. ✧ . * . ˚ ━━ ｢ ANGELA BABY, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER. ｣ welcome NEVE OBERA, the FASHION DESIGNER of THE SPRING COURT, to velaris! it is well known that the 30 / 530 year old HIGH FAE is LOYAL and ALTRUISTIC. it is a lesser known fact that they are also DISCONTENTED and SECRETIVE. however, it is DARKNESS SEEPING INTO A ONCE BRIGHT HEART, A SUNNY SMILE DIMMED BY THE REALITIES OF WAR, MEMORIES THAT DRIVE A PERSON TO THE BRINK OF MADNESS and YEARNING FOR BYGONE DAYS that truly define who they are. in the shadows, their alliance with PRYTHIAN makes them a force to be reckoned with. truly, who knows what to expect of them. cauldron save them, mother hold them. ｢ OOC LEIGH, 25, EST, SHE/HER, ｣
STATS.
FULL NAME: NEVE ENA OBERA
PLACE OF BIRTH: WINTER COURT
AGE: 30 IN APPEARANCE / 530 IN ACTUALITY
SPECIES: HIGH FAE
OCCUPATION: FASHION DESIGNER
SEXUALITY: HETEROSEXUAL
GENDER / PRONOUNS: CISGENDER WOMAN (SHE / HER).
STATUS: UNMARRIED / UNMATED
ALLEGIANCE: PRYTHIAN / HERSELF
FAMILY: JASNAH OBERA (BIRTH FATHER, DECEASED, NPC), VIDA OBERA (BIRTH MOTHER, DECEASED, NPC)
FACECLAIM: ANGELA YEUNG WING
HEIGHT: FIVE FOOT THREE.
EYES: DARK BROWN
HAIR: BLACK, OFTEN WORN OUT OF HER FACE IN HALF-UP, HALF-DOWN STYLES FASHIONED WITH HAIR PIECES
TATTOOS, MARKINGS, SCARS: A DARK SCAR ACROSS HER RIBS RECEIVED DURING THE WAR, OTHER SMALL SCARS LITTERING HER BODY BUT TYPICALLY HIDDEN BY GLAMOUR.
VOICE: SOFT BUT CRISP, SELF-ASSURED
ALIGNMENT: TRUE NEUTRAL
POSITIVE TRAITS: LOYAL, ALTRUISTIC, KIND, CREATIVE, PERCEPTIVE
NEGATIVE TRAITS: SECRETIVE, DISCONTENTED, RESENTFUL
BIOGRAPHY.
tw: parental death, blood, injury.
When their daughter was born in the middle of the worst blizzard the winter court had seen in half a decade, Jasnah and Vida Obera believed it to be a good omen – a blessing from the cauldron and the gods that had long watched over their homeland, a sign that Jasnah’s years as a warrior and Vida’s years of fervent prayer were being rewarded. They named the baby Neve – radiant snow – in recognition of the honor.
Neve’s childhood was a relatively happy one, cherished as she was by parents who had tried and failed to have children many times before her birth and adored as she was by the lesser fae who served in her family’s manor. She was the sort of child who sparkled. Quick to laugh, she rambled through the winter court with rosy-cold cheeks and bright eyes, soaking up the beauty to be found in the land and others’ hearts. She had no siblings but developed a closeness with her friends and servants that could only be described as familial, offering them kind words, a shoulder to lean on, someone to help shoulder life’s burdens. She saw all fae as equal and as such was just as likely to be seen frolicking in the halls of some noble lord’s manor as she was to be caught riding piggy-back through the snow on the shoulders of Gala, the child of an okeanide her father befriended during a battle years before her birth.
Things changed when her mother, a seamstress, was granted an official position within the winter court, a role designing and crafting fashions for the high lord and his family. The Oberas were suddenly front and center in ways they had not been before, and Neve’s prior independence was much more limited. She began to carry herself differently, reserving her truths and compassion for those she could trust, and though she still sparkled, she no longer ran barefoot through snow banks with lesser fae – her father would not allow it, eager as he was to continue climbing the proverbial ladder.
Over time, Neve began to assist her mother in her work. Her skills with needle and thread were impeccable for one so young, her eye for detail and style unmatched, and all this was aided even more so by her glamouring ability. Neve’s illusions were powerful, able to fool nearly anyone, and she rarely found herself drained by her efforts. This, her mother believed, was the blessing the cauldron had decided to bestow upon her daughter.
Neve thrived. Her creations soon outshone her mother’s, and fae from across Prythian came to the winter court to have themselves fitted for her designs. She made sure their travel was worth the effort, carefully selecting fabrics, cuts and furs that fit both their personality and their natural coloring. It was the happiest time in her life, not least because she had fallen in love.
It was an all-encompassing, obsessive kind of love, forged between two people who knew it must remain secret. High though she and her family had risen, Neve was not so foolish as to believe that love between herself and Kardan could lead to anything more than heartbreak given his father’s apparent determination to control every aspect of his son’s life. Still, she clung to the secret, hidden moments they managed to carve out, blushing and full of adoration. She would have been happy to continue on in that way for years, cherishing their quiet moments, but then the war came – and with it, loss.
Jasnah Obera was the first to die. Her father, a warrior whose skills she had never doubted, was cut down during one of the earliest battles, left to bleed out in a field somewhere she couldn’t even name. It fractured something in Neve, who, at that moment, decided that she could not sit on the sidelines and do nothing. She joined the fight herself, using her glamouring ability to hide soldiers from view, disguising them so that they could invade enemy camps without rousing suspicion. She learned first aid and administered it to injured warriors whenever she could, blood soaking through dresses of fine silk and thick fur, leaving both her hands and heart stained.
She did not consider deeply what she was fighting for – to her, the deeper meaning of the war was a far-off ideal that didn’t concern her – rather, she thought of who she was fighting for: men and women like her mother and father, children who had no concept of right and wrong. And so, she served, brilliantly, until, one day, she was caught.
Neve’s memories of what happened that day on the battlefield are somewhat foggy now, dimmed by time and distance, but her life was forever changed.
All she once knew was taken from her, and she found herself in a new, strange place she did not understand, alone and frightened with no familiarity or comfort, no promise that she would ever return home. She grieved and raged, heart and mind thrown into confusion and turmoil, constantly torn between a longing for home, for her love to come and rescue her, and an acceptance that this was the end of everything.
When she finally escaped that darkness, Neve made herself a new home in the spring court, a place that was so different from her home that she at once hated and adored it. There, she did not feel so acutely out of place. There, she was not reminded of all she’d lost or what she was missing. There, she could rebuild.
And rebuild she did.
She has carved out a place for herself in the spring court, taking on the role that had once belonged to her mother, outfitting nobility in the finest fashions, sure to impress even the most snobbish of customers. And though she feels stuck, almost out of place in time, constantly mourning the loss of years she cannot get back, Neve is trying. It is all she can do.
