#rowan smith

Russel and Rowan are identical twins brothers, with rather opposite personalities...

Russel: 13

Russel's name means "red-haired" so Kai and Skylor found it very amusing when the red tuft of hair he and Rowan were born with darkened into brown over time. It was supposed to be spelled "Russell" but Kai spelled it wrong on the birth certificate.

Rowan (Sorin): 13

Rowan's name quite literally means the same thing. He was given the nickname Sorin by Russel, after a cringey old self-insert OC Rowan made as a little kid and whom Russel has never let him live down.

Rus with his ninja hood up made me giggle so hard as I was drawing it 😅 Bro looks ridiculous ( as a fellow four-eyes I'm allowed to say that )

It was growing harder to fake a smile, and Kasey hid behind the screen of her iPhone, leaning against the  marble pillar while she waited for the other woman to come and join her. She had agreed to go looking for Pokemon weeks ago, but now she didn’t feel particularly like doing anything at all. Rowan’s texts rang through and she scrolled with her thumb listlessly, tugging her hoodie sleeves down while she tapped a bunch of smiley faced emojis and hearts. The tattoo that Theeran had given her was growing itchy under the wrapping, but she didn’t dare touch it, in fear of ruining his handiwork. Blue eyes looked up and caught the sight of the blonde bounding up the steps and she lifted her hand in a wave. “Hi."

“Okay so, did you get any of that?” Sydney hoisted her bag onto one shoulder, looking over at the other woman that she had sat beside through the lecture. She’d been distracted mostly by the way that their professor’s sleeves fit over his arms, and that one curl that seemed to insist on being present on his forehead. “I was so fuckin’ distracted.” She laughed when she turned the corner, practically falling into Rowan’s shoulder when she did. “What were we learning about? Wendigos? Spooky stuff.” Dark hair carded back in a fluid motion, “Should we get lunch? I’m free until four.”

Completely dismissing Demet was becoming a bit of a cruel pastime of Laila’s, and as the wolf slipped away from Rowan’s arm-- she barely dipped her chin in recognition. Instead, flinty eyes looked up the phoenix’s apparel, smiling over the edge of her drink. She was cruel when she drank, despite how often she did. “Dipped in gold,” came her observation, “It suits you.” Rowan had given a little bit of her life away for Elias, something that Laila figured made her a good person, and it got her attention. “How have you been?” Small talk wasn’t her forte, but at an event like this it felt easier to attempt it than to stick out.

He felt the eyes upon him from across the shop, watching curiously as he carefully selected his options, asking questions of the witch behind the counter before making his purchase. Seb had even gotten a cup to go, toting it in his hands with the paper bag of loose leaf. The vampire was content to give it a sip, when wide eyes made him sigh tiredly, looking over at the blonde who they belonged to. “Can I help you?”

NAME. Rowan Smith AGE & BIRTH DATE. 25 & October 16th, 1995 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her SPECIES. Phoenix OCCUPATION. Barkeep FACE CLAIM. Imogen Poots

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: abduction, drugs, death ) Rowan started off her life normal and sweet, her father had never really been in the picture and her mother was on the younger side of things, having a baby at twenty one without much parental support from Rowan’s grandparents. Her mother’s boyfriend had bailed when the pregnancy was announced and it had been her mother and her against the world ever since. Since it was just the female force of the two of them, she rarely asked about her father’s identity, chalking his absence up to just another scared kid and not wanting to upset her mother’s already fragile state. Rowan’s birth was easy, just another Tuesday at New York City general hospital but her life had quickly been picking up its sorrow as she came screaming into the world, and time has taken a strange toll on their life. If questioned, Rowan would answer that she never thought of the shadow of a father that had been, that he simply never crossed her mind and she had better things to put her energy towards but she kept journals from whenever her mother would speak of him and was slowly piecing together the human that made up half of her DNA.

Rowan grew up quick, though she stayed impish in nature. It was natural for a beaming smile with a few loose teeth to adorn her mouth as a child and she collected bandaids on her kneecaps as often as she collected pokemon cards. Life was hard around their household, they always made the bills but barely. Her mother worked as a waitress and a bartender to keep the roof over their home, and the hardworking service atmosphere that her mother worked installed in her a funloving and fierce approach to life that she taught to her daughter, they only had so long in this world and they had to make the most out of all the time they had left. Like most children who have had to watch their parents struggle to make ends meet, Rowan had a certain maturity and wit that came early for her age. There was never a shortage of loud music and laughter in their home, Rowan completing her homework on diner tables as her mom worked hard. Rowan had the ability to make good friends, and she did have some deep friendship bonds with her peers but she was a bit of a lone wolf, trust came harder for her because she had a secret fear that those she loved would one day disappear.

Unfortunately, a terrible thing happened on the eve of Rowan’s nineteen birthday, one of Rowan’s biggest fears was that the people she loved would vanish, and the night before Rowan was meant to turn nineteen that’s exactly what happened to her mother. It was a tradition for her mother to bake cupcakes to celebrate Rowan’s birthday and normally they stayed up all night eating cupcakes and watching whatever movies Rowan choose that night, they celebrated her mother’s birthday in the same way. Only on October 15th as Rowan waited for the noise of familiar keys in the lock, the sunset beginning to turn the sky into beautiful orange and pink colors, a paralyzing fear overcame her ribcage causing a panic attack to be induced in the heart it carried and she knew — her mother wasn’t coming home. The house sounded so empty with just Rowan to fill it that it ached. When the tears had finally dried and her breath had resided to normal did she found the strength to pick herself up off the couch and leave their apartment, her birthday completely forgotten in her mind and filed a missing person report for her mother.

The world turned cold for Rowan for a while, alone in the world she had to figure out a way to make ends meet and to ensure the roof stayed above her head. She began to work as a dishwasher in the very diner that her mom had vanished from and applied for any odd jobs that came up. Her hard-working mother had made Rowan get a job at sixteen and luckily she had experience to fill out a resume with, the money she made from whatever jobs she was able to get were barely making ends meet again. One day a coworker who worked as the other dishwasher on days that she had off approached her, he knew of her bad luck and bad situation and offered for her to become a drug dealer just as he was. With very few options on her plate, Rowan agreed to work for them. It started off small, she had a list of loyal clients that simply had to dial her burner phones number and they were in contact with her as a delivery service for recreational marijuana. The extra money was something that she was grateful for but it still wasn’t enough to build a comfortable life so she began to deal harsher and heavier drugs, opening her catalog to acid, mdma and mushrooms. Months went by without any word from her mother and without any incident during the trades, drugs were becoming more mainstream and a small drug dealer was far from the worst problems that the concrete jungle known as New York City had.

The events that changed Rowan’s life seemed to coincide.  Five minutes before a waitress was meant to start her serving shift, she called in sick leaving the diner scrambling for coverage and the other serving staff weren’t picking up their phones. Rowan told her boss not to worry, it was a slow enough day that she could cover serving and doing the dishes. Watching her mother serve as she grew up and practically having the diner be a second home for her, it was something she had the experience to pull off. It was a stressful day but one that passed without much disturbance, the only odd customer that really stood out in her mind was a man with yellow eyes that she served a slice of apple pie too. It was common for Rowan to make conversation with her costumers, chatting with them distracted her from the ever-present kitchen drama and if she was lucky provided her with better tips. She talked for a while with the man with yellow eyes, discussing dreams of travel and something better than where she was, he listened patiently and thanked her for her kind spirit. A compliment that warmed her heart and she was grateful for his respectful treatment of her as she served him.

When the shift was over, her dish-washing coworker approached her again. He was pissed because one of the drivers had flaked on his shift and Rowan couldn’t help the small simper, expected and used to the world in which people in her line of work commonly quit without notice. She agreed to take the job for him, although it was a higher job than she normally carried out. This time she was to carry cocaine and ketamine, still in the realm of party drugs and she figured the payout would be worth it. Her delivery was scheduled for an apartment in Brooklyn, not too far away from where she was living. After a couple of subway stops, she had arrived at her destination, the apartment door was located far into a dark alley and all she simply had to do was knock. She showed no fear for growing up in New York City, she was used to shady places and back alleyways. Rowan was however surprised by the stranger’s presence in the alleyway, one second he was there when there had been no trace of him just minutes prior. There was a dark desperate look in his eyes and when he pulled the handgun, there was not enough time for the prayers to leave Rowan’s lips before the sharp pain hit her ribs, a scream left her lungs in that instant as the dark blossoming blood began to stain her shirt where the bullet had entered. Gasping mewls were all that could be heard as Rowan collapsed to the pavement, panic and fear overriding her senses that she would bleed out and die on the streets of New York, accomplishing nothing and being nothing more than another statistic. The stranger stole the drugs that Rowan was carrying, oddly enough knowing that she carried them.

As her unblinking eyes stared up at the sky above her, believing it to be the last time she would ever see the sun, a man came into her vision. The man from the diner with the yellow eyes was the last thing Rowan saw as she lost consciousness. Hours later she awoke in a mysterious apartment and in the company of the yellow-eyed man, he introduced himself as the creator of phoenixes and explained to her that she was now one of his creations, a firebird like himself and something a little bit like hope ignited in Rowan. He explained that this city was not the place for her, and there was a town in which she was needed and that he needed the help of the phoenixes to determine the identity of his sister’s killer and with his words, Rowan booked a one-way ticket to Corinth Bay.

PERSONALITY

+ kind, adventuresome, resilient - impish, damaged, lonely