Elspeth Isabelle Bride

Y.o.u.r | b.a.s.i.c.s

Father: Ethan Bride
Mother: Carol Stevenson-Bride
Sister: Melinda Bride (Older, 22)

A few friends back in the States, even less that she still keeps in contact with. She isn't a talker, so don't expect any initiation on the communication front.

Standing at 5’ 5”, Elspeth isn't the world's tallest were-wolf, often described as 'tiny' or 'petite'. With her slender frame and long, willowy arms she looks startlingly like a pixie or a fairy; a relatively flat-chested fairy. The only real curves are the ones formed by years of gymnastics and grueling work-out regimes and her arms, abs and legs are surprisingly toned. The amount of time spent outdoors in the sun seems to have stained itself upon her, giving a subtle, gentle bronzing to her usual fair skin and creamy complexion.
Her natural silky blonde hair is blunt cut and short, reaching down to about a inch above her shoulders and styled to maintain. These golden locks frame a mostly-oval face, allowing her slender, almond shaped eyes work their magic. Shaded in a soft grey they show-class a intriguing and electric wave of hazel around their middle, adding depth and a certain stern charm. The sharp features and angles are inherited from her mother's side with a strong, prominent nose and a large mouth capable of blinding when pulled into a smile.
As a wolf her form is similar. While not particularly taller, she is slightly longer. Her legs are slender and strong, much like the rest of her body, covered in thick light brown fur. Streaking through her coat are lines of dark black that wave and curve like a river. Her flaxen hair seems reincarnated in her eyes; a rich honey that sizzles when set aflame by the sun.

A.b.o.u.t | Y.o.u

She had only completed freshman year when her mom died and she, her sister and her father moved to the UK

Strong, independent and laidback, Elspeth knows that at the end of the day you're alone; regardless of who you might be, or rather 'what'. While others may make the mistake of labelling her cold or uncaring, she's simply just reserved herself to the truth, however unappealing it might be. It makes sense then, that she she has a good head on her shoulders. It is uncommon that this werewolf finds herself in trouble, as she's usually smart enough to watch for the signs and avoid it. When she does, though, she's known to resort to using her head and some quick thinking to get herself out of a tight fix. Her stride is steady, content to take everything in and as it comes. The result? It takes an awful lot to shake her up. While her friends may call her boring, she much rather prefers mature, maybe the closest one word will ever come to describing her. She's not the most social butterfly at the ball and prefers having a few close friends, making pack-life semi-ideal.
It can take awhile for Elspeth to warm up to people, but when she does they can count on having a loyal friend. Never one to follow trends, she doesn't care for setting them either. Instead she marches to the beat of her own drum. She's also a very passionate person. Like anyone, she has a lighter side and she loves to relax with friends and laugh.
Her sense of humor is her own; a blend of dry cyncism and wit that - even though it rarely gets the chance to really shine- seems to surround Elspeth at all times, adding to her front. Quite by nature, she prefers to watch and listen to those around her, but don't be fooled. If she thinks that something is important enough or she feels like her opinion is being disregarded, Elspeth has no problem speaking up. Pity any that continue to ignore her after this for they tend to resemble a burnt chicken wing.

Comfort and practicality rule her closest, and if jeans and a t-shirt was any body's style, it would be Elspeth's. If the situation demands it, she can slip into a dress, pull her hair up and throw on some heels with ease, but in her lifestyle skirts and dresses tend to be less then ideal. Instead she prefers less feminine and more casual clothing. A t-shirt under her denim jacket or a unbuttoned long-sleeved shirt, jeans, some comfy sneakers or a pair boots and throw in a messenger bag and she's more then pleased. Accessories include her watch, her black cord choker, a belt and depending on her mood, some wristbands.

O.t.h.e.r. | L.i.f.e

Elspeth's life was... uncomplicated, to say the least. At least before, it was uncomplicated. She was born, raised and grew in a quaint suburban town in Colorado, USA. It was here among the poppies and the petunias of her mother's garden that she would spend her time playing with and copying her older sister Melinda (Mel) while under the watchful eye of their parents, Ethan and Carol. Here in this garden, vampires and werewolves seemed a million miles away, restricted along with elves, fairies, dragons and mermaids to storybooks read in hushed tones before bed.
Right from the start she showed signs of her love of learning. She was a advanced child, always two steps ahead. That wasn't such a surprise, though; Mel had been fascinatingly smarter then the rest of her age group, too. Regardless, they were raised as children should be, free from high expectations. As Elspie grew her hunger for knowledge was nurtured, cultivated by rich resources of books. And she continued to grow and mature, her parents accepting of her seemingly disinterest in her peers and their activities. Surrounded by love, patience and acceptance, she met the obstacle of high school and tackled it head on. She was a smart student; advanced English, algebra, science... She met everything with her usual persistence and triumphed.
When the time came to send off her college applications, she kept her options open. Only after receiving all her acceptances and declinations did she settle on DeVry University. A local campus, not to far from home. She would be able to travel to class and back each day, returning to the comfort of her bed at night. Melinda would be there too, able to guide her and keep her safe where her parents could not.
The Freshman year had passed by no more three short months when her mother fell ill. Everyone could see something was wrong, but she buffeted away her family's concern with quick excuses of missed sleep and old age. The questions on her health began to come more frequent until, finally Carol relented, booking a appointment for herself at the local clinic. They told her she had pontine glioma; cancer of the brain stem.
Being the type of person she was, Elspeth tackled this problem the only way she knew how: with books. That week, she borrowed every book there was on cancer and it's various forms, submerging herself in their countless pages, becoming lost in the facts. Her findings were blunt and saddening. There was no effective medications. There was no cure. Lifespan from diagnosis was just over 10 months, if that.
Carol Stevenson-Bride was able to see her daughter complete her first year of university before she passed away.
The loss of their mother and wife took hold, contorting their life. The roots that had sunken deep seemed to wither and die along with her, especially for their father, a UK native. It seemed that without his precious wife, the onslaught of homesickness struck. The new year had only just begun when he moved back, his daughters following him.
The adjustment to their flat, and to the UK itself was difficult for the girls who had never been out of America in their lives. But for Elspeth, there were more changes to come. Changes that would shake her life far more then the demise of a mother. It was no secret that there was Scottish heritage on their father's side. It was faint, but defiantly there, evidence in Melinda's dark red hair and Ethan's grin. She'd always thought she'd ducked in time, missed whatever had been aimed her way. She would never have guessed that it was there all along, waiting inside her.
Melinda enrolled herself back into the College education, attempting a restart of normal life. But normal had never been easy for Elspeth, now lost without her mother. She knew how much their acceptance to the UK meant to their father, that he just wanted things to return to how they were. But her motivation was gone, shattered and discarded. Now a werewolf, facing regular transformations as she struggled to control her emotions so soon after a tragedy, it soon became clear that what she needed was time away. Time to think, to reason with herself. She constructed a fraudious application to the University of Glasgow, then a fraudious acceptance letter that had her father looking happier then he had for days. If she felt any guilt, it was softened by knowing she had relieved an old man's pain, if only for a few weeks.
Dispatched for Scotland, she headed to Blackwillow after a scrutinizing search to track down her father's family history. By now she had heard the legends, had seen them written far too many times to be a strange coincident. Although she would never tell him, she suspected the her father had unknowingly carried the trait with him all along, passing it onto her and subsequently changing her life.

It wasn't often that Elspeth regretted a decision, even just a little. But her decision to leave her family and move to Blackwillow, Scotland while she searched for answers to the curse plaguing her was very, very close. She knew no one and she could hardly understand what people were saying. She couldn't have felt more alone if she was stranded on a deserted island.
Strangely, the only thing that kept her committed was herself, or rather her werewolf self. It all seemed so unbelievable to her, and she intended on getting her answers. She ventured outside her boarding room, spoke to the locals until she found herself speaking with a accent as convincing as their own. But the information she received was only repeated, if slightly modified versions of what she already knew to be true. There seemed no true accounts of these things, these transformations, ever really happening before.
Close to three months since she first lied to her father and moved from their cramped flat, Elspeth struck up a conversation one day that would change her life. Unbeknownst to her, she began questioning a member of the Bruce pack on the legend. Realising that Elspeth was one of them, they offered to take her in, giving her the answers she sought. With nowhere else to go, she has been part of the Bruce pack ever since.

With every step that she took the wind flung the scarf back into her face, momentarily blinding her until she managed to scrap the thing off again. At least she had had the sense to keep her hair tied back in it's morning ponytail, but the scarf... Well that was just the darkhorse, she decided as she negotiated herself around a mass of puddles. It was a shameless attempt, and a waste of energy since the hem of her jeans received a drenching anyhow.
"Ugh." She exhaled with a groan, feeling the cold water begin to seep into her shoes. Her toes twitched in agitation, the tepid water quickly soaking through her socks as well. "Just.... perfect. Fuckin' perfect!" she cursed, her voice rising along with her temper. The words seemed to echo around her, the phrase repeating again and again. From across the street a young mother cast a disapproving glare in her general direction. Judging by the look on her face, Elspeth guessed that she was less then pleased with her language. With one hand the woman shepherded her children inside, maintaining her eye contact up until entering the darkened store front.
Freezing, her feet quickly become miniature icicles, she stalked down the street, this time paying attention on keeping her head down and herself out of trouble. You would have thought that by now anyone would be accustomed to the variety of weather over here, or lack of it. Personally, she held the belief that Scotland -and Blackwillow most of all- had only two seasons: Raining and Not Raining.
And right at the moment, it was raining.
The rain -previously held in a torrent of angry clouds above her head- gushed down, pooling in the declines of the street and doubling the size of the lasts rainstorm's puddles.With a yelp she made a mad dash for cover, mud slinging up at the back of her calves as she cut across the grass. The wind was persistent; her scarf flapped and her hat threatened to fall from her head. She used a hand to clamp it down as she raced for the nearby bus stop, the sound of squelching sneakers accompanying her.
By the time Elspeth reached the sanctuary of cover she was dripping wet. Shimmering beads of rain shone in her hair from where it poked out from under the dark green fabric of her bucket hat. She shook herself twice, the movement startlingly canine-like, even for her. If there was anything to be grateful for about the sudden down pour it was that the rain had chased away the few early morning stragglers. No one had seen her slip up. But that didn't really change anything. She'd still done it, even if it was only a harmless shake to rid herself of clinging rain drops. For all she knew she could be howling next time, or transforming! Just the thought caused the hair on the back of her neck to tingle, perking up. Underneath the sleeves of the coat her arms broke out into a heap of goosebumps that crawled their way further up her limbs.
She could feel a scowl forming, linking her brows together, pushing her lips up into a pout. Her arms folded across her chest, completing the picture. She dropped down onto the bench in a huff, the rain pinging off the roof of the stop. It was a soft, musical sound. Somehow it aggravated her even more.
The rain didn't seem like it was about to let up anytime soon. Marooned inside the bus stop, Elspeth cast her eyes around, looking for something to entertain her time with. Her gaze wandered to the seat and the piece of gum that was stretched across it, half chewed and rubbery. Disgusting. With a sigh, she pulled herself back onto her tired feet, resorting to leaning against one of the shelter's foundation polls. It wasn't particularly comfy, but it suited her mood perfectly, as did the weather.