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Being the youngest of many siblings meant that there would be no great inheritence or weighty duty for Lenne. At best she would see a political marriage or minor office to oversee. Some would find that a bitter fate, but for Lenne it meant freedom her elder siblings couldn't have. She used it to its fullest. As a child, she was a parent's nightmare, vanishing for days into the forest, to return filthy and babbling excitedly about what she saw. She was delighted to be scolded with being homebound, pestering others for stories, or sneaking into the libraries. It never got better. She was equally infuriating as a youth, and worse as a teenager. Anatomy, history, theology, naturalism, spirit lore. No subject was safe from her scrutiny. No question was too obscure to escape examination. In desperation, her parents directed her to hobbies, and to their credit, it was somewhat successful. Some of her hours were spend safely working as a Mercy's Aid. Others with the Scholars, where her curiosity could be, at least, tolerated. Of late, her passion has been the unacceptably fractured history of the world. So when her parents announced she was to be sent to Arx, to gain proper 'seasoning' befitting her standing, she was overjoyed. What better place to figure out the truth of things than at the seat of so much of history?

Lenne might seem, on the surface, like a soft, effete young noblewoman. Her skin is porcelin, unblemished by sun. Her long, red-blonde hair is in perfect plait and brushed to a gleam. She's too slender and delicate in build to have seen much rough treatment. Her lips are prone to a lilting smiling. Yet there as signs of the opposite, too. The subtle white tracery of scars on her hands and forearms speak of years of spilled blood. The shadow of ink often darkens her fingertips. Her eyes are bright, curious and always attentive. Most tellingly, she carries herself as every bit the Northlander. Confident, purposeful and at ease with herself. {w({nLenne has recovered from recent injuries, well enough. Wounds have healed. Bruises have faded. Bones have mended. Anything else still amiss with her is hidden under white silk. Much of her usual drive and verve has returned with it. Albeit at the cost of exhausted darkness under her eyes, only sometimes hidden by makeup.{w){n

Duty has never been a heavy burden for Lenne, so the independence common to Northlanders found full flower in her. Curiosity is her watchword. She has, since she was a child, sought out every secret she could ferret out, learned every story she could badger an adult to tell her, and voraciously consumed every book she could get her fingers on. And she has been all too willing to bull her way through resistence to get what she desires. Though hardly a stereotypical model of Northern (or really, any) nobility, Lenne at least has a reputation at home of being pious (if perhaps over-broadly), gentle (save in pursuit of her latest interest) and thoughtful.