Post by Ana on Aug 19, 2006 6:06:15 GMT -5
Name: Ana Avariel
Pronunciation: Ah-nah Ah-vair-ee-el
Age: Unknown [Looks early twenties]
Gender: Female
Race | Class: Human | Royal Handmaiden
Birth Place: Unknown
Physical Description: Arrestingly beautiful with her silky hair spilling over her shoulders in a mass of silvery waves, a vivid contrast against glowing milky skin, icy eyes, and soft rosy lips. Her countenance promises always a wild vindictiveness in its white cheek and scintillating eye. She stands 5'9".
Pronunciation: Ah-nah Ah-vair-ee-el
Age: Unknown [Looks early twenties]
Gender: Female
Race | Class: Human | Royal Handmaiden
Birth Place: Unknown
Physical Description: Arrestingly beautiful with her silky hair spilling over her shoulders in a mass of silvery waves, a vivid contrast against glowing milky skin, icy eyes, and soft rosy lips. Her countenance promises always a wild vindictiveness in its white cheek and scintillating eye. She stands 5'9".
Personality: Her spirit is generally high, though not too rough, and qualified by a heart, sensitive and lively to excess in its affections. She has an always pensive expression. Her anger is occasionally furious, but her love, if ever present love, is never fierce. She possesses a sense of wit and a mesmeric grin. At times she is easily vexed, and perhaps feels the need for revenge far too easily and frequently.
Strengths: An eloquent tongue and quick wit do much more justice than a sword; and though she is skillfully capable of wielding that sword, she uses words to wound instead.
Weaknesses: Mortality and solitude accumulated tends to make her an easy target for scorn and spite, so much that she hardly believes in the names of love and friendship; and at times she finds the inability to hate -- another weakness, as that can lead to underestimation and ultimately destruction, by someone else or her own hand.
Likes | Dislikes: Music is a vice; she is so deeply attached to it that if it were ever to cease existence she would not know what to do with herself. Arrogance and pride are her main objections, and those who present themselves in such a manner as either of the two disgust her.
Weapons: A long sharp-edged blade fixed in a black hilt, bejeweled with an emerald, giving the alleged power of healing and hope. It is named Araduial, meaning 'She who weeps'. It sits in a silver scabbard which was carefully engraved with the words, 'Something is lost when something else dies. Maybe it is life but it is riddled with lies'.
Body Accessories: On a thin silvery chain around her neck is a pendant; it is named Avariel, shining like silver in the light of fire, like crystal-water in the sun, like snow in the light of stars, and like rain in moonlight.
History: With no recollection of past life or circumstance she awoke in the Forest of Undar, mistaken considerably to be a stray nymph or of some other elven nature; but soon to be revealed that she was only human. They said she was blessed by Aphrodite herself somehow; or perhaps even a reincarnation of the beauty, but as time passed those who had claimed this found it idiocy -- their hearts were not the same. The goddess was wise; and wiser than Avariel could ever be.
Unto Avariel was passed a strange power -- she was able to create images and phantasms both for good and for evil, casting shadows and withdrawing souls from the very pits of their beings. From where it arose is unknown, nor where the core of its enchantment consistently flows from, for it is not an internal power of her own but of something else's.
She interpreted this gift like a curse; on its account she felt pain instead of tranquility; an internal war. A battle to tease the senses -- she could surrender, suffer, or conquer. But surrender to what? What would she be conquering? Why suffer? In her heart she knew that something was missing; but she was not permitted to ask why or how by her own will, for she feared that if she spoke of the matter to another she might be branded delerious and psychologically deranged.
For a time her sorrow was of the kind that could not weep; where that internal battle left the entire fortress of her heart carpeted in the dead and the dying, with no one to tend to the wounded. And that fortress, once so strong and so beautiful was then a citadel on its knees, until its foundations completely crumbled beneath the weight of uncertainty. And the price was all those left lifeless on every battlefield of every war fought thoughtlessly in that name. And they were those who were never given the chance to know the answer.
She was found by a knight of the only remaining human civilization Rahn; he stood awestruck and utterly dumbfounded just by her presential grace and alluring beauty. He desired to reach out and touch her but afraid that even the lightest touch might break her; so his distance was kept, as was her own in mystification; and he merely spoke gently from afar:
"M'lady; how is it that you can mesmerize me so without even a word?"
But there came no reply, and she simply watched him; observing each aspect of the man's conformation but not out of attraction -- she could find no reason other than curiousity. And he spoke again:
"Your name... m'lady; I yearn to have knowledge of it so that I may offer you solace. I dare not ask for anything else but that hereafter."
And then those icy eyes of hers fell into a downcast, bringing about another spell of silence upon them both. His eyes were captivated and hopeless, hers engraved with emotional exhaustion, that which he surely could not see. And just as his eyes gave into surrender her lips parted in a whisper:
"I am yesterday and today and tomorrow... and forced to be sorrow and longing and hope unfulfilled... Left with only tears to be the inefficient substitute for the love that is not mine -- I know by the look in your eyes that you have suffered many great sufferings of your own... but you are not asked to suffer me."
He never learned her real name. He brought her unto Rahn to be put under the services of the Royal family; there she became the Royal Handmaiden, remaining at their beckon call until dispossession or release. There were things she had done ill since her awakening there in the forest and it was supposed death was the only jurisdiction; she did not deserve a second chance. But that was why she got one.
Strengths: An eloquent tongue and quick wit do much more justice than a sword; and though she is skillfully capable of wielding that sword, she uses words to wound instead.
Weaknesses: Mortality and solitude accumulated tends to make her an easy target for scorn and spite, so much that she hardly believes in the names of love and friendship; and at times she finds the inability to hate -- another weakness, as that can lead to underestimation and ultimately destruction, by someone else or her own hand.
Likes | Dislikes: Music is a vice; she is so deeply attached to it that if it were ever to cease existence she would not know what to do with herself. Arrogance and pride are her main objections, and those who present themselves in such a manner as either of the two disgust her.
Weapons: A long sharp-edged blade fixed in a black hilt, bejeweled with an emerald, giving the alleged power of healing and hope. It is named Araduial, meaning 'She who weeps'. It sits in a silver scabbard which was carefully engraved with the words, 'Something is lost when something else dies. Maybe it is life but it is riddled with lies'.
Body Accessories: On a thin silvery chain around her neck is a pendant; it is named Avariel, shining like silver in the light of fire, like crystal-water in the sun, like snow in the light of stars, and like rain in moonlight.
History: With no recollection of past life or circumstance she awoke in the Forest of Undar, mistaken considerably to be a stray nymph or of some other elven nature; but soon to be revealed that she was only human. They said she was blessed by Aphrodite herself somehow; or perhaps even a reincarnation of the beauty, but as time passed those who had claimed this found it idiocy -- their hearts were not the same. The goddess was wise; and wiser than Avariel could ever be.
Unto Avariel was passed a strange power -- she was able to create images and phantasms both for good and for evil, casting shadows and withdrawing souls from the very pits of their beings. From where it arose is unknown, nor where the core of its enchantment consistently flows from, for it is not an internal power of her own but of something else's.
She interpreted this gift like a curse; on its account she felt pain instead of tranquility; an internal war. A battle to tease the senses -- she could surrender, suffer, or conquer. But surrender to what? What would she be conquering? Why suffer? In her heart she knew that something was missing; but she was not permitted to ask why or how by her own will, for she feared that if she spoke of the matter to another she might be branded delerious and psychologically deranged.
For a time her sorrow was of the kind that could not weep; where that internal battle left the entire fortress of her heart carpeted in the dead and the dying, with no one to tend to the wounded. And that fortress, once so strong and so beautiful was then a citadel on its knees, until its foundations completely crumbled beneath the weight of uncertainty. And the price was all those left lifeless on every battlefield of every war fought thoughtlessly in that name. And they were those who were never given the chance to know the answer.
She was found by a knight of the only remaining human civilization Rahn; he stood awestruck and utterly dumbfounded just by her presential grace and alluring beauty. He desired to reach out and touch her but afraid that even the lightest touch might break her; so his distance was kept, as was her own in mystification; and he merely spoke gently from afar:
"M'lady; how is it that you can mesmerize me so without even a word?"
But there came no reply, and she simply watched him; observing each aspect of the man's conformation but not out of attraction -- she could find no reason other than curiousity. And he spoke again:
"Your name... m'lady; I yearn to have knowledge of it so that I may offer you solace. I dare not ask for anything else but that hereafter."
And then those icy eyes of hers fell into a downcast, bringing about another spell of silence upon them both. His eyes were captivated and hopeless, hers engraved with emotional exhaustion, that which he surely could not see. And just as his eyes gave into surrender her lips parted in a whisper:
"I am yesterday and today and tomorrow... and forced to be sorrow and longing and hope unfulfilled... Left with only tears to be the inefficient substitute for the love that is not mine -- I know by the look in your eyes that you have suffered many great sufferings of your own... but you are not asked to suffer me."
He never learned her real name. He brought her unto Rahn to be put under the services of the Royal family; there she became the Royal Handmaiden, remaining at their beckon call until dispossession or release. There were things she had done ill since her awakening there in the forest and it was supposed death was the only jurisdiction; she did not deserve a second chance. But that was why she got one.
