Drusilla Black, was not born to this name. She did not inherit her first or surname from that of her mother or her father. The exact day of her birth is not know. The day that she celebrated as her name day, was the day that she was found outside of an orphanage cast away deep into the middle of the Riverlands. She had been left wrapped up in a bundle and in a basket at the door. How long she had been there before the those in charge found her is unknown. What she did come to know was that, it was not one bundle but two that was left at the door. She had a twin sister that was left too. The orphanage named them both. Drusilla and Prusilla Black were who they had become to be known. Black became the surname since as children, both girls had hair as black as a raven.
As the two grew older, Drusilla was the more boyish one of two. She liked to tussle with the boys, pick up wooden swords, get her dresses and herself covered in firth, climb trees and go fishing. She had no time for the “girly” things that the women tried to make her sit still and learn. Things that her sister excelled at. Things such as sewing, music or any such thing that would be useful for her as a woman when she was older to make a living.
The day to leave the orphanage for both girls came too soon. Neither were ready and neither felt old enough to take on the world. At the age of thirteen they were told their time had come and so they left with heavy hearts. Both were glad that they had one another, the two different skill sets that they learned would help them to survive. At least for a little while. They walked for what seemed like days, still unaware of where they were, and food started to become scarce. The small amount of food that the orphanage had given them had run out. Drusilla try to hunt, but she'd never really had the training of trapping animals and she was so small. She was able to catch a rabbit here and there, killing it with the small blade that she had been given by one of the boys at the orphanage. That lasted for a while. But she couldn’t hunt water, and soon they were becoming so dehydrated that it made it hard to move. Drusilla would sometimes have to carry or help along her sister just to get her to keep moving.
On one sad day, the two had seen a cottage house that appeared to come out of no where. It was a small cottage house with smoke coming out of the chimney, it smelt like food. It smelt like heaven. Drusilla could see their rescue at hand, and Prusilla couldn't see anything so weak from lack of food and water. Knowing it was the last chance of survival for her sister and maybe even herself, Drusilla picked up her sister and went to the door. Setting her sister down, she knocked frantically on the door, demanding someone to answer it. Someone did. An older man large and as big as the doorway was wide and tall. He was hard and he was gruff, but one look at the two girls and he allowed them in.
For the three days after, Drusilla sat on a pile of hay beside her sister and spoon fed her broth. She said little to the large man that took them in, giving no details of where they had come from and where they were going. He didnt push the subject. At the end of the third day, the journey they had taken proved to be too much for Prusilla and she died.
Drusilla was almost inconsolable for a week that followed the death and burial of her sister. Jon Trenchman, the mans name that she learned had taken them in, was kind during that week. Did not try to console her. He, let her weep, let her anger fly when she went into the yard surrounding his cottage and threw rocks or beat things with sticks. When she was able to gather all that anger and grief together and ball it up, push it deep down inside her, she talked. She told Jon all about the orphanage, about being told to leave, about the travel, and finally how they had come to find his house. During this long talk, Jon remained silent and listened. When it was all said and done, the only thing Jon Trenchman had to say was, “If you plan to stay, you'll work.”
Stay and work is exactly what Drusilla did. Soon she found out that the cottage was not far from the Terrick lands. Jon Trenchman had been a blacksmith for years and did all his workings at home and had boys come and pick up his works for selling. He made enough to get by and with the added mouth to feed of Drusilla, she would help pay for the added work that would need to be done to pay for it. For hours, days, weeks and then years, she stood by his side and learned his trade. When she made her first sword, Jon told her that she'd need to learn how to hold it and defend herself, that he wouldn’t be around forever. She never asked how he became skilled with a sword, and he never told her. But, he taught her just as he said, enough to defend herself. Her skill level was good for a common woman; she had been taught what she needed to know and practiced when time allowed it.
Towards the end of her eighteenth year of her birth, big burly Jon Trenchmen had gotten ill. Drusilla had suspected that he had been ill for some time, coughing, arms and legs tighter than normal, and his need to rest had grown more frequent. He held on strong before he knew that he couldn’t get out of his bed. His breath had become ragged and shallow, his skin was moist and pale, his forehead hot to the touch. Just like she did with her sister, she sat by his side. In his last remaining hours, he expressed that he wanted her to keep on his business and house, he had faith in that she could handle it on her own. He told her how he loved her like a daughter, and how her finding him had saved his life in ways she'd never know. With tears streaming down her face, she watched the second person in her life she loved, die. The only Father she'd ever known was gone. She was again, alone in the world.
Unsure if Jon's wishes would be upheld, that of her keeping the business and the home that he had created, Drusilla was careful. She kept up the work, sold things as normal and started taking short trips away from the cottage house. She didn’t like being in the house anyway; it was only filled with sorrow for those that had died inside in it. At the age of nineteen, when the Terrick lands needs for business slowed due to the poverty they were in, she started to travel more and for longer periods of time, keeping her word, that she would try her best to keep Jon Trenchmans business going for years to come. She felt confidant, the knowledge and know how that Jon had left her, she could handle whatever came her way.
Deceased Twin Sister
Long dark hair that would reach the waist of this this young woman is pulled and braided into one long strand and tied off and kept in place with a dark green ribbon. The darkness of her hair is stark contrast to her features, skin that has been kissed by the sun, and eyes of hazel that change in color depending on the day from dark green to light brown same as melted bronze. The small frame of five feet and three inches of this young woman has seen better days. Arms marked with burn scares in various places, and hands that look to have been working for many years. The plain brown dress she wears is not meant to show off her figure or for style and is not of the best material. Revealing her arms with quarter sleeves and leaving her chest and neck exposed in a square neckline. It is loosely hung over her frame and tied tight at her small waist. Rough boots cover her feet, scuffed and well worn. A long silver chain about her neck falls to her mid-section and ends with a locket.