Here is my character submission!


[hider=Ardelon]
Name: Ardelon (ar-del-on) Inu'ther (ee-knew-there)
Race: Half Vata'an, Half Vata'sha
(Mother, named Koreight'le (kor-ight-lay), is Vata-sha, father, named Vuillon (vwill-lon) is Vata'an)
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: She doesn't really think about love often, but when she does it's in a very Bi-curious manner.

[img]https://i.imgur.com/izqLhOI.jpg[/img]

^Obviously there are two different versions of Ardelon here. I consider the one of the left of her in the yellow and blue outfit to be what she currently looks like.

Weapons: Currently has no weapons.

Shaping: Parents sent her to school to learn water shaping, as they were both water shapers themselves. Has secret mind shaping ability that has yet to fully awaken inside of her.

Companions: Rhydan snow owl, Eluvian (Elle-loo-vee-in)

Since the War:
Ardelon (Age 21) is very loyal to her parents and insists on staying around to help them with literally anything they need assistance with (sometimes they don't even need assistance and she'll help). Her parents insist that she go out and see the world more but she refuses. When she isn't busy helping her parents, she is usually reading in her room or in this secluded field near where they live. She also enjoys making sketches, usually of some form of plant life. She loves sketching flowers especially. She will also practice her water shaping whenever she has free time (mainly at the small lake that's nearby the field she always goes to) or will go for walks in the forest with her snow owl.

Audition:

[i]"Ardelon, come quickly!" My mother cried, hurrying my small body along the cobblestone street.
"Where are we going?" I asked, somehow completely oblivious to all the fire and death happening around me "Where's daddy?"
"Daddy will be with us shortly. Don't you worry about a thing, my love. Everything will be alright." My mother assured me. 
I believed the feigned sound of confidence in her. I believed that everything would be alright, despite this gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me otherwise. 

As my mother and I ran through the crowded streets that were full of others like us screaming and fleeing for their lives, that's when I started to really notice what was going on. The sky was a burnt orange and the clouds were a dark, ashy grey. There was a smokey haze that never seemed to go away no matter where we went. In the streets, others were fleeing. Men, women, and others of various races with dirt and blood of their faces scurrying around, frantically trying to leave this place. Many were pushing their way through the crowd, ignoring many families that were also fleeing with their children. I saw a family of Aldins sprint past us, the parents each carrying a sobbing child. A young Vata'an and Roma pushed past them, knocking the mother and her child to the ground, who proceeded to sob even more. I also noticed an old man with a wooden cane trying so desperately to run as fast as he could. He ended up tripping and falling to the ground. He cried out for help at everyone around him… and no one seemed to hear his pleas.

I don't know if he ever made it out this town alive. There are nights where I lay awake and think about him. I had seen him around before. He was a kind elder man. No one knew his real name. Whenever someone asked him about it, he would find some way to evade the question. We didn't know why he did that, but we honestly didn't care. We would either call him the Old Man or Omo when he was around us (the adults didn't deem the name "Old Man" appropriate for when we were in the man's company). Omo would always talk with the children and tells us fantastical stories full of wonder and whimsey. You could truly see the joy in his gray-blue eyes whenever he made us laugh, which was quite often. He would sometimes bring us delicious baked goods too. He'd even say he used items like "unicorn sparkles" or "phoenix tears" in his food, which was why it always tasted so good. Us ignorant children believed him. He was a funny old man like that. The thought of an old man with a cane going out on some adventure to get a magical ingredient seemed plausible at that age. You believe anything when you're that young. But you're not always that…. well… dumb. Children notice things adults believe they’re hiding. Whether it's a mother holding back tears as she and her young daughter try to flee from a town that's being destroyed or the wrinkled face of an elder man as he lays helpless on the ground. The look of not only fear but incredulity in his eyes as he watches the people around act like he isn't even there. 

I remember as my mother and I reached the edge of the town, I looked back at Omo to see if he was still there.
He was.
He saw me too. 
It felt like time stood still for a moment as our eyes met. Neither of us attempted to say anything. It would've been futile anyway. But I could tell he was still speaking to me. His eyes… they were telling me another story. The story of young Elven girl escaping a great danger and living on to become a strong, intelligent woman who helped those around her. He told me another story. The story of an old man who also escaped a great danger who went on to live in light and in peace. All this he told me with his eyes… and with a small, kind smile. 

It felt like a lifetime had already passed but it was only a few seconds before another crowd of fleeing people joined us, blocking my view of Omo. I continued to look for the Old Man through the legs of the people behind us, but no matter how hard I tried I could never catch another glimpse of him.

Several hours later, we all set up camp near a lake far away from the town we used to have lived in. My mother and I sat on the grass. I was leaning against her body as we gazed upon the bright, twinkling stars above us. I wanted to speak to her. I wanted to ask her about the Old Man. I wanted her to tell me he would be alright. But instead listened to a familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach that was telling me otherwise. I knew the answers to my questions already. I didn't need someone sugar-coating the fact someone so important to me was dead.

My father, who had met up with us halfway to the new campsite, walked over and sat down with us. He had yet to tell us what he was doing earlier while my mother and I were running for our lives and he continued to keep that level surreptitiousness throughout the night. I didn't care though. Star-gazing with my parents gave me a sense of relief and comfort. Looking back on this night, it probably would have been good to discuss what I was feeling with my mother and father but at that moment, just being in their presence was enough for me. And so, we sat there, mostly in silence, for who knows how long before I eventually fell asleep with my mother and father's arms around me.[/i]

[/hider]