Thread: As You Like It

Rowan Female Version oOLinkOo Rowan Male Alter-egooOLinkOo Bright red flames licked the ceiling eating away the upholstery one lick at a time. The first motav cocktail had come just seconds after Rowan had freed her hands, the second narrowly missing the scared girl by centimeters. Just after she had climbed out the door and crawled into a ditch, safely hiding herself in a large drainage pipe the entire vehicle went up in flames. She sat quiet and watched her fearless compadre buckle beneath the weight of three men, just narrowly pulling himself away before being smothered by their robust bodies. When the car finally exploded altogether, the four men took off in the opposite direction of her, proving that she had indeed been their intended target. At first she thought her body guard was dead, laying on the ground and heaving as he was, but when he got up and brushed off, looking at the mess all woebegone and frustrated she didn't leave her hiding spot and go to save him. Instead she stood up and walked too the other side of the pipe. At a young age Rowan learned not to rethink split second decisions. This particular one was not fully hashed out but she had a few bucks in her pocket, and a pocket knife she had taken off the body guard when he was tying her up. Besides who would care if she just disappeared, well her parents of course, and that pervert she was suppose to marry. But other then that she was Scott free. Rowan had never been one to weigh the consequences of her actions properly and thus didn't think twice about turning tail and running away. About halfway too the end of the drainage pipe she lobbed off her pretty hair, and rubbed a bit of dirt on her face. Hopefully she looked, boyish, enough, maybe even manly. As for the breasts, she would have to take care of them when she got into town and found some elastic bandages and a large jacket. That particular piece is worth, quite a bit. Took it from the Relecoix mansion itself. See the way it shines. Go ahead try it on, feel the way it weighs down on your body. People were always looking for a good deal on fur. Especially when the days foreboded a harsh winter to coincide with the lack of crops. Rowan was quite well renown around the smaller villages. Shehe, did not generally charge an arm and a leg. Being well renown was never her intention, Rowan intended to stay on the down low. However during the last few years she began to get a bit more presumptuous in how much she came out into the open. Of course she had been pronounced 'dead' a year ago. Rowan even went to her own funeral putting to rest the past hopefully for good. Maybe it was just about time she started heading down the right track, quite literally. Last week she had followed some old train trestles too rather large and flourishing village in need of some good fur jackets. Getting the jackets wasn't too difficult. It was getting a fair price for them that seemed to cause a bit of a ruckus. People here were shrewd, they certainly knew their stuff and wouldn't trade for as much as Rowan would have liked to have. Nevertheless she was able to con somebody out of a inn room for the winter. As well as a stable for her horse and winters worth of food. Once her inventory was gone it was all about relaxing. Even though she had abandoned most of her past, she hadn't given up her very special talents. For the first time in a great while she chose a spot on a rock out in a jaded field between two pastures and began to doodle. Rowan always had to keep her hands moving, drawing something, playing the violin. Every string and pastel moved beneath her fingers almost mechanically. At the present moment her hands were nice and calloused. It was amazing the subtle changes people could make over the course of a few years. Rowan could rest assured knowing that she actually did something instead of sitting in a window like a pretty figurine. She had even adopted a boyish walk and talk. A vague blur of hues and shades painted the western sky. Sunsets were a paradox of simplistic beauty. Their patterns whether faded or clouded were always majestically different and gorgeous. Old Rowan had never understood the reason why people sat and watched the sun set. The end of the day always pissed her off, made her twice as hostile as she had been before. New Rowan still didn't understand the sunset epidemic. Yet she could tolerate traversing from the field towards the town brewery.