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- o v e r v i e w
name and aliases:
astarael, born on the cusp of winter, came to exist on the shores of black rock, the isle nearest her point of emergence from the graceless sea. she crawled from it, every bit as mortal as any other lost to this earth, nothing graceful or beautiful about her condition.
the ethaefal remained in black rock for a very long time. there was peace here, and quiet, and though the setting was nothing like syna's goldenlands, it was still a place walked by a goddess, and so it substituted as a close second. there were others here, too, drawn to live with the macabre goddess of death. myrians and dhani, svefra in their ships, and so many more ghosts than any normal person deserved to see.
out of necessity, astarael took up knowledge of spiritism, an attempt to settle the souls of those left on the island to make up for the time she spent in blessed repose. although she was no longer a soul of the ukalas, that hadn't meant that she couldn't help escort these souls to their own afterlives. she wasn't ever the best at it, but what she lacked in skill and true, deep empathy, astarael tried to make up for with her willingness to try and help every spirit who needed it, no matter their disposition.
in time, astarael came to befriend a small selection of myrians, women of the dancing dead who made black rock their home, and found herself enamoured with their culture and their worship of their deities, their polytheism reminding her of something deeply ingrained into her being. for these stirring similarities, she decided she would find what she was. her history. the beginning of the next year, she bought her way onto a ship that would bring her over the suvan, and terrified though she was of the open sea, she bore the weight of that torment, knowing it was the fastest way to come home, if a home remained.
at the end of the year 262, astarael arrived in endrykas, among a race of horsemen that were nothing like what her memories, as fragmented and bare and distorted as they were, had readied her for. rather than a walled settlement, these were men and women of the plains. proud on their horses, in their fledgling culture, astarael made the decision to make do with what she'd put herself into, and ingratiated herself into their culture.
only a few short years after she'd come to endrykas, the man who'd make her his wife was born to the ankal of his pavilion, the same ankal that had indebted astarael to him for housing, in exchange for her own unpaid labour. years after that, long after her husband and wives had died, her children old and feeble and well on their way to dira as well, astarael finally grew weary of being whom she thought she should be. at long last, she put aside the heaven-wrought name of astarael, taken from a constellation visible from black rock, and instead chose to be known as ciraaci, a drykas constellation named for a tree that was said to branch into the sky.
she has persisted in her existence as a resident of endrykas since, her home remaining amongst the tents of the mourningstar pavilion, the descendants of her husband and his first wife, in the amethyst clan, where she's aspired to better herself in this mortal coil, but no longer in worship of the fickle sun.
a forsaken daughter of syna with pale blonde hair, woodland eyes, and glassy green horns. she's taller than the average human female, her skin shimmering with the rosy radiance of summer overlain over the most unfeeling expanse of milky marble. the creature is elegant, ageless and indefinite in the perfection of her visage, and much like a true marble statue, she is hard, cool, and discouraging to the gesture of friendship with others. her voice is low, a rumble of an alto, and impeccably warm, comforting, and welcoming, despite her cool exterior. there's meant to be something about it that could be friendly. there is a shimmering lacun mark on her sternum, a hollow reminder of her marriage to remain where even memory of faces and voices have faded with time. summer in the year of 518 divorced ciraaci from her right horn and left a jagged root where it once branched out of her skull.
moonlight, black hair, dark eyes set in a face sprinkled liberally with freckles, the girl that is ciraaci by night is unremarkable, in the prime of her human life, but soft and delicate where the creature that ciraaci is by day is immovable and hard. her face is sharp, angular, but only deceptively so, as she's still human and soft. her form is willowy and fluid, flighty at best. her voice is a low timbre, often described as robust, as if to suggest the woman that ciraaci once was had a fondness for laughter. her skin is inked by tattoos detailing events from lifetimes ago, but they cannot be considered windmarks, as the body itself predates what the drykas are today. instead, the windmarks she does have are those she's acquired in living memory, spanning the expanse of her back and down the length of her legs, detailing marriages, deaths, and bondings long since lost.
maore, ciraaci, astarael, ruah starfall
race: ethaefal, drykas
sex: female
date of birth: autumn 87 159 av
place of birth: suvan sea, near black rock
location: sea of grass, cyphrus
faces: daisy clementine smith, anh wisle
astarael, born on the cusp of winter, came to exist on the shores of black rock, the isle nearest her point of emergence from the graceless sea. she crawled from it, every bit as mortal as any other lost to this earth, nothing graceful or beautiful about her condition.
the ethaefal remained in black rock for a very long time. there was peace here, and quiet, and though the setting was nothing like syna's goldenlands, it was still a place walked by a goddess, and so it substituted as a close second. there were others here, too, drawn to live with the macabre goddess of death. myrians and dhani, svefra in their ships, and so many more ghosts than any normal person deserved to see.
out of necessity, astarael took up knowledge of spiritism, an attempt to settle the souls of those left on the island to make up for the time she spent in blessed repose. although she was no longer a soul of the ukalas, that hadn't meant that she couldn't help escort these souls to their own afterlives. she wasn't ever the best at it, but what she lacked in skill and true, deep empathy, astarael tried to make up for with her willingness to try and help every spirit who needed it, no matter their disposition.
in time, astarael came to befriend a small selection of myrians, women of the dancing dead who made black rock their home, and found herself enamoured with their culture and their worship of their deities, their polytheism reminding her of something deeply ingrained into her being. for these stirring similarities, she decided she would find what she was. her history. the beginning of the next year, she bought her way onto a ship that would bring her over the suvan, and terrified though she was of the open sea, she bore the weight of that torment, knowing it was the fastest way to come home, if a home remained.
at the end of the year 262, astarael arrived in endrykas, among a race of horsemen that were nothing like what her memories, as fragmented and bare and distorted as they were, had readied her for. rather than a walled settlement, these were men and women of the plains. proud on their horses, in their fledgling culture, astarael made the decision to make do with what she'd put herself into, and ingratiated herself into their culture.
only a few short years after she'd come to endrykas, the man who'd make her his wife was born to the ankal of his pavilion, the same ankal that had indebted astarael to him for housing, in exchange for her own unpaid labour. years after that, long after her husband and wives had died, her children old and feeble and well on their way to dira as well, astarael finally grew weary of being whom she thought she should be. at long last, she put aside the heaven-wrought name of astarael, taken from a constellation visible from black rock, and instead chose to be known as ciraaci, a drykas constellation named for a tree that was said to branch into the sky.
she has persisted in her existence as a resident of endrykas since, her home remaining amongst the tents of the mourningstar pavilion, the descendants of her husband and his first wife, in the amethyst clan, where she's aspired to better herself in this mortal coil, but no longer in worship of the fickle sun.
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