Avawren (prime)
Avawren Fiora Nalfein, is a female Nalfein elf currently residing in the fortress of Ta'Vaalor.
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Appearance
You see Lady Avawren Fiora Nalfein the Arcanobotanist. She appears to be an Elf. She is moderately tall and has an hourglass figure. She appears to have come of age. She has almond-shaped glacial blue eyes and velvety smooth alabaster skin. She has long, glossy platinum hair swept up in a casual twist held in place by a polished lasimor haircomb inlaid with arabesques of ivory ferns. She has a well-defined, oblong face, a classical nose and a plump-lipped generous mouth. She has a delicate crimson symbol laid across the back of her neck, and arcing gently over her left ear. She is wearing a sephwir locket inset with a doe-carved forest jade cameo, a cylindrical fern-intaglioed vasculum slung over her shoulder, a back-laced myrtle green linen cotehardie with darker ruffle trim, a corset-laced fawn suede belt affixed with a strap-bound obsidian rose teacup, and some dusky green floral jacquard ankle-boots set on glossed alder heels.
Personal Crest
Crest: Encompassed in a gold unified frame, a black rose set above a bronze wren volant upon a field of jade green, accented with a flourish of platinum linden leaves; flanked to the left with triple vert ash twigs, flanked to the right with a sable hawk rising toward a sun in splendor.
History
Formation
Avawren Fiora Nalfein is the second daughter of the Fiora family of Ta'Nalfein. As the second daughter of a minor noble family, she was afforded a significant amount of freedom as a child. Her mother took ill shortly after her birth so she grew up largely in Ta'Ardenai, or outside of the city proper on the family's summer estate, with her maternal grandmother, Verdrace, an empath of House Ardenai. Her grandmother was a spiritualist and taught Avawren how to read the winds, how to speak to the lesser spirits; to ask boons of them, and how to make offerings to keep them pleased and healthy.
The Nalfein are famously pragmatic. They do not often believe in fate or the intangible so as Avawren grew and was introduced to Nalfein society she watched as her grandmother was treated as an "oddity", a delightful bit of entertainment at autumn balls and summer picnics. Desiring to fit in and succeed, as any young woman of society does, Avawren grew distant from Verdrace and left her summers with the wild, natural things behind.
Armed with a quick wit, sound judgment, and a knack for parsing people's needs, Avawren did well in the city. She found herself at a fairly young age in a good match with the favorite son of the well-placed Malcisong family. It was a marriage of politics and business, but Avawren quickly grew to love Ignais Malcisong deeply and they lived happily for many decades.
In the summer of 5105, while traveling to the family's gem mines east of Ta'Nalfein, Ignais was betrayed by his guards and lead into a Grimswarm ambush. Avawren does not share the details of this event, but readily and openly accepts the responsibility for her husband's death. The Malcisongs let her take this blame, and she lived for thirteen years dutifully carrying their ire while studying to become an empath.
In early Olaesta 5118 she finally put away her mourning gowns and left for Ta'Illistim, seeking to bury herself in books at the Library Aies. She stopped for what was intended to be a brief tour of Ta'Vaalor, arriving just in time to see the Lake of Fear freeze solid. She remained in the Fortress, unexpectedly tumbled into adventuring. She felt called to help the Vaalor, citing a debt she owes and vowed to stay until the unnatural winter was lifted. Though her efforts to save the sylvan child unwittingly responsible for the lingering winter were for naught, she forged lasting friendships and rediscovered herself through the trials.
In late Koaratos, after events that challenged her allegiances to a breaking point and solidified her priorities, Avawren assisted in the Ritual that finally ended the winter. She remains now in Ta'Vaalor for her own reasons.
Character Vignettes
Favored Treasures
a patinaed leather herb satchel
Parts of the chestnut colored leather of this satchel have been worn in to a soft golden sheen from many years of use. Structured corners and plush velveteen lining provide cushion for it's delicate contents, while a flap adorned with a faded painting of linden branches in full bloom keep them secure.
Her grandmother's herb satchel, gifted upon her departure for Ta'Illistim
a patinaed leather herb satchel (loresong)
[A look of quiet pride briefly lights Bard's expression as her song touches a patinaed leather herb satchel and you hear the faint laughter of children at play.] A feeling of warmth and pride washes over you as history stirs from within the leather herb satchel. You sit upon the sun-warmed grasses of a small field ringed by the dense, bright green of a summer forest. Your hands are busy with trimming a bundle of ambrominas and tucking the leaves carefully away into the satchel at your side as you watch two elven girls playing amongst the wildflowers. A sudden shriek, more alarm than laughter, draws your attention away from your work to witness the larger red-headed girl tackle the smaller platinum-haired girl to the ground. You quickly rise to your feet, snatching the satchel up with a feeling of annoyance as you move to break up the quarrel. [A warm, sourceless breeze brings the scent of loam and soil as Bard's song continues with an aimless lilt.] The feeling of warmth remains as your vision draws upward, into a bird's view of an expansive forest and a city set among the trees. The forest changes its colors too quickly to count; summer gives way to autumn, falls to winter to rise to spring again and again. You find yourself at the base of a broad tree, the sounds of a city all around you. Two elves kneel on the ground, examining a tangle of vines crawling up the tree's bark. The women are mirror images of each other, both platinum-haired and fair-skinned though one is in the spring of youth and the other aged, by elven standards. The younger girl listens intently, following directions as she clips several leaves from the vine and hands them to the elder to inspect. After a nod and smile of approval, the leaves are tucked away into the waiting satchel and the lesson continues. [A look of concern crosses Bard's face as she coaxes the a patinaed leather herb satchel to continue it's story. The satchel seems to resist, the rush of water and sudden rise of birdsong near drowning out her song.] The feeling of warmth fades to one of quiet concern, steadfast resolve in the face of the unrelenting passage of time. You see the two elven women again, though the younger seems fully a woman now and has given up her forest-shaded tunic and boots for a gown of lustrous onyx and jade marbrinus. The surroundings too have changed, finding the women sitting in a sunny, well-appointed parlor set for tea. The conversation seems stilted, the younger elf distracted and uncomfortable. The elder frowns as she retrieves a folio from the leather satchel at her feet and opens it among the teacups, making an attempt to draw her companion's attentions to the pressed flowers contained in its pages. From outside the window you hear the faint sound of a rushing river and see the bright yellow blossoms of a linden grove. [Bard wavers suddenly, nearly losing her balance as her song shifts to a wailing keen and then quiets as it joined by a dozen harmonious, mournful voices.] As your song continues to weave around the leather herb satchel you are struck with a feeling of such intense anguish and loss that you struggle to keep your knees from giving way. Your vision is unfocused but you glimpse the younger elf from before garbed in heavy black bourde, her head crowned by a dark veil. She kneels on the ground before a small stone altar, plucking a mournbloom from a nearby satchel and weaving it among its brethren to form a wreath. You hear the faint intonation of chanting, pleading and mournful, as you realize the second elf stands behind the first in equal black. As her chanting grows there is faint movement in the trees and you watch as a dozen ethereal figures draw near, varying in height and shape but all sharing the same luminous eyes. They settle down near the altar, one drawing especially near to the kneeling woman and seeming to help and comfort her as she lifts the wreath to make her offering. [A mix of emotions plays across Bard's expression, guilt giving way to pride and a trepidatious hope.] You sense a change to the cadence of your song, a shift in its perspective as you are once again seeing things from the view of the older elf. Before you stands your younger mirror, though she seems no longer young. The weight of loss and guilt have tempered her, though you feel nothing but pride in what she has been forged into. All around you is the noise and bustle of an airship dock, cast in the shadow of tall buildings of grey marble, the lights in arched windows above winking like fireflies. You offer some words of encouragement to the nervous woman before you and remove a familiar leather herb satchel from your belt. Time has not been gentle to it either, but the years have gifted it a golden patina to match the fading linden blossoms painted upon it. You draw the younger woman into a warm embrace, placing your gift in her hands and then watch as she boards the airship, clutching the satchel to her chest like a lifeline.
a wren-embossed cinereous suede pouch
Formed of ashen-colored suede, the pouch is lined with ivory silk patterned with a myriad of small birds flitting through a ructious display of lilac blossoms. A pair of wrens is wrought in lifelike detail around the pouch, one perched upon a linden branch and the other just taking flight. A stout ivory ribbon, from the center of which dangles a golden rose charm, functions as a drawstring.
A wedding gift from her sister-in-law, Gaelira.
a stab-bound white linen grimoire
Though the linen covers of this grimoire have been well-cared for, thinning along the edges bear testament to the reverent use of countless hands. A series of perfectly spaced holes puncture both cover and contents and are threaded through with fine crimson thread to form a simple, elegant binding. Framed by clusters of emerald cleyera leaves on the cover is a delicate script. Now barely legible, the faint writing reads, "The Path."
a whorled black rose deck
Viridian and ebon hues blend together across the smooth, slightly glossy placard to create a swirled pattern that condenses at the center into the image of a black rose. A twisted stem, highlighted in a silvery hue, descends from the base of the partially unfurled petals, its curved stalk speckled with sharply curved thorns. Dotting the four corners are orbs that resemble black pearls.
Other Information
A Twilight Grey Journal - A collection of in-character journal entries and short stories. (Almost entirely OOC knowledge)