Pia

[Pia]

Name: Pia (her surname she does not speak of)
Age: Late teens to Early twenties
Hair: Blonde, usually tangled
Eyes: A piercing Blue-Grey
Height: Around 5' 7"
Alignment: Neutral Good

She awoke from her sleep to a frightening, yet familiar noise coming from downstairs. Dressing in a hurry and running down the stairs barefoot, she burst through the kitchen door out of breath. There stood her father, smelling of drink as usual, her mother's hair clenched in his fist, yelling at the top of his voice. Her mother, as usual, was all but silent, her face tear-stained, the look in her eyes strangely calm, as though she was about to fall unconcious. Pia glanced at her mother, checking her over quickly without moving, then turned her eyes to her father, glaring at him with years of pent-up venom.

"Get off her." Not a request, an order, spoken icily. Her father's gaze travelled slowly up from the woman in his fist to the defiant face of his daughter, and he laughed drunkenly, shoving his face into hers and snarling "Make me, bitch. She is mine...and so are you!" Pia leaned away from his sour breath, gritting her teeth and hissing "I am not yours, and neither is she. Get off her and leave, before I call the guards". Slowly she began backing away, her eyes never leaving her father's face. He laughed again, and turned back towards her mother, still hanging from his fist by her hair, and raised his other hand...

Pia lunged forward desperately, trying to grab his arm...then she noticed it! A dagger, in her father's free hand! She ducked, changing direction, the instinct to flee overriding her desire to protect her mother. She ran for the door, banging into furniture, not heeding where she was going, when she heard a chilling gurgling, followed by the sickly sweet smell of freshly spilled blood. She hesitated for a split second, whipping her head around to see her mother's crumpled form in what seemed to be a lake of her own blood, soaking into her hair and clothes, and her bloodspattered father at her heels, brandishing the dagger in a dripping red fist and chuckling quietly, a sound more terrifying than any bellow of rage. Pia darted away, heading for the door, frantically grabbing at the handle and finally, after what seemed like an age, falling into the street on hands and knees.

Scrambling to her feet, Pia risked looking behind her again...he was still following her, chuckling, his eyes cold, blazing with madness, and the dagger still raised to strike in his bloody fist. She glanced about her wildly, still running for her life, heading closer, ever closer to the guard post and safety. The door! There it was! Pia ran headlong towards it, crashing into it before scrabbling for the handle with terrified fingers, not daring to look behind her, only wanting to be safe from him.

Suddenly, she felt a fist close around her long, blonde hair... Her father!! She was wrenched backwards by his brute force, just as the door opened from the opposite side...a guard, coming to see what the noise was! Pia heard herself pleading with the guard, and the guard shouting for reinforcements as though in slow motion, and from a distance. She felt her own struggles to free herself, detached somehow, knowing at that moment she was going to die, no matter what the guards did.

Then, in one excruciating burst of pain, it was over. She felt herself crumple to the ground, even as her mother had, watched through clouded eyes as the guards wrestled her father to the floor, disarming him, and then, as her vision grew dark, they dragged him into the guard house, bound at the wrists, flailing around. The sudden fear in his eyes was the sweetest thing she had ever seen, and she lapsed into unconciousness with a soft smile on her face, knowing he would be hung.

Pia is a tall girl, almost painfully thin. She is mute, and communicates using a notepad and pencil. Usually wearing a gorget, it is rare for anyone to see her scarred throat, unless she is either proving a point, or trusts the person. She rarely eats anything, leading to her scrawny stature. She is, however, full of good humour, poking fun at her own shortcomings as much as anyone else's. She is not easily offended, but tends to respond to rudeness and ill treatment with select hand gestures, usually involving two fingers! A loyal friend and an honourable enemy, Pia knows what it is like to be weak, and will often align herself alongside those who have no other defender.