[CHAR] Mote

• Evelio Laugier as played by @Loki Odinson
• Capella Seis as played by @Tenma Tendo
• Griff Sylvestro as played by @TMS Prime
• Madame Grouse as played by @Juicy
• Demorra as played by @Tojin

NOTICE BOARD for mass tagging:

@Loki Odinson@Tenma Tendo@TMS Prime@Juicy@Tojin

[Loki Odinson]

Evelio Laugier

"Do not believe madness to be a curse! It's not an illness. Just...another state of mind."

Name: Evelio Laugier
Age: 41
Hair colour: Dark auburn
Eye colour: Cobalt Blue
Distinguishing features: The very first thing one would notice about this eccentric man - if they caught him at the right time - would be the dark grey-and-white peregrine falcon perched on his right shoulder. it doesn't usually stick around for long periods of time, preferring to fly until it is exhausted, then use Evelio like a resting place.

A leanly muscled man standing at the height of 181cm weighing 76.6kg, Evelio looks to be in his late-thirties despite his rugged face. Weathered tanned skin, strong jawline, slightly crooked nose, firm lips, straight shoulder-length dark auburn hair with streaks of grey and neatly-trimmed beard give him an overall image of a refined gentleman, if one ignores the brown leather eyepatch covering his right eye and the nasty scarring surrounding it. Several angry looking vertical scars travels past the covering of the eyepatch and ends just above his cheekbone. His lone eye is a dark cobalt blue, hard and piercing despite the obvious crows-feet at the corner of the eye.

He favours light tunic and breeches, with a heavy leather coat and vest over it. On his hands, he wears thick gloves and boots on his feet. His outfit rarely changes despite changes in season, but he hardly cares as he has gotten use to wearing this much even during summer. This is because the cold makes his scars ache. If he takes off the glove on his left hand, a small brand of a five point star can be seen on his wrist, and a circle branded around his ring finger. Evelio always has his falchion clipped to his belt at his left side.

Who are their friends, family, comrades?: It has been around two decades since he last contacted a member of his family. As far as he knows, however, his parents are still alive, his younger brother doing a better job than Evelio ever could in running the family estate and the family business was flourishing. His younger sister was engaged last he heard.

Comrades? Now that's a touchy subject. Granted, he didn't look back when he left - got booted out, more like - the Order all those years ago. Most of the brother-in-arms probably heaved a sigh of relief when the doors closed behind his back. The select few that acknowledged him when they happen to cross paths do hold a special little place in his heart, though.

As for friends, Evelio supposed he could count those within the Order that didn't shun him as friends, but friends keep in touch, right? So...that's makes them more of acquaintances than friends. And the various strangers that came into his life and left are only short-term friends or companions.

So I guess the closest he has to a friend for the past decade is his falcon companion. He can talk to it, share his woes and thoughts and it wouldn't judge him for it. And it has always returned to his side for the last five years.

Where were they born? Where do they call home?: Evelio Laugier was born in the Laugier Estate, in the town of Machiva to wealthy merchant Bernard Laugier and his wife, Daniee. The stone-and-wood mansion was located near the eastern edge of Machiva, built on top of a hill and surrounded by fertile land for plantation. This place was his childhood home, filled with happier memories of playing with his siblings and escaping those tedious arithmetic tutors.

When he turned twelve and decided that being a merchant wasn't the path best suited for him, he enlisted with the Order of Astra, the group of knights serving the Goddess of Stars. Aster was the dominant religious figure in Machiva as well as their neighbouring towns, but Evelio wasn't a religious person. He didn't believe in Aster, but being a Knight of the Order was better than being a simple soldier of the kingdom. The pay was better, and he didn't think he would witness much fighting. From the age of fifteen to twenty-nine, the main barracks of the Order of Astra in the city of Grimsole served as his second home.

Unfortunately, for Evelio who thought he would spend the prime of his youth as a glorified priest-in-armour for a religious Order and little else, his dream was shattered in his late-twenties. All the training and mock-battles he was forced to undergo wasn't just to keep up appearance. Ignorant of that little fact, Evelio was blindsided by the sudden skirmishes the Order of Astra had against another Religious Order, the Order of Taigi, Knights serving the God of the Moon, Taini. Tension had been growing between these two Churches, and poor Evelio was caught up in the middle of it all. These skirmishes turned into small-scale battles, and by the time both sides retreated and an unofficial truce was formed, his fragile psyche broke a little. So it was at the age of thirty-one, the former Knight of the Order of Astra was unceremoniously kicked out the doors of his second home on the grounds of being punished by the Goddess Aster and subjected to random bouts of insanity.

For the next decade, he wandered the lands as a nomad, doing odd jobs here and there. From the age of thirty-two, he sees the lands itself as his home. After all, nature itself provides him with food and shelter wherever he went.

Where do they go when they're angry?: Go? He doesn't go anywhere to vent his anger. If he is angry at you, a fist to the face is what you're gonna get. Of course, he doesn't make it a habit to hit women or children. His ma raised him better.

What is their biggest fear? Who have they told about it? Who would they never tell?: His nightmares give his fear form. Corpses littering the ground, the feel of warm, sticky - fresh - blood on his skin, the pleading eyes of his brothers-in-arms boring right into his soul. And then comes the hands - bony, rotting hands pulling at his legs and clawing at his body, the dry rasp of "help me help me I don't want to die help me why don't you die too --"...
He told his Order's Grandmaster about it when he first began experiencing night terrors, but the older man wasn't much help, citing them as survivor's guilt and telling him it will pass given time. When Evelio coped with it through other means - filling his mind with nonsensical thoughts so the nightmares don't come - he was dismissed as insane. Needless to say, he will never tell anyone again.

Do they have a secret?: Nothing major enough to be worth talking about. Although...he does secretly wish he was a little more insane, mad to the point he doesn't remember anything. That would be a blessing, eh?

What makes them laugh out loud?: Everything. Anything. Nothing specific. He could suddenly find a worm squirming in the mud funny. His sense of humour ranges from nonsensical to morbid and everything in between.

Have they ever been in love?: Unfortunately, no. Being labelled a loose cannon during his time in the Order didn't give him many romantic prospects, and after that, he just didn't feel like pursuing romance.

Describe the things that would be hard for them to part with.: His freedom: A decade of not being tied down to anything and anyone, of having no expectations on how to act and not giving a damn about what people thought of him has been riveting. He never wants to lose this sense of freedom, ever.
Materialistically, his coat. It's his favourite and he personally crafted it himself. There's his falchion, too. Well, it didn't start off his, but his best friend wouldn't really be needing it in the grave now, would he?

Describe the smells and sounds of their childhood kitchen.: Evelio's mother usually frowns upon her children venturing into the kitchen and interfering with the cook's work. But the few trips he took to the kitchen without his mother knowing, the first thing that greets him is the smell of freshly baked bread. Beneath that strong aroma is the ever-present charcoal and roasted meat from the night before. If he sneaks in at night for a midnight snack, then it would smell of crushed berries and honey they had for dessert.

Describe one strong memory from childhood.: The book's spine smacked soundly on the palms of his hands. Flinching from the initial sting, watery cobalt blue eyes glared disdainfully up at the bearded old man holding that offending tool. With a harrumph, the frail tutor turned away from the desk and Evelio's gaze dropped sulkily back to the half-filled paper sitting on his desk. Cursing the demonic tutor in his mind, the boy grudgingly picked up the quill and started writing once more, the flesh of his palm throbbing as it curled around the slim writing tool.

"Eh hem...you're making the same mistake again, Young Master Lio."

Evelio jerked, startled by the old man's voice suddenly coming from over his shoulder, the action sending a drop of ink to stain his answer. Growling from irritation and annoyance, he slammed the quill on the table, heedless of the mess it made on his desk.

"Stop hovering over me, you old coot!" He snapped. "I'm not the only one Father paid you to teach."

The tutor sniffed, looking down his nose at the scowling child. "Young Master Will is doing admirably on his assignment. He has already completed this set of questions."

Evelio's teeth clenched, forcing down another retort with difficulty as his eyes involuntarily drifted over to his younger brother working quietly in the other corner of the room. Willbur's gaze rose to meet his for a second, a quiet plea and apology swirling in those big, expressive eyes. Just like that, his anger drained away. With a quiet sigh, he dipped the quill in the ink again and continued working, trying his best to ignore the man hovering behind. He knew his younger brother was smarter than him, better at academics no matter how much Evelio tried. He wasn't jealous. Far from it. He was proud of Will, but he just wished his father saw what Evelio already knew deep down. The eldest Laugier child was not suited to be a merchant.

What do they want most of all?: Acceptance. To not be turned away because of his queer mental state. Perhaps that's why he refuses to stay in one place with the same people for too long. A funny stranger would garner a few looks but no one would truly mind as said person's just passing through. But once that same person hands around and becomes a common sight, general tolerance might drop. He doesn't want to experience being kicked out the doors again.

What is their interest in the motes?: Obscure records show these motes to grant the strangest of things to the world around it. Mayhaps, if he is lucky, the mote can either make him forget everything or restore his mind. He's not holding his breath, but better a sliver of hope than completely giving up, right?

Give a (non-spoilery) synopsis of a small adventure-plot that would be personally meaningful for your character.: Two decades since he stepped into this town. While the streets are hazily familiar, almost everything has changed. No one recognised him, which is understandable, given he hasn't been around since his early adolescent years. Not to mention his appearance has changed significantly from the fresh-faced boy so long ago. But the biggest change has to be the silent, empty manor sitting forlornly on the hilltop, surrounded by weeds, uncared for. What had he expected, really? That they would still be here after all those years, waiting for him? Something sharp dug into the soles of his boots, making him look down. It was a small silver star pendant, half hidden in the dirt. On it, the words 'Marigold Laugier' were engraved in a cursive script.

[Tenma Tendo]

the sixth brightest star in the sky

"Why are you look at me like that?"

-name-
Capella Seis

-age-
Appears to be 16 or 17

-hair color-
Silver White (Left) and Jet Black (Right)

-eye color-
Amber Orange (Left) and Ocean Blue (Right)

-distinguishing features-
Her heterochormia and different colored hair. It's weird because she looks nothing like how she remembers her parents looking. Then there are also the five voices in her head that give her advice and talk to her regularly.

Sirius -- The loudest of the five voices. She has the most common sense out of the five voices; the voice of reason.

Canopus -- The second loudest voice. The funny one, always pulling jokes and making Capella laugh. Very positive.

Rigil -- The third loudest voice. The violent one. She's the one always offering the gruesome acts that Capella should do. Speaks up more in dangerous situations.

Arcturus -- The fourth loudest voice. Super immoral, always telling Capella to steal, take drugs, and do anything negative really.

Vega -- The quietest of the five voices. This one...this one is rather suicidal, egging Capella on to end herself every moment she can.

There are times were the voices argue in her head, causing her to have meltdowns and anxiety attacks as she doesn't know what to do.

-who are their friends, family, comrades?-
Aside from the five voices in her head, Capella counts very little as friends. So long as you show kindness to her she will exhibit the same to you. As for family, she's not quite sure herself as she hasn't seen them in years.

-where were they born? where do they call home?-
Capella currently lives with one maid in a small yellow cottage on the very outskirts of the village Sebelle, known for its merchants and the kind of materials that you can rarely get anywhere else. But just because she lives there doesn't mean that she calls it home. In fact, Capella believes that when she enters the confinement of her mind to 'talk' with Sirius, Canopus, Rigil, Arcturus, and Vega, she's truly where she belongs.

-where do they go when they're angry?-
Capella usually tries to find a quiet space where she can talk to herself or with the other five. If one of them make her angry, she resorts to finding loud and noisy places that will drown out the voices in her head.

-what is their biggest fear? who have they told about it? who would they never tell?-
Her two biggest fears would probably be the fear of other people calling her a 'freak' or 'weird' because of how she looks and the possibility of Sirius and the others disappearing. Only Capella's maid knows about these two fears and Capella would never tell her parents such a thing. She is open to tell others, so long as she trusts them enough.

-do they have a secret?-
Yes, it would be the voices in her head, but of course she wouldn't tell anyone about this unless she really trusted them.

-what makes them laugh out loud?-
Canopus is the only thing that can make the girl truly laugh, but it usually comes off as her laughing at nothing on the outside.

-have they ever been in love?-
Can't say she has. A lot of people strayed away from her because of how she looked.

-describe the things that would be hard for them to part with.-
Probably the silver star bracelet she never takes off. She's had it on ever since she was born and couldn't possibly part without it. But other than that, she can safely say that she doesn't have anything else she wouldn't mind parting with. This could change though.

-describe the smells and sounds of their childhood kitchen.-
The smell of perfect curry and the fluffiest white rice ever in existence. The sizzling of a saute pan followed by the quiet bubbling of the curry, all of which came together to create a symphony of expectation and anticipation.

-describe one strong memory from childhood.-
It would probably be the night the voices came into her life. She had only been 6 years old and was alone in her room, reading a book. Everything was fairly normal until a splitting headache caused her to drop her book and scream out in pain. It lasted for hours on end, the girl quietly clutching her head in attempts to alleviate the pain. It only went away when the voices spoke to her.

"...Hello? Can you hear me?"

"Uh, yeah! Loud and clear, ma'am!

"What? What's happening?"

"Ugh, you guys are too freaking loud..."

"..."

From then on Capella began to associate with the voices, giving them names and even consulting with them when it came to daily activities.

-what do they want most of all?-
Capella wants nothing more but for people to see that she is normal and just like everyone else.

-what is their interest in the motes?-
Capella hopes that the motes could tell her exactly who she is, thus sparking her interest in them.

-give a (non-spoilery) synopsis of a small adventure-plot that would be personally meaningful for your character.-
Destiny vs. Reality. Truth vs. Ideals. One cannot live without the other, yet they tend to be seen as contradictory. Capella never understood why she looked so strange compared to her parents. She had assumed on multiple occasions that she had been adopted and let herself believe that connotation, but her parents never confirmed it. They would tend to spend a lot of time away from her and in that time, voices began speak to her as a form of comfort. They would talk to her, laugh with her...tell her to do bad things...and she would do them too for the sake of keeping the only things that kept her company by her side. But it was strange...do people always have these voices? Should she speak up about them? But what if everyone thinks they are just hallucinations created from her crazy mind? ...Just who is she?

[Ammokkx]

edit: wrong section

[TMS Prime]

Griff Sylvestro

(art by orange-in-the-overcast)

-name-

Griffin Sylvestro

-age-

20

-hair color-

Brown

-eye color-

Light brown

-distinguishing features-

Griffin has a tendency to blend into a crowd. He spruces up his mercantile attire with hand-made, intricately-designed leather patches that comprise a baldric--his Family crest, spirographic designs, and small animal graphics, etc. He typically wears light to dark blue clothing, though if out traveling will default to more muted and practical colors. His head of thick, unruly hair is typically tied back in a small ponytail. Griff has light brown skin and stands a little taller than average and is more on the slender than athletic side.

-who are their friends, family, comrades?-

A man of few friends--hard to maintain friendships when you're saddled with a demanding, cut-throat job. Griff knows all of the frequent-flier merchants and tradesfolk of his town, though this is strictly on a professional basis. He can easily curry favors or deals with amenable peers, but that's the extent of the love. Though there was a slightly older woodworker that used to operate the stall next to him in the market square. What was his name...? Started with a D. Daric? Devin? Hmmm.

Griffin's family and the Sylvestro livelihood takes his full focus. Leatherworkers and trappers by trade, the Sylvestros were eleveated to small-time merchant nobility after a few generations of reliable product. His mom and sisters are top of the list when it comes to people that he must look up to and provide for, respectively. The nosedive that the brand has taken in the last few years has caused Griffin to redouble his efforts to provide for the ladies in his life.

-where were they born? where do they call home?-

Griffin was born and raised in the town of Crossroads, a bustling burg aptly named after its location on an intersection of traderoutes in the middle of the continent. It's a lone outpost of civilization encroached by thick woodlands on each side. Though small, it has a high turnover of residents due to the transitory nature of wheeling-and-dealing products to up-and-coming adventurers.

More specifically, the Sylvestro house is a two-level home of medium size that is located a street over from Crossroad's central market plaza. The family used to have a bold, beautifully-decorated residence; however, in the last year they took it down and the house now blends seamlessly into the neighborhood.

-where do they go when they're angry?-

When anger boils up in Griff's gut, he silently puts on a coat and skulks out into the wilderness surrounding Crossroads. He has a daily ritual of checking traps and catches for unlucky animals that may have been snared overnight. He'll collect the creatures, release them if their coats or skin are of poor quality, and kill the useable specimens. After that, it's a matter of stoking fires, skinning catches, and drying out and working the leather. Losing himself in the tactile effort of leatherwork allows Griff's worries and fears to burn away.

-what is their biggest fear? who have they told about it? who would they never tell?-

Griffin's biggest fear is that he'll grow up to be just like his father, whose spitting image people never fail to remind him of. The elder Sylvestro was an expert leatherworker and craftsman with a shrewd business sense. Griffin looked up to him from a very young age. However, his father experienced a slow crawl into madness and alcoholism. A drink a night became several every morning. Stern words over finances became screaming matches with Griffin's mother. Griffin would never tell his mother or sisters that he sees his father's leering reflection in every mirror, every puddle of rainwater. He fears she would see the same.

-do they have a secret?-

If he could disappear one day, leave all of this behind, Griffin thinks he could make miracles with a fresh start. A new name, a new brand...If it wasn't for the love and loyalty he felt for his family, Griffin would set off down one of the crossroads and never look back.

-what makes them laugh out loud?-

Not much, Griffin doesn't see a lot of humor in the world. His youngest sister, Maria, has a particular affection for jokes and puns. The right wordplay, coming from the right person causes him to crack a smile.

-have they ever been in love?-

No. "In love with my leather, perhaps" he'd answer sarcastically to probing questions from his sisters. However, as the years passed, Griffin thinks back more and more frequently to the woodworker boy that he shared stories with on summer nights. The young man whose name Griffin insists that he can't recall.

-describe the things that would be hard for them to part with.-

His family. Though the prospect of new scenery seems thrilling, Griffin loves the familiarity of Crossroads and would also deeply miss his traveler's town.

-describe the smells and sounds of their childhood kitchen.-

A thick aroma of game and smoke. A huge bubbling stewpot, fires diligently stoked by his young sisters. His mother in the kitchen, chopping parsnips and gossiping with Griffin's favorite aunt.

-describe one strong memory from childhood.-

It had been three days.

Three days since Griffin's father had set out to complete his usual routine: Check the traps. Untangle the snares. Drink the ale. String up the catch. Drink the flask of morning-wine. Return to the shop. Skin the carcass. Chew on a square of tobacco. Scream at the neighbor to keep the noise down. Drink the ale. Carve into the skin. Dry the hide. Scrape the gore off of the workbench. Drink the ale. Go to the plaza. Set up shop. Talk up the wares. Close shop. Go home. Sleep. Wake up, and check the traps...

But he hadn't come back, hadn't closed the loop. Three days. Now three nights.

Griffin stared at the jaws of an animal trap, closed around two legs of a raccoon. The creature was dead. Blood loss, dehydration. It had try to chew its own legs off in blinded panic. Something else had come along to chew on the raccoon as it slowly died over the course of three days.

Griffin pursed his lips, and pried the iron jaws open. The carcass, bent wildly obtuse, sunk to the cover of leaves that littered the ground. Griffin wiped a bead of sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. He stood up, and looked around. Squinted through the dimness of the forest.

He turned, and looked back towards Crossroads. Obscured by trees, but still there, still bustling and breathing. Still hungry for commerce. Families thriving right on that cusp of financial security. A few bad days could lead into a bad week. That could lead into a total downturn of business as the brand faded. Fewer saddles with the Sylvestro name burned into them. Foreign belts from southern roads cinching up breeches.

Griffin took a deep breath, and wiped away some sweat that had dripped into his eyes. He shivered, and thought the day would be better spent not looking for any other half-eaten carcasses staring wide-eyed into the woods.

-what do they want most of all?-

Financial security for his family and prestige for the Sylvestro name. Griffin will do anything, work as hard as he possibly can, to put his stake into a new boon. Explore any avenue that could turn everything around.

-what is their interest in the motes?-

Griffin has heard stories of the motes--huge boulders that can vanish in an instant. Turn things upside-down. Light and quash fires in the blink of an eye. Something about a scurrying boat? It doesn't matter. He's been waiting for years for one to appear close enough to Crossroads to warrant gazing upon its runes. Griffin fully intends to chip off as many chunks of the mote he can to sell them to the highest bidder. Perhaps see if he can work the stones into leather armor and boast of its magical nature. He just knows that motes will be the Sylvestro family's big break.

-give a (non-spoilery) synopsis of a small adventure-plot that would be personally meaningful for your character.-

I don't know where the motes will take us, nor where exactly this adventure will go, but I think it would be fascinating to visit a far-off town and have Griffin immediately recognize the leatherwork present on belts and armor as his own. Though his family wrote off the Sylvestro patriarch as dead, maybe that wasn't the case at all. Maybe Griffin's father ran away, or got lost, or was swept away by a mote himself. Not sure exactly, but he's probably out there.

[Juicy]

And mounting its back / Flew up to the moon

- Birth Name -

Umayma Bari.

- Age -

56.

- Hair Color -

Grey.

- Eye Color -

Brown.

- Appearance -

A ruddy-skinned woman whose age scores her in wrinkles and raised moles, sagging flesh at her neck that dips like a wattle, while her face remains tautly creased after decades spent scowling. Her ears are broad, her nose is fat and flattened, and her eyes leer darkly, nastily, behind her grimy bifocals and beneath the wide brim of her hat. Billows of old, white hair puff from its folds like the smoke from her drag on her pipe. The hand which grips her cane is a clawed and gnarled one that stands to attention on lengthy nails atop its wood-carved perch. With her stooped and broken posture, each step is staggering, deliberating. The woman's glare, nonetheless, carries confident intention, as if she could all the same snap your neck for staring.

The madame, too, is clearly one who revels in moody mysticism, based upon the convolution of her dress. Otherwise, she could seem none too curious without her hat's crown brimming with flowers, down, and strings of beads abound. The same stone jewelry trails across her figure --- a continued, though , train of thought -- with stones round her neck, stones round her wrists, and big, stone rings on her fingers, all with opaque sheen, whether annular or carved into animals or human faces. Her apparel is motley in color and texture; a violet, paisley robe with blue accents and ratty ends cloaks a fleecy bottom layer wrapped tightly by waist-binding scarves. Another such fans behind her -- implying there's a headscarf beneath that broad, old hat -- as she treads with a precarious urgency. And the broad, old hag keeps hobbling in spite of the stares. Her lips appear to shrivel, smashed shut; how rare her husky voice doth not rise to belabor those about her. Tonight, she must have found something far more important.

" Tch, if you have questions, ask 'em. Time is fickle. Don't dare waste any a' mine. "

- Miss Grouse, where were you born, and where now do you call home? -

"That's Madame Grouse, love."

- Yes, Madame; excuse me. -

"Right. When I was born, then.

"...t'was a long while ago. When I knew those who birthed me. My father and my mother came from far away, and that's all I can remember. S'ppose it's why I looked so exotic in my youth. Curly hair and all; ha! Didn't see that in other girl when I was growin' up. Not like I got treated well for it neither. Grew up with a mother, see, 'n' she didn't look like me. That's it. No father. Not sure if 'at's how it's meant t' be but, hey! Ah-hah-hah! I turnt out alright, I think I did.

"'course, Mother and I lived in a village far from this here coast, in a little cottage-- mm, I can remember the smallness of it. Ain't lived in nothin' much larger since, I reckon, but 'least here, it ain't feel like no cave, hee-hee! Had to keep the windows open as t' not feel buried alive, we did! But those were good times, otherwise, with my, uh, "second" mother, before she thought it better for me t' leave. Been runnin' for a while, see. Though Weod ain't so bad, now. Th' winds near this here coast are good for m' joints, I suppose. It ain't no Heimshire, f' sure. Wistful 'bout the country, I am."

- Do you have any comrades? Close family, or friends? -

"No, I do not. Well-- no, there was Mother. But she is long gone. Persecuted, yeah, for her "oddity." Thought 'er to be a witch, as if it were somethin' t' fear. 'Tis a shame, but in the end, I lived, she did not. Such is fate.

"Bah! You've got me thinkin' solemn 'bout my past, boy! Sure, I've got other comrades and friends and so forth, but they mean as much as dust t' me nowadays. Society, er, "loyalty," I suppose, will get y' connections like that. Mmph, and I bet 'cha those women ain't achieved nothin' in the five or so years I been gone from 'em."

- Can you go into specifics? -

"What, about those ol' wenches? Ain't nothin' worth sharin', boy. They been trailin' me ever since I were a child. Crazy coots; claimed they knew Mother, took me in, and taught me... taught me magic. I suppose I oughta be blunt about it. Yes, they were a secret maternal society -- the Roost Sisters... well, they still are, but I ain't trust 'em half as much. Did I call 'em crazy yet? They're mad, mad women!

"But I know what you're 'bout t' ask: about the 'magic' part, about the 'secret' part. 'm sharp in my days, boy. I can't tell y' what I can't. What I saw when I was practicin' magic... well, I practiced the magic, you received the miracles! That's how it oughta work. Ain't nobody can handle all th' knowledge. I've seen creatures y' never will. I've done things y' never will see nowhere else. That's all I'm tellin.'"

- Alright. Where do you go when you're angry? -

"Hmph. I leave. I travel, didn't I say? If I'm bothered, I get up, and I leave, and I don't return. 's mighty... calm, walkin' away. Leavin' bygones as they are. Uprootin'. I ain't no tree; heh."

- What is your biggest fear? Have you told anyone about it; yet, who would you never tell? -

"Mm. Fear. 's a funny thing. Awfully inconvenient t' feel, really. S'ppose I've no fears, then! Nope! Ain't scared of no person, ain't scared of no concept. Been a witch t' long for that. I run when I'm angry, not when I'm... scared.

"No; I don't fear being pursued or nothin'. Specially ain't scared of them Roost Sisters, and what they'd want from me, and what they're... capable of. And why they'd... do somethin'... to her...

...What's your next question, boy?"

- Well, do you have a secret? Unless that's related to your magic? -

"Yeah, I used to practice all sorts a' witchcraft 'n' such. ...y' knew? Ah. I told y'. Yes, I remember.

"Fine, if you're obsessed with secrets, I'll tell y' what I did with the magic. That'll have t' suit you. Truth be told, I ain't make a livin' out of it or nothin'. Mostly small things, helpful things. Riddin' Heimshire -- twas where I used to live -- of all kinds a' pests, ones y' ain't ever pictured. Had a penchant for charms, see. Even the most common plant-based ingredients could create somethin' useful, whether a cure for some a' the worst poxes I'd ever seen, or good fortune, even! Yeah, some dried sage an' a handful a' fig seeds, plus a lil' somethin' else, with the right enchantments, could improve your luck findin' love! S'ppose a youth like yourself would find use in somethin' like that, a-hah-hah!

"Ahh, but I've said too much already, I have. Y' can take my word for it, or you can think me mad, just an avid gardener with some herbologist dabblin', trappin' rabbits in her garden rather than trolls. 's up to you, boy. And that's all the things 'bout magic I can bear to tell you."

- What makes you laugh out loud? -

"Ahh, I'm old enough to laugh at anythin', boy! Well, anythin' I say. 'm the funniest person I know, a-hah-hah! That's only halfways a joke, eeh-hee!"

- Surely you must have been in love once? -

"Oh, dozens 'a times! For every year I've been alive I'm been in love! The countryside, for one, got rollin' plains that are a joy t' walk, and y' get a magnificent view of the sky. And y' ain't know love before you start keepin' a garden. It be like child-bearin', I've said. Your life start revolvin' 'round your plants, eeh-hee!

"Oh, but you mean people-- suitors. How trivial. Must be 'cause 'a how I was raised, but I ain't ever seen a man as "necessary" to nothin'. Housewivery ain't no life, after all. Life is... nature, wanderin', meetin' new people, never holin' in a single place. 'n' you'll meet people y' hate and that you love in amazin' ways that way. To be wed is t' take it all away, all the freedom of life. So, yes,
I have loved many men, but I have never settled or married.

"'m too old to meet anyone new anyways, so don't get any ideas, a-ha-ha-hah-hah!"

- What would be hard for you to part with? -

"Mm, I could go anywhere I wish... s'ppose I'd miss my walkin' staff here... my garden, most certain.

"No, I've... already parted with what I love."

- Truly? What was that? -

"...I can't make charms no more. Couldn't tell y' why."

- ...my condolences. But, do you have any memories of your childhood kitchen? The smells, the sounds? -

"Hmph. As if could remember so far back! You're puttin' some real pressure on me, boy!

"Not like there's any real meaning in an old kitchen, anyway. 't comes down to bein' young, 's why everything feels like it matters, then. You're so... naive is the word. Only children care 'bout their childhood, is what I'm sayin'. Y' ought to forget it all when you're my age! It's a blessin' bein' this old, dammit!"

- Please, Madame, can you answer the question? -

"What? About... smells, sounds? Bahh, I dunno...

"Herb gardens have always been in m' life. So, the smell of thyme. Youth like y'self probably haven't smelt fresh thyme straight from th' ground. That and it's more a feminine thing to tend t' gardens, I s'ppose. But Madame Halcyon would use thyme in much of her recipes, yes. I remember it bein' nice on stewed rabbit. An' don't look at me like rabbit ain't a perfectly good meat! Y' wouldn't have hesitated if you were at that grand table with a plate of it in front of you. Mmph, and the smell... indescribable, it was. Ain't never had a better meal that weren't cooked by her."

- Can you describe another strong memory from your childhood-- -

"--no, nothing I've ever eaten. Smelled like heaven, too, if that's a place that exists. She was a meticulous woman, Madame Halcyon. Liked not just organizin', but the process of it. Kept a bell and everythin' for every meal she cooked, usually dinner, but insisted on making lunch too. T' the others, she complained 'bout havin' too much work, but really-- and she told her favorite pupil this-- she thought no one else could do it like she could! Didn't want t' feed us young-uns garbage anymore, I s'ppose, a-hah-hah!

"Ahh, those were the days, with the smell of broiling meat drifting from the open window. Meanwhile, me, young and sprightly thing, curls bouncin' in the breeze, wandering 'mongst the corriander-- garden-tending. Ah, but one day, I found somethin' off-puttin' out the corner a' my eye. Couldn't tell for sure, but it was some lil' man, barely a foot high-- far shorter than me now, a-hah!

"I was mighty frightened then. Couldn't stand to look at 'em! I raised quite a bit of noise, an' Madame Halcyon comes rushing out.

"'What on earth is ailing y', you blithering mangrove?' I remember she said. 'n' you know I wasn't takin' her sharpness, I wasn't!

"'Don't call me names!' I said before anything else. 'There's somethin' in the garden! It's disturbin' the herbs!'

"Madame Halcyon weren't pleased by me lettin' the creature wander, but she weren't the type to assume it mundane, a ground squirrel or even a deer. She hustled, hem of her gown pulled all taut, with her face even tighter-- much younger in her age than me in mine, eeh-hee! Yes, she seemed almost scared 'erself, so serious! But she came across the beastly thing eventually, me trailin' after her like a chick to a hen. Bastard was chewin' on the basil! Mm, did lil' ol' me learn some foreign language that day, a-hah-hah!

"Madame Halcyon was enraged 'bout 'How'd it get in, what dead weight let it in," and then she dove into her apron and started flingin' what looked and smelled of vinegar. Straight handfuls, dabbed in her hand, then flung at the creature. Now, I was just initiated, so I'd no clue what madness had taken the woman. Just standin' there, ogglin', tryin' to make sense of it all, I was. But then, before my very eyes--and I swear this ain't untruthful-- the droplets hittin' the creature made a hiss with a contact. Somethin' like a snake, I swear it. The beast couldn't stand it! Startin' squealin' like a babe, it did, and went flying through the fields. Madame Halycon was in hot pursuit! And of course I followed suit, my nosy self; such a scene!

"Oh, but the beast had gone and clamboured to safety up the lattice a' ivies entwinin' the wall-- wall 'round the manor, anyway. An' Madame Halcyon was already promisin', ravin' to me or really anyone or anythin', that she was 'bout to make major renovations, have some major talking-tos with 'er cohorts. But I was so curious, I braved her anger to ask her pointedly, what on earth I'd just witnessed there.

"Her answer was blunt: a charm, see. One for wardin' off malevolent spirits like the lil' man in the garden. And oh, how I begged her to teach me to make it! It was the first time I'd ever seen a charm in th' flesh, I was an anxious lil' thing! But Madame Halcyon did promise... in-retrospect, twas the day that marked her my mentor in the arts a' witchcraft. Twas also the day I found m' callin', it was. Yes..."

- And what do you want most of all in your life? -

"I... would like my magic back. That is all."

- I'm curious: what is your interest in the motes? -

"Did I not but answer this question, boy?"

- No, I don't believe you did, Madame. -

"Recently, I did, yes. Seconds ago, actually. Tch. Trying to trick me in m' age, then. Shameful, t' take advantage of your elders."

---

Elsewhere, in Heimshire...

This was, according to the calendar, the fifthieth anniversary of Madame Halcyon's demise, and the newly-elected head of the Roost Sisters Society was not pleased, for such occasion she felt emphasized her status as a replacement quite extensively. Brood she had all week, encapsulated in the dark, dank depths of their decaying base of operations -- the room which had originally been situated for orphans before that program ceased now housed the decrepit woman clothed in black; there had been turmoil about the organization for a few years, now, but another issue had recently arose, that which concerned the preternatural. (How ironic for occasions related to witchcraft to be a rarity amidst witches rather than monetary disputes.) Alas, the creature fabled to roam the forested outskirts of Heimshire was no figment, and certainly not something which minimal resources could account for.

Indeed it was inconvenient that the Sisters' greatest solution for the malicious and magical had departed with much hostility. On edge, she'd been, ever since Madame Halcyon and her generation had thinned out in favor of new leadership.

The center of such leadership, meanwhile, fixed a hardened stare on the documents in her lap, apparently capable of reading without a candle lit. In her sudden resolution, however, the woman must have made some conclusion on how the handle the predicament at hand with so much already on her plate. Ultimately, it came down to prioritization and sacrifice-- of a woman unaffiliated and thus, no longer her concern. While Madame Grouse had abandoned, she would have no choice but to assist if the creature came to her, yes?

---

[Tojin]

Demorra

-name-
”Hmm… Aeterna? No… Spira? No. Lelya…? Hm. Ah! Demorra. That sounds nice. My name is Demorra.”

-age-
”Uhh… Goodness, how old am I? Honestly, anything from 17 to an especially young-looking 30 is a safe bet. I am rather waifish, in body and voice if not in mind. Or vocabulary, for that matter.”

-hair color-
”I’m… not sure. I haven’t really had the chance to look in a mirror since I lost my memories. And puddles can only do so much for you.” (Light brown, short, and curly.)

-eye color-
”Again, I have been lacking reflective surfaces as of late. Apologies.” (Green. An unnaturally bright green, at that, and with pupils that resemble a cat’s. They weren’t like this before. Probably.)

-distinguishing features-
”Uh, well… I have not had much of a chance to look myself over yet, but from what I can tell, I have a scar running horizontally across my face that forms a straight line connecting my eyes together via the bridge of my nose. The pinky toe on my right foot is missing. And my forearms are covered in scars that… seem to form a pattern? A sort of figure eight shape, except extended into four loops rather than two, with a straight line running neatly from end to end. It’s all very strange, and I’m afraid I know about as much as you do.”

”As for clothing, I currently have on a rather simple white knee-length cotton dress, although it has gotten a few stains and rips from my travels. It was what I was wearing when I awoke, you see, so I am rather attached to it. I have also got a knapsack, which currently holds a cloak for when the weather gets bad, and a bit of money that I have managed to scrounge up. That’s… that’s all, really. I’m traveling rather light, haha.”

-who are their friends, family, comrades?-
”I’m afraid I’m rather lacking in those at the moment, ahaha. I suppose anyone I find trustworthy enough counts as an ally of mine. ...I hope my family isn’t too worried about me. Assuming I have one, of course.”

-where were they born? where do they call home?-
”I’ve encountered several places that feel familiar to me, but none that I could definitively call home just yet. As for my place of birth, your guess is as good as mine.”

-where do they go when they're angry?-
”Usually I head into the woods. Something about that sort of environment just… washes the anger right out of me. Especially if it’s raining or foggy. Ha, I recall once someone mistook me for some sort of forest spirit. When I greeted the poor man, he ran screaming away!”

-what is their biggest fear? who have they told about it? who would they never tell?-
”I… I’d rather not say. Forgive me for saying so, but… You’re not exactly the kind of person I would tell.”

(It’s being lost forever. Demorra has already been wandering for some time, and a constant worry is that she had no place in the world even before her amnesia attack, or that her family has forgotten her as well. She wants desperately to belong somewhere, and to that end, she tries to find the place she used to live and call home. So far, though, her search has been fruitless. She hasn’t told anyone this, and likely never will, unless she were to become very close friends with someone.)

-do they have a secret?-
”Other than my biggest fear? If I have one, I’ve forgotten it along with everything else.”

-what makes them laugh out loud?-
”If I’m being honest with you, almost anything. I’m very easily amused, by both my account and others’.”

-have they ever been in love?-
”W-w-well, ah… Th-there have been a few women who I… took a fancy to, but nothing… serious, if that’s what you’re asking.”

-describe the things that would be hard for them to part with.-
”At the current time, there is not much I have to part with. I’d rather keep my dress. It’s become quite precious to me. Other than that, there’s not really anything I have an attachment to. Except for my life, of course. I’d rather keep that.”

-describe the smells and sounds of their childhood kitchen.-
”Actually, this is one thing I can remember, sort of. If I concentrate hard enough, I can recall the smell of blueberries, and of maple syrup. I’m unsure where this memory is from, exactly, but my childhood kitchen is as good a guess as any.”

-describe one strong memory from childhood.-
”Uh, well, I’m not sure this is from my childhood, but… I recall the sensation of waves washing over my feet. That’s all. It’s not much, but it must have been a strong memory to survive… whatever happened to me.”

-what do they want most of all?-
”To recover my memories, of course! I want to know who I am again, instead of being some waif with no memories and nowhere to go.”

-what is their interest in the motes?-
"They're just so interesting! They appear out of nowhere and make things where there oughtn't be, and nobody knows why! Surely you can't help but be intrigued by that? Oh, I'd love to find out how they work, and why! And... And I think perhaps they could help me recover my memories again. There must be a mote that can do that, right?"

-give a (non-spoilery) synopsis of a small adventure-plot that would be personally meaningful for your character.-
On her way through a patch of woodland, Demorra is suddenly struck by a feeling of deja vu. She knows this place, she’s certain of it, but she doesn’t know why. She tries to look through the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of… something. And she does. There are glimpses of a stone monolith, far through the forest. It seems… hazy. Indistinct. She can’t get a very good look at the thing, but it seems like it’s covered in marks and carvings. A mote, perhaps? It seems so familiar that it almost physically pulls at her. But when she makes the decision to move towards it, it vanishes. Demorra heaves a sigh and starts trudging down the path again, disappointed, but at the same time, determined to find the mote again.

-what is your character’s theme song?-
Ujico* - Lost Memory
Snail's House and In Love With a Ghost - Journey