Caidie

Caidie Mad'uuwl
Status	Active
Race	Elf
Gender	Female
Guild	Barbarian
Instance	Prime
Relatives	Buuwl, Riverlynn

"I'm not a girl, I'm a storm with skin."
 

Description

You see Caidie Mad'uuwl, Shar'Elur of Elanthia, an Elven Barbarian.

She has pointed ears, stormy grey eyes and a lightly freckled nose. Her ink black hair is hip-length and a mass of misbehaving curls, and is worn untamed.
She has a thick pink scar deliberately carved into the shape of the Elven symbol for eternity on the left wrist, marring fair skin.
She is surprisingly short for an Elf.

She is wearing a chubby dragon earcuff with glitter-covered wings, a chakrel Elven tear amulet hung from an antiqued steel chain, a pink and white striped togball jersey with three glittery slashes on the front, a dark e'erdream parry stick covered in sparkling crystals, an aged whimsy ring engraved with two chubby cheeked Elven lasses holding hands, a lifesculpted bonding band of intertwined e'erdream and apple wood, some glitter-dotted knickers beautifully embroidered with a bathing Gor'Tog pattern in bright green thread and some white galoshes delicately painted with puddles of pink glitter.

You Lost?

Finding her way to the sidelines of a Tog-Ball field,

a look of wonder filling her stormy grey eyes, a color so chaotic it felt as though she had a storm alive inside her, the young girl watched as enormous men crashed into each other. She could hear the sound of muscle against muscle, the pounding of flesh upon flesh. Captivated by the sight, she allowed herself to stare. Images began to swirl around inside her mind of herself, clad in a jersey and combat boots, unruly raven colored curls flowing behind her as she ran full force down the field. Lost in a daydream, she didn’t hear as he approached, brought back to the present by a large finger flicking her pointed ears, “You lost, Elf?” The voice boomed. Wrinkling her freckled nose she lifted her head to gaze up at the enormous olive-green Barbarian in front of her. She squinted at him as he towered before her, after a pause she said, “Maybe...” Sooty cheeks flushing with a lovely rose color, was she embarrassed or was it merely cold? She then averted her eyes, gazing off into the distance, although saying nothing the storm inside her eyes began to roll, almost giving away the thoughts stirring inside her mind. Then the storm calmed and decisively she turned on her heels and was off in search of a man named Agonar Dokona

Whispers

Whirling in a hurricane, they clung to each other.

Physically fragile, delicate in appearance, but their strength was insurmountable. There was an energy that hummed between them, something secret, something hiding behind their eyes. It was their eyes, wasn't it? Causing the very hurricane to which they clung to each other from, or was it for? That's what happens when a raging storm meets the troubled sea. What fear does the other have of getting wet? They are able to bend and fold and form to the other's will, all the while remaining exactly themselves. Sisters by heart. Two little girls making a home in the shelter of their laughter, their dreams, and unknowingly their fears. In a world of black and white, they stood beside each other in screaming color, wild hair and sparkling eyes, things would come alive. Fingers intertwined, inhaling a deep breath they move forward into everything, into nothing, into the unknown.

Going Green

He was the color of happy things; spring grass, sweet apples, toads that turn into princes.

He arrived in the mist of festivities, a huge man but a happy and free man. He was almost something from her dream- barbarian, chaotic, kind to those she loves. His sparkling blue eyes, like a secluded lake on a hot summer's day, met hers and they were bound to each other, she may not have known it at the moment, but they were. She'd given up on silly little fairy tales and he'd never kissed a rose. The words he spoke so casually left her thinking it was a joke, "Let's get bonded." he said in such a tone lacking all inflection of a question. Laughing freely with her head thrown back, raven curls awaken from their slumber, she nodded emphatically, "Okay!!" she responded, throwing away what little caution she had. The sister of her heart produced a dusty rose still sheathed in vivid holy light from inside a cluttered vault, (That may have been bonded to a Rakash Cleric) He took the leap and kissed the rose and almost as a dare, she kissed it back. The donkey god smiled. Two wild Barbarians bonded but never more free.

<3

The way -I- see it..

No matter how you see her:: Insane, Mean, Loving, a Bully, Buuwl's wife, River's friend, Kind, Hateful, Generous or Selfish, someone will always see her slightly different. Some even put it on paper, express it in words or even just give her a handsign or a hi5.

Caidie by Finnbar

> read paper

The paper is painted with: A rainbow of vibrant glitter liberally coats the paper, transforming an elegant ink and paint portrait into a violent explosion of sparkle and shine. Striking a defiant pose, a slender Elven maiden stands tall upon a mountain of defeated stuffed animals and broken tin soldiers. Clasped in her hand is a giant two-handed sword, its hilt shaped like a pair of slumbering rabbits. Garbed in a shimmering togball jersey of glitter and sunshine, a myriad of dainty flowers are strewn across the fabric. Her midnight black hair coils around her body in a wild disarray, liberal highlights of deep blue glitter shimmering in every inky coil. Surrounding the Elven woman is a border of Elven tears blossoms and slender green leaves. Scrawled beneath the portrait is the title: Caidie, as Fierce as she is Lovely. Signed at the bottom is the name Sesi Hart dotted with a tiny heart.

> read other paper

The paper reads: A large crowd stands in a broken circle right in the middle of the infirmary, looking on at two women in the middle. A beautiful Elf, wild and savage-eyed, has just slapped an old, matronly Empath across the face. A Rakash man nearby is ducking his head, trying to avoid a spray of spittle flying from the gaping mouth of the Empath. What appear to be dead songbirds litter the ground. Along the bottom of the paper, you notice, Author: Maxwelinski