Forsilvra :: Winds of Change
Old 03-08-2015, 01:18 PM
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Default Dahlia de Valle



[OOC Information]

Your Name: Emily
RP Experience: 10+ years
Your Character's Player Base: Amaia Salamanca


[Basic Information]

Character Name: Dahlia de Valle
Character Age: 25
Gender: female
Birthday: September 21st, 217
Home Castle/City: White Wall, Goldenmoore
House: de Valle


Dahlia has the true look of a de Valle--tall and slender, she prides herself on her flawless complexion. Hair the colour of dark honey is complimented by striking blue-green eyes and a bright smile which she wields with great effect. Dahlia is a beauty, and she knows it, and she knows it is worth something to powerful men.


Once upon a time, elegance and glamour were not Dahlia's foremost traits. Something of a hellion when she was growing up, Dahlia has a knack for getting into (and out of) trouble. Her methods of escaping most consequences have evolved from hiding up trees and under baskets to the persuasive tactics of a polished and beautiful woman--even when it includes brazen lies.

Pragmatic and fun-loving, Dahlia has always been up for any adventure which suggested itself--provided she was in the mood. She can be a trifle mercurial, and coolly caustic when she does not get her own way. Nonetheless she is devoted to her family and friends, and will not suffer to hear them abused by anyone.

While as a child Dahlia's fists would fight her battles for her, as she became a young lady she realised such weapons were next to useless in a world dominated by warlike men. The only way that she could see to best them was the only way she saw any woman do so--gain a man's love (or lust,) and make him hers to command. There's a cool kind of courage in Dahlia which makes anyone who knows her well believe she could get away with just about anything, if she put her mind to it.

Outspoken and with a dry sense of humour, Dahlia laughs at nearly everyone around her. Her love of the outdoors means that on fine days she is likely to be found roaming the gardens on foot, and the open country on horseback, rather than sitting indoors for any reason.



The second-born daughter, Dahlia grew up with more freedom, perhaps, than her elder sister, and yet retained all the power and position of being second eldest, when it came to her other siblings, save Atlanta. Dahlia adored her big sister, and acted as her right hand and best friend in all things.

It came as something of a bewildering rupture when Atlanta married and left Goldenmoore. Though Dahlia is close to her next sister Adamaris, she felt Atlanta's loss keenly. Further shadows fell when the plague came to the Mark, and no family was left untouched by its deadly hand. Dahlia prayed fervently that those dearest to her be spared, but in the end it was Atlanta who was taken from them, and Dahlia lost her sister and best friend twice over, and now forever. Dahlia has been left rather sobered by this event, and from time to time the laughing girl slips into melancholy when she is alone, or seems to force her smiles when she is not. Her sense of humour took on a cutting edge it had lacked before, and she can lash out with it on occasion, even when she does not mean to hurt anyone.

In the time that has followed, Dahlia has done her best to step into the place of her eldest sister, and devoted all of her energies to conducting herself as an ideal lady.

Having turned 25 this autumn, Dahlia has recently set her sights on the notion of marriage. Aurelia de Valle--her junior by nearly ten years--has just become betrothed, and Dahlia can't help but feel this puts some pressure on herself and her other sisters. It is well past time she found a husband, though she understands her father's reluctance to begin the search, given the pain that came of Atlanta's marriage and death. (The de Valles cannot help but wonder if Atlanta might have been spared, if she had remained at White Wall.) Still, a castle full of unmarried girls is the last thing the House needs, moving forward, and Dahlia has decided a powerful alliance is what she wants.

Dahlia knows the worth of a woman with wit, spirit, breeding, and beauty, and she means to exercise her powers of charming so that she may have her pick of suitors. At the same time she wonders if her young and sickly brother will ever be fit to rule from White Wall, and whether she ought to try and persuade her father to settle on her as his heir. With the right husband, it might be an attractive option...but can she find the right husband, while it is still uncertain whether the House will go to her and her spouse?

Knowing that the coming weeks and days could well ensure the path of her future life, Dahlia knows she must tread carefully if she is to get what she wants--if she can decide exactly what that is.


[Writing Sample]

Dahlia had refused to sit calmly when the raven came bearing the news of Atlanta's death. She knew the instant she heard her mother's half-choked sob and saw her father's face when he took her in his arms to give what poor comfort he could. No one seemed able to move for a long, terrible minute, and then Dahlia broke away, unheard and unseen by those blinded with grief as she fled from the hall.

It had been years since she'd let herself climb a tree, but she did it now, not caring how the branches scraped at her soft, ladylike hands or tore the silk of her gown. It was the gnarled old oak she and Atlanta had sat under for so many afternoons, when they were little girls. Dahlia had always thought that one day they would both visit White Wall as old married matrons, and watch their children play in the dappled sunlight and shade of its branches.

Gasping and sweating with the sheer effort it took to clamber higher and higher again, until the branches swayed uncertainly even under her slender weight, Dahlia ceased, panting for breath as she laid her forehead against the rough bark, clinging to the tree as if it were a lover, protecting her from all harm, though it did nothing for the pain in her heart.

She slipped down to sit where the branch sprouted from the trunk, and sighed into the leaves that rustled around her in the breeze coming off the sea.

"...Lady Dahlia?"

A frown creased her brow, and she peered downwards through the branches to spy Torr standing at the bottom of the tree. He was groom to her father, scarcely twenty years old, and built like a plowhorse. Dahlia had amused herself that summer by testing just what her glances could do to a man, with poor Torr as her object. Only recently had she added a fleeting brush of her hand in passing to her repetoire, eagerly studying its effects when Torr had flushed and stumbled, nearly dropping the reins he had held. The boy burned night and day for Dahlia de Valle, and when he had seen her running from the castle, and heard the news that must have so upset her, he thought that perhaps in offering comfort, he might gain some smile or favour from the lady he had dreamt of every night since the spring.

"Leave me alone," she snapped, looking down her nose at him as if he were filth--as if he were the plague itself. Torr shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and rubbed his dirty palms against his dirty trousers.

"I only lady, if there is anything I can--"

"Do? What will you do?" she asked mockingly, with a bitter laugh as tears coursed down her cheeks. "You can do nothing, and I want no help from you." Torr swallowed heavily, but nodded, bending into an awkward bow beneath the tree before he turned to shuffle off. Dahlia's eyes narrowed as she watched him, and she called out again. "...Wait."

Torr turned back with embarassing eagerness, his face alight with hope as he saw that Lady Dahlia was climbing back down. It was a swifter process than her ascent, and Torr put out his arms to help guide her down as she jumped the final few feet, his rough brown hands spanning her waist, calluses catching against the fibres of warm silk.

"Torr..." she breathed, looking up at him from beneath her damp, dark lashes. "There is something you can do for me."

"M-my lady..." he stammered, flushing darkly beneath his tan. Dahlia's fingers crept up to grip the worn cloth he had tied about his neck, where it stank of labouring sweat and male musk, and she took hold of it with her slender fingers, giving it the smallest of tugs. Torr leaned down, his breathing growing heavier. "A-anything you want."

"When I tell you to do something, you must do it at once, and without question," she said, an edge of ice entering her tone as her grip upon his neckcloth tightened, pressing it against his windpipe. "You will leave me alone, you will never speak to me again, and if I so much as glimpse you in this garden again, I'll see you banished from Goldenmoore."

Giving the cloth one final twist--enough to make him gasp--Dahlia released him, and watched as Torr stumbled off back to the stables, flexing her fingers for a moment before they balled into a fist.


[Timeline of Events]


Year 191: Octavius de Valle is born.
Year 197: Idabel Alysworth born.
Year 209: Girard Alysworth is poisoned, Emrik Alysworth is executed for the crime, Gisele Fleurant returns to House Fleurant.
Year 214: Idabel Alysworth weds Octavius de Valle.
Year 215: Atlanta de Valle born.
Year 216: Dahlia de Valle born.
Year 217: Elgar Alysworth is convicted of killing Girard Alysworth and framing Emrik.
Year 219: Adamaris de Valle born.
Year 221: Elysia de Valle born.
Year 223: Cornelia de Valle born.
Year 225: Aurelia de Valle born.
Year 226: Livia de Valle born.
Year 228: Sergius de Valle born.
Year 233: Rufus DeLauncey weds Atlanta de Valle.
Year 238: Atlanta DeLauncey and her son dies of the plague. Rufus DeLauncey is found murdered within the same year.
Year 241: Aurelia de Valle betrothed.

Last edited by Emily; 03-08-2015 at 07:09 PM.
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Old 03-08-2015, 05:21 PM
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Old 03-09-2015, 01:12 PM
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Old 03-09-2015, 01:38 PM
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Old 03-11-2015, 10:51 PM
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