Haha

Kimetsu no Yaiba AU: Temen-ni-Guru (Arc 2)

Definitely Not A Fox Demon

'𝕄𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕦'
'𝕄𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕦'

A g e: ?? | R a n k: Onsen Proprietress

^{P e r s o n a l i t y} :
Business is a game of charm and wit, and without those two things Mura would not be able to live the life she wished to live. Perhaps at some point in the past she may have been less refined— walked with less graceful steps, sparked up in anger, allowed sadness to alter her poignant words. But like a tumbled stone over countless years every rough edge has been smoothed down to leave no trace of that former woman.

Mura is quiet yet charismatic. Wise but measured. She is an eerie in the way that she knows more than she ever lets others glean, and unveils even less unless a price is paid in exchange. Few people know of the woman’s existence, but those that do have expressed caution in making deals with the fox-eared devil. There are so many rumors that she may be a Kitsune, or something else ancient and uninterested for the most part in the goings about of mortals. While that is not the case, every rumor has some root of truth to it.

Mura is a deceiver, not unlike many politickers in the modern age. While every threaded lie may not be malicious to the receiver, it can be certain that every droll over her tongue holds some ulterior motive that benefits her. She is a creature that holds nothing back in the venture to gain what she most desires, and there are few people with the means to stop her. This demon is not the type to enter a village with her blade drawn intending to slaughter any who stand in her way— instead she would rather flutter her lashes and speak sweet nothings, moving pieces on the board until the time comes for her to enter the spotlight herself.

^{S h o w a S e c r e t} : There was a time when simplicity was more than enough for a life well-lived. Waking to the usual routine of sweeping the dusty floorboards and raking the temple grounds carried with it pride alongside the mundanity. She could not recall exactly when the breaking point was in those dull yet peaceful days— something pushed her to the edge on that fateful night but it was so long ago that she can hardly remember. But what she could, is the moment that pastel red and powder white smoke entered the ground, and with it the smell of burning paper.

And when she awoke, the simplicity of life was swept out from beneath her feet. Replacing it was something tempestuous and tumultuous, such a paradigm shift left the newborn demon lost and guideless for some time. The instinct of a demon in their earliest days is said to the strongest, and along with the hunger was the aching stench of perfume that remained in her nose, the last trace of the figure that saved them. Or perhaps doomed them, depending on the lens in which you looked at her circumstances.

Those earliest years were soul crushing.

But the strong strive on, and while in another life she may have surrendered to the cursed life that had been thrust upon her— now she simply remained out of willpower seeking purpose in an ever changing world. Whilst hunting one night, she was found by a slayer of her kind. They were as beautiful as they were fearsome, a man with violet eyes that swung a blade that made no sound. In their dance of unrequited love something awakened in her, a change that sparked inspiration like a brushstroke upon empty canvas. It wasn’t until that very moment that the woman claimed a name for herself, as the countless ravens watched from the treetops did she tell her one true love.

“𝕄𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕦.”

She could not tell how many times she might have died that night, nor he. But as the darkened sky began to warm into shades of gold, the symphony they danced to would come to an end. The wounded slayer chased the demon as she fled, and no matter how beautiful their swordsmanship might’ve been, the distance would grow rapidly until the demon was long gone. There was a sense of sadness in that departure. In passing nights it would almost push Mura to spill human blood needlessly, just to draw the ire of her beloved. But she had no death wish, and killed only out of necessity through her travels made rules to follow to prevent her nomadic life from being ruined.

Years would pass, and the young demon would grow fittingly into her new lifestyle. Mura would slowly blend back into human civilization seamlessly, learning to hide her demonic traits, restrain her predatory instincts, and even make a reasonable income for herself along the way. It was after she became comfortable in walking among the humans that she would cross paths with that fated person once again. The smell of pine, dusty brown hair, violet eyes … [𝘿𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙍𝙊𝙔]!

It was at the summer festival, a passing face in the crowd that did not even offer a cursory glance upon her. He was older now, she drunk in every detail of his face, and even though the years left marks and scars upon his face— the spark that was there remained all the same. All that Mura could think about in that moment, was how quickly she could get that man to draw his blade. There was a time and a place for such romantics, and she would not dare allow others to witness a beauty that she deemed for her eyes only. So instead one of her familiars would set their eyes upon the man, to watch the slayer for the days-weeks- or months to come. Patiently awaiting like a spider eager for a fly to land within its web.

And eventually, that day would come.

Far from the town she had settled herself within, further from the small villages that surrounded it, he hunted a much younger and unruly demon that ravaged a forest frequented by hunters. Perched upon the treetops she watched as the slayer made short work of the scourge, and just then she would make her presence known. He remembered her, and upon uttering her name it set Mura’s blood ablaze and the fireflies within her stomach scattered amongst the flames. Their battle lasted for days, neither of them were willing to flee, and the forest canopy offered the demon reprieve for as long as she wished.

But his physical limits would eventually bring their dance to an end, as his breathing techniques taxed the man to the brink of death— the silent sword swung by the man now whipped against the wind. Sorrow filled her from head to clawed toe. So she left him there, and ran far away with dread spilling from her eyes as trees whipped past her. Hoping that one day a man could make her heart sing like that man did all those years ago. And that’s where her story ends… or begins?

_________________________________________________________________________

'K e k k ī j u t s u'
'K e k k ī j u t s u'

^{B l o o d D e m o n A r t} : A Tale of Friendship • 友情物語
The offensive capability of Mura’s blood demon art simply does not exist, and instead, has a unique peculiarity just like the demon who granted her this second life. When this demon’s blood is introduced to a deceased creature of the earth, the substance spreads throughout their lifeless body and overtakes their nervous system. The lifeless creature is then given a second false-life, acting as a familiar to the art’s wielder. A bond must then be formed with the familiar to meld her senses with their own, allowing her to see through their eyes and them through her own in perpetuity.

The majority of these familiars take the form of crows, and are visually distinct by their red demonic eyes that reflect that of their creator. There are other creature under her influence, ones that are plentiful and commonly seen in residential areas; rats, cats, even a few stray canines have been conscripted into the ensemble. The main combative capability of Mura is purely based on her own physical prowess and the skill she’s accumulated over the years— at most she may utilize her familiar’s senses scattered across a battlefield to get an upper hand on whatever opponent she may be facing. Or maybe that’s what she would like you to think?

✧ Signature ___ Eternal Companionship : It is difficult to kill what is already dead, and the bond between Mura and her familiars transcends the barrier of life and death. The creature caught under her spell are loyal both due to her demon art as well as the compassion she shows the abominations. Because of this, it isn’t uncommon for Mura’s familiars to push themselves to absolute destruction in order to protect her— and should she be nearby and materials be available, she will assuredly mend them back to form so they can return to their duties. The old proprietress is not feared due to her overwhelming power, few have even seen the woman fight despite the stolen nichirin blade at her hip. But instead she is feared because of her resourcefulness in combination with the art’s versatile use within the city. Buildings may not be razed and buildings may not burn, but the rodent or the raven are always watching.

✧ Secondary ___ Bond of the Fletcher : Should the machinations of the proprietress fall through and she find herself backed into a corner, dire situations call for dire solutions. A great wolf will be called upon, struck to death by hunters hundreds of years ago with their arrows still punctured through its side. With armies of ravens and rats, what could a wolf do you might ask? Plenty— if it is no longer restricted by the binds of the mortal coil. The wolf moves with the speed and strength of a demon and it spares no breathless movement to rip and tear at Mura’s enemy. She fights alongside the ancient canine, syncing her senses with the wolf to surgically carve down their shared enemy.

✧ Finisher ___ Bond of the Destroyer : The ace up her sleeve is a man, donning the head of a bear to hide his identity whilst wearing a demon slayer’s coat, he wields a standard tanto but carefully delivers brutally strikes with devastating strength. Mura’s gift greatly enhances his physical capability and allows him to let loose without the fear of injury, but when the pair fight in unison her opponent would begin to wonder. Why is it that they never have any openings? Mura’s kenjutsu is clearly some derivative stolen from a hashira of the past, but nonetheless, she performs feats impossible for a human to emulate those that could be performed with breathing techniques. The swordsmanship style’s strength is in its speed and unpredictability, striking before the enemy can react and moving on rather than trying to focus on singular blows.

_________________________________________________________________________

^{T r a n s f o r m a t i o n} : The transformation level of Mura from her previous physicality is difficult to discern on a passing glance. To an individual meeting her for the first time, she would appear as a normal human at first, but then they would notice; the strange shape of her pupils, what appears to be ears atop her head, and should one of her blood-infused familiars pass by they would inevitably begin to connect the dots. Her canines are long and sharp as any predator’s would be, and as she sips her tea you would assuredly begin to smell that acrid metallic tinge of blood.

Kimetsu no Yaiba AU: Temen-ni-Guru (Arc 2)

Definitely Not A Fox Demon

'𝕄𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕦'
'𝕄𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕦'

A g e: ?? | R a n k: Onsen Proprietress

^{P e r s o n a l i t y} :
Business is a game of charm and wit, and without those two things Mura would not be able to live the life she wished to live. Perhaps at some point in the past she may have been less refined— walked with less graceful steps, sparked up in anger, allowed sadness to alter her poignant words. But like a tumbled stone over countless years every rough edge has been smoothed down to leave no trace of that former woman.

Mura is quiet yet charismatic. Wise but measured. She is an eerie in the way that she knows more than she ever lets others glean, and unveils even less unless a price is paid in exchange. Few people know of the woman’s existence, but those that do have expressed caution in making deals with the fox-eared devil. There are so many rumors that she may be a Kitsune, or something else ancient and uninterested for the most part in the goings about of mortals. While that is not the case, every rumor has some root of truth to it.

Mura is a deceiver, not unlike many politickers in the modern age. While every threaded lie may not be malicious to the receiver, it can be certain that every droll over her tongue holds some ulterior motive that benefits her. She is a creature that holds nothing back in the venture to gain what she most desires, and there are few people with the means to stop her. This demon is not the type to enter a village with her blade drawn intending to slaughter any who stand in her way— instead she would rather flutter her lashes and speak sweet nothings, moving pieces on the board until the time comes for her to enter the spotlight herself.

^{S h o w a S e c r e t} : There was a time when simplicity was more than enough for a life well-lived. Waking to the usual routine of sweeping the dusty floorboards and raking the temple grounds carried with it pride alongside the mundanity. She could not recall exactly when the breaking point was in those dull yet peaceful days— something pushed her to the edge on that fateful night but it was so long ago that she can hardly remember. But what she could, is the moment that pastel red and powder white smoke entered the ground, and with it the smell of burning paper.

And when she awoke, the simplicity of life was swept out from beneath her feet. Replacing it was something tempestuous and tumultuous, such a paradigm shift left the newborn demon lost and guideless for some time. The instinct of a demon in their earliest days is said to the strongest, and along with the hunger was the aching stench of perfume that remained in her nose, the last trace of the figure that saved them. Or perhaps doomed them, depending on the lens in which you looked at her circumstances.

Those earliest years were soul crushing.

But the strong strive on, and while in another life she may have surrendered to the cursed life that had been thrust upon her— now she simply remained out of willpower seeking purpose in an ever changing world. Whilst hunting one night, she was found by a slayer of her kind. They were as beautiful as they were fearsome, a man with violet eyes that swung a blade that made no sound. In their dance of unrequited love something awakened in her, a change that sparked inspiration like a brushstroke upon empty canvas. It wasn’t until that very moment that the woman claimed a name for herself, as the countless ravens watched from the treetops did she tell her one true love.

“𝕄𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕦.”

She could not tell how many times she might have died that night, nor he. But as the darkened sky began to warm into shades of gold, the symphony they danced to would come to an end. The wounded slayer chased the demon as she fled, and no matter how beautiful their swordsmanship might’ve been, the distance would grow rapidly until the demon was long gone. There was a sense of sadness in that departure. In passing nights it would almost push Mura to spill human blood needlessly, just to draw the ire of her beloved. But she had no death wish, and killed only out of necessity through her travels made rules to follow to prevent her nomadic life from being ruined.

Years would pass, and the young demon would grow fittingly into her new lifestyle. Mura would slowly blend back into human civilization seamlessly, learning to hide her demonic traits, restrain her predatory instincts, and even make a reasonable income for herself along the way. It was after she became comfortable in walking among the humans that she would cross paths with that fated person once again. The smell of pine, dusty brown hair, violet eyes … [𝘿𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙍𝙊𝙔]!

It was at the summer festival, a passing face in the crowd that did not even offer a cursory glance upon her. He was older now, she drunk in every detail of his face, and even though the years left marks and scars upon his face— the spark that was there remained all the same. All that Mura could think about in that moment, was how quickly she could get that man to draw his blade. There was a time and a place for such romantics, and she would not dare allow others to witness a beauty that she deemed for her eyes only. So instead one of her familiars would set their eyes upon the man, to watch the slayer for the days-weeks- or months to come. Patiently awaiting like a spider eager for a fly to land within its web.

And eventually, that day would come.

Far from the town she had settled herself within, further from the small villages that surrounded it, he hunted a much younger and unruly demon that ravaged a forest frequented by hunters. Perched upon the treetops she watched as the slayer made short work of the scourge, and just then she would make her presence known. He remembered her, and upon uttering her name it set Mura’s blood ablaze and the fireflies within her stomach scattered amongst the flames. Their battle lasted for days, neither of them were willing to flee, and the forest canopy offered the demon reprieve for as long as she wished.

But his physical limits would eventually bring their dance to an end, as his breathing techniques taxed the man to the brink of death— the silent sword swung by the man now whipped against the wind. Sorrow filled her from head to clawed toe. So she left him there, and ran far away with dread spilling from her eyes as trees whipped past her. Hoping that one day a man could make her heart sing like that man did all those years ago. And that’s where her story ends… or begins?

_________________________________________________________________________

'K e k k ī j u t s u'
'K e k k ī j u t s u'

^{B l o o d D e m o n A r t} : A Tale of Friendship • 友情物語
The offensive capability of Mura’s blood demon art simply does not exist, and instead, has a unique peculiarity just like the demon who granted her this second life. When this demon’s blood is introduced to a deceased creature of the earth, the substance spreads throughout their lifeless body and overtakes their nervous system. The lifeless creature is then given a second false-life, acting as a familiar to the art’s wielder. A bond must then be formed with the familiar to meld her senses with their own, allowing her to see through their eyes and them through her own in perpetuity.

The majority of these familiars take the form of crows, and are visually distinct by their red demonic eyes that reflect that of their creator. There are other creature under her influence, ones that are plentiful and commonly seen in residential areas; rats, cats, even a few stray canines have been conscripted into the ensemble. The main combative capability of Mura is purely based on her own physical prowess and the skill she’s accumulated over the years— at most she may utilize her familiar’s senses scattered across a battlefield to get an upper hand on whatever opponent she may be facing. Or maybe that’s what she would like you to think?

✧ Signature ___ Eternal Companionship : It is difficult to kill what is already dead, and the bond between Mura and her familiars transcends the barrier of life and death. The creature caught under her spell are loyal both due to her demon art as well as the compassion she shows the abominations. Because of this, it isn’t uncommon for Mura’s familiars to push themselves to absolute destruction in order to protect her— and should she be nearby and materials be available, she will assuredly mend them back to form so they can return to their duties. The old proprietress is not feared due to her overwhelming power, few have even seen the woman fight despite the stolen nichirin blade at her hip. But instead she is feared because of her resourcefulness in combination with the art’s versatile use within the city. Buildings may not be razed and buildings may not burn, but the rodent or the raven are always watching.

✧ Secondary ___ Bond of the Fletcher : Should the machinations of the proprietress fall through and she find herself backed into a corner, dire situations call for dire solutions. A great wolf will be called upon, struck to death by hunters hundreds of years ago with their arrows still punctured through its side. With armies of ravens and rats, what could a wolf do you might ask? Plenty— if it is no longer restricted by the binds of the mortal coil. The wolf moves with the speed and strength of a demon and it spares no breathless movement to rip and tear at Mura’s enemy. She fights alongside the ancient canine, syncing her senses with the wolf to surgically carve down their shared enemy.

✧ Finisher ___ Bond of the Destroyer : The ace up her sleeve is a man, donning the head of a bear to hide his identity whilst wearing a demon slayer’s coat, he wields a standard tanto but carefully delivers brutally strikes with devastating strength. Mura’s gift greatly enhances his physical capability and allows him to let loose without the fear of injury, but when the pair fight in unison her opponent would begin to wonder. Why is it that they never have any openings? Mura’s kenjutsu is clearly some derivative stolen from a hashira of the past, but nonetheless, she performs feats impossible for a human to emulate those that could be performed with breathing techniques. The swordsmanship style’s strength is in its speed and unpredictability, striking before the enemy can react and moving on rather than trying to focus on singular blows.

_________________________________________________________________________

^{T r a n s f o r m a t i o n} : The transformation level of Mura from her previous physicality is difficult to discern on a passing glance. To an individual meeting her for the first time, she would appear as a normal human at first, but then they would notice; the strange shape of her pupils, what appears to be ears atop her head, and should one of her blood-infused familiars pass by they would inevitably begin to connect the dots. Her canines are long and sharp as any predator’s would be, and as she sips her tea you would assuredly begin to smell that acrid metallic tinge of blood.

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

Eleanor will just throw anyone who gets into a confrontation on her back and sprint them a few cities away.

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

Body horror woooooo!

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

Eleanor Lindel: Red Riding

Click?

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Name: Eleanor Lindel
Alias/Hero Name: Red Riding
Age: 30

Gender: ♀

Appearance (Before Awakening) _{Ele was quite the unimposing figure once upon a time. Her frame was frail, and were it not for the stark characteristics of Scandinavian genetics, the woman wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. While her stature was taller than some, sickly pale complexion and a dark circles ringed around large sky blue eyes. Maybe in another life a gaudy salaryman would’ve come to sweep her off her feet? Those types did tend to marry the tall blondes, but a lacking of healthiness accompanying the void of confidence left Ele a shell of a woman magnified by that state and her age.}

Appearance (After Awakening) Red Riding’s masquerade is that of a toned, slightly shorter, and more form-fit for the mission that has been set before her. The golden tinge to her hair mutes and dulls till it seems nearly washed out, and the length of it is shorter and roughly cut at a length just above the shoulder with messy bangs. The one sapphire irises now glow an eerie golden color that shimmer through the darkness like the eyes of a predator absorbing as much light possible to better see.

Awakening Details

Vision: ”Escape your fate.” A sudden spiraling downward filled with the rush of blood to one’s face and the rapid drumming of a heartbeat. Down- down- down towards an endless forest. Upon the moist soil came a gentle capture, an embrace of nature itself. Separating herself from the earth would then come the howl of a wolf.

Rank: Second (2)
Summoned Weapon(s)

• The Red Hood
• Grandmother’s Basket

Lore & Power

Origin Story: An old fairy tale by Charles Perrault about a young girl traversing through a dangerous forest in order to deliver food to her sick grandmother. The story has been reimagined and retold countless times over the generations, and even as cultures change the story takes on new meanings under new lights with each addition and fantastical imagining given to it.

Relative Strength: ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◻ ◻ ◻ ◻ ◻

Manifestation: A swarm of red—winged butterflies flutter around Ele to slowly form the cloak and hood. Upon her personage it seems to flow and flicker as if it has a life of its own. Along with the cloak to accompany it is a simple wicker basket that is covered by a simple red-plaid handkerchief.

The titular hood of Red Riding allows its wearer to hastily make their way to a particular destination unimpeded. The hero’s speed is amplified to a significant degree and path is laid out for only her to see, optimizing the best path to reach their goal. The basket is less of a [weapon] and more of a utility tool that is used in unison with the abilities bestowed upon her by the hood. The fabled item carries what is necessary to help those at her destination, whatever that may be. If there is a raging inferno she conjures a fire hose from within the basket to put out the flame.

Attributes

• Might: ◼ ◻ ◻ ◻ ◻
  Physical prowess on a strength level is not where Red Riding’s power resides. While she is still stronger than an unawakened human on a biological level, if she is required to engage in melee combat Ele will use her wits rather than her muscles.
• Agility: ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼
  This is where the Red Hood shines brightest! While she is not faster than light, the mythology of Riding Hood traversing a dangerous forest safely allows its wearer to always arrive at their destination. She’ll always make the jump, she’s never late, and sometimes circumstances work in her benefit to make it so.
• Endurance: ◼ ◼ ◻ ◻ ◻
  While not lacking as much in durability as she does in strength, her stamina is slightly above average among others that have awakened. She can take a few hits before heeling over, but a strong enough attack will send her off like a piece of paper in the wind.
• Presence: ◼ ◻ ◻ ◻ ◻
  There is no bravado here. Ele’s Red Hood might even reduce the amount of presence she gives off intentionally. She blends into crowds incredibly well, and while she doesn’t like the spotlight that being a hero brings onto her— she does enjoy helping people.
• Instinct: ◼ ◼ ◼ ◻ ◻
  Above average in this statistic, Ele’s strange canid mutations gained along with the Red Hood’s other boons allow her senses to higher than usual. Sight in particular is greatly modified to such a degree that not only can she see in complete darkness, but the distance of her vision is increased as well.
• Resonance: ◼ ◼ ◼ ◻ ◻
  Just like her instincts, her resonance with the Red Hood rated at above average when measured by officials. Ele feels as if the Hood “chose” her to some level, and has a strange relationship with the awakening itself. But in that obsession she has put no resistance in adopting the gifts it gave her.

Guild Information

Guild Assessment Result: (To be revealed IC—leave blank until after your initiation scene if you’d like.)
Affiliation: Highly skeptical of the guilds and the powers that run them.

Background

Personality: Before her awakening, Eleanor was a closed-off shut-in that more often than not abstained from sleeping or eating for days at a time in order to remain fully distracted and absorbed by niche forums and image boards. The crippling shame of failure consumed her life while rapidly diminishing physical health kept her down and increasingly self-destructive to herself and her family. Suicide wasn’t off the table for Ele at this point in her life.

Her awakening was a turning point in her life. Of course, it would be for almost anyone who goes through the transformation, but Eleanor’s vision before obtaining the cowl of Red Riding Hood changed her on a fundamental level. She felt as if this new chance at life was bestowed upon her by a higher power— not necessarily god but something was reaching out to her.

This mindset turned the anxious women into a strange sort of hero material, one that is borderline incapable of thinking of her own well-being in exchange for a laser-focus on accomplishing her mission. She spends little to any time socializing amongst her peers, offering perspective to strangers, or even accepting thanks for those she may rescue.

Even still, her social awkwardness remains.

History: Old money families are a strange sort. In Europe they’ll often socialize within smaller circles to avoid the apprehensive eyes of less fortune common folks and maintain relationships that may date back hundreds of years. They’ll keep their appearances positive in the public eye by throwing fractions of their wealthy at charity, filming good deeds that can be edited and framed in the most charitable view, and all the while being gross and slimy beneath that facade.

That’s the sort of family Eleanor comes from.

The Lindel family’s roots trace back to Sweden but sometime in the nineteenth century relocated to the Americas in order to escape the torches and pitchforks back home. Their old European roots remain, but their history is littered with questionable business affiliations that are kept hidden from the public. To the Everyman, a Lindel is simply the successful story of an immigrant that clawed their way to wealth. Most people don’t even know the family’s roots and simply sees them as that company that benevolently fund a lot of research in the medical industry. When the guilds began to spring up in this newest era, Eleanor’s mother and father were the family’s current heads with her mother leading in PR while father publically integrated with the guild known as The Old Charges.

Eleanor herself wasn’t in the spotlight all that much, even though her parents would’ve liked her to be. Her focus was primarily on education. Private schooling and streamlined courses to quickly move her through the system and into college early, leading Ele to having a few degrees under her belt early in life.

But unfortunately, academia was not what her family had in mind for their daughter and despite being an esteemed microbiologist among her peers, she would be prepared for an engagement with Mason Halliwell. Marriage to Mason would further the solid connection between her family and the Old Charges guild as Mason was the chairman’s son, whom her father had interacted with numerous times over the years.

Eleanor had met Mason a few times throughout the years, and most of those interactions were quite amicable. He was normal, which isn’t all that common among the circles her family mingled with. He was also respectful, and that even carried on into his older years when this late-age arranged marriage took place. She didn’t hate Mason, quite frankly she was fond of him and didn’t have any reservations about marrying him.

That was— until she found out what his family actually did.

The revelation of what The Old Charges were doing while pretending to be a reputable and well-natured guild sent Eleanor down a rabbit hole. Her research led her to research her own father’s connections to the same group, and how her own family was involved in much of the same criminal activities that they were. She cut contact with her family, with academia, and used what money she had accumulated to survive in a small apartment where her depression turned into obsession and each year she lost more of her humanity.

Motivation: To root out corruption that lies at the root of the guilds.

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Masks & Magic: The Awakening

@Lyla THAT’S ALL I NEED BABY.

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

@Lyla

I have a habit of making everything small, but it’s all been edited!

And I have the utmost confidence she can hold her own. I just didn’t want to have a character with a giant power stick. Grandma’s basket will just require creative use. Have faith in me!

Masks & Magic: The Awakening

@Lyla

Go ahead and give her a peep.