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deez nuts on your chin

such chin, much nuts

Hemlock was born and raised in The Canaries. Despite being raised by a paranoid father and likewise, on top of being reclusive mother, she is quite adept at norms and formalities thank you very much, of the wilds. The idea of a coven both intrigued and frightened her as a child, like stories of dragons. Most wanted to see them, while simultaneously wanting to live, and thus not having it occur altogether.

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Children grow, and while some cling to the nest, she flew from hers, quite literally, atop a broom. Was she scared out of her wits? Oh yes. Were the trinkets and sweets the cities offered tempting? Dear lord, yes. It eventually came to be that she was that one woman or man in a hamlet. You'd see on your way out of a pub, and while you'd smile, you be deep in your drinks before you felt comfortable turning your back to her. Was this warranted? No absolutely. She never attacked someone, because how awful would that be? Unless, you of course consider pulling a desired object straight from another's hands. Technicalities and all that.

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She was mangy, but well off as a wizened town cat would be. Things were grand, until the hamlet decided to expand. Or was it that they were absorbed into a county? Something, and another thing, and suddenly guards and fresh homes filled her nights with threats and less trees to sleep in. It was awful, and the people responsible awfully rude.

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One night, which she chooses to remember as entirely cold and wet, her hand went into the wrong pocket, or shirt. She had even complimented the woman for thinking to store her coins in her blouse, but what does she receive for her kind words? A slap on the face, and not a metaphorical one of the wrist from the guardsmen. The cage was cold and wet, but it was to be her entire world for two months. The woe was strong with this one, until one Hugo paid her bail, and took her with him. She felt like a pet, a fancier cat if you would. Current day she follows his instructions, sometimes, and joined Jester's Den, probably. It was his word, which was good enough as long as he let her under his roof whenever some form of water fell from the sky.