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Alias: planxty
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Character Age: 32
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Specialization: templar
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Genevieve Marchand


My Content
Feb 18 2018, 09:13 PM
QUOTE (Genevieve Marchand @ Feb 12 2018, 09:24 PM)
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To be perfectly frank, Genevieve didn’t give much of a damn about the Baronet Faucheux’s forty third name day--and she didn’t give much of a damn about the man himself either, but she was still thrilled to be at the party and joining in on the festivities.  Maker, though, it had been ages since she had attended a proper celebration, and while she had once been sure she left that life behind, she still slipped back into it like not time had passed at all.  All the decorum and etiquette were easily remembered.<p>

Genevieve looked as though she was right at home too.  She wore a voluminous green and gold silk gown and had an easy smile on her face and a glass of wine in one hand.  One thing, however, was different from the old days: she was here simply to enjoy herself.  No lies, no intrigue, no ulterior motives hidden behind a smile...but she did have a small knife tucked secretly down the front of her bodice, just in case, but she doubted she would need it.<p>

She had already paid her respects to the Baronet and was now free to spend her time however she pleased.  Genevieve milled through the crowd with her head held high and an air of confidence as she looked for another familiar face, but she found herself feeling quite alone.  Had it been so long since she spent time in high society that she no longer knew the important people?


<strong style=color:#732525>Warrior Speak</strong> <i style=color:#732525>Think Colour</i> <br>
Feb 9 2018, 09:06 PM

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<center><i>4 Cloudreach, 9:31 Dragon</i></center><p>

Genevieve was still new to The Game, still new to life as a bard and moving through the upper class: new enough that she was full of naive confidence and nothing but joyful enthusiasm for the lifestyle she was living. She had yet to experience anything to make her doubt her abilities, and thus she had managed to thoroughly convince herself that she was the best at what she did and had nothing to fear.<p>

To all of the guests at tonight’s soiree she was nothing more than an entertainer brought along by the Baron du Moreau, her performance was to be a gift for the hosts. She wore a mask with a peacock motif that reflected the Baron’s own, and the blue and green silk of her down draped dramatically on her tall, broad form. What no one knew (or, what they weren’t supposed to know) was that she was not only present to sing and dance but also to collect a little information on those very hosts.<p>

Years ago, the Linville family lost their holdings and most of their wealth, but within the past few months, they had begun to make outrageous shows of wealth, tonight’s party was one such example. Rumors abounded: everything from simple and believable explanations (like the family matriarch taking in a wealthy lover) to the complicated and outrageous (like secret involvement in organized crime). Genevieve was tasked with finding the truth, and while the Baron favored the more elaborate theories, she had yet to form an opinion.<p>

She didn’t have much time to work, just an hour before she was set to perform. Genevieve slipped away from the crowd to her work, and she had a number of excuses and explanations prepared just in case she was caught lurking somewhere she couldn’t be. <p>

<i>”Forgive me, I only wanted to find a quiet place to prepare for my performance.”<br>
”Oh dear, I seem to have gotten lost in such a large and lovely home, please, could you be so kind to help me find my way back to the party?”<p></i>

As she crept through the empty halls, Genevieve rehearsed those excuses in her head, but she was confident she wouldn’t need them.

<strong style=color:#732525>Warrior Speak</strong> <i style=color:#732525>Think Colour</i> <br>
Feb 4 2018, 05:51 PM
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<center><b>Mature Content Warning</b>
This thread may contain sensitive subject matter including but not limited to strong language, blood, violence, substance use, nudity, and/or suggestive themes.
<i>Content Tags: eating disorder thoughts and behaviors, substance abuse/addiction</i></center>


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<center><i>16 Haring, 9:40 Dragon, Montsimmard</i></center><p>

Genevieve hated winter. She couldn’t handle the cold like she used to (though, lately even the summer months left her at least a little chilled) and even if she could she didn’t have proper clothing or a warm place to seek shelter from the bad weather...at least the snow had stopped.<p>

The cold was the hardest part of her situation to bear, and it was the only thing that didn’t get easier to handle as time went on. She had grown used to feeling the lyrium cravings in every waking moment, and she never felt hunger any more. She never felt it, all her thoughts revolved around food and fasting. Yesterday morning she found a burnt roll discarded in the garbage heap out behind the bakery. She meant to only eat half but lost control and devoured the whole thing. It felt like a moral failing, like a complete loss of control that still dragged down her conscious. Maybe if she could make it until the next morning it would be enough to atone for her most recent failure and lift her low mood.<p>

Failure. One of many. She failed as a bard and as a Templar, and now failed at the discipline and self control in which she took so much pride. It was the only thing she had to take pride in.<p>

Lyrium did a decent job of keeping those nasty thoughts away, but she was unable to find any today. Walking around the town was the next best thing, something she felt overwhelmingly compelled to do even though her feet felt like heavy stones and her head felt dizzy. She had a routine that she had to stick to: once: two loops around the tavern, to the tree in the center of town, around the tree five times, three times past the brothel and back to the tavern, counting her paces all the way. The few times she stopped to think about it, she was sure that every person she passed by must think she was out of her mind: a sickly looking beggar woman pacing in circles and counting to herself. For that reason, Genevieve tried very hard to avoid thinking about it and simply allowed herself to act on her compulsions.<p>

Once around her circuit wasn’t enough to clear her head, and so she started over again. By now the sun was setting, and a few stray snow flurries fell from the sky again. Damn. She’d have to find a place to spent the night...and worse yet she lost count of her steps. <p>
@Raleigh Samson

<strong style=color:#732525>Warrior Speak</strong> <i style=color:#732525>Think Colour</i> <br>
Jan 29 2018, 09:22 PM

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Genevieve expected it might take her a few days to get her bearing and settle back into the swing of things in Val Royeaux, but in reality it only took her a few minutes to step in time with the rhythm of life in this city. Not much had changed since the last time she was here, but that felt like it was centuries ago. Another time, another place...a chapter of her life that was long since closed and over.<p>

Or so she thought. So much of it came back to her with a joyful clarity that was now so foreign it felt euphoric. The red lyrium’s song was quieter, and the other voice that tried to control her eating habits wasn’t speaking up either. It had been a long while since neither filled up her head, and it was freeing to have her thoughts belong to herself, even though she knew it probably wouldn’t last.<p>

It was mid-morning, and Genevieve needed to take some time to think of a plan and also to get a bite to eat. She paid a long overdue visit to a bakery she used to love--in the old days nothing helped her focus like a generous serving of tea and pastries and found an open table near the window. After sitting down, however, she saw that the person who was last at the table left behind a plain yet well worn book.<p>

Curiosity got the better of her. Genevieve opened the book and read the first page.<p>

<i>14 Firstfall, 9:39 Dragon<p>

Dear Diary,<p>

Less than an hour ago, I saw Jean-Claude walking home from a brothel! I can’t believe the bastard, I thought he cared about me…<p></i>

And on an on it went, the ramblings of a scorned lover: juicy and comically dramatic. Genevieve took a quick and careful look around before reading on. The content was entertaining, but insubstantial. This poor person spent the better part of a year being betrayed by and then forgiving Jean-Claude. After a while, it began to get dull until she reached a more recent entry.<p>

<i>9 Drakonis, 9:41 Dragon

Dear Diary,<p>

I’ve learned my lesson, and I’m not going to forgive Jean-Claude, but I still care about him. I’m worried he’s going to get himself killed. It’s been years since he last took up arms as a soldier, but he’s gone off to join the Inquisition. I think it’s because his brother donated so much coin to the cause, and he has so little of his own…</i><p>

Lucky find! Genevieve set the book down and took another look around. The last thing she needed was for Jean-Claude’s off and on lover to come back for her diary.

<strong style=color:#732525>Warrior Speak</strong> <i style=color:#732525>Think Colour</i> <br>
Jan 8 2018, 09:45 PM
[dohtml]<div class="n-site-template">
<h1>genevieve marchand</h1>
<h2>32 years old . red templar . warrior . gwendoline christie</h2>
<h3>planxty . 29 . est . dischord</h3>
<div class="maincontent scroll">


<ol>Other Characters</ol>

17 Bloomingtide


<ol>Race & Nationality</ol>
Human, Orlesian


lawful evil


<ol>Family Members</ol>
Mother: Allete Marchand, deceased<br>
Father: Benoit Gautier, deceased


Bow and arrow: expert<br>
Sword and shield: intermediate





((tw eating disorder, substance abuse))<p> To say the least, Genevieve's came from a humble background. She was a bastard born in the streets of Val Royeaux: her mother, a laundress, her father out of their lives shortly after her birth. They were poor, but happy and not struggling too much to get by. Still, ever since she was a young girl Genevieve dreamed of growing up to live a more glamorous life. She would daydream of marrying a nobleman or finding some wealthy long lost relative, but those faded as she grew and came to accept the reality of her situation<p>
Stability was enough to satisfy her, and at the tender age of sixteen Genevieve found employment working in the kitchens of the Baron du Moreau's estate. already tall and strong, Genevieve was well suited to the hard work, and though she ended each day exhausted and aching, she still craved something more. As a servant Genevieve had little time of her own, but whenever she could she spent that time in own of the local taverns, mostly interested in the music and the dancing. In time, she was bold enough try performing herself and was surprised to find that she had a natural talent for singing. It was brought a little more joy to her life and a little extra coin.<p>

The Baron soon learned about her talents and hoped to use them to his own advantage. He plucked her out of the kitchens and set about shaping her into a proper bard. He gave her an education, taught her court etiquette, and most importantly taught h er her how to fight and how to play the Game. Genevieve had long since given up hop of her foolish childhood dreams, and yet they were coming true.<p>

For seven years, she enjoyed a life of luxury and intrigue, but a bard's life is not a secure or safe one, and a single mistake cost her everything. Genevieve never thought she did anything particularly dangerous: just a little snooping and planting some seeds that would blossom into nasty rumors, but soon she found herself caught in more lies than she could keep straight. Her mistakes damaged the Baron du Moreau's reputation badly, and he made it clear that there was no place in his home for a bard who failed so badly, not even back in his kitchens.<p>

the only place she could think to go was the Chantry, and only a short time of prayer and contemplation brought out a change in her. Genevieve had never been a firm believer before, but she became deeply pious. As a girl, all she had wanted was wealth and luxury, but she came to see (and feel) the the shame and guilt of living such an indulgent lifestyle. She had not been virtuous, and all she wanted was to make up for her past sins, but no amount of prayer and contrition was enough. She needed action.<p>

She was older than most new recruits when she first join the Templar order, but that didn't stop her from settling into her new life easily. She was strong and already had a little combat training, and her faith and convictions where unshakable. Genevieve was able to find some of the fulfillment she craved knowing that she did the Maker's holy work, protecting citizens and mages alike. However, it still was not enough. There were times when her burden of guilt and shame weighed heavily on her. The quiet moments were the worst: when she couldn't fall asleep or found herself bored and alone.<p>

Fasting was what finally gave her a sense of relief. It started sensible enough: one day of light duty that she devoted to prayer and penance, but she enjoyed it far more than she should have. The twisted thoughts that tormented her were quieter, and she felt a sense of pride in knowing that she had the drive and discipline to willingly deny herself a day's food. Fasting went from something she did rarely to a habit or an obsession. Genevieve no longer felt guilt for her past sins, but instead of the food she allowed herself to eat. As little as a slice of bread felt gluttonous.<p>

Weaker, thinner, dull skin, and thinning hair...Genevieve could not hide her behaviors or their effects. the Knight-Commander confronted her about what she was doing to herself, and while she didn't take his warning seriously, she did concede that she could not both go one how she had been and stay strong enough to perform her duties. She forced herself to try to eat more, anxious and fearful and hating every minute of it until she convinced herself that she was healthy enough to take up occasional fasting again. This time would be different. This time she could stay in control.<p>

Except she couldn't. Again, the obsession took hold of her and pushed her onto dangerous ground. Again, she made a half-hearted attempt to change her ways, swearing that she would give up fasting forever...and again she fell into its trap. That was her final chance. Genevieve was declared unfit for duty and dishonorably discharged.<p>

It was too much to handle all at once: her identity ripped away from her, unresolved issues with food, and the sudden crush of lyrium withdrawal. Poverty and addiction were her excuses to carry on restricting: she couldn't afford both black market lyrium and adequate food (though even if she could, she probably would have chosen to go without the food anyway). She was deathly sick when the red templars came to her, and for all it's ill effects, in a way red lyrium saved her life.<p>

Red lyrium sang in a way that the old lyrium didn't, and the song was loud enough that it drowned out the voice that made her afraid to eat. It quickly made her stronger and tougher than she ever was, even when she was healthy. Best of all, she has a purpose and a reason to live again, living with more vibrancy and passion than she's had in years. So far, the cost hasn't been so high: aches in her joints, less self-control, some outward signs of the red lyrium inside her body. Genevieve has managed to convince herself that she may yet be spared of the more horrific consequences, but even then she's bought herself some time she would have have otherwise lived to see.<p>

Genevieve has become a unique and valuable asset to the red templars. Her past as a bard and the fact that she (for now) still has a mostly normal appearance made her an ideal candidate for a spy. She's out in the world, gathering information to send along to her comrades.

<img src="https://i.imgur.com/5pig25u.jpg?1" class="appimage">
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