DIMA EIRA

You are viewing Eira Dima (Winter Child), an ice darkling in her twenty-third year. She currently resides in Brailston Village, Athoria, and weaves for a living. Disclaimer: This is a roleplaying account and is not associated with the face claim (Nastya Zhidkova). For full disclaimer, click here.

[takeshi-bin]

Play with Magic | Tak // Eira | FB

Takeshi had found himself tucked into the sands of the northern beaches outside of Night Haven. His crew had managed to drink themselves into a stupor in Thirst the night before and were all currently sleeping off what he imagined a massive hangover. Adorn in a more fitted royal blue shirt, hemmed to his size along the line of his bicep, and opened down his chest decorated with a matching string. Black leather pants and boots were usually his choice when out at sea or adventure but today he was barefoot. Toes buried into the sands, legs covered in simple white cotton making him look anything but a Captain of the beautiful ship in the distance. 

The warlock didn’t usually take a day off. Always something to be working on, or towards. But today the quiet, the sun, the beach. It was calling to him, and he dug his hands into the sands relishing the heat as his head throbbed in small pains from his own rum drinking the night before. He had packed a days worth of food and drink, but hadn’t indulged in the small sack of deliciousness yet. The little pies had looked too good to pass up from Cook this morning, who was the only one that didn’t drink on his ship. The warlock wouldn’t ever admit it out loud but he was grateful for it on days just like today. 

Lifting up, rolling his body to stretch out his spine he peered around not seeing anyone on the beach. With a flick of his wrist he sent a wave of water onto the sand, staining the white sands into a dark brown, and dug his hands into the cooler particles to start making a sandcastle. He wasn’t very good at designing one, his crew entertained themselves with small competitions on distant islands never trekked by man before. But Tak felt relaxed, a peace with the day and the simplicity that building a sand castle brought. It wasn’t always fighting, looting, and adventure for the pirate. Though those were on the top of his list. 

Digging a small trench, he sent a small stream of water around the half made castle and watched it fill the sand and stay there. It made him smile cheeky at the little bit of magic. Running his hands through his hair, littering it with little bits of sand, he started shaping the castle more, not realizing it was looking anything but the sort. 

[dimaeira]

The sea was such a fickle thing. Never calm yet always still, you never knew what to expect. It could lure you in with promises of trust but a blink of an eye could incur its wrath; it was for this reason that Eira could never venture far. Drums of war pounded against her chalk-white skin as she strolled against the ocean’s rim, its lacy foam spraying her with every beat. She shouldn’t have worn something so long today – little waved lapped at her ankles and over the hem of her skirt, soaking it like a rag. The fabric, blue as the horizon, clenched to her skin, weighing her down in the process.

The coastline was just a small walk from Night Haven and, curiously enough, its visitors were few. Always amending and always unchanged, it was mostly left desolate. A makeshift path led up to a series of mangroves, creating a wall between the scorching sand and the rest of the world.  The beach itself was beautiful but almost unwelcoming, not unlike Eira herself.  This was the one place she could truly be on her own – away from her neighbours, away from her father, away from everything.

It was only a matter of time, though, that someone would find her secret. She stopped mid-step as she saw a figure nearby, making hills out of the golden shore. At first she didn’t think much of it, perhaps a little shaken; Eira would just detour through the mangroves and get out of there. But he made a flick of his wrist and she was met with a bitter gust, tumbling her locks around her.

She watched as the water flowed through a trench he made and to her, it felt unnatural. That's magic, she decided, but not like my own. Wanting to make herself known (but at the same time, not wanting to approach the man), Eira stretched out her hand, clenching her eyes shut. She felt a cool rush through her fingers and by the time she had gone to look again, it had frozen in the warm sun.

[dimaeira]

ATHORIA CHALLENGE // THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT // SOUNDS OF WHITE

Even by Athorian standards, Eira is a bit of an oddity. Sticking true to her name ('snow' in Finnish), she is a shade of brilliant; she makes the newest snow look grey. She is the kind of white that, if you stare too long, sears into your retinas and renders you blind. Her appearance is something she has never seen in another, not once in her twenty-three years. With all the hushed words around her, it seems no one else has either.

Insecurities have always plagued her, although she mostly accepts them these days. At times, though, she'll spit through perfect teeth; complain that she's too abnormal for this world. It can be quite the downer and Eira believes that her appearance 'complicates' her, making daily activities and relationships harder to accomplish.

Reaching a point of acceptance wasn't easy. She's come to the conclusion that her ice-demon lineage has contributed to her appearance, and that days are diaphanous. When she was young, though, she wanted nothing more to be normal. What does that word even mean? For Eira, that was splashes of something. She would have even stolen from Iris Beckett, just to have it. Yet, it never came - she never expected it to.

And it is this absense that makes her, for without it she wouldn't be here today. If she was born with the slightest colour in her cheeks, Eira Dima wouldn't even exist. She'd have been a rose of a different name and be left without reason; Athoria would have just been a far off land. Surrounded by family and friends, she wouldn't have been so shy. She'd probably even have her own family by now. In Eira's place would be another girl, one that was never so fractured.

[dimaeira]

GELLA DIMA (née Bernthal) || FACE CLAIM: BELLA HEATHCOTE

Age: 20 (deceased) Date of Birth: May 19th Member Group: Human  Occupation: Homemaker Connection: Eira's Mother

GENERAL APPEARANCE

She was known around Lumisade for being 'quite beautiful, but also very small.' Gella carried soft features and a stunted growth, never passing five feet in height. Because of this, she often caused confusion among neighbours, no one ever being able to guess her age.

Gella often wore clothes that were too big for her and was hardly seen without her favourite wolf pelt. Her hair matched the mousy brown fur and fall straight, reaching somewhere near her shoulder-blades. She had always been on the lighter side but at the time of her death, her skin was as pale as a ghost's.

PERSONALITY

For the most part, Gella was a respectful, selfless citizen. She took joy in helping others and would often disregard her needs, perhaps to a fault. It was a warm day in Lumisade if you didn't see her without a smile. Like Ismo, she was well liked, although some pessimists considered her to be fake. 

If she didn't agree with something, though, she wasn't afraid to put her foot down. Her tongue was sharper than razors and she was a pretty vocal member of her town. When she talked, people listened, because Gella was not a pushover.

HISTORY

Gella Bernthal is a Lumisade native. She was the middle child of five and the only daughter of her parents. Her father was a village leader and healer and as a result, she picked up a little medical knowledge from him. Gella never had the opportunity to pursue this further, however, as he wouldn't allow her.

Growing up with four brothers, Gella found that she did not enjoy playing with the other young girls in her community. Instead, she was a bit of a tomboy, wearing slacks underneath her dresses and getting muck under her fingernails. An older brother was best friends with one of the neighbour's sons, Ismo Dima. It was through him that they would initially associate but, as they grew older, they fell in love.

They were married and the young couple wanted to start a family immediately. However, this proved to be difficult. After three years, Gella finally made it through her first trimester (she had been pregnant a couple times before, but suffered miscarriages). Unfortunately though, this joy was short-lived. It wasn't long before an ice-demon claimed her as its own.

She continued to walk the earth without any symptoms, and the possession remained uncovered. During her child's birth, though, her body began to fail. She never recovered and Ismo was left to raise their daughter alone. What happened to the demon remains unknown.

RELATIONSHIP WITH EIRA

As she went quickly, Gella never got a chance to see her daughter before she passed. There have been times when Eira has wondered what life would be like if Gella was still alive; if she would have escaped Lumisade with them. These thoughts, though, are few and far between, and their relationship is non-existent otherwise.

[tannerabbitt]

Eira / Tanner | Call of the Wild

He was terrible at sewing. His stitching was all wrong, the loops too big in areas that needed to be tighter but Tanner couldn’t bring himself to care. Except threading a needle with fingers too small yet also too big tested his patience. It showed through in a wrinkle set between his brows, and focused eyes, two small lines that contributed to giving away his true age. Tanner just liked to do things for himself. Even if he was terrible at it, he wouldn’t give up and he surely wasn’t going to ask the women for help when he could figure out such a simple task.

The leather bottoms to his pants needed hemming. The notion in itself was strangely odd. Not thinking about wearing anything but the youthful face reflecting back to him in the lakes. His body felt larger today, breaking the small illusion that he was frozen in time. Where his twin brother would be grown, near forty years old now. He thought on him often as of late. In times of dosing by the water, near a tree that he still couldn’t jump from and make it to the lake. His eyes darted up to the offending object now and shared a look of disdain and flash of jealously at the branches. He would attempt that again later.

Tanner drew his tongue out, biting the edge of it as his focus fell back on the task at hand and tied the thread off with an intricate knot completely over necessary for the hem. Jumping proudly up he stood and glanced down, his bare feet wiggling under the soft leather and heels no longer treading his pants into the dirt.

All in all a success. In his book that is.

Finally turning his chin up to the lake the first rays of the sun peaked over the edge of the treeline warming his body and reflecting his eyes in an intense blue. A smirk drew from the corners of his mouth and up until his glance settled on the branches above his head. With a high pitched howl he leaped up and grabbed the lowest branch determined to make the jump. Maybe something eventful would happen today.

[dimaeira]

She sat on the water’s edge with her knees drawn to her chest, the sleeves of her dress balled into her fists. The Great Wash had come and gone but Eira still remained, although it had always been her intention from the start. It wasn’t the safest option, she’d admit, but she didn’t want to share the road. The amount of social interaction she received those few days were enough to last her a lifetime, and Eira needed some time alone. A fortnight on, though, and she hadn't budged.

The power of her parent element was far too strong. Sunshine cast down onto the lakes three to create mirrors, perfectly reflecting the greenery surrounding it. Torrents of water poured over ledges and into the pools below, Eira’s favourite sound, although she was never brave enough to venture close. She often worried that she might slip and fall, down onto rocks hard enough to crack her skull on the way down. And even if she survived, she’d probably drown, plunging too far and being unable to resurface. From where she was sitting, it was beautiful. But it was also brutal and terrifying.

From above, though, the water was so clear. It could have been from another dimension, just waiting for someone to enter it. It was certainly inviting enough, the Great Wash had proved that. But whenever Eira tried to dip her toe in, the cold would lick at her face and creep under her clothes, spreading through her skin like a lacy tide of a frigid beach. The ripples distorted and glazed over, locking her into her own, forbidding Winter’s child entry into the submerged kingdom.

Releasing her legs, she attempted for the umpteenth time. Eira poked out her tongue and bit down, hard, as she concentrated. She was sitting in the direct sun and although she couldn’t feel it, perhaps she could force a little warmth into her life. That never worked, though, and it wasn’t going to now. Defeated, she slumped her shoulders, resting her feet on a ring of ice.

[somesongsss]

Visit Original Link

[dimaeira]

First Floe // Part 1 // Eight Years Prior // Self

“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry it?”

“No, no. I can manage,” she replied, leaning forward in her seat and giving a lazy wave. A large pot, full to the brim, sat abandoned in front of her; Eira had made a mere ten paces before ditching it and collapsing into the nearest chair. How could water, pure liquid, become so heavy – and with so little, too? It was too much for her frail frame to handle and she did not want to shift it. Her eyes formed into slits as she stared it down, trying to will it to move; the brass chamber pot remained in its place. It was as if it was mocking her.

It was times like these she wished she was gifted. Maybe her life would be a little easier if she could move things with her mind, or any ability (she wasn’t picky). Eira didn’t see why not, considering she already carried and unusual appearance. She was fifteen years old, a third or so through her lifespan, and she had yet to see another human without colour. Even those with the fairest of hair and palest of skin couldn’t compare against her.

Eira knew, though, that she’d only use any unhuman skills to cut corners around the house. Whenever she joked about this to her father, his face would harden, the corners of his mouth twitching more than once. It always seemed as if something was troubling him and it rubbed her the wrong way, so in recent months she had learned to drop the subject.

Flaring her nostrils, she finally stood up, walking towards her foe. She readied herself, grasped the handle firmly with both hands and pulled up, however no amount of preparation was going to help her. She barely lifted the pot a few inches and she shuffled between feet; Eira wanted to just get to her destination and put it down again. Her arms were killing her! Ismo could only watch as his daughter scuffed past him and down the hall, leaving a watery trail behind.

Lifting it higher than her ankles was the worst. As soon as the water began to fill the tub, though, Eira felt the tension subside. She placed the pot down, beside the wooden crescent, and rolled her shoulders. The Dimas shouldn’t have had such a luxury in their small cottage, and Ismo paid a fortune for it, but at least they weren’t bathing in public. Eira had heard all sorts of stories from her father, from his days growing up in Lumisade. He had to stand in barrels, and there was a true possibility that the water would freeze on you.

 The true horror story, though, was that everyone saw everything.  The thought of being exposed like that truly frightened her. Only when she was alone... she pulled her arms out of her sleeves and slithered out of her dress, letting the light pink gown fall into a pile on the floor. She lifted her leg, cautiously dipped her toe in before jumping in all at once. The water was cold and exactly how she liked it.

Sucking in her cheeks, Eira pinched her nose and went under. If you asked her, she’d say that Spring baths were the best. In Winter, she had to use warm water, despite not wanting to. The townsfolk in Night Haven thought her odd enough (rich, coming from a misfit settlement), and she didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Then in Summer, she didn’t have a choice, as the sun’s rays always stood in her way. In the warmer months, she often felt like she was melting and no amount of rainfall could change that. Spring wasn’t her favourite season, sure, but it was the best for bathing. No wonder the Great Wash is then.

Maybe if she could freeze the water, she could keep it like this. But as everything began to harden around her, she realized something – maybe, she should be careful what she wished for.

[dimaeira]

ISMO DIMA || FACE CLAIM: JOHNNY DEPP

Age: 42 (deceased) Date of Birth: August 31 Member Group: Human  Occupation: Weaver and Tradesman Connection: Eira's Father

GENERAL APPEARANCE

A man of average height and build, Ismo wasn't anything special. His dark hair fell in waves at his shoulders, which compliments his fair skin. As he aged, his once strong features softened; he is said to have aged well. The spark from his youth could still be captured sometimes, although it is a 'blink and you'll miss it' event.

Having been brought up in the harsh, winter weather, Ismo never learned to dress for the warmer seasons. He maintained a short, Balbo-style beard and preferred long garments; he'd rather roll up his sleeves than be exposed. Because of this, you could always find sweat along his brow. Ismo was too stubborn to give into the weather.

PERSONALITY

From a young boy, Ismo was a social butterfly. He didn't show any skills in the expected areas, mostly because he was too afraid to try, but he had charm and charisma well beyond his years. He was also very playful and kind, and was a well-liked member of the community (particularly, among the ladies),

After the death of his wife, along with the threat on his daughter's life, his shell began to harden. He was still very much the gentleman but lost his fun streak; Ismo became very serious and would remain that way until his death. Eira became his life and, as a result, he gave up his.

HISTORY

Ismo Dima was born in a small settlement called Lumisade, located in the mountains of Finland. The youngest child out of seven (of which four survived infancy), he had a very tight-knit family. His father and eldest brother, both great hunters, were very influential in his younger years, but he was never fit to follow in their footsteps. 

It distressed his mother to see him so defeated, so she decided to show him how to weave. It was regarded as a women's profession in his village but Ismo found what he was good at; he decided to stick with it. He was more sensitive than the other boys his age and that's how he caught Gella Bernthal's interest. They had been neighbours their entire lives, but their relationship blossomed into something more.

They got married and after three years of trying to conceive, his wife fell pregnant. Unfortunately, she became the target of an ice-demon during her first trimester, however this was never discovered until the arrival. Gella's body failed during birth and Ismo could only watch as the demon fled her body and left her to die. Their daughter, whom was named Eira, was as pure as the freshly fallen snow.

However, the village healers saw the child as an abomination. They believed she would doom the township and wanted her killed. Not wanting to lose his child too, Ismo took Eira and left Lumisade. They travelled south until finally settling in Night Haven, a village in Athoria. Ismo remained there with his daughter until his death, twenty years later.

RELATIONSHIP WITH EIRA

To Eira, Ismo was the greatest man whoever lived. She looked up to him and he went to great lengths to protect her. Perhaps, this was taken a little too far, although neither of them realized - Ismo sheltered Eira from even the smallest things. This resulted in her not being prepared for adult life.

Like any father would be, he held great fears for his daughter's safety. The last thing Ismo wanted was a repeat of the past, while Eira feared the future. She couldn't even imagine a life without her father by her side, even though she knew it was inevitable. When he did die, after a bout of the plague, she was beside herself. Eira did teach herself to continue on but, to this day, she is still in mourning.

[dimaeira]

Port Alone // Three Years Prior // Eira + Shiloh

[shilohgarrett-blog]

Shiloh caught a rapid heartbeat. It was basic training for the wolf, that of hunting prey. Finding their scent rich on his tongue, clinging to his sinus’ until he found them bleeding under his powerful jaws. When the Ports were crowded Shiloh sometimes had a hard time separating the thumping drum of countless sheep running around. But not now. Something bled through the thousands of scents, that of fear. 

The wolf moved up the stairs with quick strides to stand upon the upper deck with a enormous crate upon his shoulders. His eyes fell on Winter, her small frame trembling slightly, and the pull of desperate breaths what looked to him as a panic attack. He dropped the big crate near the pair, and raised a brow at the woman who now smelled delicious even if he didn’t hunt humans. “You okay?” he said walking over to them with a concerned furrow and wrinkles around his eyes.

She wasn’t. That much was clear, and he had only been gone for a handful of minutes. Captain Hamming was a loud boisterous man, but he was kind. Though even this early the man enjoyed his mead and he was chatting ominously as if he hadn’t noticed her discomfort. The large wolf placed himself completely between them. Blocking the man from her view as he refrained from touching her, he nodded to the crate. ”Go ahead and look through it,” he said turning to distract the Captain. 

"You have a hole in your sail Captain. Winter here saw it as we were walking up. Observant woman, I can fix it later for you if one of your boys can’t," the wolf said offering a soft smile towards Winter hoping she was warming up to the idea of actually striking a deal with the large man. He didn’t know anything about wool, but he knew the Captain would want a good price for his wares. 

[dimaeira]

Come on, Eira. Breathe...  but it’s just so hard! ...no, breathe!

It was strange how something as simple as a conversation could twist her stomach; their walls seemed to be toppling inward and with no signs of stopping. The others must have been afraid, (or perhaps in awe) of this, as they soon began to follow suit. All her foundations were crumbling down and falling into a pit in the centre of her stomach. Eira tried to push against it. In the back of her mind, she knew it was just a bout of anxiety. But that thought had slipped her mind, just like every other time. She thought she was about to die.

Not even when Shiloh come around, did she feel ‘okay.’ She hadn’t given him a single ounce of reassurance when she suddenly turned away and began walking up the dock he had just arrived from. Eira tried to will herself into believing that he was fine, however her frantic steps betrayed her. Her side-strapped shoes made soft thuds with every stride, matching the beating of her own heart.

For reasons beyond her, the thought of strangers troubled her immensely. Even though the likelihood was low, she often imagined that her conversations wouldn’t end well. Either she would say or do something wrong and it all Hell would break loose; she’d offend someone or be misinterpreted and then it would all go downhill from there. From past experience, though, she usually just ended up embarrassed. Father would talk for her if he was around, and Eira encouraged him to do so often.

She reached the crate Shiloh had gestured to and she crouched down, her knees becoming trapped under the fabric of her dress. Although initially hesitant, she opened up the box. Eira couldn’t help but smile, for there it was – sheep’s wool, and in impeccable condition. Reaching into the box, she pressed her hand against it, her ivory hand camouflaging into the fleece. It looked fluffy enough but she was taken away by how soft it was. Oh, her father would love it; if only he could have been here.

[dimaeira]

Port Alone // Three Years Prior // Eira + Shiloh

[shilohgarrett-blog]

Shiloh rolled his eyes, scratching his head with his nails as her body language changed when he told her about him running packages. “You should, I do it for many people all over Athoria. Its another of my jobs, not something I do because I love it,” he said with a chuckle at her sudden interest in the boats. They were majestic. And the wolf was easily distracted by their grandeur size when they roped them onto the docks.

"And yeah, of course, lets go talk to the old drunk I am sure he will find seeing my face more than amusing," Shiloh said grabbing a few mini pies to eat while the walked to the ship. The docks were massive in the Ports. They had to be when ships were usually docked for a few days because of the long journeys ahead. Most ships came from all over the world. Bringing with them a variety of trade to Athoria but also a slew of new people Shiloh enjoyed getting to know. "Captain Hamming owned the first ship I ever unloaded in Athoria. He thought my size was passable compared to the others I work with surprisingly I am smaller than those brutes."

It was a true statement. Shiloh was tall and lean, but his crewmates were monstrous which they needed being human. Shiloh had the unfair advantage to being able to lift things way beyond that he should for his size. “Hamming thought he would pull a bet on me, said I couldn’t lift four women upon my shoulders. Lets just say he was wrong, and I won his captain’s chair as my prize. I sit on it still in my home under the docks. Amusing, but the man never makes bets against me anymore.”

The ship was beautiful in lighter woods, ornate decorations around the railings and masts, that popped with bright blues and silvers. Captain Hamming resided from Greece, his family crest that of the Lion was something Shiloh found amusing when the man finally strode out to greet him his massive blonde beard curled tight around his face and into his hairline always made the wolf picture him as one with a mane. “Morning,” Shiloh said firmly shaking the man’s hand, “this is Winter, she’s new to the Ports so no bets. I bet she would win as I had all those years before.” He said with a grin, earning him a large hand upon his shoulder and a hearty laugh from the man.

"I was wondering if you would let her see your wares before the hoard of people ready to throw their money at you did. I can start unloading the ship while you do," the wolf said walking on board the deck. Fixing a rope to keep a sail in place as he walked below to start pulling the crates up to the upper deck.

[dimaeira]

No matter how much he loved doing it, Shiloh still wasn’t getting her address. Eira was curious, though, whether he knew anyone from Night Haven. It didn’t seem likely; she had never heard his name uttered at home, not on the streets and certainly not from Father. But perhaps this was because she never had a reason to keep an ear out. She was just about to ask, her inquisitiveness getting the best of her, when he started again. So, Eira remained quiet, silently walking beside him once more.

She crinkled her nose as he began to stuff his pie-hole. The scent from the pastries carried with the sea breeze and rubbed Eira’s nostrils the wrong way; they smelled foul. She couldn’t wait until they were eaten, because then they’d be gone, and she also made a mental note: Eira needed to figure out how Shiloh stood the smell. There must have been something she was missing.

Despite nodding along, she only caught the last of his story (her mind had been elsewhere, after all). Captain’s chair? Really? Eira blinked. If she’d ever bet on something – emphasis on the ‘if’, she would never be so risky to bet her own property. She was not a gambler and never would be, she told herself.

The subject in her mind was dropped rather abruptly when she and Shiloh were greeted by a large man – Captain Hamming, she assumed. All at once, Eira retreated into herself again. What a shame it was, too; she had been doing so well! Struggling against her heaving chest, she barely managed to give the man a respectful smile. Talking was definitely out of the question, as she fought to calm her nerves.

[dimaeira]

There's No Place Like Home // Eira & Iris

[irisbeckett]

As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew that it was probably the dumbest question she could have come up with. In all her years, not even in Night Haven, had she ever come across another person who looked remotely like the pale girl she had grown up with. Of course, people talked about the existence of others like her, albinos they called them, but save for Eira, they were as mystical as the dragons and other such fairy tale creatures. She simply rolled her eyes at the girl’s response and closed the distance between them, giving her a playful smile. “‘Oh, hello’? We haven’t seen each other for two years now and all you can say is ‘oh, hello’?” She reached out to pull the woman into a tight hug before looping her arm with hers and guiding her away from the old house. “It’s so good to see you again! I was beginning to think that you’d forgotten all about us here in little ole Night Haven.”

The pair made quite the spectacle as they walked arm in arm, each one’s appearance making the other’s seem even more extreme in the side by side comparison. “I wish I could tell you all the exciting stories of things that have happened while you were gone, but you know how it is around here. Barely anything changes and that’s just the way they like it.” It was hard to hide the spring in her step as she walked along, the colorful folds of her skirt sweeping against the stark white of Eira’s own dress. “So what about you? What wonderful things have you been up to in the big city?”

[dimaeira]

“What else am I supposed to say? I’ve only just—“ she was suddenly cut off when Iris opened her arms, wide as she could, and enveloped Eira in a tight hug. The sudden squeeze knocked the wind out of her and she just stood there, unable to move. In her twenty-three years, she had never grasped the concept of physical contact; to this day she still flinched with every touch. Eira could only think of one exception and, naturally, that was her father.

It wasn’t that she was afraid, like her actions often implied. It had nothing to do with her preference for social preservation, either. No, the reason was much more complex: Eira just didn’t know what to do with her arms. Was she supposed to hug back, or just leave her arms by her side? Did she even need to be hugged at all? Iris certainly thought so and, with stiff actions, she slowly raised her arms and gave her former neighbour a returned embrace. That didn’t last long, though. Iris’ arm locked with her’s and she began forcing them backwards, to the main street. Eira twisted her head and looked over her shoulder one last time, at the house that was once her’s.

From the speed of her words and the off-beat of her step, it was clear that Iris was in a good mood. Eira found she had to adjust her own rhythm (something with wasn’t too pleased about), just to keep up with her. That being said, though, she didn’t mind the colourful girl pulling her along. Her personality was a little strong for her taste but Iris was tolerable enough. That may have been due to growing up with her, though. Iris was only two years younger than Eira and had always been around. If she had met her later in life, they mightn’t had gotten along. “You make it sound like I’ve been fighting dragons or doing other noble things,” She rolled her eyes and smirked. “I just weave wool, sell it to the seamstresses, and then repeat. It’s not ‘wonderful’, more modest than anything, but I enjoy it.” 

A thought popped in her mind - "I'll be going to the Great Wash, next week. Will you be there?"

[account-deadactivated]

[dimaeira]

Port Alone // Three Years Prior // Eira + Shiloh

[shilohgarrett-blog]

"Winter is a pretty name, and it’s only fitting if you feel like it is, right? Do you want me to call you by that name?” he said carrying both basket and barrel with ease, shifting them upon his tall shoulders as he glanced down at the younger woman. “I thought I told you, but it got a bit hectic didn’t it? Names Shiloh, deckhand, carpenter, and local for the Ports.” He laughed gently, the sea breeze blowing between them. It was beautiful today, the sun out surrounded in a cloudless blue sky, and the wolf was actually looking forward to spending the day in the nice weather. “So you will have some competition today for this wool just to warn you. After we unload the ship the owner will start auctioning off the goods to the other merchants. You up for the task? I think you can do it but if you can’t wave me down, Ill get you some.”

Shiloh parted the sea of carts and pressing crowds of people easily as they made their way to the docks. Ahead of them six large ships were docked, massive sails of every color snapped in the strong gusts of northern winds. The actual docks weren’t crowded though, only crew allowed around the ships to avoid a riot of sorts for goods, a few guards patrolled around the edge to keep the peace. Along the main road out was a line of carts, horses pacing and grazing along the edge of the road where the grasses grew taller as they waited for their wagons to be filled. It was always a sight to see in the morning, and Shiloh grinned ready for the chaos to explode around them further.

"Where are you from? You know, if this honestly is too much for you, I run packages all over Athoria. You just send me a letter with the information, and Ill pull it from the ship and bring it to you," Shiloh said nodding towards the guards to let them past, setting the barrel and basket of food near a work area. He flipped through the ledger quickly and smiled, glancing over at Winter. "You are in luck though, see that ship there, the one with the dark blue flag with the lion on it," he said pointing over her head to the third ship docked.

"That is the ship you want, but its also what all those people are waiting for," he said nodding towards the large line of merchants waiting by the ship. "I say you are in luck because I know Captain Hamming really well. He owes me a favor. You want to come on with me? I bet we can convince him to see his stock before all those other people do." The wolf finally allowed himself to really look at Winter. She was ridiculously beautiful and refreshingly different, though Shiloh never was one to judge anyone by their looks. He was a walking illusion, a powerful beast lurking under the surface of human skin that in a blink of an eye would shift and mold to that of his true face. A perfect united blend of man and Garou.

"What do you think?"

[dimaeira]

“It’s fitting enough; we’re both cold and absent of colour. And as cliché as that sounds, at least it’s not cruel.” She turned and craned her neck, to see him more clearly. He had to be at least a foot taller than her and she hadn’t had a chance to properly see him yet (she did, however, had a great view of the underside of his chin). That barrel of his, though, had always obstructed her view. Honestly, it was starting to frustrate her. Eira didn’t want to talk to a carton of ale; she wanted to talk to the man carrying it.

 He finally shifted it to his other shoulder, and the woman of white was coloured in a deep shade of meh. He was passable, with his fierce eyes and strong jaw-line. Some might even call Shiloh ‘pretty,’ if they tilted their head the right way and squinted one eye... maybe two? Uninspired, Eira looked forward once more. “I think I’ll be fine,” she replied. “I don’t like large crowds and rowdy behaviour – but when I’m doing things like this? I’m in my zone.” She smiled and released her hands from behind her, only to clasp them in front. Her arms were long, willowy, and a complete nuisance when she walked. She hated the way the dangled beside her, but most of all, the way they swayed with every step. Seriously, they were more trouble than they were worth.

Upon stepping onto the docks, though, she let them drop. This guided tour, despite getting off to a rocky start, had introduced Eira to many new things. Before today, she’d only heard descriptions. Now, she was walking along the docks, staring up at these ships. Look at them! They were far bigger than she pictured; she couldn’t help but gasp in awe.  “Hey,” she pointed as they walked by, “there’s a hole in that sail.” There was so much about boats that Eira didn’t understand, and she should have taken the opportunity to educate herself. She could have asked about the size, condition, anything – and that was what she went for? Well, one thing she couldn’t say was that she was surprised.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Hell would have to freeze over before she told a stranger where she lived. “I’d really appreciate if I could. It’d saved me a lot of trouble. And besides, I haven’t been on a boat before – if you couldn’t already tell.” Eira beamed, but then a troubling thought began to fester. Why was he going out of his way, just to help me?

[dimaeira]

Port Alone // Three Years Prior // Eira + Shiloh

[shilohgarrett-blog]

Shiloh hadn’t completely forgotten about the young woman, but he kinda had. She had just picked one of the worse days to come to his beautiful home. The wolf wrapped his arm around the barrel and grinned as a kiss landed on his cheek from someone passing by. “Spiced with cinnamon? I can smell it, the guys will love this,” he said grinning at the wave off by Art’s wife. The tavern extended most of the lower half of the Inn, but it was larger than most others in Athoria. Mostly because people were always coming and leaving the country.

A rowdy group of pirates from what sounded like Irishmen started singing a tune in the corner, and that was Shiloh’s ticket out of here. Once the Irish started singing everyone started singing, and Shiloh didn’t sing. Well, unless the mead was flowing happy that is. Eyes combing over the tavern he caught the new woman in the distance not looking thrilled to have him as her guide. Seemed fitting. Shiloh was good at taking orders and working but when it came to certain manners he was more beast or instinctive in that area. Things that needed to happen immediately or had jumped to the front of his mind tended to be resolved first. Verses taking the second to realize he had walked the young lady into the loudest building in Athoria today. 

"Jill!" Shiloh hollered over the crowd as beautiful brunette woman slipped by the window and into the crow. Damn. He really wanted a few pies too. The Garou ran over holding the barrel securely on his shoulder as he came up to his guest. "I didn’t get your name by the way. Pretty crazy in here right?" he turned to take in the room from her angle. Well best he could being six, three. "So Art owns this place, hes that wiry looking guy behind the bar. I tend to the building when I can, added the new booths last Spring. Keeps me busy, and money really isn’t an issue. I just want the place to be beautiful, ya know?"

Shiloh grimaced as the Irishmen started stomping their feet in tune to their drunken song. He leaned down and nodded towards the rowdy group. “We should probably go before they have us on the tables singing with them. Has happened to me on more than one occasion, its not a pretty sight. Let’s get you that wool right?” 

The wolf smiled brightly, and opened the door for her, “you know you picked the worse day to come to the ports. Every merchant is here today, all fighting for the latest goods coming from all the different ships. I think we have a ship from India today. Rumored silks I think? Who knows, I can’t keep tabs on what people buy, I just lift the shit off the boat.” He was rambling, hoping to keep her mildly distracted from the chaos around them when Jill finally crossed their paths by the door handing the wolf a basket of small pies for the crew, and walked away with a shake of her hip. Tease.

"That’s Jill, local baker, look at these pies!" he exclaimed breathing in the heavenly scent as he walked towards the docks. He peered over to the young woman, feeling his cheeks dot in red and lick behind his ears at his proclamation of food. Shiloh didn’t mean to get so excited but human food was the best thing he had received being a ronin. Shaking away his slight embarrassment he shrugged and offered a grin, "Ill give you a few if you want. Ok, right wool, you are here for wool and I am delaying. Lets go!"

[dimaeira]

Everything started happening at once, and Eira could only watch as he got caught up in it all. That, she realized, was her problem with the Ports – it was all go, go, go, and she liked to go at her own pace. The docks were a busy set and that was understandable; after all, the seas never sleep. But in the last five minutes, he had done five things, and that left Eira dizzy. He only stopped to point out things that she didn’t care about, and by the time she opened her mouth to speak, he was off again.

Furrowing her brow, she trailed behind him, nodding politely as he rambled on. She wasn’t particularly interested but had nothing interesting to say herself. So, she played along, hoping he wouldn’t realize she wasn’t listening. It wasn’t long until her mind wandered elsewhere – she thought that, by now, he would have said something about her looks. Most people did after the first few minutes, curious to know why she was so pale. ‘Are you sick? Cursed? Or are you going to curse me?’ were just a few of the questions she was asked. He hadn’t made a single comment, though. Not even a strange look, either. Eira liked that.

After mulling it over, she finally spoke. “Winter,” she said, referring to a statement made in the bar. “They call me Winter. Fitting, isn’t it? You know, I never caught your name either.”

[dimaeira]

Port Alone // Three Years Prior // Eira + Shiloh

[shilohgarrett-blog]

Shiloh took a few steps back, chuckling at her retort. “I do not have a seedy grin! blegh,” he said shaking his head glancing over his shoulder to see the last of the ships come in. “I throw those kinds of people out kid. There are only a few of us who actually live here. I mean have you looked around at all? Its small but its pretty beautiful in my opinion, good people.” He mused to himself mostly. The thoughts of this actually being his home always surprised him when he least expected it too.

He waved to a few people, and turned all the way when a few merchants from Brailston walked by. “Hey! Last ship, just came in. Ill meet you over there. Give me a few,” he said quickly waving them away just as he picked up her apology. What a strange girl. Not that the Ports aren’t overwhelming, they are to anyone under his height, but the wolf knew almost everyone who came here and she was a new face. He sighed gently.

The light cast more on her now that he had removed himself from her exit, and he paused a breath to take in her pretty face. She could use a meal in his opinion. Shiloh clapped his hands, wearing another smile. “You really don’t have to apologize. Look, I need to grab some ale for the docks. We’ve been working all day and need some. Do you want to come with me into the Inn then Ill take you down to the docks? We can check the roster and see what boat might have your stuff on it.”

The Ports Inn was a constant hub of people from all over Athoria and other distant lands. It was loud, but cozy. Always warm with a fire, and open windows to let in the sea breeze. Blue glass stones hung on a few of the buildings and Shiloh always found himself poking them as he walked by to see the reflected light dance across the cobblestones. The buildings in the ports were built with love. Hardy, and sturdy. Sea aged woods and colors of navy and white. Shiloh actually liked that there were only four or five families that lived and worked the area. Made him think of Awre where he grew up.

"Come on, Ill be quick. Stay close, everyone knows me well so they tend to part the ways for my handsome face," he joked lightly, never actually good at telling one. The wolf strolled quickly into the Inn right next to the alleyway, not looking to see if the woman had followed or not and grabbed a large barrel from the back of the bar. "Art! This is for the boys, the coin’s in the back," he said placing the heavy barrel upon his shoulders with ease.

[dimaeira]

Don’t you think I should breathe, first? Eira thought, shaking her head. As lovely as the Ports were, with their grand boats and grey bridges, it hadn’t had time to soak in. Her mind was on other things, like remembering to breathe; her top priority was her task at hand. Leaving father at home, unsure if he’d be okay, was heartbreaking. Even with the neighbour’s watch, her fear never quelled. Ismo wasn’t going to be around forever – he was in his forties, after all (Eira had trouble remembering age, with all these supernaturals running around). It had already been a few days. But if she got back swiftly, and he received his will, maybe she could lift his spirits high enough to heal him.

At least the man was who he claimed. The others approaching him were enough confirmation; she recognized them as merchants from the capital. What really sealed the deal, though, was the way he spoke of his town. You could always tell someone’s home by the way they talked about it; what would start as a simple description turned into a reflection in a matter of seconds. While that never happened for her, regarding Night Haven (she felt a bigger connection to Brailston), his speech had been pretty convincing. That didn’t mean she trusted him, though.

She brought a hand to her face as he stepped aside, the sudden sun blinding her. First, he cornered her, and now he’s going to the inn? Well, if she wasn’t as bad as she thought, his actions certainly wasn’t helping. Sighing for the thousandth time today, she dropped her arm. She blinked to adjust her eyes, and then began to follow the man. Eira had never been to a tavern before, and she didn’t want to go now. It didn’t seem like she had a choice, though.

When he turned around, she caught sight of a peculiar marking on his back. What is that? As she followed him, Eira tilted her head and studied the scars on his sun-spotted skin. Smack bang in the centre was a dent, about as large as her hand; it was accented by three lines that didn’t seem to end. “Interesting scars,” she remarked, once she was inside. She still kept her distance; Eira knew better than to get any closer.

[dimaeira]

Port Alone // Three Years Prior // Eira + Shiloh

[shilohgarrett-blog]

Shiloh’s laugh rang out over the railings of the largest ship docked. The ports had six ships in today and they were beyond busy. But the crew of hardy men only continued to eat their food along the docks as the hustle of the merchants carried on around them. The wolf sat bare less a pair of cropped tan leather shorts no matter the weather. The sun had dotted his skin into a constellation of freckles which always amused him to no end when his healing should have taken care of the sun damage. 

"Listen, I am not kidding you. Shiloh brought back an entire bear. Threw that shit onto Ed’s table to be butchered but didn’t tell the old man. Next thing I know, Ed’s screaming about a bear in his house and I charge in ready to kill the fucker and its already dead!" One of his crew mates reenacted the story which caused another loud chorus of laughs from the men.

Shiloh only shrugged feeling shy now that the focus was on him. It was moment’s like this that made him think back on his pack. Always the butt end of the joke because he was the youngest wolf, but he didn’t usually mind if it ended with them smiling. It was a willing sacrifice. Usually thoughts on his pack sucked the life out of him sometimes, but today he was determined to keep his chin high.

"Ok, shut up, I’m off for some ale. Ill bring some back!" he said with a shout of ‘aye’s’ from the rowdy group. The wolf rolled his eyes, they were good men but they tested his patience in the best of ways. Walking quickly through the crowds, his towering height easy to part the sea of people. He walked the familiar path towards the Inn. Just as he passed the alleyway he caught an interesting scent and took a step back to see a young woman looking to be a little overwhelming. 

"Hey," he said hoping to not startle her out of her skin. His smile was warming and brightened his face as he looked around realizing that he was blocking her exit. "Shit, I’m not trapping you, just um, you ok? I work in docks you here for a pickup?" 

[dimaeira]

There wasn’t much light coming into this lane, but it was still enough to notice its absence. A shadow loomed over her and when it spoke, Eira nearly jumped out of her skin. Just like that, she was back to square one. She pushed herself against the stone walls, clasped her hands in front of her and tried to will the fear awake. She was shaking, just like Father was at home – maybe he was right; Eira wasn’t ready for a solo outing. The journey alone had been enough to prove that and now she was about to be jumped by some stranger.

She shut her lids and took a long, shaky exhale, before opening them again. Her arctic eyes shifted towards the unfamiliar person in front of her. The sun’s rays reflected behind him, making his front mostly shadow. If Eira squinted, though, she could make out some features. “You say you’re not trapping me,” she breathed, “yet you are blocking my path. You’re also only half-dressed and have a seedy grin plastered on your face. So forgive me if I’m not convinced.” She slowly brought herself to a stand, but her position remained stiff. If he stepped any closer, he was going to get a knee-full.

Wait – didn’t he say he worked at the docks? Maybe he could help me find this wool. And then I’ll get the daylights out of here. As much as she didn’t want to, Eira immediately apologized. “Sorry. It’s just that I’ve never been here before, and I’m a little apprehensive." She pressed her lips again and rolled her shoulders. "My father sent me to purchase some wool. He believes the imported stuff is of a higher quality to Athorian hide.”

[stephaniemaguire-blog]

STELLE LIKES POWERS — ice manipulation [ʌɪs məˌnipyˈlāSHən] 

(n.) the ability to manipulate ice.

Ice manipulation, commonly referred to as cyrokinesis, doesn’t stand much on it;s own - a subpower to water bending, users play with it’s frozen state. These generally come in the form of snow, hail, icicles, spikes and candles. However, there are some instances where an ice manipulator can manipulate cold, by reducing the kinetic energy of atoms. Ice manipulators are divided into two distinct groups, depending on their preference. Regardless, the method is the same - the power is generally more defense based, due to it’s form. Most users would create armour with ice, rather than attack with it. 

Cyrokinectics are rather sorrowful creatures. Plagued with predispositions of anxiety and depression, they are usually insecure and afraid of others. To justify this, they tend to distance themselves. They believe that if they deconstruct their personality and disregard their emotions, they will never be hurt. Ice manipulators are very independent and don;t mind being shut off from the community - the cold never bothered them anyway.

A user’s main concern is usually the amount of moisture available, as they are limited to already existing sources. If located in a dry area, their powers may be rendered useless. Ice also, naturally, melts under extreme heat; manipulators of fire and magma can be trouble. Sound-based powers are also a perfect counter, vibrations are almost impossible to freeze and can cause ice to shatter. These user’s worst enemy, however, is themselves. Negativity is a powerful thing. This, tied with irrational fears, can be disasterous. If not careful, an ice manipulator could shut themselves out and be lost forever.

[dimaeira]

There's No Place Like Home // Eira & Iris

[irisbeckett]

Iris stepped out into the sunshine and spun around, arms outstretched and head hung back, basking in the warm glow that had been so evasive for so many months. Spring had been trying to conquer the winter chill for a few weeks now and today marked the day that spring began to win the battle. She left her heavy patchwork coat in her room, but she was still covered from neck to toe with clothes of her own creation, making sure her cloth gauntlets and lacy choker were secure to hide the scars that littered her pale flesh. She was so happy that she felt about to burst, but instead she strolled down the street, throwing in the occasional cartwheel that sent her skirt in a flourish of color around her legs. However, no one seemed to notice or care about her antics. Their focus was on something else that turned out to be a someone else from what she could glean from their hushed whispers. A thought popped into her mind about who it could be. After all, Iris turned heads everywhere with her strange choice of clothes and hair color, but most everyone in Night Haven had grown accustomed to the sight and knew that her appearance was by choice. As she wound through the streets, the words she kept hearing over and over were “unnatural” and “white”. There was only one person she could think of that would make her seem completely normal to rest of them.

She followed the main street from the small market area, away from Thirst, to where many of the houses had been built, using the wide-eyed stares of the people she passed as her guide to find the mystery person that had everyone in such a tizzy. Through alleys and side streets, the girl that boasted every color searched for the one who had none. Finally, she turned a corner and found the pale woman standing outside of her old home, peering in through the window at its current occupants with a look that Iris recognized and knew all too well. It was a little surreal to see the woman who was as white as a ghost back in Night Haven, not having seen hide nor hair of her since she’d left more than two years ago to pursue bigger and better things in the capital. But things hadn’t changed all that much since then, had they?

"Eira? Is that really you?" she asked, not knowing what else to say to the woman that practically glowed in the midday sun.

[dimaeira]

 “I surely hope so.” Her voice seemed far away. “I wouldn’t want to be anyone other than myself. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t know what to do.” She lingered on her former home a little longer, when it suddenly occurred to her that she was not alone. Her whole body twitched; she took in a sharp breath and took off her nostalgia goggles. Who was that, or more importantly, how long had they been here? Had they seen her staring through the window? No doubt, words of Eira’s creepy antics would spread like disease, and then what? She had already been stared enough to last a lifetime; the last thing she wanted to do was to add fuel to the fire.

Turning her head, Eira scanned the road for a certain face. It was astonishing to her how, even after years of being away, she could still put two and two together. Then again, this was no Average Joe she was looking for; in fact she was quite the opposite. Upon finding her, the corners of Eira’s lips curled ever so upward. “Oh, Iris. Hello.”

Iris and Eira – one could be mistaken for mixing the two together. They had quite a couple things in common; they were both Night Haven natives and around the same age. The similarities, though, stopped there. Iris was bold, in both looks and spirit. She took charge of her life and had fun with it too; there were many times Eira had heard about her daring antics. Her hair colour seemed to change with the weather, varying in vibrant shades, and her choice of dress was a little unusual. If you needed to, you could spot her a mile away.

But unlike her comparison, this all was Iris’ choice. It was an expression of personality and a clear demonstration of who she was. Eira didn’t have that luxury, not with this white-washed form. Sometimes, she wondered what her life would be like if it had a little colour.