![]() Life is mournful and I was left alone, I am little and can't find true home. Physicality ![]() No, it is pronounced 'Are-alice' Human, Vantha Winter of 503 AV, 3rd Day ~ 8 Years Old Nearly 4 Feet Physical Decription Versatile eyes change ever so often with his mood, most peculiar by which he likes to match the colour of emotion of the weather. With the recent tragedy of the Djed storm, his eyes are fixated on a dark, earthy green. Patience, determination and wisdom flush throughout his veins, as they will remain there, unchanging. Luckily enough, the storm froze him at a moment of his usual, proclaimed mood and emotion. His short, Vanthaian figure curses his self-confidence walking amongst other humanoids and civilians of the arctic region of Teldera. His hair and his beaming eyes both hold that similar characteristic of portraying Morwen's Lights that all Vantha seem to share, rooting back to the first ancestors that walked across those very shimmers of light rivers. Freckles are rare on his kind, yet they refuse to yield to compliment his tinted, highlighted violet and magenta coloured hair. From birth, he's been marked from Rak'keli, a sought out potential, magnificent healer of Whitevine. A shimmering opal, white sigil resides comfortably on his left hand, twisting serpents glitter in the sunlight as they twist beautifully up his index finger and thumb, leading up to the back of his wrist. He has yet to be blessed with a Mark of Morwen, in due time as he becomes of age, but in the meanwhile, he freezes among the Teldera region. He typical wears a thick, beige fur hooded coat; his snow-pants a mud coloured brown. It's tailored to him quite nicely, complimented with fur mittens and black snow boots- an Avanthal signature citizen, walking atop the frozen tundra, a hood whipping the wind. Conceptual Maybe I should not give or should not care, even though it's life's only dare. Aurrealis is an unvanquished champion. He often finds himself following along the path of great opportunity, only to see fleeting anticipation along every curve and hill. There are tear stains that streak his face, running down into his beating heart; half of which is filled with death, and half filled with aching anxiety of mistrust and courage. His eyes were fixated on a blue, unchanging and worthy of pity complexity. His aptitude in healing and medical knowledge serve great purpose and responsibility in the Hold. Despite his loathe of corrections, he gladly accepts any and all constructive criticism in the area of medical field, absorbing as much material as he can process. His love of herbology and botany aids tremendously in the process of herbalism studies. People often find Aurrealis in the depth of forests surrounding the now melting city, examining and gathering abundant amounts of botanical specimen. However, his medical talent and aptitude doesn't stop there. His earlier childhood working as a family jeweler, carving and engraving intricate, complex stories on the insufficient space on rings and necklaces, makes his patient, tedious finger-work an extraordinary feature. He applies this skill to needlework, indirectly resulting in the knack of anatomical sewing and stitching. He often watches the medical floor at Whitevine Hold, where he gains practice and experience in real, pressure-oriented situations, learning to keep perseverance and a calm performance. Although he has such passion in medical studies and herbology, using his brain to the most of his advantage, Aurrealis can be quite the intolerance at times. He tends to a bit more 'persistent' than what society usually asks for, but purely accidental and through courageous efforts. Because the Vantha are avid fishers, hunters, and foragers, Aurrealis was expected to protect oneself barehanded, as well as learn how to obtain food. This doesn't, however, imply he turned out to be a great hunter. He's often disappointed at himself, for his father yearns for his boy to pursue the path of a Coolwater. His father being a Whitevine native, claims often to Aurrealis that Whitevine was a waste of time, persisting with his beliefs of how much he failed to not switch to Aurrealis's deceased mother's hold of Coolwater. His father still continues to urge Aurrealis to switch holds, to find a better path for himself, to make something out of him and to bring pride into his father's heart. Aurrealis refuses. He always end up looking up new plant recombinants, or tabulating a more successful way to treat poisons at the end of the day. Most recently, he converted to vegetarianism, despising the fact of the murder of animals for human consumption. Aware of his oddity of choice going against typical Vantha society, he thinks very little of it. Things often don't penetrate him, but his thick skin wears down when the core of perpetual disliking towards him targets his personal way of life. He's an extremely loyal child, giving love and companionship to anyone for any need at any time. He continues to search for a Kelvic to help him on his journey after the devastation of the Djed storm. Personality It is my prerogative to be loved, that gift from the mighty above. Aurrealis knows things. He knows a lot of things. He knows a lot about a little, yet a little about a lot. He doesn't like to be corrected, but accepts his own mistakes. He tries all the power in his being to never once make a mistake, and when he does, he studies it, analyzes it, reads it, breathes it, redoes it over and over again until it will be forever forged in his mind. He's an extremely wise child; and a very quiet one as well. Often members of the Whitewine Hold tell him that he is undeniably an old soul- ancestry flaring deep in his heart. His age often prohibits opportunity within this mass world, but his ambition for exploration will always remain. ![]() A sorrow digs deep in veins. The thought of lost experience, never once to be fulfilled with such insightfulness, the thought of forever and tragedy that will concur unrequitedly. The thought that even the brightest of lights fade with time. He's often lost within himself, looking at the stars, wondering his misfortune of mortality and limitations. He likes the little things, well, at least gives the attempt to find joy in them. The wind and the sea, the snowflakes and the city streets, the music you might hear far off into the distance within Avanthal's walls. The idea of love, and emotion. The kiss of the sun and the embrace from the moon. The scent of the trees. Yet, he finds himself sweeping up after those who are greater; those without inhibitors. Those who fly free and decide not to once look back. He smiles and laughs a lot about the blissfulness of things on the outside, achieving nothing of a spark of enjoyment in the inside, yet holds this mark and statue maturity and patience throughout social conversion. Because of his scarring history, and his father's indirect strictness and blighted moral, Aurrealis learns when to hold his tongue. He's very philosophical, not instilling his opinions or ideas, but acting upon them when the means are justified. His values of life differ from the typical 8 year old boy, and his eclectic, broad-minded attitude makes him well-appraised among the elderly. Most recently, with his eyes fixated, he feels no remorse of sin. He's beginning to do things he never has done - no fear or pity stopping him of achieving great opportunity. The History of a Child; The History of the Cosmos Born on the third day of the Winter season, transitioning from a frozen Autumn into boisterous days of ice and wind, Aurrealis took his first breath, embroidered serpents on his left hand sparkled in the moonlight. A bright, mellow, echoing emerald shone high that day in the sky above Avanthal. His mother, a Coolwater Hold native, met his father 2 years prior through a lonesome stroll among the trails throughout the Windward Boardwalk. It was a romantic tale, resulting in the two strangers to fall in love, and marry a year later without hesitation. Aurrealis was their only child, and in unfortunate issues prior and post, his mother passed away in child birth. His father was sick with pain and woe, cursing the Gods of Life and Death, willowing away into a petty, despairing grief. He grew more and more tired as Aurrealis grew older and older, only reminding himself his spite towards the Whitevine Hold; their failure to save her life, to only succeed of bringing into the world a motherless child. ![]() He only saw disappoint in his father’s eyes as time passed. Aurrealis saw nothing but a pity attempt of a son and pathetic excuse to inadvertently cause the death of his mother. The two continued to operate under the Whitevine Hold and name, regardless of the consistent spite his father had cursed about the Hold. Aurrealis never felt his father’s hatred, for he enjoyed the Whitevine community and their intent of beneficial remedy and healing. He would constantly read his father’s medical books, secretly in a stealthy matter when he was much younger, in case of disapproval of his father. Aurrealis grew to love the thought and the ability to help living things, human or animal. There was this joyous satisfaction when he saw someone’s pain and suffering to be lifted; the relief and happiness in their eyes, the approval and optimistic outlook towards new opportunity. The feeling grew on Aurrealis, yet he was barely even 6. For the next two years, Aurrealis’s mood starts tumbling on a downward curve, eventually plummeting in a steep flux. In addition into the feeling of clear disapproval of his own father, his father’s words influenced him greater than his actions. A young child would undoubtedly look up to a guardian, in this case a biological father, for advice, guidance, and support. He saw none of this. Aurrealis’s dreams were dead in his father’s eyes. They were nothing; stupid, idiotic, time-wasteful and simply…dead. What could he live up to? Why continue on this path of supporting aid and self-satisfaction, when all motivation is being ripped from underneath oneself? The more walls Aurrealis climbed, the more bricks his father unknowingly and unintentionally laid. It was a journey no child should endure. A journey only to bring sorrow and disjunction. There seemed to be no hope. Silent tear streaks seem to crawl down his freckled cheeks, as a 7 year old child slips into a vortex of slaughtered hopes and dreams. ![]() This wasn’t the end for Aurrealis. This only brought new beginnings. An epiphany of realization struck him stone cold, like an icicle falling, severing the Life of Warmth. He was going to die. His father was going to die. He won’t experience all that this magnificent world has to offer. If he stays scared, lost, and inhibited by his father’s despair, what could he achieve? Why stay in Avanthal? Why stay locked up in Holds, why act like a stolid, unmoving mortal dream, washed away in the river of desire? Why must there be limits based on age, when the knowledge and opportunity is clawing at you mind? He thought of all the lost possibilities, the lost life, the lost discoveries. Things have yet to be learned, have yet to be seen. But then again…why must he do it all alone? Aurrealis is 8 years of age. The time is soon. It’s ticking, more intense and more louder than ever before; for time may heal all wounds, but all time used is all time lost. |