Despite the stifling air of Ulthwé stagnating around Aelinor Fatereader to the point of suffocation, one thing the Farseer would never deny her Craftworld is that they knew how to throw a sophisticated gala like no other. So one explorers night, tired of the buffeting rain in her scrunched-up face, Aelinor sought out the creature comforts she had missed.
There was to be a soirée of some importance, governors and traders and aristocrats of a particular sector were to gather together for a masquerade in which icy repartees, offers of marriage and expensive wine were to be thrown around with a gluttons disregard. It was easy enough to bluff a way in, a typical Aeldari beauty at a masquerade posing as an exotic fortune teller had delivered her to the centre of a ballroom and from there she took in the sights and sounds of high human society.
It was a pleasant enough change of pace to be dressed well, and not for the road and Aelinor was not modest in her choice of outfit. A blue gown framed her tall form resplendently, a gift from a prospective suitor in days gone by. With decorative jewellery that appeared to be bone coloured flutes of enamel detailing but were in fact, a modest rune armour, coupled with a mask that rose high up her cheekbones like the feathers of a phoenix- complete with her phoenix firey hair that was braided and embellished to a stunning effect.
For once, she allowed herself to feel beautiful but did not relax so much as to forget the Shuriken Pistol that was concealed by her dress. Then, a human approached, a short thing by comparison but with similarly made-up hair, mask and dress.
"My greetings." She offered in lightly accented Gothic. "And who might you be?"
A commission of @queerwonder OC Aelinor, a young eladrin elf cleric druid duel class. I hope you have a great campaign with her this was a lot of fun to do :)
"Do you remember the intervention on Maxentious IV?" Aelinor snapped the twig she had been fiddling, throwing it into the roaring campfire quite idly as she reminisced.
"Hmm?" Rishaeron looked up from his task, his brow furrowed and head shaking. "I can't say that I do." The rasp of the whetstone against metal began again.
Aelinor drew her knees closer to her chest and held them close as Virtute snored by the warmth of the fire beside her.
"It was one of my first commands. Of course, I had been in battle before and on the Seer Council for many years, but I had never truly led a battle as its sole commander."
Rishaerons uncomprehending face urged her to be less coy about the memory. The even glide of the stone against his dagger was the only noise besides the fire and had a meditative, measured quality to it. Rasp. Rasp. Rasp.
"For goodness sake, Ranger. A tzeentchian cult had influenced the leading Imperial household, and they had intentions to summon Daemons..."
"Oh. Yes. I do remember." Rishaerons' memory was not perfect, but he remembered well enough the light fighting that he and his Rangers had committed to in Ulthwés defence. He resumed sharpening his dagger.
"Do you remember how the Governor died?"
"Well, yes. I shot him." The Ranger said obtusely. Aelinor tutted and rolled her eyes, Gods could he be foolish.
"I recall you doing more than that, Rishaeron." Aelinor scoffed softly. "If I remember correctly, you delivered the killing shot from that same Rifle while cartwheeling from one rooftop to another." She gently tapped Fatethreader with her index finger, and the myriad charms and knick-knacks rattled against the Wraithbone.
Rishaeron's eyes lit up in sudden remembrance.
"Oh! Yes! Indeed, I do remember." He had forgotten the finer details of the kill, but Aelinor's recollection brought it back to the fore. "Why do you bring it up?"
Aelinor leant back, resting her weight on her palms she petted Virtute who chirped happily in response.
"I would very much like to see it again. Tomorrow, we will try."
Rishaeron knew better than to argue when Aelinor Fatereader told him the plans for the future. She might not be a Farseer in name anymore, but the Aeldari had a wonderful talent for predicting their immediate future.
"Very well, at first light, then." Rasp. Rasp. Rasp.
"Rishaeron?" She gazed into the crackling fire, her voice pensive. The whetstone stopped as the Ranger looked up, at last.
"I am sorry I was not good to you. To Eldrin. I wish to be better, to be the...friend you deserve. Thank you, for being my companion."
The dagger slid back into the sheath on his Wraithbone arm and Rishaeron moved to join Aelinor on her log. He wrapped his remaining arm over her shoulder like a shawl and Aelinor stiffened at the touch, unused as she was to any kind of physical contact from others. Gently, affectionately, he squeezed.
"Aelinor, you are one of the wisest, kindest and most patient people I have ever had the luxury of knowing." He playfully shoved his former commander hard enough to throw her off balance and disturb the Gyrinx.
"But you are impressively foolish, with regards to friendship. We've been friends for many years, you just won't allow yourself to see what you bring to the table. Myself, Eldrin, the Corsair Princess. We all see you, and we all consider you a friend." The words were a balm to the constant anxiety Aelinor felt, and words she needed to hear. Despite the particular emphasis that Rishaeron put on Corsair Princess sent pin pricks of tingling nerves to her cheeks.
"Even if you wish you were more than friends with one of us." Aelinor gasped, shocked at the implication as her cheeks and ears burned red with embarrassment.The Ranger laughed the shit-eating cackle of little brothers spilling secrets all over the universe, before he turned over and feigned going to sleep. Leaving Aelinor to mortify before the fire until it was naught but embers.
She had never truly thought of it, but Rishaerons observation shone a light on something she had never acknowledged before. Too stunned to speak and too dumbfounded to sleep, a vortex of repressed feeling buzzed inside her until morning came at last.
Her and Rishaeron must be good friends, she reasoned at last. Because she had never been more annoyed at a person for being so right. The little bastard.
Aelinor Llacharni. (Later Fatereader) The Self-Exiled Seer.
Personality: Outwardly, Aelinor is the perfect stereotype of a Farseer, calm, even and an ocean of tranquillity in a universe of madness and unpredictability. Inwardly however, she harbours doubts about her skill, place, worth and personhood that she would never speak out loud. Below the training and veneer of professionalism is a curious person still at the start of their life, she is witty and observant and kind and secretly affectionate- all traits that a Farseer from Craftworld Ulthwé is best thought to hide from the world. But with time and travel, glimmers of who she really is, and what she really wants, begin to show.
Physical traits: 6'11. Demisexual. Green eyes, pale skin that is dotted by freckles in warmer weather. Tall, slim, athletic, and a better swordsman than she gives herself credit for. Long, auburn hair that would touch her back if she ever wore it outside of the high ponytail she usually keeps it in.
Biography. (In brief.)
The last daughter of a minor Ulthwéan house, Aelinor Llacharni is a person of irritatingly average influence and talent. Too noble for a civilian life but too unimportant for politics. Too talented with the runes for battlefield command but too inexperienced for any influence on the Seer Council. Too cautious for any decisive action, but too undisciplined for more responsibility.
And so the life of Aelinor was one of little consequence. Days and nights were spent in the Dome of Crystal Seers, debating the best future of Ulthwé in her prophetic visions that would ultimately be ignored and fighting minor military campaigns that were below the attention of Eldrad Ulthran and Farseer Taldeer.
Until one day, a streak of recklessness took her, and she left Ulthwé to see the universe. Travelling first with former Head Ranger Rishaeron Wayfinder, and now by herself, she seeks to learn about the universe and herself along the way.
Allies:
Eldrin Shadewalker, an old guide, mentor and confidant that fought by her side and protected her often at the cost of his own body.
Rishaeron Wayfinder, friend, teaching her to survive outside the Craftworld, travelling companion, co-adoptee-gyrinx-carers of Virtute.
Nenime Arenan, first met as part of a lost ritual duel, the dashing Corsair Princess is a source of aspiration for the Farseer. In the Iyabresili, Aelinor sees the freedom, excitement and independence that she always wished she had herself.
Rishaeron, Aelinor and Eldrin with little notes inbetween,
Compassion: 5/10. 4/10. 8/10.
Bitterness: 8/10. 6/10. 3/10.
Rishaeron is the only one of the three to still carry a grudge. (Against an Ork Shaman that killed his original Rangers.)
Happiness: 7/10. 6/10. 5/10.
Politeness: 7/10. 5/10. 9/10.
Chivalry: 7/10. 3/10. 7/10.
Pride: 8/10. 6/10. 4/10.
If asked what or who they were by a stranger, only Rishaeron would first describe his best and most proud qualities.
Honesty: 7/10. 3/10. 9/10.
Aelinor is not actively deceptive, but has not mastered the ability to be honest with herself. What she wants, and for why are things that elude her only because she isn't totally honest with herself.
Bravery: 9/10. 7/10. 6/10.
Recklessness: 9/10. 7/10. 2/10.
Ambition: 3/10. 8/10. 2/10.
While not seeking power or influence in a traditional sense, Aelinor seeks to be more than she is right now, for better or for worse.
Loyalty: 8/10. 6/10. 9/10.
Love: 8/10. 5/10. 8/10,
Only Rishaeron has experienced both romantic and platonic love, Eldrin has felt strong platonic love for many and Aelinor wishes hard to feel either but hasn't had the experience yet.
Sense of family: 7/10. 2/10. 5/10.
Eldrin and Aelinor both have professional ties with their peers, Aelinor could only tenuously call the other two family.
Attractiveness: 7/10. 8/10. 3/10.
Not accounting for confidence, of course. Swap Rishaeron and Aelinor if demeanour counts.
Agility: 9/10. 8/10. 3/10.
Sex drive: 7/10. 6/10. 1/10.
Rishaeron is a happy flirt, and quite sex positive. Eldrin is a comfortable asexual and poor Aelinor is a hopeless romantic demisexual with little to no experience.
Thanks for the tag, @witches-and-weirdos! I'd like to tag:
Her chambers were much the same as any other upon the back of venerable Ulthwé, but her office afforded her a better view than most of the Aeldari residing on her home. She had been spending more
and more time in her modest chambers of late, making excuses to the Seer Council about this or that so her un-attendance wouldn't be noticed. Aelinor knew they saw through it however, they saw everything; and there in lied the problem. The great existential threats to Ulthwé were dominated in the Sight and Debate chambers by the likes of Eldrad Ulthran meaning the few insights that she provided the floor were small by comparison and often handed to a single Aspect Shrine or her own humble forces to deal with. It was endlessly frustrating to have spent so long on such a difficult Path to become only a small voice amongst dozens of others like herself and there was little she could do about it.
She removed the necklace-like Rune Armour from her frame and carefully placed it upon a sculpted Wraithbone mannequin before pulling her hair free from its high ponytail with a sigh of both relief and ennui. She crumbled into the chair at her desk and watched the civilian craft fly to-and-fro like dragonflies at night, ruminating upon the conversation with Nenime about her future. The Corsair was right, but doing what was right was never as easy as saying what was right to her. Life was compromise in the halls of the Crystal Seers and that was all life had become to Aelinor Fatereader for years.
She stood, quickly and sharp like a puppeteer had picked up her strings and compelled her to move. Then she was rummaging frantically through drawers and closets until she found robes more practical than her more ceremonial Farseer clothes, then a leather pack similar to ones a Ranger would carry her supplies in. Finally, a Shuriken Pistol and Witchblade sheathed and holstered completed the somewhat casual ensemble.
Aelinor took a steady breath, she had never been good at rashness or spontaneity and a tingle of nerves crept into her gut and fingertips at the thought of what came next. Packed up and ready like the runaway she was, she took the long walk toward the nearby spaceport with access to the Webway for lone travellers and Outcasts.
To her surprise, as well as guilt, a familiar face waited for her at the spaceport.
"Aelinor!" Eldrin beckoned her over with a wave through the moving crowds. No. No, no, no. He was here to stop her, the Seer Council knew her mind and sent an old familiar face to talk her
down from such thinking. Gods, what could she say to him?
"My friend-" Eldrin began, before Aelinor cut him off.
"Please, Eldrin, I cannot be convinced to stay. I have to do this." She expected admonishment, a reminder of her duty. Instead came the tender touch of a grandparent she never knew upon her shoulder.
"You misunderstand my purpose here, I only wished to say goodbye before you started upon your new path." He reassured, the crows feet around his eyes creasing further with his kind smile.
"I-" She was surprised and quite touched, by his words and by his actions. It seemed the Sight was not necessary for one such as Eldrin to know her intentions, however secret. He was perceptive like that. Patient and wise and thoroughly taken for granted until this very moment Aelinor realised how much she depended upon his presence. She threw her arms around the Spiritseer and brought him in tightly for a hug. Many in the spaceport seemed shocked at such an outward display of affection, but she did not care. Her first step towards being a new Aelinor would be an honest one.
"Thank you, Eldrin." She said into his ear, before releasing him from her embrace. "For everything. For guiding me, protecting me and helping me all these years with so very little in return. I couldn't have done it without you beside my side." She felt the blurry lens of tears over her eyes and a quiver in her voice as she spoke, but ever humble the Spiritseer simply took her hand and spoke evenly.
"Of course you could have." He smiled wide like a proud parent. "And you will do this too. I hope the universe you see is what you are looking for." He released her hand and looked at her one more time, studying her face as if committing the details to memory. Her blue eyes, ginger mane and smattering of freckles that peppered her pale skin. Satisfied, Eldrin smiled again.
"Now go." He gave her a little push toward the Webway Gate and began a slow march back towards his own habitation, his wooden Witchstaff clacking loudly on the ground as he went.
Buoyed by the moment, Aelinor shouted back with a wave:
"I'll bring you the best tea I can find, Spiritseer!"
Adrenaline, nerves and excitement mixed as she turned to face the Webway Gate. She took one final, calming lungful of Craftworld Ulthwé air and walked through the gate to a new start.
Aelinor Fatereader, as commissioned by @Virlandil on twitter. An amazing and very patient artist that I couldn't be happier with, 😊 Meet my Farseer everyone! 🎉