Merialoc
Posted: Sat Apr 22, 2017 7:43 pm
Merialoc
Preamble to the parable of brambles
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Appearance
Some would regard the woman as a monster, her hulking height, that blackened charcoal skin, and those equally blackened eyes so intimidating that she finds it necessary to paint herself; the rugged, sandpapery texture and the many ridges make it easy to paint her face, and so she does with bright and cheery inks to show that she is not so vile. Adding to this visage, her elongated hands bear talon-like fingers with sharp nails, though she files them back to better work with precision. Her bird-like feet, in a similar vein, are treated in much the same way. She's capable of grasping just as well as her hands with those long toes, and she regularly paints with them.
Though her wings cannot support her in flight, they are every bit as magnificent as her own creative mind. Avriel are gifted with beautiful hues and colors to their feathers, and her are no exception. They come in brilliant, reflective and alternating colors. Primarily midnight grayish black, with some golden yellow splotched in. The feathers replace hair; she sports several inches of this multi-colored gloomy plumage upon her head, capable of ruffling it up or folding it back based on her own expression, and it continues to cover her entire back and much of her stomach area.
It is not the height that stops her from flying, but rather the density of her own bones. No matter how much she would work her muscles, she could not fly as a child, and still to this day can do little more than slow her descent after jumping from a high place. Her wings are massive, really. Larger than even the largest of Avriel, she's pretty sure she holds the record.
Because she has feathers decorating much of her body, that means involuntarily holding in the heat can be a real problem for someone with such prominent Ellune blood. Constantly she leaves her feathers in an upwards strut when she can, letting them prickle up to let the breeze cool her underneath. Most everywhere she goes, she looks like a bit of a peacock in that regard, and she only wears decorative shawls upon her upper body to cover up as anything more would be too warm for her to handle.
If one were to touch her, they would find her skin cool or even ice-cold. If she were to feel otherwise, she would be sick and about to succumb to heat stroke, thus requiring an imminent hibernation. It would be common to see her shirk at brilliant sunlight, preferring to stick to the shade.
Personality
Of not two but three blends of blood, Meri is somewhat human, somewhat Avriel, and somewhat Ellune in base function. She thinks in a very human way, but those thoughts are muddled by Avriel and Ellune tendencies. She's loud, energetic and loves to play games with almost child-like vim. Truly, she is only serious when it comes to artistic pursuits as well as spiritual ones or danger, falling to the safety of her mind. Largely, much of her operation is instinctual and she often suffers from being led astray; she's easily fooled and manipulated when it plays into her morals, but internally she is highly critical and philosophical.
Greatly impassioned, Meri enjoys social connection, but finds it hard to be wanted given she looks so monstrous. Coupled with her natural need for socializing imparted by her Ellune blood, she can become anxious and clingy when a friend hasn't communicated in some time. Worry fills her, and she begins to yearn. This stems from the pain she still feels from her childhood world being undone; from the loss of her mother, to the cowardice of her fleeing father upon her death. She only finds sanity in blocking it out.
As obsessed with art and creation as she is, she can talk someone's ear off about that sort of thing for hours, or listen to someone all the same, and her mind is powerfully visual from Arcs of honing her talents for creative thinking. She finds inspiration in many things, from conflict to emotion and even any notable divine figure that might catch her eye regardless of her faith. Art, to her, is a deeply spiritual experience, and she finds herself blending this fulfillment with perception as she wanders.
Being a Gravekeeper for many Arcs, she finds it most agreeable to create art for honoring the dead, and even has an interest in caring for them. This is partly because of her belief in spirituality, and that she feels a certain kinship to Wisps and Spirits.
Meria clings tightly to religion. She believes assisting the spirits, the living, and the dead to be her purpose. No matter how much scorn she receives from those who fear what she looks like, her faith in Moseke, Vri, Famula and Ashan has never wavered. In regards to Famula, Meri respects servitude but only if the person serving is capable of leaving an unfavorable situation, believing their freedom to be more important. She would also find Necromancers and Pacters to be abhorrent enough to wish the demise of if she ever met one, though rumor of people who can defile the dead has met her ears.
Character History
Two were chased, of dual face, and could not find union in any except for the other. Forged in rejection, in sorrow and abuse, their bond lasted until they died, but not before they sired an abominable child. Merialoc's parents were of a tainted blood, one an Human-Avriel born of manipulation and quickly abandoned, the other an Ellune, a cold woman fleeing from... something, but only finding kinship in a wandering monstrous man.
From this amalgam of congealing blood, she was born sickly and in constant pain. She favored the cold, always, and the ache only went away when that bright orb disappeared beyond the horizon or when the humid climate they lived in bore an unusually cold morning. Subsequently, she had size-fitting Avriel wings but could never fly, and by the time she was healthy she had grown too large for them to support her.
He did find comfort utilizing Nilas Within, taught to her by her mother. She often worried her daughter might not be as capable as a full-blooded Ellune, but she proved her wrong. She was every bit as capable as any Ellune child, and even enjoyed assisting her mother with her simple profession of making ice.
Belaryn, Merialoc's father, taught her to fear what she was. On the opposite side of the coin, her mother Sariah gave her meaning through an interest in the arts, and she clung to everything involving the exertion of creativity, for he, to her, was a work of art worthy of Moseke. The resulting immense, roiling passion and the quirks of her mind lended her to share her works with all that would care, but she could not hide the feeling of what she truly was; Meri knew she was a monster, and she felt shackled because of this belief.
He hid from the world, hiding in that workshop from which her mother created ice for the humans, finding comfort in that cool insulation. Her father brought in a modest living working the forge of the one man in their village who would hire her. Meria was taught by each and given an education, but the fiery scorn of a human for something different could not prevent true fates from colliding.
Two men set fire to their home. Meri fled through the window. Her mother was less fortunate, for she asked to leave in peace and was struck down as the young of muddled blood watched from the tree line, and she was in that same moment forced to watch her father flee to the skies in total defeat, a raging, tearful man never to be seen by her again her whole life came undone, and she fled into the woods for a time before hunger drew her back to the village, and she went to the only person she knew would help her; the Undertaker, Bjan.
There she was given an apprenticeship which lasted much of her formative years. Through this time her patrons soon became Famula and Vri rather than Moseke, and she was expected to uphold a strict level of respect in exchange for his meager living and the teachings imparted. She grew to respect the Immortals as much as Moseke, and soon took to including her in her daily prayers.
More importantly she grew taller, to a towering height of eight feet that made her unpleasant life almost unbearable in the cramped hovel she lived within.
Life was relatively peaceful sheltered by the Undertaker, absorbed in her work, learning ceremony and practices for those that worshiped various deities and such. The graveyard was private in places and she did her work at night, rendering her unnatural form all but unknown by the townsfolk... except for graverobbers, whom she had been taught to brandish a sword against. Even still, Bjan never sent her out on errands--he knew even a woman such as Meri could fall prey to the fears of these common folk.
The caretaker quickly reigned her in, but Merialoc was confronted with the harsh reality that her life was simply unfulfilling, and the shackles that bound her here were in need of a shattering blow. Striking out, she left the village and that highly influential teacher behind, and soon she traveled far guided by the quiet, cool moon. Everything changed when she bumped into Ashan one Spring day.
It was a turning point for her, spiritually. Suddenly the spirits were everywhere, and she traveled between temples learning as much as she could about Spirits, Wisps, and the afterlife. Everything seemed to come together for her, and so, fashioning just enough art to keep those around her in their good graces, she could just barely afford a trip off the region of Rynmere to the west where she began to search for answers, helping Spirits along the way.
Finally, she ended up in Etzos of all places, and the enormity of the place including their odd culture and disdain for the immortals had her reeling. But, like always, she made due. Though the racial rejection there was still a constant, she felt safer, and ventured out more often in search of pieces to the puzzle of self she was just beginning to put together.
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