She is both, ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ฃ๐ and ๐ฝ๐๐๐ ๐๐ถ๐๐๐. The flavor you taste depending on how you treat her. Hers is ๐ฝ๐ฑ๐ฎ ๐ฐ๐ฒ๐ฏ๐ฝ, but it comes with a ๐ก๐ฃ๐๐๐. The shuffle of cards is her ๐ต๐พ๐ต๐ต๐ช๐ซ๐, the flick of her wrist more sermon than sleight. She prays to no god, but ๐ฅ๐๐ ๐๐๐ฃ๐๐ค always answer.
๐ฝ๐๐๐๐๐ 'โ๐ข๐ก โ๐ฒ๐ข'' ๐๐๐ // Hostess, Card Dealer & Tarot Reader at Dead Man's Bluff
Biography (docs) // visage // musings // playlist // pinterest.
Full application, Tl;dr and Wanted connections below the cut. content warnings: loss of a family member as a child
Is that tortugaโs very own Ruolan Wen ? the Card dealer & Hostess at Dead man's bluff has been around the island for Her whole life, and they remind us of A SILHOUETTE PARTIALLY HIDDEN BEHIND BEADED CURTAINS , HAND-PAINTED TARROT CARDS DEALT WITH SWIFT FINGERS, GLIMPSES OF GOLD AND RED SILKS WHISPERING DOWN AN OLD STAIRCASE, . people say theyโre Enigmatic & Quick-witted but weโve heard they can be Manipulative & Temerarious, ย too. rumour would have it that they have a NEUTRAL view on pirates, but one thingโs for sureโtheyโd better get used to them.
Tl;Dr BIOGRAPHY
Ruolan belonged to the island of Tortuga long before she understood what belonging meant. She was born beneath the lantern-lit haze of Dead Man's Bluff. Her mother was a siren with a gift for reading the tarot, her father ruled the gambling tables with clever hands and an easy smile.Together they raised their daughter in a place most would call no home for a child. Yet Rue never knew anything different. Among pirates, performers, drunks and dreamers, she never once felt out of place.
Then, one day when she was seven, her mother simply vanished. No body washed ashore. No farewell was left behind. She disappeared quietly, leaving behind only whispers and a deck of worn cards that still smelled faintly of her parfume. From then on, it was just her and her father, trying to fill the silence she had left behind.
Children learn quickly of survival when life asks it of them. The moment she was old enough to be useful, Rue found work wherever she could. She scrubbed sticky tankards at the tavern, carried messages through Tortuga's winding streets, ran errands for the Sirens at the Nest and wandered the halls of Dead Man's Bluff with quiet purpose. She became the girl no one noticed until they needed something, slipping between tables and conversations like a shadow. All the while, she watched.
The years passed by and the Bluff began watching her in return. The owner recognized something familiar in the young woman who drifted so effortlessly between the gaming tables. Her father's quick hands lived on in her, but where he had mastered the cards, Rue captivated the people holding them. Raised among sirens, she understood that a smile could be dangerous and that mystery was often worth more than beauty. She weaved charm and spectacle together until crowds gathered almost without realizing why. What had begun as little more than a way to earn a few extra coins slowly became a second skin. Sailors stopped calling her Ruolan altogether. They called her Rue instead, a name as short and bitter as the feeling left behind when she claimed the very last coin from their pockets.
For a little while, father and daughter worked side by side, dealing cards beneath the same lantern light that had watched her grow. But his sight began to fail, and the confidence that had once silenced entire rooms slowly slipped from his hands. The decline came swiftly enough that one day she realized she was no longer helping him run the den. She was carrying it alone as her father stayed home.
Only on the quieter nights does she reach for a different deck. When the laughter softens, the bottles empty and the air grows heavy enough for secrets to linger, Rue lays out her mother's old tarot cards. One by one, she turns them over for those brave, or desperate, enough to ask what waits ahead. Whether she truly sees fate or simply knows people better than they know themselves is a question no one has answered. Most leave believing the cards spoke. The wiser ones wonder if it was Rue all along.
HEADCANONS
Red has become her signature color long enough that most cannot picture her dressed in anything else. Scarlet silks, crimson ribbons, deep burgundy velvet - every shade finds its place in her wardrobe.
There are few things she covets more than beautiful craftsmanship. Fine gemstones, delicate rings, ornate necklaces and silver trinkets have a way of finding their home with her. Beautiful pieces she won through wagers, gifted by infatuated patrons or sweet-talked from those too enchanted to refuse. Hidden away in her private room lies a growing collection, each piece carrying the memory of the night it became hers.
Rue fell in love with the idea of love more easily than with people themselves. She treasures the stolen glances, lingering touches and whispered promises, yet shies away from anything that asks to last. Perhaps losing her mother taught her so early that forever is a dangerous word. Or perhaps life in Dead Man's Bluff has shown her that every heart is simply another gamble.
WANTED CONNECTIONS
Coworkers: Not everyone working beneath the Bluff's creaking beams is there by choice, but emptying pockets and entertaining a crowd each night had turned most workers into a strange little family.
Another hand?: Some chase treasure. Others chase the impossible hope that this will be the night Lady Luck finally smiles upon them.
Fate owes us both: They came to Rue looking for answers, expecting little of it. Then, what she predicted became frighteningly true. Since then, they've never quite been able to decide whether she's genuinely touched by something otherworldly or if it's just a play. - Either way, every time life begins to unravel, they somehow find themselves back in the chair across from her, waiting for another card to be turned.
And now for my favorite...
The anchor, the unspoken pact: Before Rue learned how to make men fear her smile, she was simply a small girl weaving through the dangerous streets of Dead Man's Bluff. When they mocked the strange daughter of the gambler, he chased them off. When drunks wandered too close, he stepped in before she had the chance. Your character knew her before she grew claws. Rue repaid him the only way she knew how. Every time he staggered home bruised from another fight, she'd be waiting with clean bandages pilfered from somewhere, muttering that he'd be the death of himself one day. They formed their own unspoken pack. -- This connection can go in many different directions & I'm open for plotting it all! I imagine they grew up on Tortuga as well, but what they do now is UTP whether they are townsfolk or turned to piracy.
