[Seasonal Event] when the day met the night
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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MP: 9824
#1
 
M E L I T A


The honeybee child had always been enamored with stories. When she was even younger, undaunted by the trials and tribulations wound within myths, entirely unaware that the same things would be her plight, she’d sit by her mother’s side and simply listen. There’d been tales of mighty sun gods and their blinding, beatific rays coasting across the land, igniting the sky, the realms, the kingdoms, until peace and bliss had been completely restored. There’d been breathtaking wiles contorting in the traces of murder and condemnation, innocence torn asunder, fingers pointed, trickery and deceit employed until the mysteries had been uncovered. There’d been mystique and wonder along the thresholds and boundaries of men turned immortal, so powerful, so heroic, that their names spellbound their fellow creatures, when statues were erected in their honor, when horror arrived in their throats at the promised omniscience gone to wither, gone to decay. All of this had been before the Rift, when a girl could enjoy the merriment, the exploits, the adventures of others without the chaos and destruction settling around her; and she’d pretended to be the seaside monsters, the sword-bearers, the shield maidens, until the world cast her in the very same roles.

This one wasn’t without its chronicles and narratives. She’d helped with the perch building of the Spark Bird because she’d yearned to see it, to be one more witness to the broadening of flames and the screeching of embers, because it reminded her of those sweeping sagas, curled in her mother’s lap, playing with her sister’s hair s they wore pretenses of flower crowns and feinting paupers. Now, she scoured the fields and woods for the Luxere; parables of their glowing antlers, of their compassionate graces, had all but consumed her.

So Melita was a waltzing contortion of motion; a hum beneath her lips, a song in her heart, and movement bristling through her limbs. She and Fangorn ran along the thickets, expecting impending damnation if she didn’t reach a proper hiding space in time, if she’d managed to ruin another opportunity to catch a glimpse of the aforementioned deer. Dusk loomed and haunted, and she barely had time to hide behind a massive oak, grabbing hold of her gourd companion and shimmying up its containments, into its boughs, before nightfall washed itself over the branches. She didn’t have anything to offer but a gentle, merry tune bubbling in her throat, so she let that wash over the void, tucked in the strands of pine needles, hoping it would coax a legend out of hiding.






For Phoebe
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
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Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
MP: 1825
#2

But now, Phoebe had a few tricks up her sleeve to lure out the glowy deer known as the Luxere. She rather liked them, being that they were gentle and beautiful creatures. So today she trekked out to find them, her little bag filled with apples for them to eat, a lityle melody already working in her head. Sam had told her they liked singing after all. She would give it a try this time.

Finding a little broken wall to sit on she scattered some apples around her so their scent could begin to drift on the wind. She song began with a little humming, before growing into a full song with a calming melody. Phoebe had a higher toned voice, suited to lilting tunes in a soprano range. Her voice wasn't particularly powerful, but the tone carried well in the cold air, and before long a small group of Luxere appeared. They approached her slowly, sniffing out the apples and drawn out by the sound of her tune.

Phoebe smiled as she sang, reaching out to gently pet one on its velvety nose. That such pretty, gentle creatures could exist in such a dangerous place brought warmth to her heart. Perhaps she was not so out of place herself in Caido. Little glimpses of something other than terrifying power had room to be as well.

Phoebe
shine like gold, buzz like a bee, oh you make me smile
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#3
 
M E L I T A


Another approached, and instantly Melita was silent. She was capable of hushed tones when the situation called for it, when demons flooded the avenues, when ghosts and wraiths came with their chains to strangle her whole. Her tree perch had made an excellent hiding sanction, and she could watch the form meander through; but before long she quickly realized it was no monster at all, but Phoebe, the girl with the teas and tonics. The danger and treachery subsided well before it had even begun, and she merely witnessed as Phoebe’s voice summoned the glowing creatures she’d been so intrigued to find.

They were beguiling; beautiful and serene. They could’ve been the type of animals born from blessings and benedictions, where grace wound, coiled, and contorted its way through their movements, their motions (and she wished she could embody the same sensation, but the youth had long since admitted she was more fire and disaster than elegance and invocations). So instead of launching from her chosen bough, Fangorn tugging on a few pine needles behind her, the youth chose to blend her hums and trills with Phoebe’s, like birdsong. The honeybee child didn’t quite have the same beatific quality in her refrains (Clementine had always been the dreamer, the singer, the gentle, soothing, assuaging bliss after every single plunged sword), but she mustered the ability as best she could.





Phoebe
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
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Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
MP: 1825
#4

Phoebe was not expecting to hear another voice joining hers, and she was quick to turn her head in search of the sound. Though it was the Luxere that clued her into the presence of the other person, a few in the group trotting in that direction. Brown eyes scanned the area, finally seeing the red head carefully hidden away in the trees. She remembered her from the clinic, the woman Melita who had helped with the tonics. At once her heart resumed its normal pace. No danger here.

The blonde smiled and waved at her. "You can come out. They are friendly, just don't move too fast." Phoebe called out to her. As if to prove it, she lifted a hand filled with apples in a soft hand. The nearest Luxere happily stuck their nose in her hand, munching on the treat. She giggled a bit, its whiskers and soft lips tickling her hand. Then she resumed her light humming to keep the Luxere pleased.

Phoebe
shine like gold, buzz like a bee, oh you make me smile
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#5
 
M E L I T A


Just don’t move too fast was easier said than done; Melita was frequently more of a cannon ball, ricocheting and bounding, leaping and frolicking, immersed either in mercurial pursuits or complete whimsy…to even give thought to a calm, serene manner. That had been her sister and her mother; somewhere along the way she’d inherited or acquired a reckless, ambitious onslaught of compassion and motivation, a galvanizing force tendered into determination and obstinance. It didn’t lend well to those tranquil instances, but lord, the girl always gave it a solid effort.

She grabbed hold of Fangorn and dropped down as best she could. The branch still rustled, and she still had to land with a thud, but it was muffled with the way she tucked her knees, with the way she breathed instead of shouted. Her eyes followed Phoebe’s movements as she offered an apple to one of the luxere, how it took it straight from her hand, and the greedy, covetous contortions in Melita’s being suddenly wanted that too.

Fangorn was placed behind her, where he watched quietly, eerie eyes taking in every movement and motion, as she grabbed one of the apples she’d left out to entice the deer. She slowed her breathing, eased an inhale, an exhale, and then extended her hand out to the one closest, waiting to see if it would take the invitation. Half of her thought it wouldn’t – she was too chaotic, too close to mayhem, and the other portion of her soul simply hoped, a smile written clearly across her face.





Phoebe
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
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Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
MP: 1825
#6

The Luxere did startle a bit at the thud noise Melita made as she landed on the ground. More so they watched Fangorn warily. But when the gourd stayed where it was as the redhead made her approach they seemed to relax a little. Phoebe smiled at the other woman warmly, procuring more treats for the gathered reindeer. By now she had seen them enough times that she felt at ease around them. But the first few times she had been just like Melita, excited but nervous – at least that was how she seemed to Phoebe.

But once she offered treats there would be nothing for the woman to worry about as the Luxere gathered near her to eat the apple slices. ”See? They like you!” Phoebe said, then giggled a little. ”Or, well, they like the apples. Snacks are their favorite.” she said with a grin.

Phoebe
shine like gold, buzz like a bee, oh you make me smile
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#7
 
M E L I T A


When Melita wanted something, very little stopped her from trying to acquire it. Sometimes determination carved its opus straight through her heart, and the achievement rang sooner rather than later; sometimes fate played a different card and made it virtually unobtainable. She breathed a sigh of relief when this moment played out to be the former, when the soft velvet of the reindeer’s nose pressed against her and demanded more snacks, more treats, more apples. “Oh,” she giggled as it tickled over her skin, and she reached out for more, adhering straight to their commands without hesitation. “They like me?” Her grin was broad and airy again, as if it had been composed by fae and their whimsical, mercurial delights; head turning back to Phoebe, hoping beyond hope that the statement was true. The girl tried to stand perfectly still, but it was difficult, because Melita was Melita, and the need to move, to maneuver, to simply go do something was always an incensing force in her frame – hand twitching, itching to touch the soft fur or the glowing antlers within her reach. “Can I pat them?” Did they like it? Or would they run away? The youth didn’t want to break some tradition or mold; not when she’d suddenly become successful in her endeavors – but the mercenary, coveting aspirations were still curled and coiled there, nestled in her conflicted heart.





Phoebe
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
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Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
MP: 1825
#8

The blonde grinned as Melita enjoyed the greedy velvet lips of the Luxere as they munched on the treats in her hand. It was truly a magical experience she thought, remembering how lucky she had felt the first time a Luxere had taken a treat from her hand. ”If they didn’t they wouldn’t flock to you.” Phoebe said, petting one of the older Luxere in this group. The younger ones seemed to be more interested in Melita. Perhaps it was her energy that drew them, playful, young, upbeat, whereas Phoebe’s calm demeanor drew the older, less energetic of the group. ”Yes, you can pet them. They do like scratches.” she said with a smile. In some ways they reminded the midwife more of horses than reindeer. They were much bolder than the ones she had known anyways.

Phoebe
shine like gold, buzz like a bee, oh you make me smile


Age: 7 | Height: | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#9


Hungry.

Starving.

Delicious.

The screech that echoes through the trees is enough to pierce the ears, and the Luxere are no stranger to it. The herd balks at the noise, prancing and scattering in all directions, frightened enough to ignore the young ones. A couple even get trampled, the poor dears.

Phoebe and Melita hear it, then - wet, heavy breathing, closing in from all around... before it is simply gone again.

The darkness will fall soon. Deep, deep, dark...

Better hope you're not caught out.

RANDOM EVENT
these woods are lovely
dark and deep

Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,647
MP: 9824
#10
 
M E L I T A


The jubilation was heaven-sent, and she rejoiced in being able to pat them, stroke them, become a known entity to creatures embodied in celestial hues and divine tints. Her hand reached across the soft fur, scratched at one’s ear, and simply reveled in the ability to do so. Breaths eased, light and airy, ethereal and content, grin intertwined with the fire of her passion, with the mettle and untamed savagery blanketed and buffeted beneath those grins and smiles. They didn’t care about her ambitions, her aspirations, how many times she’d sinned or rebelled; they were after snacks and scratches, and everything was dandy.

The screech came without advance notice. It pulsed and pervaded through the girl’s entire being, until she was frozen vessel, blood running cold, as the luxere fled, panicked, forsaken, drifting in every direction, and her hand was left in the air, touching naught. She was taken instantly back to the Rift, and despite her strength, her conviction, her rage and vehemence, the girl couldn’t stop shuddering.

The heavy, wet breathing came from all directions, and she wondered what she had available for weapons. Sticks? Stones? How close could she get, how long could she prevail and defend Phoebe, before they were set upon and devoured? How many times had she nearly been consumed, and was saved by pluck, by anger, by luck, and by fortitude? What demon threatened them? Fangorn pressed against her leg and hissed, his eyes ghosting in every direction, trying to pinpoint the location of the impending doom and damnation.

Then, all at once, it ended.

A warning. This was an ultimatum in the deepest thickets, a pressing, looming, ominous declaration, and she wouldn’t be enough to combat it. Perhaps it was that feeling, that statement alone, that left her still shaking, fury mixing with helplessness, and she was empty of abilities and weaponry, incapable of combating these unknown forces. It was like she was meek, when she’d tried to become the exact opposite her entire life. But the youth still turned to Phoebe, wide-eyed, scooping Fangorn into her arms, pondering the weight of the surroundings. “We should leave.”






Phoebe
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
MP: 1825
#11

The screech sent chills down Phoebe's spine.  Her heart jumped to her throat and everything in her brain said run but her muscles would not. She had never heard something so terrifying in her life. In that moment of chaos she was certain it was the end. The stampeding Luxere, the shriek and the breathing, her own adrenaline sending her into a panic - how could it be anything but that?

And then it stopped. All was silent. All was calm.

Melita's voice caught her attention and Phoebe was quick to nod. "Yes. We need to get to where we will be staying for Long Night." she said, remembering Safrin's words. She looked at the other woman seriously. "I can explain more later, but pray that the goddess Safrin watches over you this Long Night...I've a very bad feeling." she said, concern coloring her voice.

Phoebe would then walk with Melita back to town, briefly stopping at her residence before leaving her at the Rathskeller. She made a stop by her clinic then to get her things and beelined it for Emmett's home, quietly praying for Safrin to watch over her as she made her way there. Needless to say, Phoebe was throughly thoroughly shook up by what she had heard.

Phoebe
shine like gold, buzz like a bee, oh you make me smile


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