Freyja Burke

Name: Freyja Sif Burke
Nickname/Alias: Frey, Sif
Age: 212 years old (aging paused by Siren curse) / Appearance around late 20s early 30s
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Demiromantic Pansexual
Race: Elf (previously a Siren)
Rank: Military - Elite Queensguard
Play-by: Gal Gadot

Personality:
    Freyja is known for her calming presence and quiet aura. The woman is seldom-spoken, usually keeping more to herself and displaying a lot through pointed looks than actual words. She's not mute, however, she simply chooses to be picky and precise with the words she does speak. As if each syllable were of dire import, each phrase calling for your undivided attention, as she speaks only when every word is absolutely necessary, not one to overspeak or overshare.
She's closed off and isolationist, not because she dislikes people, but because she became accustomed to being on her own for so long that the more bodies in her presence can become, overwhelming. Overstimulating, perhaps the more apt word.
    So often Frey is lost deep in her own thoughts and observations, taking the time to slowly and methodically think through a problem or scenario without jumping to conclusions.
She can come across as cold and uncaring at times, having seen much death and destruction in her significant lifetime she's begun to become comfortably numb with the occurrence.
It's not like she thinks one should run about killing whoever they want. Her morals are still present or else she wouldn't be trying to uphold law and order, but when death does occur or she is forced to take the life of a fugitive, the matter barely makes her bat an eye. Indifferent to the agony on the faces of those who have lost loved ones. Making her ill-suited to deal with the bereft citizens whilst on the job.
    Freyja does love people though. She does care, but she's forgone the feeling of the pain of loss. Not because she doesn't understand the sensation, but because she understands it all too well. Shutting it out, shutting it off, is the only way to stay above the body count of friends and family lying dead at her feet.
The grief would be ill-served and unproductive. She can't let herself fall apart, because she has a job to do.
An important job. With important people relying on her.
The Queensguard is the closest thing Frey has had to any sort of a family in such a long time. She would lay down her life for any one of her brothers or sisters among the Guard.

History:
    Freyja grew up in a small town on the coasts of Norway, near the North Sea, in a town called Holmestrand. Her father had been among the Elven warriors of the Sea and her mother lead the Hunts in her village. A strong and powerful Elf woman who was masterfully skilled with a bow and fiercely protective of her children. Freyja was the middle child of the family with an elder brother, Torsten who was a son that followed in his father's footsteps, with unwavering loyalty and determination. He was strong and dependable, a sailor like none Frey had ever seen. She respected and looked up to Torsten, the two often sparring together in the fields on the cliffs which overlooked the clear waters below.
Those times still remain some of the long-lived Elf's favored memories.
And then there had been her baby sister, Inga. She'd looked just like their father, Asmond. Not like her older siblings with the dark hair of their mother, no. Inga had inherited the blonde hues of their father, her eyes the same pale blue, the sky on a cloudless day.
Freyja could still see the small girl's face when she closed her eyes.
She missed her siblings greatly.
Her father.
And her mother, Sigrid.
They'd not been a rich nor a wealthy family of any sorts, but they'd fought fiercely for each other. Every day of their lives.

    Save for her father, Freyja never even knew what had happened to them after all her years spent trapped beneath the tide.
Now that was a story.

        It had happened so long ago.
    The morning like any other in the Hamlet.
Her father wanted to take their small Karve, a smaller version of a Viking longboat, out to fish for some food on a calm and sunny day. Freyja had volunteered to join him, rarely getting to spend time with her father who was always gone away on long journeys with her elder brother. It was a treat when she was actually able to grab some quality time with Asmond.
He was a strong man, but a gentle soul who respected the sanctity of all life, often praying to the Norse Gods of old to watch over the creature's soul after a good kill. Freyja greatly respected the man.

    It was during that calm and blissful day that Frey's life was flipped on its head.
Out in the open water, the singing was the first thing she noticed.
A voice like a thousand angels all harmonizing in perfect synchronicity. The hypnotic pull was undeniable. It was like her mind was not her own, all she could think about was that voice.
That mesmerizing call.
She could not hear her father screaming a warning of "sirens", screaming to cover her ears as he tried to, but it was ultimately useless. Both were entranced. Taken by the song and dragged into the depths when their boat was upturned.
    Freyja could recall flashes of the incident after that.
The loss of air getting to her lungs, the scaly and webbed hands cupping her cheeks to try and hold her attention that could not be torn from her father sinking, sinking...and sinking below until his body had faded from view. No. The Siren had only needed one of them.
And it had chosen Freyja.
    The Elf's brown eyes locked into the slitted pupils of the creature who held her, somehow a being both gorgeous and grotesque at the same time. Like a mermaid who'd become more fish than human at some point. Razor like teeth barred in a cruel and malicious smile.
Still, Freyja could not move.
That sound was ripples in the water, the creature holding her still belting out the enticing tune that was like a Death Knoll for the life Freyja had lived before.
Pain.
Blinding and merciless, like her whole body was encased in flames, but the nerve endings would not die.
She tried to scream but her only response was water filling her lungs.
Blackness.

    Freyja spent a century and a half living that lonely life.
Torn between her desire to drag humans to their death, to have one take her place, steal this curse away from her.
And the guilt at the prospect of it.
    For a time she even tried to get used to life as a Siren, the odd emotions. The urge to do harm.
She pulled herself into areas of the sea to try and not let temptations get the better of her. But as time went on, the world expanded. It became harder and harder to avoid all ships.
Forever.
The urge to have her life back tearing her apart.
    She'd done it before she even knew what had happened. Approached a travelling vessel and lured a boy around the same age she had been when the curse had taken her. She was giving him her curse. The screams still echoing in her ears, unable to resist wondering if the sounds she had made had been equally brutal for the Siren who turned her.
_{"I'm so sorry"}
Those had been her last words to the boy before begging for help from the ship above.
The men pulled her from the ocean, not knowing the tragedy that had just occurred. All they'd been privy to was a rather invasive look of the drowning woman's naked form when they brought her aboard.
    Thankfully they were kind and helpful, though. Wrapping her in blankets and towels, pressing her about what had happened, how she'd ended up naked in the middle of the ocean.
She'd never been able to come up with a feasible story, resorting to the play of amnesia and utilizing her distressed state to stop the men from prying too much further into the incident. Though there had been a search for the missing young lad that had once been aboard their vessel, it was written off as a tragedy. That he'd fallen overboard at some point during a night and none knew where or when.
She knew she'd gotten rather lucky. Her rescuers could've been much worse, but they were gentlemen, for the most part. There were the one or- several occasions of one of them trying to get a bit close, but the moment she pulled away from the physical contact they retreated as well.
She was thankful for that.

        The ship had been bound for Taras.
    Freyja soon discovered the vessel she'd been aboard was a military one, perhaps not the Queensguard, directly, but naval officers, none-the-less. She'd enjoyed her experience with the men, but after having spent so long in the ocean, the sound of working from land rather than water was the much more appealing world. She enlisted among the City Guard, but her speed and agility with a rapier coupled with her quick learning, spending countless hours in the library and reading everything she could, everything she had missed in the years since she'd fallen away from the world above ground- Freyja moved quickly through the ranks. City Watch to privateer in the Queensguard and finally ranking among the elite members.
A position and feat she takes great pride in, having now served as an elite member for over a decade.
Glory for the Queen.