deluded than the mind in the hour of death. Still, he would have expected comforting scenes from his native island or perhaps the roll of a ship upon the high seas. Not a ghostly girl in a red coat. |
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Lilith Jameson || she/her || Twenty Lilith felt relief flood her chest to see his eyes open and then he spoke. He's alive, thats good...thats good! A soft sigh escaped her rosey-pink lips, but she didn't dare remove her hood or anything as she nodded. "No, no I'm not a demon. But im going to help you, okay? How long have you been out here?" She asked, standing as she looked around. Atkeast she wouldn't have to try and bury two corpses or return a human corpse to town. She paused a monent before quickly pulling off her red jacket, biting her lip as the cold and roan nipped at her skin, even beneath her long-sleeve shirt. None the less she ignored it and carefully put the jacket over him, trying to warm him up. "Your in terrible shape..." She whispered, now standing as she chewed on her thumb of her unloved hand. "I'll be right back." She had to take a risk. Ot was the bleeding wagon or a human life. She went back through the mud and untied Palladin, carefully bring the Clysdald and wagon closer, his silver coat almost matching her pale skin. From afar she looked like maybe one of the four horsemen, ifnonly she ahd her jacket that is. Once she brought the two closer she returned to the man. "This will hurt, a lot....okay? I have to get you up and in the wagon...or well cart, but still. I've got blankets, so you'll be warmed a bit. Again, it'll proabbly hurt, it looks like you took an awful fall." Lilith spoke, probably speaking things he already knew, her face still casted by shadows. He proabboy wouldn't see her face properly till in town if anything, which she felt pretty comfortable with. |
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Martyn Swift || he/him || twenty-two A breath escaped her lips and she sat back a little, nodding. She stood after a second, glancing about before pulling off her coat and dripping it over Martyn, assuring him as she did that she was no demon and wanted to help. Despite the low light, she did not remove her hood and seemed skittish as a green horse. Disappearing almost a quickly as she'd come, Martyn was left waiting on her return. Perhaps because I am a man, he thought, thinking of her nerves, and a stranger. She can't have met many out here, it's far too remote. Her return left him no time for musing, and the sight of the horse she'd brought along was a relief to Martyn. Even with her aid, there'd have been no way to move him without the help of some other force. He did not doubt her strength, but she was only one person and at best, they were miles from wherever she'd come from. Leaving the silvery horse and his cart close at hand, she returned and started talking again, her nerves showing in the rambling manner of her speech. "I know," Martyn told her, trying his best to smile through the pain. "Almost two days, horse slipped so we took a tumble." He said, answering the question she'd posed earlier. Continuing, Martyn added. "In my saddlebags, there's a heavy dark wood box. Fastened to the inside lid on the right side is a brown bottle. It laudanum, it will help the pain." My mind is none too clear, he thought, closing his eyes again, but at least I can form words. Hopefully, she'll not be bothered by the other contents of my medical kit; it's a fine collection. I'd hate coming across it without warning. The box contained a complete set of surgical knives, two bone saws, bandage material, alcohol, a small amount of morphine, the mentioned laudanum, and a mix of other tools Martyn had collected. All of it was clean, he made sure of that, but it did not stop some of the items from looking like they belonged in the local blacksmith's shop. He'd need some of those tools soon, especially if—as seemed likely—the place they were bound had no doctor. I can manage most of my wounds with aid, he thought, but my leg is another story. I've done my share of amputations, but on myself well awake..? "Not something I fancying doing myself," Martyn muttered, finishing his thought aloud. |
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Lilith Jameson || she/her || Twenty Lilith felt herself stiffen. Two days? And she sat there a moment before nodding. She stood and went over to where the dead horse was, her stomach tightening in herself. She went to grab what all was in the saddlebags before finding what he said for her to grab. She set the rest on the ground back in the saddlebag before quickly returning to him. "Here you go." Shd offered him the laudanum, unsure if he'd be able to grab it. "Unless you need help drinking it?" Shd asked, unsure what was or wasn't broken. Something ahd to be broken...he fell down a steep edge, with a hrise, on hard ground. "You've been out here two days...almost three since its nearly dark...you have to be starving and thirsty. Damn..." She was thinking again. It was almost dark, and both were a bit wet from the rain, minus him. He was freezing most likely, and likely was in a terrible state. "It will take time to get where we're going...the mountains steep terrain, I mean well be on a path, but I can only go so fast woth a wagon.." She explained, only hoping he'd be able to remain alive along the way to her home town. |
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Winter 
Night 
