Loner
Winslie (Covey)
Rating:
3L - 3S - 3V
| Discord Tag: Tag Immediately
Silk Reaper
Profile Pages
Winslie "Covey" Fairwyn
Species
Wolf
Age
3 years
Birth Date
Sex
Female (She/Her)
Height
Average
Weight
Average
Build
Athletic
Scent
jasmine, black rose, tonka bean, & faint iron
Eyes
morning glory purple
Fur
blonde & cream
Traits
playful . enigmatic . emotionally guarded . manipulative . enthusiastic
Mark of Mythris
Faint fur bioluminescence
┌w i n s l i e · "c o v e y" · f a i r w y n| ┐
w i n s l i e · "c o v e y" · f a i r w y n
└w i n s l i e · "c o v e y" · f a i r w y n| ┘
w i n s l i e · "c o v e y" · f a i r w y n
└w i n s l i e · "c o v e y" · f a i r w y n| ┘
appearance
held in the breath of the summer sun, covey's appearance is soaked in golden-touched light. her fur is an assortment of blondes and creams, soft to the touch, and always pristine. beautiful by design and stunning by nature. her eyes are the softest shade of purple.
personality
a sister so lovely it is almost a cruelty. soft in appearance, sharp in purpose, her beauty is a weapon she wields without mercy. many have mistaken her for delicate, only to find their lips tasting silver, their blood spilled in reverence to the circle. she moves like a whisper, strikes like a ghost, and leaves behind only ruin. to love her is to suffer, to cross her is to die. she does not fight—she seduces, ensnares, and destroys with a touch, a whisper, a well-placed sigh.
Your blood whispers my name!
q u i r k s
◌ often hums a sweet lullaby
◌ enjoys sleeping beneath the moonlight
◌ bloodmarking on her chest, reminiscent of a bleeding or absent heart
◌ 13/50 posts (adopt)
◌ enjoys sleeping beneath the moonlight
◌ bloodmarking on her chest, reminiscent of a bleeding or absent heart
◌ 13/50 posts (adopt)
o t h e r
◌ Mood Board
◌ Goes by Covey, though will respond to Winslie
◌ Speaks French, Common, and Latin
◌ Goes by Covey, though will respond to Winslie
◌ Speaks French, Common, and Latin
"beauty that bites; a soft hand that devours"
h i s t o r y
Content warning: Sexual Themes
Winslie was the second and youngest daughter of a nobleman. Brought up in a higher society where women were taught to listen, but not to speak. She had been taught that a well-found woman was one who was delicate in their dealings, kind in their touch, and tender in their words. They did not shout, they did not raise their voice, and certainly did not hold an opinion. Winslie was taught to become the woman that society expected her to be. She was taught to curtsey, to smile, and to be forever that fragile, delicate woman they all loved to look at. However, unlike her sister, who had always appeared to enjoy the mundane expectations of marriage and society, Winslie had always hoped for something more.
Although her marriage had not been like her sister’s, when her time ultimately came. Instead, her arrangement was brought forward by her father’s unfortunate debt. Rather than the makings of a love match or something deeper, her father had sold her to a lord who had been known for his brutish dealings and his heavy and wealthy pockets.
It was then that Winslie learned the true nature of man.
Her Lord and husband did not care for her; she was nothing more than a consolation prize, a trophy to possess and an item to parade. He was known for his debauchery, his sinfulness, and his violent indulgences. And be it their wedding night or any other, he never cared for the tears that fell down Winslie’s cheeks or the bruises he marred atop her skin. His court and home were no better, a den of vipers leering in the shadows, always watching and waiting for Winslie to come. Trusted advisors, potion masters, and guards—the name or title never mattered; if they were a man, they were guilty—and each of them had their fun with Winslie. Her husband often knew of this, in ways that allowed their groping hands to touch her, but simultaneously touted that her beauty invited her disloyalty. It was her fault, he would say. Her husband punished her for this, finding imaginary slights reason enough to harm her, time and time again.
She learned the hard way the price of her beauty.
In the end, Winslie had hatched a plan, now understanding the currency that existed in a man’s world. Her beauty was for the price of a man’s lust and greed. She seduced her husband for one final time, this time with a dagger hidden beneath the folds of their bedsheets, and with a voice of silken sighs and heavy breaths, she drove the blade straight into his throat. Upon her husband’s murder, Winslie had made it a point to find each and every man who had ever touched her; her rage was a fire that burned so brightly within her. She hunted each and every single one of them down, seducing them with her feathered touch and their hungry stares, and killing them just as sweetly. Rumors spread of a reaper in the dead of night, a beautiful woman whose siren song was tinged with a lover’s touch, but before anyone could find her…it was the scarlet circle who had.
Her final place of belonging.
Winslie was the second and youngest daughter of a nobleman. Brought up in a higher society where women were taught to listen, but not to speak. She had been taught that a well-found woman was one who was delicate in their dealings, kind in their touch, and tender in their words. They did not shout, they did not raise their voice, and certainly did not hold an opinion. Winslie was taught to become the woman that society expected her to be. She was taught to curtsey, to smile, and to be forever that fragile, delicate woman they all loved to look at. However, unlike her sister, who had always appeared to enjoy the mundane expectations of marriage and society, Winslie had always hoped for something more.
Although her marriage had not been like her sister’s, when her time ultimately came. Instead, her arrangement was brought forward by her father’s unfortunate debt. Rather than the makings of a love match or something deeper, her father had sold her to a lord who had been known for his brutish dealings and his heavy and wealthy pockets.
It was then that Winslie learned the true nature of man.
Her Lord and husband did not care for her; she was nothing more than a consolation prize, a trophy to possess and an item to parade. He was known for his debauchery, his sinfulness, and his violent indulgences. And be it their wedding night or any other, he never cared for the tears that fell down Winslie’s cheeks or the bruises he marred atop her skin. His court and home were no better, a den of vipers leering in the shadows, always watching and waiting for Winslie to come. Trusted advisors, potion masters, and guards—the name or title never mattered; if they were a man, they were guilty—and each of them had their fun with Winslie. Her husband often knew of this, in ways that allowed their groping hands to touch her, but simultaneously touted that her beauty invited her disloyalty. It was her fault, he would say. Her husband punished her for this, finding imaginary slights reason enough to harm her, time and time again.
She learned the hard way the price of her beauty.
In the end, Winslie had hatched a plan, now understanding the currency that existed in a man’s world. Her beauty was for the price of a man’s lust and greed. She seduced her husband for one final time, this time with a dagger hidden beneath the folds of their bedsheets, and with a voice of silken sighs and heavy breaths, she drove the blade straight into his throat. Upon her husband’s murder, Winslie had made it a point to find each and every man who had ever touched her; her rage was a fire that burned so brightly within her. She hunted each and every single one of them down, seducing them with her feathered touch and their hungry stares, and killing them just as sweetly. Rumors spread of a reaper in the dead of night, a beautiful woman whose siren song was tinged with a lover’s touch, but before anyone could find her…it was the scarlet circle who had.
Her final place of belonging.
"i will feel it as deeply and express it as violently as i please"
![[Image: e659cd6f9997a062930b5f5c2ac062d7.gif]](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e6/59/cd/e659cd6f9997a062930b5f5c2ac062d7.gif)
v o i c e
l o v e r
0/30
0/30s i l k . r e a p e r
0/15
0/20k e e p s a k e
0/15
0/20c o l l e c t i o n
a little black book of all things meaningful to covey. whether it be a collection of random artifacts, trophies she's collected from her kills, or even the names of those who have been purified. she likes to remember all.
w i s h l i s t
· words
a blue pulsing rune
found with Lydia on the shores of Malevolent Groundsitem name
item description
item name
item description
Profile code by CJ