Editing Vixienne Devereaux

{{Character
| faction = neutral
| status = pc 
| species = bee
| player = Vixienne Devereaux
| nickname = Vixienne
| image = Vixmed.jpg
| organization = 
| job_title = 
| aliases = 
| twitter = 
| gender = F
| age = 224
| nationality = USA
| residence = Atlanta
|}}

=• The Beginning •=

 "''Definitions belong to the definers, not the defined.''" -Toni Morrison

Most folks would peg me as barely old enough to drink. Truth is I'm older than most of the graves in Kingsmouth. I quit counting the years once it became clear that they were of no consequence to me. I bet you’d never guess to look at me that I was murdered in 1815. Sweet as cane sugar with a disarming smile and eyes made of that first glimpse of hot summer sky...I've been called ''Angel'' and ''Baby Girl'' more times that I can count. You can call me whatever you want. It won't matter in the end anyway. It never does.

My daddy was born a slave in the same year that a group of free white men declared their independence. His name was Gabriel, like the archangel. What I know about how he lived and died is mostly from what I've read. What I actually recall of the man is how beautiful his voice was when he would say my name and sing to my mother on the rare occasions that we saw him. My mother wasn't anyone fancy. Irish and indentured, she'd already endured a lifetime of indignities by the time I was born.

I was six years old when they hanged my daddy. He swung from the gallows. The morning sun made angel wings behind him from my tears. That night we ran, my mother and I, as far as we could run. She wept for him every night of our journey. We finally ended up in Old Devereaux, Georgia. My mother dried her tears and then mine. She told me to never speak of my father again.

My mother worked in the office of a small pottery company and I eventually became the teacher in our small town. In spite of everything we'd lost, we managed to make a happy life for ourselves together. I passed for who I needed to be for both our sakes. Everything changed the night the deacon’s son came calling and found me home alone. Mother found my broken lifeless body and went mad in the old ways of her own people. They said she pulled my body out into the treeline, howling and chanting over me for three days solid.

She made her way to the swamp witch named Auntie Zee near Milledgeville with my corpse. For the first since his death, my mother spoke to the Hoodoo woman about my father. She begged the woman to take us to the secret place where the ancestors' mud could cheat death. She begged the old woman to bring me back. The swamp mud needed blood and my mother was the one who offered up her own throat so I could live. I came back the next full moon to nothing but old Auntie Zee, my mother's coffin, and the memory of my own death.

I spent the next two moons vomiting out the rest of my broken heart. The good in me was gone. No regrets. Goodness had been my affliction and I was finally cured. I packed my bags and headed for Atlanta. On the way there I made a late night visit to that deacon's boy. After that I felt right as rain.


=• The Secret War  •=
How did your character become part of the Secret World, and what have they been up to since then?
 


=• From TSW to SWL  •=
If your character existed in TSW (The Secret World) before coming to SWL (Secret World Legends) -- how do you treat the transition?  Are they exactly the same?  Did they suffer memory loss?  Are they some 'alternate reality' version of themselves?



=• Known Associates/Affiliations  •=
Everyone knows someone.  What groups, people, friends, and relatives does your character have ties to?  Would other characters know them from a favorite hangout or a particular organization?
 


=• Special Notes  •=
Are they demon-possessed?  A skilled Elementalist?  Want to describe their awesome powers or trademark equipment they always carry?  This is the place to do it.

 

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