Post by yukiepants on Jul 3, 2023 19:43:08 GMT -5
This is a bit of a work in progress, but HEY!
Name: Serafina “Fina” Greene
Race: “Alchemical hybrid pwca nerd.” She and her brother Jeremiah have three ancestry roots - fae, youma, and human. (Pwca families often straddle the ideological fae-youma semi-divide.) Their human ancestor may well be Mordred, son of Morgan. Both her fae and youma ancestry are from nocturnal clans.
Age: 23; her birthday is February 2nd. She’s ten minutes younger than Jer. He makes a big deal out of this, mostly to tease her.
Height: 4’10’’
Weight: 165lbs or so (though it can vary as she shapeshifts)
Appearance: Short and stocky, zaftig and muscular, moon-faced and bright-eyed. Fina’s got an expressive visage and even more expressive pointed ears! Her eyes are large and gold, with upturned outer corners, somewhat hooded lids (she and Jer lament being unable to do a cut crease) and oval pupils - and a second eyelid. Her complexion is fair and has a distinct mauve undertone (most apparent when you look at her freckles - they’re violet-brown). Her teeth are pointier than a regular human’s, with prominent canines.
Her fingernails and toenails are more claw-like than regular-human-nail-like, and dark in colour. They aren’t exactly retractable, but they do lengthen and sharpen some when she’s channeling a lot of magic or fighting seriously.
She has a tattoo of a sacred apple-tree on her back, and its branches wind down her arms; the ink is magically-infused and it treats nerve and meridian (magic-circuit) damage she sustained stopping a runaway alchemical reaction. (Jer has the same ink; he shared the burden of the explody spell.) There’s a scar on her left hip from prolonged contact with iron, and another one on her right ankle from a bicycle wipeout she healed in too big a hurry.
When she shapeshifts, she’s always black of fur or feather with gold eyes. You might see her appear as a small crow, a little fox, a tiny goat, or a diminutive weasel.
Abilities: She carries the crest of the found-family fae (and youma and human, though for record-keeping it’s listed as fae) house of Gwyrdd (also Greene, Uainthe, Graenn etc.) and the responsibilities and gifts that come along with it. She’s fantastic and healing and defensive magics, she’s a phenomenal archer, she has a heck of a green thumb, and she’s a capable bard (as is everyone in the band she plays bass for, This Is Bat Country). Her skills as a mechanic and engineer are profound - her motorbike was an antiquated doorstop when she first got it (it was lost in storage for decades thanks to a don't-notice-this-thing ward on the family's old garage) and now it runs like a dream.
Weakness: She’ll get contact dermatitis from cold-forged iron - iron in general isn’t a great thing for her to handle, she’ll get a rash from hell that can progress into something like nasty frostbite. Meteor iron is even worse! Keep that away from her. Hashtag just fae things.
She’s also unable to lie (as all fae and youma are) and she’s under two main house geasa - no consumption of poultry (though ravens will eat other birds, the Greene house prefers to not) and no genuine battle undertaken as a result of malice. Doing either thing will nerf her and make her ill until she can atone. HASHTAG JUST FAE THINGS. (Cu Chulainn probably sympathizes!)
Socially, her lack of ability or desire to dissemble can make her seem jackass-y to people who are used to roundabout hint-dropping communication styles. “Why are you trying to read between the lines? Nothing is between the lines! It’s SPACE! I said everything I meant, and I meant what I said! Subtext goes in poems.”
She’s scared of evil-eye butterflies.
Equipment: Various and sundry weapons (usually a compound bow, a lance, and daggers, but she can make others) created from shadow and earth magic. She’s able to channel the dreams of legendary weapons into these to strengthen them in a pinch - for example, if she MUST make a bow-shot, she’ll call on the Dream of Fail-Naught to ensure it strikes true.
She also carries what looks like a mauve crochet shawl - it’s a gift from her guardian goddess Noctua Dream-Spinner, and made of very soft sacred spider-silk. This can be used as a shield or a tent or a blanket, it can’t be torn or severed, and if it’s ‘destroyed’ it comes back, simply reappearing in her backpack.
Other gear: a bottle of apple brandy distilled from the crops of the particular Orchard-of-Avalon’s tree in her grandma and grandpa’s yard (it’s a quick magic restorative, a disinfectant, and a thing to bribe with as needed); a box of salt; an extra pair of work gloves; two extra pairs of socks; a blessed silver key that can be enchanted to act as a weapon that unlocks most doors; her ordained mask (a ceremonial necessity, and unique to her); a sewing kit; a folding shovel; a pouch of apple seeds; lemon towelettes; trail-mix bars and instant milk coffee; hockey tape; her cellular phone and her tablet and two backup chargers; a small set of screwdrivers.
Her wheels: Parsley, a forest-green motorcycle with a hybrid alchemical/thaumaturgical engine. It's quite old, and she rebuilt it from the ground up. (Jer owns its 'sibling' bike, Purslane.) It looks somewhat TRON-meets-art-deco, and goes faster than it looks like it probably should.
Origin: “Once upon a time, there were twins born of a tree and a wish - and a House whose name and Crest are long-forgotten. The House knew, bone-deep, that their choices and philosophies had made them into something no longer Fae. To be fae…and to be youma..is to change always. Even in the eternal ‘now’ that some houses dwell alongside, there must be change. But the nameless House began to fear change at some point, and fled from the truth of their very souls. Thus came their ruin. They sought to stave it off with the aid of these twins - children of everyone and no one, of anywhere and nowhere. Branches of the root of Avalon, to stand guard in that liminal space eternally.
The twins were named Pyracantha and Crataigos, and they were one before they became two. They were fed and housed, cared for and thanked and honoured…but not loved. An intricate tapestry of geasa sustained them and kept them from the arms of Death. Long did they wander, and sleep, and wake. Long did they walk the world - sin-eaters, bearers of burdens, singers of sustenance and eternal recurrence.
One day, though, they met someone who could kill geasa and Names. On that day, Death met them with open arms.
They gave their Name and Crest to Death and his Blade, and then slept.
Years passed, and then one day a botanist had a dream - and that botanist, Lowri Ysgawen, happened to know a lovely young couple named Owain and Aderyn. Owain and Aderyn had a clipping from a Tree of Avalon, and Lowri had an idea about how to graft it.
Instead of apples, they suddenly had twins - Jeremiah and Serafina, named by Aderyn’s parents to keep them safe. Jer and Fina took on their family’s new Crest and the duties associated when they got old enough. And that’s why Jer and me smell like an orchard in the springtime.”
Despite the poetic nature of their mystical rebirth, Jer and Fina are ordinary-ish compassionate kind young adults of fae ancestry. Their hometown is full of such people - elves and dwarves and vampires and bean-sidhe and humans and et cetera, all seeking equilibrium. Mostly it works? Comity (a town on the Otonabee River in Canada) is a peculiar place built on a desire for just that - for harmony and peace.
Fina attended Comity Elementary from kindergarten to grade eight, attended Odemgat High School from grade nine to thirteen, and is currently doing a fine-arts (stained glass and history specific) degree course at Chemong University of the Arts.
Likes: Her brother, her bandmates, her cats, her family, her Greater House. Poutine. Scalloped potatoes. Art Deco and Art Nouveau. Tiffany glass, cobalt glass, any nifty glass. Sunny spots. Full moons. Bright starry nights. Kayaking. Gardening. Canoeing. Apples, and most of the desserts and alcohols you can make from them. Proper stouts. Wheat beers. Fruity gose. Good cider. Manchester Celeste Football Club. The Tkaronto Gray Jays (a baseball team). Her motorbike. Ginger cookies. Her bow and her daggers. Kippers and laverbread. Cucumber rolls, salmon rolls, tuna rolls. Thai bird chile peppers (the capsaicin doesn’t really hit her very hard). Bread, and baking. Salmon bisque. Almost any pickle.
Dislikes: Evil-eye butterflies. People who shut off or flee from their hearts and try to act like that makes them smart. Dishonest wankers. Hoppy beer that has too many hops and no kind of a good barley profile. Tasteless bread. When glass goes flying off into space when you try to use nippers. Poison ivy. Rude ducks. PEOPLE WHO HURT KIDS. PEOPLE WHO PERPETRATE BLASPHEMY IN THE FACE OF LOVE. (Do not ever, ever, EVER fuck up and go forcing/ignoring consent around Fina - she’ll foist WWE moves on you, and give you nightmares to boot.) Bitter turnips. Overcooked steak. Tinned soup that tastes like the tin.
Name: Serafina “Fina” Greene
Race: “Alchemical hybrid pwca nerd.” She and her brother Jeremiah have three ancestry roots - fae, youma, and human. (Pwca families often straddle the ideological fae-youma semi-divide.) Their human ancestor may well be Mordred, son of Morgan. Both her fae and youma ancestry are from nocturnal clans.
Age: 23; her birthday is February 2nd. She’s ten minutes younger than Jer. He makes a big deal out of this, mostly to tease her.
Height: 4’10’’
Weight: 165lbs or so (though it can vary as she shapeshifts)
Appearance: Short and stocky, zaftig and muscular, moon-faced and bright-eyed. Fina’s got an expressive visage and even more expressive pointed ears! Her eyes are large and gold, with upturned outer corners, somewhat hooded lids (she and Jer lament being unable to do a cut crease) and oval pupils - and a second eyelid. Her complexion is fair and has a distinct mauve undertone (most apparent when you look at her freckles - they’re violet-brown). Her teeth are pointier than a regular human’s, with prominent canines.
Her fingernails and toenails are more claw-like than regular-human-nail-like, and dark in colour. They aren’t exactly retractable, but they do lengthen and sharpen some when she’s channeling a lot of magic or fighting seriously.
She has a tattoo of a sacred apple-tree on her back, and its branches wind down her arms; the ink is magically-infused and it treats nerve and meridian (magic-circuit) damage she sustained stopping a runaway alchemical reaction. (Jer has the same ink; he shared the burden of the explody spell.) There’s a scar on her left hip from prolonged contact with iron, and another one on her right ankle from a bicycle wipeout she healed in too big a hurry.
When she shapeshifts, she’s always black of fur or feather with gold eyes. You might see her appear as a small crow, a little fox, a tiny goat, or a diminutive weasel.
Abilities: She carries the crest of the found-family fae (and youma and human, though for record-keeping it’s listed as fae) house of Gwyrdd (also Greene, Uainthe, Graenn etc.) and the responsibilities and gifts that come along with it. She’s fantastic and healing and defensive magics, she’s a phenomenal archer, she has a heck of a green thumb, and she’s a capable bard (as is everyone in the band she plays bass for, This Is Bat Country). Her skills as a mechanic and engineer are profound - her motorbike was an antiquated doorstop when she first got it (it was lost in storage for decades thanks to a don't-notice-this-thing ward on the family's old garage) and now it runs like a dream.
Weakness: She’ll get contact dermatitis from cold-forged iron - iron in general isn’t a great thing for her to handle, she’ll get a rash from hell that can progress into something like nasty frostbite. Meteor iron is even worse! Keep that away from her. Hashtag just fae things.
She’s also unable to lie (as all fae and youma are) and she’s under two main house geasa - no consumption of poultry (though ravens will eat other birds, the Greene house prefers to not) and no genuine battle undertaken as a result of malice. Doing either thing will nerf her and make her ill until she can atone. HASHTAG JUST FAE THINGS. (Cu Chulainn probably sympathizes!)
Socially, her lack of ability or desire to dissemble can make her seem jackass-y to people who are used to roundabout hint-dropping communication styles. “Why are you trying to read between the lines? Nothing is between the lines! It’s SPACE! I said everything I meant, and I meant what I said! Subtext goes in poems.”
She’s scared of evil-eye butterflies.
Equipment: Various and sundry weapons (usually a compound bow, a lance, and daggers, but she can make others) created from shadow and earth magic. She’s able to channel the dreams of legendary weapons into these to strengthen them in a pinch - for example, if she MUST make a bow-shot, she’ll call on the Dream of Fail-Naught to ensure it strikes true.
She also carries what looks like a mauve crochet shawl - it’s a gift from her guardian goddess Noctua Dream-Spinner, and made of very soft sacred spider-silk. This can be used as a shield or a tent or a blanket, it can’t be torn or severed, and if it’s ‘destroyed’ it comes back, simply reappearing in her backpack.
Other gear: a bottle of apple brandy distilled from the crops of the particular Orchard-of-Avalon’s tree in her grandma and grandpa’s yard (it’s a quick magic restorative, a disinfectant, and a thing to bribe with as needed); a box of salt; an extra pair of work gloves; two extra pairs of socks; a blessed silver key that can be enchanted to act as a weapon that unlocks most doors; her ordained mask (a ceremonial necessity, and unique to her); a sewing kit; a folding shovel; a pouch of apple seeds; lemon towelettes; trail-mix bars and instant milk coffee; hockey tape; her cellular phone and her tablet and two backup chargers; a small set of screwdrivers.
Her wheels: Parsley, a forest-green motorcycle with a hybrid alchemical/thaumaturgical engine. It's quite old, and she rebuilt it from the ground up. (Jer owns its 'sibling' bike, Purslane.) It looks somewhat TRON-meets-art-deco, and goes faster than it looks like it probably should.
Origin: “Once upon a time, there were twins born of a tree and a wish - and a House whose name and Crest are long-forgotten. The House knew, bone-deep, that their choices and philosophies had made them into something no longer Fae. To be fae…and to be youma..is to change always. Even in the eternal ‘now’ that some houses dwell alongside, there must be change. But the nameless House began to fear change at some point, and fled from the truth of their very souls. Thus came their ruin. They sought to stave it off with the aid of these twins - children of everyone and no one, of anywhere and nowhere. Branches of the root of Avalon, to stand guard in that liminal space eternally.
The twins were named Pyracantha and Crataigos, and they were one before they became two. They were fed and housed, cared for and thanked and honoured…but not loved. An intricate tapestry of geasa sustained them and kept them from the arms of Death. Long did they wander, and sleep, and wake. Long did they walk the world - sin-eaters, bearers of burdens, singers of sustenance and eternal recurrence.
One day, though, they met someone who could kill geasa and Names. On that day, Death met them with open arms.
They gave their Name and Crest to Death and his Blade, and then slept.
Years passed, and then one day a botanist had a dream - and that botanist, Lowri Ysgawen, happened to know a lovely young couple named Owain and Aderyn. Owain and Aderyn had a clipping from a Tree of Avalon, and Lowri had an idea about how to graft it.
Instead of apples, they suddenly had twins - Jeremiah and Serafina, named by Aderyn’s parents to keep them safe. Jer and Fina took on their family’s new Crest and the duties associated when they got old enough. And that’s why Jer and me smell like an orchard in the springtime.”
Despite the poetic nature of their mystical rebirth, Jer and Fina are ordinary-ish compassionate kind young adults of fae ancestry. Their hometown is full of such people - elves and dwarves and vampires and bean-sidhe and humans and et cetera, all seeking equilibrium. Mostly it works? Comity (a town on the Otonabee River in Canada) is a peculiar place built on a desire for just that - for harmony and peace.
Fina attended Comity Elementary from kindergarten to grade eight, attended Odemgat High School from grade nine to thirteen, and is currently doing a fine-arts (stained glass and history specific) degree course at Chemong University of the Arts.
Likes: Her brother, her bandmates, her cats, her family, her Greater House. Poutine. Scalloped potatoes. Art Deco and Art Nouveau. Tiffany glass, cobalt glass, any nifty glass. Sunny spots. Full moons. Bright starry nights. Kayaking. Gardening. Canoeing. Apples, and most of the desserts and alcohols you can make from them. Proper stouts. Wheat beers. Fruity gose. Good cider. Manchester Celeste Football Club. The Tkaronto Gray Jays (a baseball team). Her motorbike. Ginger cookies. Her bow and her daggers. Kippers and laverbread. Cucumber rolls, salmon rolls, tuna rolls. Thai bird chile peppers (the capsaicin doesn’t really hit her very hard). Bread, and baking. Salmon bisque. Almost any pickle.
Dislikes: Evil-eye butterflies. People who shut off or flee from their hearts and try to act like that makes them smart. Dishonest wankers. Hoppy beer that has too many hops and no kind of a good barley profile. Tasteless bread. When glass goes flying off into space when you try to use nippers. Poison ivy. Rude ducks. PEOPLE WHO HURT KIDS. PEOPLE WHO PERPETRATE BLASPHEMY IN THE FACE OF LOVE. (Do not ever, ever, EVER fuck up and go forcing/ignoring consent around Fina - she’ll foist WWE moves on you, and give you nightmares to boot.) Bitter turnips. Overcooked steak. Tinned soup that tastes like the tin.