ryn gansey } { district three | fin

"You can't just keep taking all of these things!
You're going to get us caught one of these day-"

"But we need it!"

Wants and needs, a difference never learned in the eyes and mind of a girl whose unknowingly greedy, dainty fingers wrap around diamonds and pearls of the wealth who rid of her existence. 


Gentle and gracious in her own way, the pleasing aroma of succulent, fresh flowers fill the aura as she strides by. Like the first day of spring in parts of Three, the vanilla flowers bloom from her neck, giving off the scent and filling the noses of those who pass with the sweet smell of deceit. Her pink, plush lips formed from the petals of the flowers she prodded the cart manager in giving to her as a religious offering.


Her voice is as soft and comforting as her gently chiseled features, the only prominent being her eyes and jawline. Similarity to her deceased mother in the sense that she was almost a perfect image of the woman who is no more. Shimmering brown eyes that reflect brilliance off of the radiating light that distorts within them. Long, ginger brown hair that flows and cascades past her shoulders. The scent of vanilla is washed deep within their roots, whether it was clean or not, even when her hair grew greasy and it hadn't been washed for days upon end.


The uncanny resemblance in her and her brother. If the blood that runs in their bodies wasn't proof enough, Ryn and Dublin are mirrored reflections of parallel dimensions. Brother and sister since birth, Dublin was seen as the protective brother to Ryn's hammer steady motherly nature. A perfect duo beyond compare, it is no wonder they live a life only needing each other.


Ryn was always referred to the sweet flowers that bloom in meadow patches throughout the unclaimed areas in Three. Sweet, delicate, pretty, however the facade held is only one part truth and other part deceit. Going hand in hand, Ryn was never to be made as fragile as she seemed, for she was stronger than most, and perhaps not physically but mentality and through persistance.


Caring for others that she holds close, above herself, Ryn tends to be associated with holding a motherly nature, and those tendencies, close and dear to her blooming heart. Nurturing over Dublin's protectiveness with her, she provides Dublin and herself with stolen goods that are desired, wanted, the most. Greedy fingers find their way pickpocketing into those of the unknowing. Dainty, agile hands snatching precious items off of shelves that count only as luxuries in their eyes. And perhaps it has gotten out of control, but it's a habit that can't be broken.


Shards of broken reflections and memories shatter across the tile flooring of their home. Ryn and Dublin were raised with the knowing that they'd look out for one another as long as they live. Thieves at heart ever since they were little, poor children who roamed throughout the district, and town square, with beat up clothes and dirt in their hair. A carefree life with a game of spy, where Dublin would steal food from shops and Ryn would follow behind with small games and pieces of jewelry stuffed into her coat and pockets. A team of partners made just for one another, they are the perfect duo, and since then Dublin would take what they needed, and Ryn would take what they wanted.


Life to them was a game of spy and steal as much as they could, without ever being caught. Maybe it was luck or talent that was gained throughout the years of doing so, but whatever it was it got them ahead in life. Living among the pretty handful of poor throughout a relatively wealthy district, Ryn and Dublin's mother grew sick physically, as their father grew the same mentally. A story almost told in tales of the twisted, and although it was a harsh life, the two found content alongside one another.


Ten- Eleven- Twelve-
Twelve years of age for Ryn had finally hit its hardest. Succumbing to the sickness that had taken their mother and drained her into nothing more, she'd finally passed with the wind that stole her soul. While other's would become consumed in the death of a parent, it was never of Ryn's time to drain like their mother had. Instead, this was just seen as more that they'd need to provide for one another, for one parent was gone and soon they'd have nothing. For two parents were lost, one physically and the other mentally.


Thirteen- Fourteen- Fifteen-
Fifteen years and a battle lost was the end of a long, hopeless war. A father who had embraced death into his life more than his own children. The only way out of his suffering was by a coffin that permanently rested six feet underneath the ground in which they stand. Two parents that kept them under a roof was no more, leaving them to fend for themselves. Pickpocketing and playing a game of chance against being caught was what they did best, and the set back only urged them for more and more. There was no time to mourn the lives of those who had been lost long ago.


Sixteen- Seventeen-
The perfect partners in crime, Ryn and Dublin live life contently alongside one another. For all they need is each other, and that's how it has been since forever.