Name: Lady Farah D'Aubigne

Family: The lord and lady D'Aubigne, and an older brother who is the heir to the viscount's lands. Also, she has two younger sisters who have a smaller dowery than her's. Being the eldest daughter, she has the greatest dowery to hopefully get her into a better family and provide a way for matches for the rest of her siblings. She knows her duty and will carry it out.

Age: 17

Looks like:


Pets: The above horse, Nighta, and a spaniel named Roger that she loves and has sleep on her bed with her.

Likes: Rain. The woods outside of her birth home, Dissay, and fresh picked lavender.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~

The woods outside glistened with a sheen that meant that the air outside was bright and soft, just to Farah's liking. When she was alone with her tiring woman, she would often lament openly that she wanted to be outside riding on her horse rather than inside. But, ever since she reached her adulthood, she had lost the privilege of getting her skirts and boots good and muddy during a ride through the grass and around the trees, but she had gotten used to her more numerous lessons about being a lady and the lady of a noble house most importantly. Her father had every hope that he would marry his eldest daughter off to a higher lord, gaining great power and respect for his home. If she married high enough, than her siblings would have all sorts of opportunities to have good spouses. She would be glad if her brother Raoul would get a good wife from her own match...he was a year older than her, but his potential matches had been less than ideal due to their lesser house.

As Camille brushed Farah's long hair out, she saw the golden brown strands that would captivate any man that she wished to grab, but they both knew that her lady could only reach out to one man in particular. All of the men of the village could wish her attentions; however, the lady knew that her duty was to her house and to the will of her father. Though she longed to ride, to gallop over the fields upon her strong horse, she knew that she would only be allowed to sit with her stitchery and her household to run. That was her place in life. Her gown, a soft green with gold trim, was well-brushed and aired out for the morning event. Her father had told her that she would be meeting her potential suitor, if the details could be ironed out. Sweet or evil, a gentleman or a rogue, she didn't have any choice but to marry whom her father chose. However, she didn't have to like it internally.

With a soft smile, Camille pulled her waist-length hair into a net at the back of her lady's hair, so beautifully framing her petite face. Farah didn't really enjoy the tightness. However, she was expected to wear her hair in the most fashionable way possible. She knew that today was the day, but she lacked the excitement that should have been within her at the thought of meeting her intended. Knowing that she was only doing what must be done, she shook off the worry and thoughts of whether he could be kind or evil, then slipped down the stairs to await her summons into the hall.