[center]She was of dust.

Broken in life,

But given purpose,

In the end.[/center]

She was the first Unsullied Fae taken by Larwen. The first to be perfected in the great Forge, and now nameless with desire. She wandered alone in the deep dark of Pervanon for what felt as a lifetime. Reflection upon her past bore no comfort in such a place. Her memories like sharp rocks battering her skull repeatedly, reminding of only her once flawed self. Instead, she chose to dwell upon the God of Perfection’s words, which still echoed in her mind.

[center][i]‘You have been born anew’[/i]

[i]‘Forged into purity’[/i]

[i]‘Rowan is the past’[/i][/center]

“I was born anew.” She said aloud, “Pure. Rowan is the past.” [i]Rowan[/i]. Her old name, the remaining tie between who she had been, and who she would become. It no longer felt right to call herself Rowan. It did not define her any longer. It would not [i]define[/i] her any longer. She stumbled into a new section of cave, tired and alone. The cave itself was small, with bunches of fallen rock on the left side and more importantly, it was a dead end. The Fae knew not what to do any longer. Her journey had come to an abrupt halt, and she knew not the strength, or the gull to return without finding what she had hoped the deep would provide.

Without realizing, she next found herself sat upon a rock, cradling her brow within her hands. Try as she might, she could still not shake the memories associated with her name, her past life. Her old court, the Anathema’s, [i]Tingalina.[/i] They haunted her still.

Tingalina. She missed her, and she did not. For Tingalina was not like her, not given Larwen’s enlightenment. Yet, she wanted her. Oh, how she craved to show her Perfection. To change her, to show her the truth so that they could be as one of the same. Then perhaps her old memories would no longer chain her to the past, for they could live in a brighter future. One without restraint, one where Tingalina was as perfect as she. She would be able to tempt her, for she had a voice of honey. Sweet and full of youthful mirth, enhanced now by the sheer beauty of Purity. Before, when they would get into trouble, it had been Rowan to talk their way out of it, Rowan to tempt her with adventure. Rowan to- She was not Rowan any longer. No, she was [i]more[/i].

It dawned upon her at last. The nameless Fae who sat upon that rock within the depths of the world, she had found her name. One that flowed from her mouth first, as Larwen had prophesized. It gave her purpose, a sense of being alive in an existence she had never dreamed of.

“I am born anew.” She said proudly, standing up on the rock, “Pure. Rowan is the past, I am Maeve.” And like a soft, cool breeze, Larwen whispered to her,

[color=maroon][h3]”Come.”[/h3][/color]

And Maeve listened.


[hider=Summary]
The first Unsullied Fae given the task of find a new name because her old one no longer suited her, walks alone in Pervanon.
She looses track of time, so lost in her search that current events are unaware to her. 
After awhile she comes to a dead end and almost gives up.
But she realizes the key to her future, lays within her past.
Once A Fae called Rowan, her new name is now Maeve.
Larwen then summons her.
[/hider]