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Cecilia is a corceï with a beautiful pink coat and a bit of an unnerving air about her. Something's not quite right, there's something about her that's telling you to run while you still can. Heed that warning before it's too late. She's vicious, but she's real cute, too. She/Her pronouns.
Cecily was born from a wealthy family that worked under someone from the council. A privileged family, surely, but there was a lot more to it, as there usually is. Her and her older brother had been abused growing up by their cold and uncaring parents, but due to their influence they never found the possibility of speaking out. No one would believe them. At least, that's what Cecily's older brother Ronan always thought while he was being abused, but once his beloved younger sister became a target as well, he decided that enough had been enough. Working together with his sister, the two killed their parents quite gruesomely and, due to their connections to the council, they were promptly exiled to The Wastelands.
The two of them resided rather comfortably down there. Well, as comfortably as you can within an inhabitable desert of dread. Cecily, having been exiled while she was younger, possesses a fashion sense (in the form of spells that Ronan had gotten for her while they were back on the mainland) fit for a younger girl, but she doesn't mind. That combined with her smaller stature made it easier to lure scouts in during expeditions for the two to kill and eat. Scouts that had gotten away began sharing stories of the two and they became a sort of folklore of The Wastelands. They were unstoppable, the two of them. But all good things must come to an end.
One day, they got too ambitious. Cecily was too confident, untouchable. Ronan tried to warn her, for although they were strong, they did not rule the land. The land ruled them. But Cecily is young, and she did not listen. She challenged a creature much larger than they were capable of taking on, and when it went to attack Cecily, Ronan pushed her aside and took the brunt of the attack instead. Leave him, he cried, or she would be next. With a sob, she ran, trying and failing to block out the noises behind her.
The wastelands are lonely, sure, and horribly, horribly empty, but suddenly Cecily found herself really, truly, alone. And she cried, sang her siren songs, for she had never lived without her brother before. She would need to, though. The wastelands did not care. They did not mourn Ronan alongside her. They kept on. And so she did as well.
