Basics
Race: Sev'ryn
Date of Birth: Yminden, 703
Languages Spoken:Fluent = xanthean, common
Appearance
Foxglove is not particularly short, or particularly tall, but he has definite short person energy. All his life he was a bubble and squeak sort of person, so much so that his family joked he must have been a young soul, not an old one - despite evidence to the contrary. Now, at all of 19 years of age, he usually has an air of impish charm, a willingness to explore the world, and a tiny flair for the dramatic. Prone to dying his hair whenever the opportunity arose, before he set out on his journey to meet his familiar he insisted that his grandmother help him bleach it and dye it cherry blossom pink to celebrate his own rebirth, the renewal of his life, the start of his journey.
His skin is tanned, his body is slender, with well-developed arms from years of chopping wood, and traipsing through the great forest in search of adventure and intrigue. He has dark, sparkling eyes and full lips, ears that stick out a little too far and a propensity for sticking out his bottom lip when he doesn't get what he wants. Often described as the sort of lad who was 'away with the fairies', he knows so little of this world, and yet he wants to explore every aspect of it.
To call him pretty would usually be an understatement, but he was raised on compliments and indulgence, and so he responds to them well.
History
He was always pretty beloved. At first, he was the beloved of his parent's. They each found each other on their journeys, then finding themselves united and their familiars by their sides, they began the long road home to the forest, and conceived their little Foxglove en route. Unfortunately, despite her strength and wisdom, his mother passed in labouring for him. Little Foxglove was taken from his mother's body and given to his father, who carried then a dark and heavy burden. He was brought to the family home in the woods, and then his father left him. He was born of her death, after all, and no matter the love he found for the child, it did not stop the agony of losing his one and only.
So, Fox was raised by his grandparents. He was treated soft and sweet all the hours of his life. He delighted them in their old age, full of stories and imagination, full of little curling smiles and deep dimples in his cheeks. They tried to keep the little creature safe, and for the most part they were successful, but he craved the attention of his father. Whenever his Pa came to visit, he would dangle from his every word and long to know about the roads and forests and places he had been. The world seemed full of story, and Foxes life, trapped in the trees, making things with his grandmother or following his grandfather into the forest, was very dull by comparison.
He had a flair for the dramatic, and a love of attention. He first dyed his hair as pink as pink could be when he was only 9 years old, waiting for attention to descend upon him like the celebrations of Yminden. It did, of course, for his people are kind and sensible, and they could joke about the young spirit among them. But he wasn't truly a young soul, he was rather just craving something he would never get. His father's attention and approval.
At aged 19, Foxglove insisted on leaving. Nothing could dissuade him, nothing could stop him. He had always been tenacious, audacious even, and now he wanted to find his familiar, he wanted to feel free, find his father again and gain his approval. Despite the love of his grandparents, his people, he was not well prepared to meet non sev'ryn. They did not always have the best intentions at heart.
He was sleeping on his bundle by the side of the road when they found him. The slave traders might have thought all their blessings came at once, for he did not defend himself, nor realise at first that he needed to. They offered him a lift and he climbed on board, walking into servitude with little to no concern or understanding about how greatly his life would change.
They robbed him of his clothing, of his dignity, of his charms. They blacked his eye and thickened his lip. They laughed at him, as they travelled on their way to the golden Empire. And that, as they say, was that.