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 [LADYVICKTORIA] Farah Fatim

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Angel-Jade
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Join date : 2012-07-22

PostSubject: [LADYVICKTORIA] Farah Fatim   Tue Jan 22, 2013 5:24 pm


What Makes the Desert Beautiful…


Name:
Farah Fatim

Nickname:
Miss Sand

Age:
22

Gender:
Female

Species:
Shapeshifter

Allegiance to House:
House Martell (Birthplace)
House Tyrell (Employment)

Role to House:
Brothel Worker

Personality:
Farah is an exotic delight from the warmer regions in the south and that embrace of the sun made her into a truly divine desirable woman; she’s quiet and mysterious withdrawn into that southern charm that defines most Dornish women. She’s kind and gentle, timid and shy for the most part though that’s the face she wears when the eyes are all on her; behind closed doors however there will be an entirely different Farah to discover. In her private quarters at Cider Hall there’s a heartwarming, sensual person waiting to be loved and desired by strange men who’ll spoil her with riches and trinkets to gain her warmth. Behind closed doors she turns into a wild vixen with a raw untamable sexual energy that’s completely contrasting to the shy wallflower that gets presented to the clientele…

Physical Description:
Farah has that sexy voluptuous body of a Dornish maiden with full plump breasts and plenty of booty for a man to handle; rather tall with her 5ft eight there’s a lot of woman to love in this lady from the desert lands whose skin is kissed by the sun without those shameful tan lines that other ladies display. Everything about her exuded this Dornish flair, this southern harem feel with dresses of refined earthy shaded silks and refined golden jewelry. Along her back there are mysterious markings printed onto her skin, a pattern of fiery flames elegantly tracing all along her back moving along her sides down the lower part of her stomach to guide the eye directly to that sacred haven between her legs. She’s got beautiful long raven black hair with just a speck of maroon to shine along her face when the sun falls upon her presence though nothing captures her Dornish appeal like those darkened brown eyes of hers; inside those eyes one can find themselves lost forever wandering aimlessly as if stranded in a desert that lives deep inside her heart and soul…

Powers and Abilities:
Blessed at birth with the guardian spirit of the cheetah inside her, Farah is a shapeshifter of the feline kind whose true form captures the beauty of Dorne’s most magnificent animal. The Cheetah gives her an unmatchable speed advantages over the other felines in the animal kingdoms along with a rare agility that is found as well in Farah’s everyday life. There’s a wildness, an untamable strength residing inside her all because of this proud majestic animal that makes her a warm lover, carrying mother but a fierce and wild vixen…

Strengths:
• Tenderness
• Passion
• Care

Weaknesses:
• Temperament
• Groups
• Cold

Weapons of Choice:
Not Available

Armor of Choice:
Not Available

Background History:
One Year Ago…

The sun stood high on the horizon again, its warmth leaving the air around her trembling over the sandy dunes of Hellholt; then again in Dorne the sun always seemed to shine just a bit warmer than elsewhere in Westeros and this isolated corner of the Martell lands truly must be its epicenter for it been centuries since rain last fell upon this desert. By the slender stream she sat on hands and knees doing the laundry of her home yet no amount of scrubbing could ever remove the oily stains on her father’s linen. The man was a veteran alchemist dabbling in various practices that others had long forsaken; liquids extracted from the rare cacti found in this part of the desert had been transformed into spirit waters that soothed ailments and prevented infection from spreading; the thick black oil found when the well was dug outside of town had been her father’s most recent source of obsession, leaving poor Farah to face a foe undefeatable with common water. Her fingers had gone sour from scrubbing the rough robes of her father across the rusted washboard as sweat began to drip along her face down to the stream below in the effort. This had been her life since the day she could first remember, her and father doing a public service for the people of Hellholt where House Uller ruled with iron fist. There’s a saying around these parts about that noble house: “Half of the Ullers are half-mad, and the other half are worse.” But that was something none around here dared to say out loud for their overlords had eyes and ears everywhere. Farah looked around and spotted another of Lord Harmen Uller’s men spying on her from the old pier on the Brimstone river. Lately that’s all she’d been noticing, more of Uller’s men observing her from a distance though whatever their motives or intentions might be with her, remained a question unanswered for Farah who’d decided laundry could wait…

After the sun had just set behind that sandy screen of Hellholt dunes, Farah had ventured home where father would be eagerly waiting to hear about her latest adventures – or at least that’s what the old man called them – for the lanterns were already lit. A deep hue of feeble light warmed the house in this welcoming ambiance that made it home for her with her father already seated on his end of the table. Plates usually were set at this time of the day, the old man never too proud to help out with the housekeeping tasks that stood on his daughter’s list but tonight it was parchment that stood before her father. Even from the front door Farah could recognize that gold and maroon wax seal her father held before him and that made an anvil drop inside her stomach. Slowly she shuffled towards father whose eyes appeared to be reddened by tears already shed; his hand gestured her to sit down and somehow Farah already knew the man’s behavior predicted little good. “Sit down my love, news such as this should not be heard while standing…” Farah pulled back one of the chairs and sat down as was asked of her though the ominous feeling remained like a wretched ghost staring her in the face; her hand presented a subtle tremble for last time this occurred, father had delivered the news of their mother’s passing. “ Lord Harmen Uller sent a raven this morning proclaiming his intentions to me; he seeks to have your hand in marriage and as he is my lord I cannot deny him that privilege no matter how much it pains me. Harmen is a madman highly unpredictable though he remains my Lord and obedience to his requests are expected of me…” Her father’s hand took hers but Farah pulled away; her face had lost its color and her voice refused to utter even a single word when her father continued. “But he will not have you, my little Farah for what father sends his daughter to certain death. If you refuse his proposal you’ll be burned alive and if you accept, he’ll burn you alive when discovering your maidenhead was already taken by that Hassan boy you loved a year ago. Though it pains me to say, my sweetheart, leaving Dorne is the sole option that remains…” A sincere tear rolled down the man’s cheek as only now Farah noticed the changes in their home; all her stuff was missing, cloths, trinkets, even the portrait their mother had drawn of their family all had been removed while by the door a traveling sack waited patiently; Uller would burn down this house when he found out she’d run but it seemed father was prepared to face the flames if it meant his beloved daughter who have a second chance at life…

The Present…

Farah walked inside the Cider Hall brothel, the place she’d called home for the past seven months where she’d found safety and security that Hellholt had denied her; ravens had brought word weeks ago of her father’s passing though as an exiled there was no way for her to return to Dorne to pay her last respects to the man whose sacrifice returned life to her. He’d been right though, Uller would have burned her alive anyways for that precious gift he’d desired between her legs had been taken by the kind sailor she’d met during last Summer’s festival. She’d laid with him four days and nights, a world of passion having been opened to her and somehow the way he’d made her feel that day, seemed like a sensation she wanted to experience every waking moment of the day. In Cider Hall she’d become one of the favorite girls of the frequent patrons who’d traveled sometimes weeks just for a single night with her; they loved how her skin never seemed to lose that warm kiss of the sun on her flesh and how her full voluptuous Dornish body felt underneath their own. Sometimes they’d brought her treasures and presents they’d bought from Dornish vendors on the road hoping a reminder of home would grant them her favor but now Farah simply loved the certainty of their coin over their affections. She’d grown to love the male eye on her, their hands softly moving along her body and their lips roughly on her own; Madame Naevia had taught her how to become truly the Dornish Lady the customer desired having trained her in the arts of erotic dancing with silken veils like those precious courtesans from the personal harem of Prince Oberyn Martell. She’d learned her what it meant to be an exotic beauty and for that she was her blonde employer forever grateful, her future lies in Cider Hall now…

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…Is That Somewhere it Hides an Rich Oasis

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