Deadre

Deadre Sinclair is a woman of relatively few desires and even fewer personal belongings. She is spartan in almost everything she does. When she was a girl in her home town her hair was blonde and sun-kissed from long days spent outside, playing with siblings or pets whenever she got the chance. An affectionate girl with a sweet streak a mile wide, Anna was always far too open for her own good. This led to less than fun moments throughout her life, as she got too nosy or too friendly in one way or another. The vast majority of the time it was in defense of someone else in one way or another. The backlash however helped grow a lining of cynicism around her ray of joy, teaching her the need to know lessons of what was to come in adulthood. Even so she happily remained possibly one of the cuddliest members of her town, if not at least one of the most caring around.

When she was still rather young Deadre had the pleasure of watching gypsies perform in her village, their dancing the major turning point of her life. She never cared for the farm life, instead wishing to capture the beauty that she saw in that dancing. Every few years they would return, making this desire grow each time. The last time they came was when puberty was just starting to hit her nubile form, no older than twelve she guessed. Now at 23 it was a life time ago.

When she discovered this would be their last visit, as the caravan was changing directions as it did every decade or so, she begged them to take her. It was crazy, and stupid, and dangerous but she begged them to lead her away from her life. To teach her how to dance and show her how to live, instead of merely survive. The gypsies almost didn't wait for her to finish before accepting her, moved by the desire they could feel from the girl. It seemed the free spirit they preached about everywhere they went was apparent in their actions and not just hot air. And so began her journey, one that she planned on never ending.

Despite the fact that she was a free person, the caravan had sensible rules for children. First and foremost is they needed a guardian. It was during one of their stays in a town around a campfire that it was decided who would take Anna. It ended up being an elf woman by the name of Narati. It was she who taught her the ways of grace and it was she who offered Anna something she couldn't decline. Magical tattoos deigned only for those worthy, capable of many different things. Anna didn't have to think hard about what she wanted.

Three things entered the girl's mind. I want to heal, I want to protect, and I want to avoid fights. And so it was decided that she would receive three sets. On both the front and back of either thigh, red text was burned into her flesh while she lay inebriated by a smokey concoction of Narati's. Speed, to escape from harm. Two different runes, both also red, were emblazoned upon the back of her hands all the way across her flesh. Shields, manifested in her very skin as if she were made of steel. And finally a purple circle of complicated weavings, centered on her back but not terribly large. At perhaps only three inches in diameter it might seem like the lesser of the three, but after a push it helps her channel positive energy from the universe around her into wounds. While certainly not instantaneous there was nothing to sneeze at a mended bone in two weeks as opposed to six.

When the magics took place and activated her tattoos, her golden hair rushed from her head in sudden groth, leaving it long and thick. However, the hair sprouted underneath was a deep, vibrant red only now with blonde tips. She cut it short soon after, leaving behind any trace of her days in the sun on a farm. Her eyes also changed, no longer hazel but instead a vivid violet. Though that took much longer to fully develop. The next thing was learning how to use them. She learned much from her elvish mother, even how to speak her language to a not terrible degree. In particular however she was taught how to make coin with her trade, which in this case was now dancing. She spent years perfecting it, all guided by an elf who even now made her seem like a clumsy toddler.

In the years that came her curiosity grew, making the red head wonder about the towns they skipped. The gypsies had a slow rotation and the dancer was eager for her own adventure. She loved the troupe dearly but she couldn't help but follow the call of her youth and curiosity. Eventually she left, promising to visit every chance they get. Now she travels from town to town, dancing for her room for the night.