Evalyn Fri Apr 13, 2012 10:54 amEvalyn Amhranai, the FireHearted:
Try to think back on your earliest memories. What are they? The sound of your father's voice? The warmth of your mother's bosom? For me, the earliest memory is that of the lyre.
I am Amhranai. Born of the harp, her slender curves mark my right shoulder blade, silver and midnight blue in hue as it does all of my clan. Copper haired and emerald eyed, I was the morning star, the golden child, the favored of my parents. The whole world was at my fingertips in my youth, and I took full advantage of the opportunities that I was afforded. Wanderlust runs through our blood, but none moreso than I. Never contented by staying with the family, from the time I could walk I would explore the woods; by my adolescence I was ranging out from the family when we would visit towns, and now into adulthood I seek more than just the sites…my beating heart cries out for adventure, for freedom, for the chance to prove that I am my own elf. Never again will I let myself be lost in another.
I am Amhranai; we are travelers first and foremost and our clan spans the races. Humans work alongside those of us of elven blood, and a fair number of half elven offspring serve as testament to the happy unions forged despite, or perhaps because of, the differences.
I am Or'tel'quessir, daughter of the woods, and a chosen of Mielikki. She is the Lady of the Woods and no matter where I roam I may always find comfort in the boughs of her embrace.
I am a Wanderer, and my wanderings have brought me to dark places. Not everyone in this world is good – not every elf in this world lives selflessly. There are those who use, those who manipulate, and those who find pleasure in cruelty. For years I walked in darkness, trapped by the shackles of love for a creature whose darkness I was blind to. Too close I came to being severed by the knife of a short life. I still bear those scars, and they serve as a constant reminder to the dangers of self sacrifice.
I am the FireHeart. My suffering has made me stronger, my will tempered by fire and steel. Poet, Provider, Protector.
I am Evalyn.
*************************
"You wish to hear a story? I am not surprised, for the Amhranai are known for their talents of music and theater. I have since left my clan, though I could perhaps indulge your fancy." Malachite eyes sparkle darkly as the wood-elf ponders this request. "I shall acquiesce, though the story I offer is not one of fanciful tales or a bawdy ballad. I offer to you the greatest gift I could offer: a warning."
With weary eyes the sun doth set, casting long shadows beneath the trees of the High Forest. As day gives way to the finality of night, the twilight between the extremes finds a young elf, barely of maturity, wandering between stumps, logs, and stands of the grandest oaks and woods seeming to stretch a mile high. This fateful night brings a surprise for the girl; another watches her careless progress through the trees. The decision is soon made and the dark figure makes its presence known to the blonde elven girl. Hair as dark as midnight and eyes two shades of indigo reveal themselves to be the form of an elven man, garbed in pitch silk and cloaked in charcoal wool. So close to home was the young girl that, though a bit surprised, approached the dark man with not near enough caution. Words he spoke. Words that painted pictures in the mind, carrying one away from this reality as a soft breath blows dust from a table. These words were sent forth like a line, hooking into her, tugging at her heartstrings.
The man, who came to be known to her as T’ienar, was magic on two feet. So hard has this young elf fallen for the dark haired one she felt he could do no wrong. Her family, at first overjoyed that she had found her heart’s calling so young, soon became worried as she withdrew from them and the things she had once loved. Sweet was he at first; so tender, so loving. The young woman gave herself to him with no thought of self, no sense of preserving her identity, becoming a part of him, an extension of his wishes and desires, offering to him her innocence and so much more. She was rewarded for this; given attention, love. But soon it started to change.
Once T’ienar knew that she was firmly in his grasp, the façade of sweetness and light faded. It started slowly, a comment here, an offhand remark there. Each time he would speak she would feel belittled, lessened, unworthy of his attentions. This confused the young elf, as she could not understand what it was she had done to wrong him. In return, as though to prove to him her worth, she gave even more of herself, waited on him hand and foot, placing herself as a slave to his service, cutting all ties to the life she once had.
As the age-old saying goes, kind acts are food for evil people. As though it were the story of her life, the nicer she was to T’ienar, the more of herself she gave selflessly to him and his desires, the more he took from her, the crueler he became. Soon, implied slights against him were not enough… soon he turned to inflicting harm. To punish her, Tienar would not hurt her at first, but himself, saying that he was atoning for causing her to do the things she did. This frightened the copper haired elf, and she took it upon herself to beg him to hurt her instead of him; as it was her fault, not his. In this he took the greatest pleasure, relishing the chance to make her beg him for pain so that he would not bring harm to himself. She called herself unworthy, she called herself a wretch, she believed every word that left her lips.
The pain lasted for hours, the torture for days, the anguish, years. It was not until one final night, when he took a dagger to his own heart, threatening to kill himself, that she finally understood, finally knew in her heart what was happening. She begged him not to, she pleaded with him. She got down on her knees and prostrated herself before him, tears of pain streaming down her face. She asked him to take her life instead, so that he may live happy and free of the suffering she inflected upon him. Her wish he granted with the sickened grin of the sadist. He set his knife upon her, slashing, gashing, ripping. He left her broken and bloody on the floor, a shadow of the creature of light she once was.
She is dead now; ashes of a woman scattered upon that bloodied wooden floor. Specks of dust that rest like the pyre of a phoenix. Gone is this creature of innocence. Dead is this girl of light who cared nothing of herself and everything of the one who had brought her so much pain… so much pain.
Approved by Fyrekrest
Try to think back on your earliest memories. What are they? The sound of your father's voice? The warmth of your mother's bosom? For me, the earliest memory is that of the lyre.
I am Amhranai. Born of the harp, her slender curves mark my right shoulder blade, silver and midnight blue in hue as it does all of my clan. Copper haired and emerald eyed, I was the morning star, the golden child, the favored of my parents. The whole world was at my fingertips in my youth, and I took full advantage of the opportunities that I was afforded. Wanderlust runs through our blood, but none moreso than I. Never contented by staying with the family, from the time I could walk I would explore the woods; by my adolescence I was ranging out from the family when we would visit towns, and now into adulthood I seek more than just the sites…my beating heart cries out for adventure, for freedom, for the chance to prove that I am my own elf. Never again will I let myself be lost in another.
I am Amhranai; we are travelers first and foremost and our clan spans the races. Humans work alongside those of us of elven blood, and a fair number of half elven offspring serve as testament to the happy unions forged despite, or perhaps because of, the differences.
I am Or'tel'quessir, daughter of the woods, and a chosen of Mielikki. She is the Lady of the Woods and no matter where I roam I may always find comfort in the boughs of her embrace.
I am a Wanderer, and my wanderings have brought me to dark places. Not everyone in this world is good – not every elf in this world lives selflessly. There are those who use, those who manipulate, and those who find pleasure in cruelty. For years I walked in darkness, trapped by the shackles of love for a creature whose darkness I was blind to. Too close I came to being severed by the knife of a short life. I still bear those scars, and they serve as a constant reminder to the dangers of self sacrifice.
I am the FireHeart. My suffering has made me stronger, my will tempered by fire and steel. Poet, Provider, Protector.
I am Evalyn.
*************************
"You wish to hear a story? I am not surprised, for the Amhranai are known for their talents of music and theater. I have since left my clan, though I could perhaps indulge your fancy." Malachite eyes sparkle darkly as the wood-elf ponders this request. "I shall acquiesce, though the story I offer is not one of fanciful tales or a bawdy ballad. I offer to you the greatest gift I could offer: a warning."
With weary eyes the sun doth set, casting long shadows beneath the trees of the High Forest. As day gives way to the finality of night, the twilight between the extremes finds a young elf, barely of maturity, wandering between stumps, logs, and stands of the grandest oaks and woods seeming to stretch a mile high. This fateful night brings a surprise for the girl; another watches her careless progress through the trees. The decision is soon made and the dark figure makes its presence known to the blonde elven girl. Hair as dark as midnight and eyes two shades of indigo reveal themselves to be the form of an elven man, garbed in pitch silk and cloaked in charcoal wool. So close to home was the young girl that, though a bit surprised, approached the dark man with not near enough caution. Words he spoke. Words that painted pictures in the mind, carrying one away from this reality as a soft breath blows dust from a table. These words were sent forth like a line, hooking into her, tugging at her heartstrings.
The man, who came to be known to her as T’ienar, was magic on two feet. So hard has this young elf fallen for the dark haired one she felt he could do no wrong. Her family, at first overjoyed that she had found her heart’s calling so young, soon became worried as she withdrew from them and the things she had once loved. Sweet was he at first; so tender, so loving. The young woman gave herself to him with no thought of self, no sense of preserving her identity, becoming a part of him, an extension of his wishes and desires, offering to him her innocence and so much more. She was rewarded for this; given attention, love. But soon it started to change.
Once T’ienar knew that she was firmly in his grasp, the façade of sweetness and light faded. It started slowly, a comment here, an offhand remark there. Each time he would speak she would feel belittled, lessened, unworthy of his attentions. This confused the young elf, as she could not understand what it was she had done to wrong him. In return, as though to prove to him her worth, she gave even more of herself, waited on him hand and foot, placing herself as a slave to his service, cutting all ties to the life she once had.
As the age-old saying goes, kind acts are food for evil people. As though it were the story of her life, the nicer she was to T’ienar, the more of herself she gave selflessly to him and his desires, the more he took from her, the crueler he became. Soon, implied slights against him were not enough… soon he turned to inflicting harm. To punish her, Tienar would not hurt her at first, but himself, saying that he was atoning for causing her to do the things she did. This frightened the copper haired elf, and she took it upon herself to beg him to hurt her instead of him; as it was her fault, not his. In this he took the greatest pleasure, relishing the chance to make her beg him for pain so that he would not bring harm to himself. She called herself unworthy, she called herself a wretch, she believed every word that left her lips.
The pain lasted for hours, the torture for days, the anguish, years. It was not until one final night, when he took a dagger to his own heart, threatening to kill himself, that she finally understood, finally knew in her heart what was happening. She begged him not to, she pleaded with him. She got down on her knees and prostrated herself before him, tears of pain streaming down her face. She asked him to take her life instead, so that he may live happy and free of the suffering she inflected upon him. Her wish he granted with the sickened grin of the sadist. He set his knife upon her, slashing, gashing, ripping. He left her broken and bloody on the floor, a shadow of the creature of light she once was.
She is dead now; ashes of a woman scattered upon that bloodied wooden floor. Specks of dust that rest like the pyre of a phoenix. Gone is this creature of innocence. Dead is this girl of light who cared nothing of herself and everything of the one who had brought her so much pain… so much pain.
Approved by Fyrekrest
Last edited by Fyrekrest on Fri Apr 20, 2012 5:57 am; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : Approval: well done!)
