dying in slow motion
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Nephele Amoret
Botanist / Engineer

Age: 54 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 1 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 2
Played by: Brit Offline
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Posts: 94
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#1
Of all possible places to find the ginger beauty, the most likely would always be the Undercroft. Though she had no lab of her own - yet whispered the voice in her head, the one that lead her to greater heights - there were countless books to read that were pertinent to her own personal research. Nephele's initial interest in botany and herbalism in her early decades had been purely scientific. What concoctions could she make with their natural flora? Could she help advance their knowledge of medicine and poison alike? And what of the more reactionary uses for such herbs - compounds, powders, ignitable substances? It all tied into her desires to build, to craft, to turn the nature of the world into a viable machine without sacrificing the integrity of the wilderness around her.

So here she is, slim legs folded up against her chest and a book resting open against her freckled knees. It's a pose she has assumed many times over her lifetime, but the pinch to her brow and the tuck of her lip between her teeth betrays her anxious mood. One hand anxiously twirls the end of her hair through her long fingers, twisting it around her knuckles in a habit she's never managed to rid herself of.

The Blight feels like an infection in her own ribs, a constant pressure in her lungs that drives her to stay up later and later into the night. She wastes countless candles, wax pooled against wood as she falls asleep clutching her books to her breast. Nephele is not so egotistical to believe she will be the herald of the cure, but everyone has a duty. A calling. She is no fighter, but she can at least do this. Research, and experiment, and try to find any kind of answer. It is not fame that calls her, to be the heroine of this era. These woods are a living, breathing ecosystem. A womb, a cradle, a playground for her child's heart. The Greatwood is a mother, and to see her sickened is like losing a part of herself. All she cares about is helping.

So she sets aside her current book with a sigh, rubs her eyes and reaches for another. She is one of the longest living races, breathed into existence by the Gods. If it saves her home, Nephele will whittle away her plentiful years of life reading every written word in every language she knows.

Your goodness must have some edge to it -- else it is none
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Eriadne Amoret
Guard

Age: 54 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 0 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 12 - Luck:
Played by: Dyn Offline
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Posts: 9
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#2
Eriadne
   It had been a long shift skirting among the border of Sidhe village. Leafchange had never been her favorite season, though the heat was more bearable while wearing leather armor than it had been in Longheat, it had yet to best Deepfrost. Beneath the shade of the canopy, even as it thinned with the deciduous taking their leave for the year, the sun still warms her beneath her armor to the point of sweat beading across her brow. No amount of rose dust was enough to offset the smell of sweat and dirt when she finally landed upon the entrance to the Undercroft, reaching out manicured, but broken, nails against the great oak that housed their place of knowledge, Eriadne gives herself a moment to rest her wings after the long flight around the Greatwood.

   With a shake of her head she lets the braids piled atop her head cascade down her shoulders after releasing the pins holding them in place. The sweat sticking to the back of her neck craved the shadows of the Undercroft as she took her first steps under the roots. While she loves her job- being able to protect her homeland while learning more about the blighters, as terrible as they may be was something she wouldn’t trade anything for -moments of reprieve to seek out her sister were necessary to keep her peace of mind after startling one too many unauthorized squirrel nesting places along their border and taking a few too many acorns to the breastplate. Perhaps the Blight was irritating them as well, just as it was a thorn in the fae’s side.

   It was a hunch in regards to Nephele’s whereabouts, but when had she ever been wrong when it came to her younger sister? Drawn to knowledge just as Eriadne was drawn to the blade, the two couldn’t have developed more separate paths inside the little village they had called home for the past half-century. Eriadne pauses at the base of the stairs, to the true entrance of what the Undercroft holds, and can only shake her head when she sees her sister hunched over a book. Though she never spoke it aloud, who else would she trust to patch up her wounds after a sparring session, or on the off chance of battle gone wrong?
     

Nobody.
 

   ”Don’t your eyes tire by candlelight at this hour, Neph?” Eriadne’s lips are quirked in a smile as she sits beside her sister, wrapping her fingers around the edge of the book and pulling it from her without hesitation. Though she skims the page, the world of flora and fauna had never been her jurisdiction, and the terminology is far beyond her wheelhouse. Only now, when she had to report abnormal signs of the blight, did she truly notice the beauty of the Greatwood around them.

   ”You’re going to hurt yourself faster than the Blight spending all of your time down here.”

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Nephele Amoret
Botanist / Engineer

Age: 54 | Height: 5'0 | Race: Fae | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 1 - Strg: 11 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 2
Played by: Brit Offline
Change author:
Posts: 94
MP:
#3
Wax pools against wood worn smooth from years of reaching, eager hands. Firelight dances across the words in front of her, drawing a crease to her brow and a new ache to her eyes. Though she'd rather read beneath the beauty of the moon in the Observatory, it's a luxury she can scarcely afford with such a weight hanging over her head. There would simply be too much time wasted between books, especially with how she jumped from cover to cover following the rabbiting trail of her own thoughts. Instead she clenches her eyes tight, wings fluttering at her back in agitation as she tries to clear the blur from her vision and refocuses on the text before her.

The fungus grows as a parasite mostly on living deciduous trees...it has been extensively studied for effects on digestive system cancers...

The time slips from her once more as she fixates on a new form of fungus and its medicinal properties. It's difficult to research this particular problem, the Blight. It infects flora and fauna alike, and threatened the human population next. Nephele feared it advancing, mutating even more. How could she rest until it was defeated? This was more than her home at risk, it was her people. Her sister.

Speak of the devil...

Nephele winces as she lifts her head, curls cascading across her cheek as she looks up briefly at the sound of footsteps. Gods, but her neck was aching. She'd never managed to learn no matter how many years went by - her posture would simply always be horrendous when she was deep in a book. She only distracts herself with the entrance for a moment, handwaving it away mentally. If it was another knowledge seeker, they would surely not bother her.

Orrrrr not.

A hand pulls at her book, and Nephele nearly cuts it off until her sister's soft voice penetrates her haze. Only then do her hands go limp, allowing the book to be taken from her without a fight. She sags to the side, resting her head on Eriadne's shoulder as her twin settles beside her. They've had this conversation in brief spats since the discovery of the Blight, but she can't avoid such a direct question this time. Even if their kind was able to lie, she'd never do so successfully in the face of her elder sister.

"I can't sit here and do nothing, Eri." Her voice is strained with rare emotion, something only Eriadne is privy to. Nephele turns and buries her face against the soft skin of her sister's neck, smelling the forest on her. Must have come back from patrol, she thinks idly. She rests there a moment, soaking in the comfort Eriadne's presence alone gives her. Her pillar of strength when it mattered, the embodiment of the line in the sand that kept Nephele sane.

"You protect our home in the way you have always known how. This is all I have, the only weapon I can wield. How can I rest when the answer might be in here?" It is tinged with desperation, and the fae withdraws enough to gaze desperately upon her sister, needing comfort. Validation. Guidance. She feels useless, her whimsical curiosities about the world suddenly childish in the face of this looming threat. Why had she not studied harder in her early years? Perhaps then she would be of use in the present.

Your goodness must have some edge to it -- else it is none
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