Uꜱᴇʀɴᴀᴍᴇ; TILL ALL ARE ONE
Nᴀᴍᴇ; Thera (Title: Vercingetorix (Ancient Celtic;
"king over warriors"))
Gᴇɴᴅᴇʀ; Female
Pᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ Tʀᴀɪᴛꜱ; Impatient | Direct | Irritable |
Dry | Hostile
Mɪꜱᴄᴇʟʟᴀɴᴇᴏᴜꜱ;
magical abilities
Thera's fire magic entails several useful abilities.
The most obvious few are fire summoning and
projection, as well as near imperviousness to
extreme heat (and flames). She can also shape her
fire into illusory images, and depending on the
circumstances it can possess mild mesmerizing properties.
She is also immortal, as her task is eternal.
who she knows
M ᴄ C ᴏ ʏ
As a medic McCoy is known by many. In Thera's case their
relationship barely stretches to business, and she has
sworn him to secrecy in anything she tells him regarding
her frequent injuries. She appreciates their shared sense
of humor, and they can often be heard making dry quips
at each other when alone--commonly about their similar
pelts.
J ᴀ ꜱ ᴍ ɪ ɴ ᴇ
Thera knows Jasmine by association only. Jasmine is
McCoy's daughter, and Thera has only seen her once.
Despite the scarcity of their interaction, Thera respects
her for similarly upholding her father's vow of silence,
and they get along well, if not fully.
general trivia
•One of her token phrases is "Your point?"
•She speaks quickly when she's annoyed.
•She has a bit of a flair for the dramatic,
oftentimes without realizing.
•She has an ear-twitching "tick" that is set
off when she's nervous or anxious about
something.
•She adores animals of all kind. It's an odd
thing to see her stoop to pet a cat when
moments before she had snapped
furiously at a mere stranger.
her task
Her eternal task is to collect the pieces of her flame.
She doesn't know its name or why it's even in pieces,
but all her senses and insticts tell her that she's bound
to it irreversibly, and she has no choice but to seek its
pieces.
[294/500]
Pᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ;Thera is a hardened character. As a youngster she was
open with her emotions, wearing her heart on her
sleeve; now as an adult she has turned to much more
introverted tendencies, partially due to the necessity
of secrecy. She maintains up a cold exterior and a
straight face, and her typical at rest stance contains
palpable hostility. On a daily basis, she's at worst
volatile and at best mildly sociable.
Traveling alone for decades on end has worn down
her social tolerance down to a hair's width. If you
don't understand her the first time, she doesn't explain
it again. She's impatient, snappish, and often very rude
to anybody who approaches her, seeking to end the
contact as soon as possible so that she may get on with
whatever her current task is. Whenever speech is
necessary it's short, curt, to the point. Her humor is dry
and most commonly at the expense of another, usually
whoever is talking to her at the moment. She isn't afraid
of stating exactly what she's thinking and often ends
conversation on an offensive note purely by choice. It
doesn't take much to get on her bad side; she's a walking
lit fuse.
[200/300]
Bᴀᴄᴋꜱᴛᴏʀʏ;Thera was born on a rainy day.
Her egg hatched in the middle of the wet season, when flowers were opened and the trees began to look full again. She was born an only viscling to a pair of gritty, but kind viscets. They loved her wholly. Their home was a squat, sturdy building, one surrounded by farmland and nature.
In those days there was nothing unusual about her; her single tail was tufted like any other viscet's. Her parents taught her how to help around the farm, and her daily duty was to draw water from their well for the family's needs.
It was on one of their unlucky days that she had been sent to fetch the day's water an hour late. The day was looking to be a busy one, as the sky foretold impending rain and the animals were restless from the storm, making it harder to herd them than usual. Thera's thoughts were nothing but pleasant, however, as she loved the rain and was looking forward to listening to the raindrops drumming on their wooden roof.
The first few droplets began to fall as she climbed the broad steps her parents had built for her so she could reach the well. She nudged the bucket off the ledge with one paw; it slipped over the worn stone and jerked unceremoniously in the air as the rope caught its weight.
Grasping the crank, she began to lower the bucket, the wooden mechanism creaking familiarly as she did so. The steady pattern of the regular sound drew her into a peaceful rhythm, and her mind began to wander.
Snap.
She looked up in time to hear an echoed splash from deep in the well. A frayed piece of rope dangled uselessly in front of her.
Her heart sank as she peered over the ledge. She'd have to go through their underground tunnels, the ones that they only used to repair the well. She could reach through the highest hole and grab the bucket from there.
The trip to the entrance was only a few hundred feet. Stepping inside, she shivered at the cold draft that met her fur, eyes darting nervously about the dank stone walls. She never did like the tunnels.
The only thing that truly worried her, however, was the tiny underground stream that fed into the well. To cross it she had to jump from platform to platform, and two of them were separated by a seemingly random hole. The hole was black as pitch, with no natural lighting in the tunnels, and she hated having to pass it by so closely.
Thusly her heart leaped when her paw slipped as she leaped off the first ledge. Her torso slammed heavily onto the corner of the second ledge, and her lower half smacked awkwardly into the wall of the ledge. Her strength wasn't enough to hold herself through the pain, and she slipped into the darkness with nary a sound.
She struck a gravelly slope in moments. The slide lasted only moments, but in her terror it seemed like hours. Her limbs flailed wildly as she struggled for control, and when she finally came to a stop she was frozen in shock and fear.
The first thing she noticed was there was light. It was a warm glow emanating from the center of the cavern she had fallen into, and through blinking blearily she could make out the hazy form of some sort of stone pedestal with a bright ball of wafting light hovering above its center.
After pushing to her feet, she approached the pedestal slowly, every instinct in her telling her to come closer. The light was a floating... flame. Its shape remained oddly stagnant, and small tongues of flame flickered off of its edges.
She should never have touched it. The moment she did an unimaginable pain rendered her petrified. Images she didn't, couldn't recognize flitted through her head, and the outer silence was deafening as she felt her equilibrium begin to shift.
When her vision returned she was no longer a juvenile. She staggered, her new form forcing her to adjust to its weight and power. Whispers were echoing in her head, whispers of an eternal undertaking and immortality. She felt the tails swirling behind her and knew at once that her life had just been shattered.
Her first steps out into the rain were wobbly and feeble. She stared down at her home from atop the grassy rise, the thin dirt trail winding down to where he parents' chimney was smoking. She knew from what she had already heard that she would never be allowed to see them again.
Turning away from her home, she sucked in a deep breath and began to walk.
She never looked back again.
[800/800]
art credits: lines and bg by me, colors by *Shiveren*
all coding and writing by me
I was sick for a few days, so there was a lot...I mean a LOT I wanted to get done that I couldn't. This probably won't qualify anyway, but at least I learned something from this. Oh well.
all coding and writing by me
I was sick for a few days, so there was a lot...I mean a LOT I wanted to get done that I couldn't. This probably won't qualify anyway, but at least I learned something from this. Oh well.
