If joy
doesn't last
forever...
Appearance
Being seen was already anathema to her. To watch her long enough that you could pick out details would have been enough to make her flee. To that end, she was as unassuming as could be. Her clothes were more than often urban, her hair had no bright colors or highlights, and she did everything to be invisible. The only staple she ever cared for, never carrying weapons, was a strange ornament in her hair, a fragile and glass one, in the shape of a butterfly. Even if it were ever absent, there followed her an uncannily similar, but real, vilekin.
Clean was relative to her. There are long periods where she lives in the wild, hunting and camping without any hygienic practice, but she has adapted as most other Spoken do. As if she were hiding from predators, she made sure that she'd taken a bath at least recently before she stepped foot in a city, though that didn't keep her from standing out in a crowd.
Everywhere she went, she strayed from the main path. This wasn't a kind of wanderlust, but an abject fear that drove her into darker corners and unseen roads. At times, where there were no places to hide, it had the unintented effect of drawing even more attention to herself, compounding her anxiety to a point of panic. If she could ever help it, she would disappear entirely, but in the cases she had the courage to stay put, Melia appeared almost normal.
then smile
any chance
you get.
All you
know is
my pain...
Presence
Something beautiful existed here, on the fringes of your senses. It was dying to be seen, or perhaps seeing it would be dying. Heaven, as it were, the paradise you experience in joy and perfection which only seemed like the best outcome. Only seemed, because it wasn't true at all; it floated there to make you believe it, in the clouds and out of reach. You had looked inside of a box, one sealed with a bow and paper, a present for you, to find the charming gifts within.
It wanted to have friends. It wanted to play. It wanted your complete and utter obedience. You would pay attention. You would pay obeisance. You would pay with your time and tears all at once, if it so commanded. It was capricious and needy, but as you could feel its enchanting touch, it was held back. Abated by its accompanied force, a desire and insistence to keep you back, you were spared, magnanimously, for the time being.
The pairing of forces here were in constant harmony. One wanted you all to itself. One wanted you to stay back. This heavy-handed equilibrium—two sides of a spinning coin—left you in control of your own free will. In leaving you be, or at least leaving you intact, you were allowed an audience by circumstance. Allowed by her stewards and servants, you were let within the royal halls of whatever place it was. That day, you found yourself in the presence of a queen.
and you
take that
too.
Why would
you sleep
today?
Personality
While she did appear almost normal, it was only almost. Everything that a typical person might do, she never did quite right. Getting her to open up is already a feat on its own, as her typical mode of behavior is quiet, shy, and incredibly worried for little to no good reason. Breaking the ice was difficult for even the most skilled socialite, as the things that soothed her seemed unpredictable and odd.
This capricious behavior carried into her moods, once she was comfortable at least. She could go from excited to fearful or mirthful to bewildered in a matter of seconds. Each time she expressed herself, it was with the full weight of her heart. Nothing was ever done with half effort, as long as she could help it. Her emotions dictated so much of her life, it seemed impossible to remove them from anything.
Becoming enthralled by something, or someone, was easy for her. Melia's willingness to defer to others came too naturally. Obedient and easily guided, she rarely asked twice for anything and never needed to be told something more than once. This was amplified when she became fascinated with things. Most of that which she marveled at were the mysterious and old. Things as wondrous as bards and spirits attracted her like a bee to a queen. Her strange and ritualistic behaviors shined brightest when she was enchanted by an oddity.
We have
so much
to do!
Do you
know what
you've done?
Station
In her elusive nature, there was no respite of expectations. Hers were lofty ones, constantly changing to that which her nature is, her whims. There came with every word and every action a set of rules that was impossible to know, even more difficult to discover. It would take a sacrifice for someone to parse these lines, which would only leave them lesser or changed. To truly understand her was madness.
For someone who followed these rules and walked that thin wire to appeasement, they were to be seen as a person. Everyone else, so long as they brought forth no humble acts of servitude and refused to bow, was a pawn and a plaything. The levity which protected them was capricious at best, magnanimity and boredom meaning the same thing. To the uninitiated, this was cruel at worst and apathetic at best.
There were yet ways to befriend her, and most often her strange empathy depended on a show of faith. Accepting gifts was a fine way to earn her trust, but they were never without a myriad of strings attached. So rarely did she show benevolence or altruism for the benefit of the recipient. A wiser mind would call it manipulation, but an understanding one would call it nature. To her, there is no difference between leverage and help.
I'll never
see them
again.
Try to
reach for
the stars.
Intrigue
In Gyr Abania, there exist legends and tales of the many fantastical or awful things that step out of the East End. Leshies, will-o'-the-wisps, and fae are all obstacles that keep anyone out of the Black Shroud—and have kept them out since the Autumn War. Among these things, however, is something more mundane, steeped in the capricious world of elementals and spirits: the Keepers of the Moon.
Perhaps it was these Miqo'te who suffered most of the forest's denizens when Baelsar's Wall was completed. The tribes which scattered out from its wake were never whole again, if they continued at all. Of those tribes, the Nymdri did not survive. The last of their name, a child no more than ten summers, was sent to wander the treacherous Twelveswood, alone for the rest of her days.
Over two epochs ago, the Wall rose, and today the spirits know her name. Melia, Child of Ash, who sprang from the trees of the East alone. The bards and conjurers heard it many times and many more as she drifted to and from the forest. The tribes of Keepers within its boughs took her name for ill, knowing her company of some shade or sprite. The Gridanians barred her entry at all, giving her no quarter. Only a few travelers have ever befriended her, and fewer have learned her secrets of surviving so long, from so young, by herself.
One might
take pity
on you.
No one
ever wants
to stay.
Rumor
The Black Shroud held its secrets and power deep inside the boughs and canopies that layered the forest floor with shadows. Often unforgiving and frightening to outsiders, there were some things that the locals themselves didn't toy with. Spirits which live in these magical lands have powers behind their every word. Those who live long enough in the wilds know not to play with them, as much as they might like games.
Elementals, moogles, and faeries are all potent and unpredictable forces. They rule over the people and creatures in their demesnes by such varying ways that to define one by the other is a fool's errand. Some keep strict laws, some prefer isolation and subterfuge, and some yearn for something else entirely. Here, it's clear she wants the kingdom to fit her name.
When her land was taken from her, the spirits muttered of her deposition. They named her The Quiet Queen, who speaks to none of her kind, fae and spirits alike. The nations to which she once called home have long been turned to dust, the people she once called friends long returned to the earth. They called her Erato then, and today it's rare to hear it spoken by anyone but her closest friend. This queen has changed much in the ages her rumors have spread, but certain through all of them this much is clear: she is proud of herself.
You're all
I have
left.
Can we
play another
game?
Work in Progress
Check back soon!
You said
I'm your
friend.
I don't
want to
play anymore.
Work in Progress
Check back soon!
Why won't
you listen
to me?