Idgie Scott

Something of an odd duck, Idgie is a woodworker and musician from the great expanse of America who, through a series of unfortunate events, landed on a ship from Dornie's port and got carted this-a-way. New world, new life. Which works for her, as she was running from some trouble back in the ol' US of A. She's sure Trouble's reach doesn't extend to Scotland. …Pretty sure. Superstitious and a firm believer in kitchen witchery despite her own lack of magical talent, she's coming to Dornie with a strange accent, strange practices, strange habits, but also talent, skill and a work ethic born in a small town dependant on its inhabitants doing for one another.


Full Name: Idella Georgie Scott
Age: 28
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Dark

Status: Alive & Active
Occupation: Carpenter
Origin: Seymour, Indiana, Midwestern Territories, America
Allegiance: Undecided

First Seen: I Will Not Watch The Ocean
Last Seen: None

Description: This woman's hair is wild. It's short and dark brown, rougher in texture with curls that go every which way. She sometimes attempts to tame it under a scarf, but they do little more than keep it back from her face. Most of the time, though, she lets it be. Dark skin and eyes are complemented by a beauty mark just right of her nose, a thinner face and a wide smile that tends to be her default expression. Although she can sing in higher octaves when she wishes, her speaking voice is low and soft with a midwestern twang.

She wears pants more often than not, with button down shirts under fitted vests. Sometimes, there may be a noticeable article of clothing worn inside out. Socks, usually, but sometimes a shirt if she's feeling particularly superstitious that day. Boots cover her feet and her accessories seem limited to the odd, colorful tie or set of suspenders. If she wears jewelry, it's loud and large, flashy and fun. It isn't abnormal to see her with a guitar case in hand or strapped to her back. It's far less abnormal to see her with a rabbit's foot dangling from a belt loop or from around her wrist. There is a tattoo on the inside of her wrist, a circle with an odd sort of labyrinthine design inside.


  • George Scott, father (likely deceased)

Portrayed by: Esperanza Spalding


The town I grew up in can't hardly be called a town. A few farms, general store, doctor, and not much else. My dad ran a farm, I went to work for the store making furniture when people needed it and whatever other little knickknacks they wanted carved up. We made a modest way through the world. Not many outsiders came in, not surprising since it was a terrible dull place, but when they did, it usually meant trouble. And trouble came when I was about twenty, by the name of Ernest Williams. He sort of owns the midwest, since he sits on the biggest collection of metal the country's got and controls where the railroads get laid out. What towns blossom and which ones are left out in the wild to dry up. Oh, and which ones get blown all to hell because they're in the way. That's what happened to little Seymour, Indiana. Story goes that my dad sat on our front porch in protest even up to the moment they blew it all to dust. I like to think that's true and that he didn't run off at the end, considering I never saw him again.

I was approached by a little group of misfits calling themselves The Continental Army. They weren't much of an army, but they knew how to fight sneaky. I joined up with them with revenge in mind. And we dealt out a fair share of it. Sabotaging his trains, blowing his railroads and finally— destroying his big pile of metal and scrap. And that's the one he saw me doing. I was laying cord for the explosives inside and one of his men came at me. I ran. When it blew, only a small portion was really lost, which was deemed my fault for not doing my part, but it's hard to when some guy is shooting at you. So when Williams and his men came for me, I was on my own. So I ran.

Idgie and the mighty Jackalope

Thing about America is… it's real big. They say even before the end of the world, it was full of wide open space. But more now. You can walk and walk and walk and never see another town on the horizon. Some men go mad staring at that emptiness. Some people claim it's a real thing, that it isn't that it's empty, but that the nothing is really a something and it's hungry out there. Doesn't make much sense to me, but when you're out there walking… you can believe it. You see the ground ahead rippling and you wonder if that's it coming for you. The emptiness never did eat me, even if it was hungry. It was the ambushers that were the most trouble. Waiting on travelers, beating 'em up, leaving 'em for dead and taking all they got. I learned to defend myself real quick. Ended up using all that time walking alone teaching myself to shoot with stolen rifles and pistols. And I kept walking. I walked for years. It seemed when I'd find a town, Williams would have gotten there first, sent word, sent men and I'd have to run again. Or they'd be quick behind me if I stopped anywhere too long.

And that's why I decided I needed to find a boat. My steps took me to the coast, and I walked it. I saw New York, New York. They used to say it was a city so nice, they named it twice. Today it's still too dangerous to walk through. Still making all those magic things nice and angry. But when I reached Virginia, I found a boat heading for Spain. Which sounded far away to me, so I sneaked right on board. I spent a lot of that trip in the brig, or working with a ton of supervision when they needed and extra hand. Turns out you can't just hop on a boat. You gotta be a sailor or pay to go. Well. Can't blame me for not knowing, I had never seen a big ship like that before. The trip was supposed to be about a month. A month on the sea, then we'd hit land and I'd see about making my way in the new world. Old world. New old world. Whatever.

Only we were attacked by pirates. They killed so many who didn't have the chance to fight back, and they took everything of value there was, including myself and a few other passengers before they left the stripped ship to float over the waters. Ghost ship. And the pirates did not land very often. I spent more than a year on their ship, even worked with them and fought with them sometimes, too. The captain was a lady pirate, you see, and she made it clear to her crew that if they touched us the wrong way, that'd be it. I trusted her. Well, as much as you can trust a pirate anyway. And she liked me enough to teach me to be downright swashbuckling. So I did a turn as a pirate. No big deal. It wasn't so bad, with our pirate Queen in charge. But it didn't last through the mutiny. When they threw her body overboard, I knew things were gonna be different. And they were. I still spent a lot of time fighting after that, but it was more with the crew than with other sailors. Fighting them off didn't always work, but I never wanted it said that I gave up.

So when The Red Queen attacked Silver Wind, myself and a couple others decided it was time our pirate band lost a fight. And while they were up on deck fighting and boarding and whatever else, we rigged the powder kegs to blow a hole in the hull of the Queen and ran for the other ship ourselves. I even got to swing across on a rope. Hell on the hands. Looked great, though. While I was on Silver Wind, I took a shine to one of the sailors. Patrick Ferrier. He kept the other sailors away from my little corner of the boat even before we started up together, which after the run I'd been having, ended up meaning a lot more than it should have. Seeing as he had a wife back on land. But sailors have a saying. No one's married on the ocean.

It wasn't long before Silver Wind decided to drop some of us captives off at the nearest port. They ended up having to pay for a number of repairs to the ship and ended up running short of trade, so most of those rescued or taken captive off the pirate ship were sold at the nearest port. I learned it was ironically close to my original destination of Spain, just a hop over the Strait of Gibraltar. But I wasn't sold off with the others. The captain said it was because I was useful and pulling my weight around the ship was good enough to earn my share of the rations. I learned over time, though, as we sailed from port to port, that it was because Patrick asked for a favor. I don't know what he thought was going to happen when we all got back to Dornie, or if he even thought that far ahead, but he arranged it so I wasn't seen as an asset to sell off for a good price, but a member of the crew. A useful member, even.


Idgie is, above all things, very happy with herself. It gives her a calm, phlegmatic sort of serenity and a generally optimistic outlook. Confidence leaves her upbeat and bold, but prone to rash, reckless bouts now and then. Derring do. In work, she prides herself on her integrity, but tends to forgo speed for the sake of meticulousness. It's good work, though.

Her self-contentedness, while definitely rooted in a strong self-assurance, makes her laid back and tranquil. And while it lets her be accepting and open-minded, it also makes her wishy-washy and unlikely to form a firm, definitive opinion on a lot of things, and she tends to go along a lot more often than she insists on things going her own way. At the same time, it's difficult to force her to do things she isn't keen on, if only because it becomes difficult to galvanize her when she lacks passion for a thing. But she's warm and supportive with a sense of humor and showmanship that gets more gratification from entertaining others than leading them.

She has an odd sort of spirituality about her. She grew up in a family that held the dual beliefs of the one God of the Christian faith, but also a lean toward the superstitious. So she does believe in a very basic, simple version of the gospel, but also in the idea of a lucky rabbit's foot, hexes and curses, rituals for luck, wards, evil spirits and smoke-aided visions. And so forth. Her version of philosophy echoes that easy going nature of hers, and allows her a bit of indulgence in her oddities.