W R I S T O N E T A K E N
"If you cannot hold it, it's not yours."
W R I ♦ 1 6 ♦ F E M A L E ♦ N E U T R A L
Eerum is not friendly. He's jealous, and he'll snatch anything you think to hold dear just to watch you cry. Then he'll steal the water of your tears and laugh at your thirst. That's just the way he is. Once you understand that, though, you can get far in life. Just don't hold anything dear. The Travelers don't get it. They pass through on their fat wagons pulled by waterlogged beasts and somehow expect that Eerum will just see them on. They hold their lives dear, their oxen dear, their cargo dear... And I've watched one after another be shattered when the city reminds them of their place.
I'm not a Traveler, not in any sense of the word. I can't remember a time before I came to Eerum, and I've always assumed that meant I was born here. I don't have a foreign family; my only relative is my twin brother, Liem. If I had parents, I don't want to know them. I blame them for my life here, and even if I grew to forgive them, they would only be one more thing for Eerum to take. As it is, I try not to love Liem, but there is only so much that a blood sister can do.
Even now, the city tries his best to pry my brother from my hands. While the plague leaves cursed riches in the streets, a more insidious poison creeps through the Dens: talk of rebellion. Garrow, a hot-blooded boy, just young enough not to have left the Dens to join the church or the army, tells us each night to come with him, that he knows people with power who want things to change. A few have left, out of hope, hunger, or just desperation, to follow his lead. He tells us that they feast every night and drink their fill of clear water, but none have ever come back to tell the tale. I've seen the glow in Liem's eyes when Garrow tells his tales of raids on noble caravans and flight from capture in the nick of time. I know it's only a matter of time until my pleas to Liem that he stay another night will be drowned out by Garrow's golden words, and when the time comes, I will let him go. And I will not miss him, because if I miss him, Eerum will laugh.
In a way, of course, Eerum is a part of me, as I am a part of Eerum. I know the streets and markets better than most mothers know their children, and it is sometimes my hand that strikes with Eerum's bane on unwary Travelers. I have never taken a life, but I have done my part in taking a livelihood more than once in my years. I grew up in the Dens, a dusty web of caves just south of the city itself. I am one of the oldest still here; most everyone who is abandoned at the mouths of these caves either leaves or dies before they have a chance to become a man or woman. For the men, there is always the church or the army. For the women, there is always the church or the street. For me, though, there is only Eerum. He is spiteful and cruel, but he is my home.
Ω A B I L I T I E S / S K I L L S:
//ABILITIES:◼ A SCRAWNY STREET RAT | Wri is thin, wiry, and surprisingly strong when need calls, at least for a girl her size. She can subsist without complaint on the bare minimum required to sustain her physically.
◼ BORN TO THE SANDS | While the nights can be cold in Eerum, the days and their heat are far more deadly. Wri grew up in the heat of Eerum's streets, and while she would likely be uncomfortably cold in any temperate location, she handles heat better than any who do not share her heritage.
//SKILLS:◼ QUICK FINGERS, QUICK FEET | Just as important for survival in Eerum as the ability to deftly slit a Traveler's purse is the ability to navigate the crowded streets and markets quickly enough to avoid retribution when the former goes wrong. Wri is possessed of both of these, as well as a knack for moving by rooftop when the moment requires.
◼ CANNY | Wri has heard and fallen victim to enough gilded words in her short life to know the cadence of a liar's song. She is often quick to pick out a false word or a carefully turned phrase.
//LIMITATIONS:◼ ALL THE WEALTH OF AN EMPTY BAG | It is hard enough for someone like Wri to find the coin or water to buy another day's survival in Eerum, much less to begin to save anything. The entirety of Wri's estate, such as it were, consists of the canvas clothes on her back, an old sack which doubles as a pillow or blanket in need, and a wood-corked water horn.
◼ NEVER A FRIEND IN NEED | Wri knows that anyone could work Eerum's will at any moment, and so has pushed herself away from reliance on (or friendship with) anyone besides Liem.
//WEAKNESSES:◼ IF YOU CAN'T HOLD IT | Wri has never been taught by any other than Eerum's cruel hand. She struggles to muster care for the grandiose abstractions of the wise, and her knowledge on the details of anything remotely arcane is nonexistent.
◼ STILL JUST A GIRL | When it comes to contests of pure physicality, Wri will never match up to a smith or a soldier or even any healthy adult. Maybe with years of training, or a diet that consisted of more than inn scraps and the occasional feast of a swiped pastry, or a larger natural physique, she would stand a chance, but as it is, she will never be remembered for her strength.
◼ Wri's clothing is ragged, but shows signs of relatively recent patch work. She traded half a week's carefully stockpiled coin for the fabric, thread, and skill of a girl in the Dens, a girl whose name Wri has already forgotten. Perhaps this girl would be a friend if such a thing were possible. Perhaps this girl isn't even alive anymore. Wri would have no way of knowing.
