blythe blackthorn ; 4 cb

She's a prodigal daughter, much to her father's chagrin. There's concern in his eyes as she dances across the mats, bearing a hooked blade which towers a good two feet above her head. Blythe is not fearless, she merely does her best to befriend nightmares.

One time, when she was six, she'd nearly drowned and went swimming every day after. Until the goosebumps stopped carving unwelcome paths up her forearms and she couldn't remember what it felt like to be trapped beneath the tide.

Uncle Wren tells her she's foolhardy but not quite foolish. His voice still rough from the cigarette he snuffed out when he realized she wandered into his office. Her mother died when she was little but Uncle Wren assures her they look so very much alike. It explains why her father's expression gets twisted up sometimes when he's looking at her, bittersweet.

Sure, Blythe may be a little desperate to prove herself but it adds to her charm. She's never so much had to make friends as they all seem to stumble toward that toothy smile she bears. It doesn't help that everyone tends to underestimate her until she's got her combat boot pressed to their neck. She's often mistaken for something in need of protection.

Its nice to be loved, even if it feels bad sometimes.

All the time.

Shit.