The Macabre Waltz
A quiet, friendly, young Eladrin who seems to have as much purpose as curiosity.
- Silver white hair
- Swirling marbled teal/blue eyes
- Precious, pale rose skin
- A thick swirling tattoo on her upper left arm
- Slender, graceful frame, with a gifted chest
- Unnaturally long, thin legs
- Wears a skintight, deep V-torsoed shiny one-piece, with a rough, long canvas skirt around her legs (hoping to draw onlookers’ attention elsewhere).
- The Lyanna Tal Case
A bit about her
You might notice she doesn’t smile a typical smile. The corners of her mouth turn up into a subtle smirk that only a trained eye would notice. She speaks quietly and calmly, with a touch of musicality, like every word is part of a melody. Her mood is generally indistinguishable to onlookers, often misconstrued as apathy. If she is sad, you might notice a single tear, for her Eladrin tearducts were never capable of more. However, if you anger her, you’ll feel a pressure surround your body as her eyes fill to a marbled red (as creamer dances in black coffee), and the melody in her voice becomes a disjointed clatter that echoes through the deepest parts of your skull.
She recalls a time when she was younger, where she was widely known as “Naturechild”, if anyone really knew her at all. They called her this, she was told, because nobody knew her parents. And for the most part, it was apparent that she was wildly familiar with the nature that surrounded her. As she grew older, it seemed that people recognized her less and less. Feeling a bit nostalgic for a more hopeful time in her life, she adopted Naturechild as her last name. She had forgotten her actual last name anyway. Perhaps selectively so. What was it again? Tar-something? It doesn’t matter anyway.
A gifted and spirited child, Niavara was always hungry for something new. Climbing through the enchanted branches and thorns of her home, digging through heavy tomes in search of distant lands and peoples. In her 19th year, Shae Loralyndar materialized deep in the Twilight Demense and the Crescent Revel began.
An ecstatic gathering of fey creatures from across the Towering Wood peaked as the feyspire shimmered into view. Even in the shimmering City of Rose and Thorn, she had never seen such a riot of colors, heard such a chorus of voices, and tasted such a variety of delights as she did during the high revels. She was lost in a sea of exotic pleasure such as she had never known.
The revel lasted for days, ebbing and flowing as new participants arrived and exhausted and spent pilgrims journeyed home. Humans, half elves, elves, centaurs, shifters, minotaurs, orcs, satyrs, every type of living being under the Dragon Above came to bask in the glory of Thelanis. On the fifth and final day, the crowds trickled away and the high elves prepared for another century in their twilight domain. Used to their child’s wanderlust, her parents searched the bridges and trestles, but she was nowhere to be found.
Her parents called for her, frantically searched the trickling pilgrims, but Niavara had left for her lifelong adventure.