Description 

A woman of average height and slender build, Wrenly Everly Wright visibly takes pride in her appearance. Her brown hair is almost always in an updo and carefully protected by a hat, usually of felt or straw, and she takes great pains to maintain a pale, even complexion. She has large dark blue eyes and traditionally-beautiful features, if with a somewhat weak chin. She has a mole under the right side of her mouth.

Wrenly has a very obvious favourite colour: pink. She makes sure to incorporate it into all of her outfits, even if it’s something as small as a pink necktie. Her preferences lay in dresses, skirt suits, and heeled boots, usually in shades of light tan or grey along with her habitual pink – she rarely, if ever, wears any black. She also wears a sizeable golden locket ring gifted to her by her late husband, which is conspicuously empty – she insists she used to keep a lock of hair inside it, but will sometimes state it was a flower, or perhaps a portrait of her late mother.

She has no visible scars or other marks save a mole below her mouth on the right side.

Wrenly speaks in an amiable, if somewhat sly, manner, often teasing others light-heartedly and heaping on plenty of compliments…especially if her conversation partner is tall, muscular, or both. She seems to have a weakness for the rugged sort…

Early Life 

Born in 1880 in New York, Wrenly Everly Hall was the third child of a family of eight children. Wrenly wasn’t born on the streets, but it was a tumultuous, uncertain life. Her mother worked as a washerwoman and her father in one of New York’s many factories, and upon his death in a factory accident when Wrenly was five, things took a downturn for the family. Young Wrenly turned to running with a local group of pickpockets to try and steal enough to get by, and in doing so, expanded her world view when she stole a wealthy woman’s purse.

She was caught and beaten, of course, but the sight of money, of the pearl jewelry the woman had worn…it enlightened her. There was a world of glittering jewels and fine silk just a couple of blocks away, and she wasn’t entitled to it because she hadn’t been born proper. That was unfair! Due to pure circumstance, she was blocked off from a place in life that she desperately wanted. Doing things the “correct” way wouldn’t bring her what she desired, so she decided that day that she’d take it – not at any cost, but she wasn’t above stepping on some toes.

That failed purse-snatching turned into long treks to the richer parts of New York. What was intended as work, sight-seeing, and research turned into stretches of days there to make better use of her time, and in doing that, she allied herself with the young vagabonds there. She quickly learned a pretty face – like hers – earned her a reputation as pitiable and worth some sympathy, so she had some natural privilege, at least. Using that, she gained a reputation as someone half-decent at distractions, good at drawing sympathy from well-meaning but naïve rich folks, and as somewhat of a snob.

As she grew older and left her family to struggle on her own, Wrenly briefly worked with a theatre troupe, as a washerwoman like her mother, and then with a small band of women with similar ideals to her – no violence, charm only, and sticky fingers always. It was there that she was trained in the art of cheeky flirtation and feminine wiles, and from where she built the foundation for the next part of her life…

Now armed with enough savings to buy a fashionable dress, Wrenly managed to sneak into a party. There, with a combination of a low profile, polite behaviour, and being lucky enough to pick a specific target, Wrenly successfully caught the eye of an older English gentleman. Wilson Wright was the youngest son of a well-to-do family who’d fallen from his father’s favour after a string of failed business ventures but had managed to catch himself recently with a string of lucky investments. He was a good few decades too old for her taste, but all too eager to make Wrenly’s acquaintance – he was unmarried and had faced pressure to take a bride, any bride, for years.

They were wed that very year and Wrenly Wright now had the lower rungs of high society in her grasp. She couldn’t reach the heights Old Money English Aristocracy could potentially give her, but she knew that crossing over into that realm would be more difficult than it was worth. She’d worked hard already, grabbed a fairly well-off husband, and even lived in a home with him in a nice part of town. For now, she’d rebuild her savings and work on her social circle lest something go wrong – she would need support if she was to maintain her lifestyle.

Wrenly was married to Wilson for two years. She quickly learned that he was prone to long tangents on lumber and rail lines and supply routes, as well as hunting, all things she found either boring or distasteful. Any attempt at her own conversation that didn’t touch those topics was ignored or dismissed. She didn’t find him attractive, and he seemed to lose interest in her quickly. She figured he saw their marriage as a chore now done with now that the papers had been signed, and suspected his family were judging his choice of wife. She kept up with her savings, attended parties where few wanted to talk to her, and ate quiet dinners at home. All was settling into a dreadfully dull life. She could go shopping, sure, but could no longer access the freedom she’d had in her younger years. Wrenly forced herself to be satisfied with it – she wasn’t starving, hurting, or poor, just bored to tears…until she wasn’t.

One night, their home was broken into. Wrenly lingered in the bedroom as she was told, but at the sound of raised voices, tracked them down, ready to try and run if she needed to…or charm her way out of danger. She poked her head around the corner to their sitting room just in time to see a tall, muscular assailant bash her husband’s head into their hardwood table. He didn’t get up.

The next part, Wrenly will admit, is a rush of blurry memories and emotion with no firm timeline. She managed to talk her way into not being harmed too badly and was taken hostage, tied up on the back of a horse. The next few weeks on the run were spent in a similar fashion, though she slowly became enamored with her kidnapper – and what he represented.

He was freedom in a strange sort of way, freedom from the stifling life she’d earned herself. He was rugged and dangerous, unpredictable, and that gave her a rush like nothing else. Their relationship slowly improved purely due to the length of time they were together, but just as she thought she’d gained herself a new life on the run with an outlaw – she knew his name, and had earned the right to be untied when out and about – he ditched her unceremoniously on the side of the road in the dusty countryside far from New York.

She made her way on foot to Blackwater, given only a knife and some paltry supplies so she wouldn’t die of exposure immediately. Motivated by a bit of a broken heart, spite, and a complete sense of being unmoored, Wrenly made her way to civilization once more.

Present Life 

After coming to state, Wrenly feels unsure but exhilarated by the opportunity presented to her. She’s an unknown player in New Alexandria upon first arriving. She has no enemies, but no allies either. She’s well aware of her weaknesses and how easy she looks to take advantage of, and uses that as best she can…though her real personality has been slipping through the cracks of her ladylike veneer thanks to the excitement of it all.

She is most often found in towns and the city of Saint Denis, where she is renting a small room at a women-only boarding house. She’s recently made a few acquaintances, successfully acquired a horse, and been made a hostage during a couple of robberies, the latter of which has resulted in a twitchier temperament.

Affiliations 

Lou Leblanc (tentative)

Quotes 

“Oh what a darling!” (When referring to basically any horse)

Trivia 

Her favourite colour (besides pink) is sapphire blue. She prefers herself, if she ever wears blue, in lighter shades, however.

She knows how to drive a wagon but has only ever been a passenger on horses and is, at the start of her time in New Alexandria, looking into riding lessons and information on horses in general. She’s acquired a horse by the name of Dracula and is currently an amateur rider.

She absolutely abhors violence. She finds it distasteful and will avoid using it at all costs, though she is more lenient towards reactive violence when it comes to self-defense.

Twirls her hair when attracted to someone.

Loves gin and whiskey, but insists her favourite drink is wine.

Her sticky fingers are born from a combination of necessity and the thrill of getting away with it. One led to the other.

She will occasionally use her middle name when uncertain, scared, or otherwise unwilling to use her first name. As for how she prefers to be addressed, she will accept most variations of Ms. or Mrs. Wright/Wrenly, but will demand more formality if she's annoyed with someone.