Saélihn Silversong

Portrait

Description
~ Details ~ Name: Saélihn Silversong Title: Master of Letters Allegiance: The Merchant's League Alias: Songbird Race: Teu-Tel'Quessir (Faerûnian) Gender: Female Age: 113 Years Height: 5'2' / 156cm Weight: 100lbs / 48kg Eyes: Pools of Sky Blue Skin: Fair, Phantom White Hair: Pale, Moonlit Silver (Dyed Red) Deity: The Seldarine...? Formerly: Talespinner, Musicweaver Destined: Keeper of Knowledge ~ Recent ~ The young elfmaid's silvery tresses had suddenly turned impossibly red. The combined efforts of dye and magics, and who knew, perhaps even a spot of blood. "Before I die alone, Let me have vengeance. Before I die alone, I will have vengeance." ~ Description ~ Exquisite sky blue eyes sat midst smooth and pale features that were, on most occasions, perpetually melancholy. Along the tips of her elven ears ran a subtle arctic hue within the milky flesh, evidence of her pure, moon elven blood. A quietly adoring grace testified that the elven maiden had, perhaps, enjoyed decades of dancing 'neath the gentle boughs of a forest, where freedom had been a given and her right. The keen observer might have noted the frail longing that leaked from those benign pools of blue, carefully subdued and silenced by a will to persevere and overcome. Locks of silvery-gray, like the vast open sea beneath a phantom moon that had been snared in her tresses, spilled down past dainty shoulders in gentle waves, tumbling to the middle of her back when not woven into an elegant or simple braid. To the expert spectator, it was not hard to notice the innate frailty this youthful female possessed; dark circles sometimes cradled her striking cerulean eyes and made them even more haunting, her fair face a touch more forlorn. It was then, that the subtle traces of magic that surrounded the dainty female could become vastly more pronounced and indefinably noticeable, emanating from somewhere between her narrow shoulders and a few inches above her head. To the more studious, it was nearly exhilarating to observe the coruscating spellwork at play, but difficult to pinpoint from where, precisely, it flowed. One might assume it radiated from the unique and extraordinary piece of jewelry; a silver choker fashioned from the finest of elven mithril, likely worth several dragon hoards in gold, sometimes glimpsed around the slender neck of the unattainable Songbird. Strange, then, that the mysterious surge of magic seemed present even when the choker was not. Featherlight, diaphanous, and most certainly not trained for hard, physical labor, the young and graceful Quessir could easily become a timid whisper in the room; a bleak, unnoticeable shadow in a corner where but the soft intonation of her melodic voice might call to draw upon the listener's attention. "Before the fire and stone, Before your world is gone, Have you some patience, Cause I will have my vengeance." ~ Background ~ Several cycles of night and day had passed since Kesir Olin had been so ruthlessly attacked. Several cycles since the elves had been successful at fighting off the attackers, sending the miserable Dhaerow bleeding and scurrying for their lives. And several cycles since the Talespinner, Saélihn Silversong of the Cormanthor, Keeper of Knowledge and Musicweaver Beneath The Boughs, had gone missing from her people. In an entirely different location, there had been several cycles of night and more night since her arrival to the damned place, but she had lost track already. Several cycles since her mind had cleared and she had found herself restrained. Several cycles since her dark cousins had torn her senses from her so that she could see nothing, feel nothing, hear nothing, leaving everything dark in a world already filled by shadows. When she finally came to her senses, she was so exhausted, she had found herself unable to open her eyes. Harsh voices swam in her ears, and she desperately needed to see. Of all things, she suddenly became aware of the inside of her mouth. Painfully, her cheeks began to part from tongue, her mouth feeling as though it was filled by thousands of stinging needles which only struck harder as flesh slowly peeled apart. What she could see through the chains of her entwined eyelashes was vague at best. Everything was cast in shadows, but the darkened figure moving was darker still. The figure had stepped close and she tried to look up from her prone state on the dais, but she would quickly learn that this was not allowed. Her hair seized by strong fingers, only to have her face smashed down against the stone, sending a flash of excruciating pain up into her cheek and the very bones of her skull. Such was the Musicweaver's first meeting with the Ilharess, Zebeyvalin Kalan'ervs, and she would quickly discover that this was not the time nor the place to develop stage-fright. Soon, she would find herself as property of an entirely different cruelty. One with which the cycles, months upon months, would bleed into one another. One with which time became irrelevant, and patience her most important virtue. And one with which she would learn the true meaning of humility, the true meaning of 'Dhaerow'. ~ OOC ~ Want to set up some non-ERP roleplay? Feel free to poke me with your ideas! I'm very fond of evolving conflict, character development, Forgotten Realms, LORE (especially elven/drow), secrets, plots, and creative, story-driven RP. ~ Ambience ~ Meg Myers - Desire Ruelle - Madness Slipknot - Killpop Meg Myers - Monster Ghost - Life Eternal Kamelot - Ravenlight Zack Hemsey - Vengeance BeLL - Losing My Religion Pain of Salvation - Linoleum Hidden Citizens - Paint It Black Draconian - Heavy Lies The Crown Amethystium - Strangely Beautiful Moonspell - Capricorn At Her Feet Pain of Salvation - The Taming of a Beast Thirty Seconds to Mars - Bad Romance (BBC Live Version)
Player:	Hate and Adoration
Gender (Visually):	Female
Race (Visually):	Elf