TålàÎthã Ëlvïrâ
Aoife of Erin
[~The Heroine Of This Story Is~]
Talaitha Vadoma Elvira
[~But Some People Can Call Me~]
Tally or Vadoma
[~Check My Pants~]
You won’t find a snake in there
[~The Time Goes By So Fast~]
Eighteen
[~I Bleed the Blood Of~]
Just another pitiful human sorceress.
[~Everyone Seems To Stare~]
Standing at four foot seven, Tally is leanly muscled, and stands with a laid back posture. Her hair is onyx black and hangs in wispy waves down her back until it ends at her knees. Below slightly arched, thin dark brows are thickly lashes almond shaped eyes. Her eyes are pupil less and solid white with a sliver of black around the outside edge. From her left temple to the lift of her cheekbone, there is black, Runic tattooing, a symbol of her curse that encircles her eye. Her face is more oval shaped, with prominent cheekbones that make her features appear angular, and her lips full and the color of crushed red berries. To add to her frail appearance, her skin is pale and has a translucent nature that allows the networks of veins and arteries to be shown.
Following a pale, delicate throat is the frail sweep of feminine shoulders and pale arms ending in long fingered and bony hands that are nimble in their tasks, though they are normally gloved. On her left hand is the same tattooing as her eye, from the tip of her fingers to the bend of her wrist, front and back. Pert, supple breasts are normally hidden beneath the veil of her robes and lead to the slight curve of her waist, tiny enough for a male to encircle with his hands and his fingers overlap. Her hips sweep into the short, frail legs that taper to seem longer then they actually are, which she is proud of.
Her movements are generally liquid and soft, never hasty or uncalculated and flow perfectly from one to the other, as if she was dancing instead of just moving to pick up a cup. This gives her an air of gentleness, and perhaps even gives off the impression of laziness. Her voice is soft and enchantingly musical, and has yet to ever be raised above its lilting whisper.
She wears a skin tight pair of black leather pants that have two separate vertical slits on each thigh, one in the front, the other in the back, about four inches long. These are tucked into mid calf black leather boots that are flat bottomed and decidedly worn from years of running around. As a top she wears a black leather vest that laces in the front. Her staff, which is always with her, is made from a black wood and inlayed with an ivory design. This can be attached to the holster that crisscrosses her chest.
She has many tattoos besides the curses, the first and largest of which is a tattoo over her entire back, done in black ink, it is piece from one of her Tomes, done in Runes. Next is an oath that is tattooed around her belly button in the same black ink and Runes. At the nape of her neck is a single Rune, though she is the only one who seems to know its meaning, and it is normally hidden by her hair. On her right wrist is the tattoo of a bee.
[~Between Yin and Yang~]
Why choose when it’s much more fun to watch?
[~Did You Say Anger Management?~]
How to describe the personality of a holed up untouchable recluse. Well, this is a challenge. I suppose we should start by saying: SHE DOES NOT LIKE BEING TOUCHED. Big no-no. Understand? Good. Well, now that we’ve got the biggest issue out of the way, let’s move onto the fact that she isn’t much for conversation. I.e. leave her alone because you’ll most likely be ignored. See how easy this is? Now, before you get all disappointed and think she’s boring, there are ways to bribe her into conversation. She will answer questions most willingly, as long as they had absolutely nothing to do with her. Promising to give her books is also a never fail plan.
As for the fact that she isn’t a big people person? That has a lot to do with fear. Yeah, that’s right. Your supposedly heartless b***h actually comes off as that heartless b***h because she doesn’t want you close enough to get harmed. Very kind of her, isn’t it?
But if you want to piss her off, it’s a very hard job to do. She isn’t much of one for violence, and whenever she senses a fight coming, you can bet she’s going to beat feet from the scene as quick as possible. It always seems to irritate her nerves, make her twitchy. People who try to provoke her into a fight of her own normally find themselves talking to thin air faster then a spider jumps for the fly caught in its web. But always remember: Revenge is not below her. She’ll find a way to get you back.
[~Well, My Memoir Would Say~]
Ever noticed how childhood is never fun? It seems every bad event occurs when you are helpless to stop them. Let me assure you that it is just the same for our little sorceress.
Born into a lovely, albeit overly magical family, Talaitha was aware of magic and its dangers from the moment she opened her eyes and saw its scars on her father’s face. Because that’s just the way it works when your father is a maniac dabbling in dark arts and your mother is little more then hearth witch with an OCD complex that runs to the marrow. Fun fun!
So, let us skip about, shall we say five years. After all, there is little need in babbling about how easy the early years are. We’ll drop in right here, on a fateful day in April when her father went too far in his little experiments and forever scared his daughter. You’ll remember, of course, that our darling Talaitha does not like being touched, and with a good reason. The black magic so endeared in her father’s heart cast a curse upon her, one that disbanded her from hugs. And little warm kisses. Or the comfort of a mother’s love. Hatred brews easily in an abused heart, and our girl tried so very hard to manage to fit in, covering her skin to avoid a tragic, sometimes fatal event. And the more she was shoved away, the more she hated. The more torn apart her grew. The more…lost.
But onward we go! Let us not forget that there is always in semblance of hope to be found. Found in books, found in…her own magic. Ten came up fast on the heels of our wounded Tally, and with that age she poured herself into the Tomes that are now some of her sole possessions. She feel in love with knowledge and made it her life while she waited for the moment she could escape the prison her home had been forced to become and…try again at this social game. So she waited. So she read.
And then there it was, finally, the admittance they had been hoping in some form to arrive. A one way getaway ticket to the school of, she hoped at least, her dreams! Bags where packed, kisses desired but not received. Tally hasn’t seen her parents since she came to the school. And she doesn’t want to either. You know, the whole, lets turn our backs to the person responsible and try to forget what you can’t thing. Very cliché, but it works.
So now, she just makes her way as a wondering ghost in the hallways of the school, neither there or really anywhere, unless you’re willing to bet your life on a little jolting touch.
[~If You Really Want To Fight~]
Don’t you think her staff is lovely?
[~Oh, A Strip Search You Say~]
Well, now that you ask, she’s always got a spare pair of gloves, a pair of wrap around sunglasses tucked in her belt, and her lovely piece of chalk. But she’s not saying where that is.
[~The Tricks Up My Sleeves~]
Runes are her best tricks, but if you must know, Arcane is the game. Poised on the edge of black magic is where she finds her little skills, rare as they may be seen. For danger is the game, when a life is your line.
[~Achilles Heel? I’ll Never Tell!~]
Her physical weakness and a serious phobia for physical contact. She has her reasons.
[~The Comforters~]
Doesn’t that involve socializing?
[~The Taunters~]
There must be plenty, but she hasn’t exactly noticed it yet.
[~Someone To Hold~]
You must be joking.
[~Residence~]
[~Put A Little Music To It~]
Ironic, isnt it?
Talaitha Vadoma Elvira
[~But Some People Can Call Me~]
Tally or Vadoma
[~Check My Pants~]
You won’t find a snake in there
[~The Time Goes By So Fast~]
Eighteen
[~I Bleed the Blood Of~]
Just another pitiful human sorceress.
[~Everyone Seems To Stare~]
Standing at four foot seven, Tally is leanly muscled, and stands with a laid back posture. Her hair is onyx black and hangs in wispy waves down her back until it ends at her knees. Below slightly arched, thin dark brows are thickly lashes almond shaped eyes. Her eyes are pupil less and solid white with a sliver of black around the outside edge. From her left temple to the lift of her cheekbone, there is black, Runic tattooing, a symbol of her curse that encircles her eye. Her face is more oval shaped, with prominent cheekbones that make her features appear angular, and her lips full and the color of crushed red berries. To add to her frail appearance, her skin is pale and has a translucent nature that allows the networks of veins and arteries to be shown.
Following a pale, delicate throat is the frail sweep of feminine shoulders and pale arms ending in long fingered and bony hands that are nimble in their tasks, though they are normally gloved. On her left hand is the same tattooing as her eye, from the tip of her fingers to the bend of her wrist, front and back. Pert, supple breasts are normally hidden beneath the veil of her robes and lead to the slight curve of her waist, tiny enough for a male to encircle with his hands and his fingers overlap. Her hips sweep into the short, frail legs that taper to seem longer then they actually are, which she is proud of.
Her movements are generally liquid and soft, never hasty or uncalculated and flow perfectly from one to the other, as if she was dancing instead of just moving to pick up a cup. This gives her an air of gentleness, and perhaps even gives off the impression of laziness. Her voice is soft and enchantingly musical, and has yet to ever be raised above its lilting whisper.
She wears a skin tight pair of black leather pants that have two separate vertical slits on each thigh, one in the front, the other in the back, about four inches long. These are tucked into mid calf black leather boots that are flat bottomed and decidedly worn from years of running around. As a top she wears a black leather vest that laces in the front. Her staff, which is always with her, is made from a black wood and inlayed with an ivory design. This can be attached to the holster that crisscrosses her chest.
She has many tattoos besides the curses, the first and largest of which is a tattoo over her entire back, done in black ink, it is piece from one of her Tomes, done in Runes. Next is an oath that is tattooed around her belly button in the same black ink and Runes. At the nape of her neck is a single Rune, though she is the only one who seems to know its meaning, and it is normally hidden by her hair. On her right wrist is the tattoo of a bee.
[~Between Yin and Yang~]
Why choose when it’s much more fun to watch?
[~Did You Say Anger Management?~]
How to describe the personality of a holed up untouchable recluse. Well, this is a challenge. I suppose we should start by saying: SHE DOES NOT LIKE BEING TOUCHED. Big no-no. Understand? Good. Well, now that we’ve got the biggest issue out of the way, let’s move onto the fact that she isn’t much for conversation. I.e. leave her alone because you’ll most likely be ignored. See how easy this is? Now, before you get all disappointed and think she’s boring, there are ways to bribe her into conversation. She will answer questions most willingly, as long as they had absolutely nothing to do with her. Promising to give her books is also a never fail plan.
As for the fact that she isn’t a big people person? That has a lot to do with fear. Yeah, that’s right. Your supposedly heartless b***h actually comes off as that heartless b***h because she doesn’t want you close enough to get harmed. Very kind of her, isn’t it?
But if you want to piss her off, it’s a very hard job to do. She isn’t much of one for violence, and whenever she senses a fight coming, you can bet she’s going to beat feet from the scene as quick as possible. It always seems to irritate her nerves, make her twitchy. People who try to provoke her into a fight of her own normally find themselves talking to thin air faster then a spider jumps for the fly caught in its web. But always remember: Revenge is not below her. She’ll find a way to get you back.
[~Well, My Memoir Would Say~]
Ever noticed how childhood is never fun? It seems every bad event occurs when you are helpless to stop them. Let me assure you that it is just the same for our little sorceress.
Born into a lovely, albeit overly magical family, Talaitha was aware of magic and its dangers from the moment she opened her eyes and saw its scars on her father’s face. Because that’s just the way it works when your father is a maniac dabbling in dark arts and your mother is little more then hearth witch with an OCD complex that runs to the marrow. Fun fun!
So, let us skip about, shall we say five years. After all, there is little need in babbling about how easy the early years are. We’ll drop in right here, on a fateful day in April when her father went too far in his little experiments and forever scared his daughter. You’ll remember, of course, that our darling Talaitha does not like being touched, and with a good reason. The black magic so endeared in her father’s heart cast a curse upon her, one that disbanded her from hugs. And little warm kisses. Or the comfort of a mother’s love. Hatred brews easily in an abused heart, and our girl tried so very hard to manage to fit in, covering her skin to avoid a tragic, sometimes fatal event. And the more she was shoved away, the more she hated. The more torn apart her grew. The more…lost.
But onward we go! Let us not forget that there is always in semblance of hope to be found. Found in books, found in…her own magic. Ten came up fast on the heels of our wounded Tally, and with that age she poured herself into the Tomes that are now some of her sole possessions. She feel in love with knowledge and made it her life while she waited for the moment she could escape the prison her home had been forced to become and…try again at this social game. So she waited. So she read.
And then there it was, finally, the admittance they had been hoping in some form to arrive. A one way getaway ticket to the school of, she hoped at least, her dreams! Bags where packed, kisses desired but not received. Tally hasn’t seen her parents since she came to the school. And she doesn’t want to either. You know, the whole, lets turn our backs to the person responsible and try to forget what you can’t thing. Very cliché, but it works.
So now, she just makes her way as a wondering ghost in the hallways of the school, neither there or really anywhere, unless you’re willing to bet your life on a little jolting touch.
[~If You Really Want To Fight~]
Don’t you think her staff is lovely?
[~Oh, A Strip Search You Say~]
Well, now that you ask, she’s always got a spare pair of gloves, a pair of wrap around sunglasses tucked in her belt, and her lovely piece of chalk. But she’s not saying where that is.
[~The Tricks Up My Sleeves~]
Runes are her best tricks, but if you must know, Arcane is the game. Poised on the edge of black magic is where she finds her little skills, rare as they may be seen. For danger is the game, when a life is your line.
[~Achilles Heel? I’ll Never Tell!~]
Her physical weakness and a serious phobia for physical contact. She has her reasons.
[~The Comforters~]
Doesn’t that involve socializing?
[~The Taunters~]
There must be plenty, but she hasn’t exactly noticed it yet.
[~Someone To Hold~]
You must be joking.
[~Residence~]
[~Put A Little Music To It~]
Ironic, isnt it?
