[B]Name:[/B] Mamarié (Marie) Jeanne La Fleur
[B]Alias/Nickname:[/B] Voodoo Lily
[B]Age:[/B] 23
[B]Race:[/B] Human
[B]Birth Place:[/B] Delacroix, LA
[B]Height:[/B] 5' 9"
[B]Weight:[/B] 120#

[B]Appearance[/B]
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Marie is a tall, slender young woman, light in appearance, with deep brown eyes and black hair that falls just past her shoulders. She carries herself confidently and her eyes project intelligence and determination. Her figure is light and her movements would best be described as possessing deliberate grace, both purposeful and fluid. She has a number of piercings and tattoos, many of which are plainly visible and, in particular, the mark of Erzulie on her left shoulder and a bare-breasted open-winged angel at her waist. When she speaks, she's prone to voice her opinion without filters in the thick flourishes of a Creole accent, complete with an array of regional colloquialisms that betray her worldliness. Her dress is eclectic and tends to portray her moods, ranging from a more comfort-oriented base state upwards, but is always fashionable if not also a tad revealing. She's fond of drink and can often be found perched atop a bar stool wreathed in a cloud of cigar smoke and smelling of booze. The latter penchants frequently gain her entry into the conversations of men, who find in her an attractive and engaging drinking buddy. Her choice of language fluctuates, and can do so mid-sentence, from her native Creole to English. While she tries to catch and correct herself, others are often left to their own devices in figuring out the various pieces of her fractured sentences. 

[B]Social Status:[/B] 
Currently unaffiliated, but she's generally unsympathetic to any agenda that sees angels and demons encroaching on human domain. Among humans, her status varies by belief in vodou, which is necessarily limited to small pockets globally and, within that, a precious few who acknowledge its power. Among that scattered group, Marie would be regarded as a mambo asogwe, or high priestess, and one of a handful capable of inducting others into the ranks of the "clergy". By degree, her powers are lesser than those of similar standing given her recent ordainment; however, the title itself was conferred by Jeanne Vilet and stands an indisputable affirmation of Marie's mastery.

[B]Relations:[/B] 
There are no known living relations; however, Marie's parentage remains unknown, so there's a degree of uncertainty in her ancestry. With regard to Jeanne Vilet, she had no daughters and miscarried two sons, so Marie is her only descendant, if in spirit only.

[B]General Activity:[/B] 
Marie follows the Loa, wherever they advise, though it's become apparent to her that their leadership isn't an absolute. That is, Papa Legba leads true, if not always along a constant path; while Xango leads on more dangerous paths, and Erzulie seems to have no earthly direction at all. The young woman's time is most often spent waiting in service of the Loa, biding her time until their direction is clear. Often, that means long days and nights spent in whatever endeavor she deems appropriate; while at others it means serving the needs of other "believers", which she does enthusiastically. From a more practical standpoint, her time is divided between doing the bidding of the Loa, tempered by her own feelings on their fickle nature, and sustaining her own existence by whatever means necessary. It's a happy coincidence that the two frequently overlap. On occasion, it also means engaging directly in the affairs of angels and demons, though never when the outcome is speculative. 

[B]Abilities[/B] 
Marie's brand of shamanistic magic is steeped in ritual and heavily dependent on the Loa for its most potent effects. In its more predictable state, charms, talismans, and potions channel the innate essence of humankind guided from elsewhere. In its less stable forms, the outcomes are wholly unpredictable and vary according to the nature of the Loa invoked.

[B]Equipment:[/B] 
Marie carries an oversized purse, or alternatively a femininely-styled white burlap messenger bag, depending on one's sense of style. Within, she carries a small supply of herbs and ingredients necessary for both common and more extraordinary effects. That is to say that the more frequent mundane ingredients and the rarer, but more potent, ones are in sufficient stock - those in between are absent. Suffice it to say, though, that the Loa are less finicky about their materials when something they hold dear is at stake, so insufficient inventory is seldom an issue experienced by any but the most novice. She carries no weaponry beyond a small, bone-handled knife used for ceremonial purposes and skinning small animals.

[B]Personality:[/B] 
Generally speaking, Marie is a heavy drinker, will smoke just about anything, and could be regarded as promiscuous. However, the more astute would, over time, observe patterns in her behavior such that for an extended period she might be a chaste teetotaler (rare), while at another nothing short of a drunken fille de joie (also rare). Within the broader range of the spectrum, her demeanor is warm and vivacious - she laughs easily and is frequently flirtatious, though less often genuinely interested in pursuing things further. In light conversation, she's downright chatty and easily able to carry on for hours; however, when pressed about herself becomes evasive and is quick to change the topic. It takes little time to discern that the young woman is an idealist, though the principles that drive her may be less certain and she's seldom forthcoming about them. The handful that can call her friend find her a loyal and resourceful ally, in whom they can place their complete confidence. Others will find in her a pragmatist that's more than capable of thriving in virtually any environment and willing to beg, borrow, or steal her way to any end.

[B]Biography:[/B] 
A light mist hung heavy in the stagnant air, rich with the chirps and croaks of the bayou. The night was dead calm, otherwise, moonless and damned near oppressive. The only light source was a century-old lantern, carried by a hand nearly as old, that cast wavering wisps of light into the darkness. "Wont sou ou, Legba, yo pote yon granmoun fanm soti sou yon jou lannwit tankou sa a." The lantern bearer's voice was old and crackled, and seemed to address no one in particular in thickly-accented Creole. "The girl, I know, I know. We been waitin a long time for her ... a long time." Jeanne Vilet's feeble frame hobbled along silently into the wee hours, the only sounds she made being the sloppy squish of her walking stick as it plunged into the muddy peat with each step. She looked every bit of her hundred-plus years, hunched over with loose, wrinkled skin and nearly lost in her antiquated night gown. After a time, she came to a halt at the base of a grand cypress, maybe five or six-hundred years old with gnarled roots twisting up through the layers of mud and algae to form a narrow plateau a couple feet above the muck. Braids of its ancient trunk encircled the space to form a tiny alcove around a swaddled infant nestled amongst its serpentine tangle of roots. "Thank you Legba ... now run and tell Erzulie we've found her daughter, Mamarié." 
	
Unlike other young Louisiana girls, Mamarié grew up near the edge of bayou country with her adopted guardian, Jeanne La Fleur, whom she knew as Mama Jeanne. Being that Delacroix was the nearest town, and that it was neither near nor much of a town, Mamarié and Jeanne were usually left to their own devices. It never struck Mamarié as odd, then, that the pair spoke only Creole and Latin at home, nor did speaking with the spirits seem to be anything but ordinary. In fact, sometimes their tiny shack seemed literally filled with personalities - some good, some bad, some with cheap perfume, and some that drank too much. As a child, Mamarié made modest attempts at interaction with her peers, though it was entirely a means of working on her English. Despite her differences from the other children, they were friendly towards her, if not a bit restrained - she later came to learn that they were afraid she'd work dark magic on them, but that's another story. She was never subjected to any kind of formal education beyond small makeshift classrooms, instead choosing to remain with Mama Jeanne and pursue other studies with what they both knew to be a limited time together. 

One night during their last Summer, she and Mama Jeanne drank rum and smoked into the wee hours of the morning, as had become their habit. On this particular evening, however, Mama Jeanne told Mamarié that the Guédé waited for her at the crossroads - their time in the bayou was over and Mamarié would have to find her own way. The topic changed for a time to lighter conversation, though their drinking became heavier - much of the rest is a still a blur for Mamarié. They spat rum through their teeth, spraying it into a fine mist and offered up sacrifices for the Loa, some for Mama Jeanne's safe journey and others to call the Loa to Mamarié. It was the first time she ever actually saw them, the Loa, and they passed through her, such that she felt the nature of each. By dawn, she found herself alone, half-naked, and with a burning on her back, near her left shoulder - she bore a fresh tattoo, Erzulie's vever. That day she gathered the few things worth taking - a couple of Mama Jeanne's books, a small selection of herbs, several hand-rolled cigars, and a bottle of rum - and set fire to the only home she'd known. 

In the brief span since, the Loa have led her safely across continents to Kenan, though they've not made their intentions for her there clear. For the most part, her days are spent drinking and smoking her way through the last of the cash at hand, though her tenuous accessibility to both is testing her patience and drawing a forced calling of the Loa ever closer.

[B]Notes:[/B]
The Loa, as referenced above, are not spirits. Their nature is not wholly understood by Mamarié, though she's certain they've been in existence for at least several human generations. Their personalities vary, even within what she knows as the same Loa, though perhaps beyond what one might expect from a human. That there are several dozen of them muddies the waters even further, such that it requires one several years to simply learn to identify the broad classes of Loa. Regardless of their nature, it's evident that their existence is far less transient than that of humans and their grasp of magic far greater.