Serica Marie Frey was born to Lord Walder Frey's fifth wife, Lady Bethany Rosby; another child amongst the multitudes. A quiet girl, with a dusky complexion with dark eyes and dark hair and an easy smile. She prefered and oftimes still does, books to the company of people and was known in her youth for slipping off to spend entire days fishing. It was never about being 'good' to Serica, but rather, about having fun and escaping the noise that was home.
A delicate girl, she preferred not to stay underfoot, stealing away when she could, avoiding both siblings and Septa, Serica roamed most often through the library, sneaking away a book to enjoy anywhere that was quiet. It meant she spent quite a lot of time hiding up near the rafters or in the top of the stables amidst warm hay, letting her mind explore a world of possibility that far outstretched what surrounded her.
Which isn't to say that she managed to escape her duties. She had tutors aplenty. Some that were even her own, others simply lessons that she managed to slip in on when the tutors caught her fancy. Though it was apparent from an early age that the girl had a heart for tending the sick and bedside manner that could make even the toughest of soldiers crack a smile.
It was her second septa that turned her more towards a path in life, since the young lady showed no signs of favoring a marriage and why should she, with so very many siblings? There were others, older and far fairer than she of whom to choose and worry over arrangements for and as such, Serica was allowed a measure of indulgence. It helped as well, that given the large size of the family there tended to forever be some sort of healer on hand so it was that Serica took up in following them, until it was seen that the girl was actually learning something that could be of use to her family.
What need was there to send for someone in light circumstance and sickness when the gel herself had learned the proper remedy? Such was how she came to tread toe upon a path that was typically left for men and came to stitch flesh with far more ease than she'd ever handled fabric. Days became weeks as she poured over book and text, practiced her learning on the errant skin of her brother's when a fall took them, or the sharp talons of a goshawk.
Her mind was set to the path of Chiurgeon, unarguably by the time she was fifteen and it mattered not then what agreement had to be made in order for her to be allowed to pursue them. Particularly as it seemed understood by everyone that it was simply an indulgence of a skill, one that made itself useful to a family while occupying the girl until her future was set. The problem was that no one told Serica she wasn't following her future.
No one said that the year she'd spent learning High Valerian would be wasted. No one said that the year that followed, where she compared one old technique to the new that was replacing it…would be worthless. And it was harder, so much harder to get the information that she needed, that she *wanted* being a woman. It gave her a slight…disinterest in the opposite sex, to the point where she had decided and happily proclaimed that the rest of her days would be lived out as a spinster. That she'd be content with family, where at least she was granted a measure of leeway in following the calling of her heart.
Serica Marie never planned to marry, nor wanted to. But it seemed that some fates were inescapable and she was forced to marry. Down, if such things are of a concern and to a Charlton no less; Lord Harold Charlton - a knight, as if such things might soften her.
Serica Marie is a slight woman who appears somewhere in her late teens to early twenties; standing no more than five feet and three inches, with hazel eyes and dark umber hair - though portions of it whisper closer to honeyed hues. Lithe is an apt word when used to describe her. Impish. Bright wide curious eyes, a button nose and lips more prone to frowning as of late, than smiling. She's an artiste's fingers, long and slender and her nails, like the rest of her unless she's been in the garden, are always clean.
Her gowns are modest, serviceable and the hues lend themselves to the darker earthy shades as is complimenting to her natural skintone with long hemlines that reveal little of bare bronzed flesh; tapered to fit her small waist and emphasize the lines of her figure without revealing too much. The artistry is in the simplicity, in the embroidery; offering light accents of femininity without crying out of wealth. Devoid of jewelry, she presents a quietly elegant figure.
(alys aylene darek harold logs nathaniel nevan saffron sela serica social)