All signs point toward a very eccentric and disturbed young Elothean. Aevel has been waging a disinformation campaign of epic porportions. This deceptive maneuver has assured a substantial amount of personal privacy. Her seemingly mad nature has done much to fan the flames of gossip. She has allowed these rumors to swirl around herself, to the point where they have taken on a life of their own; her collection of eccentric delights and unexpected aversions has sent many a would-be companion stumbling into unrelieved confusion. Her magical prowess and interests are a subject kept closely guarded, though she readily admits quite vocally to being very inefficient with physical combat. If pressed on her background prior to moving to Crossing, Aevel freely discusses her childhood — living in a cave on a relatively uninhabited island with her boon companion, Sielar. She often laments this is the reason for her disconnect with others of her race.
- Bonded to Telutci
- Tournament Director for the Wyvern Trials
- Claims to the "the Lady of.." various groups of ridiculous places or things
- Harbors an hourglass on her person at all times
- Has no blood relations
- Is absolutely awful with Alchemy and repeatedly attempts to convince anyone who will listen that it is an evil practice
- Avoids crowded places whenever possible
- Will heal anyone who asks, despite affiliation, with the exception of Necromancers
- Co-founder of an Elothean Empath movement with Arianah, complete with mysterious tarts and a flag
You are Shadow's Touch Aevel Longstalk, Witch of Elanthia, an Elothean.
You have an oval face, almond-shaped sapphire eyes and a small nose. Your black hair is very long and straight, and is worn in an elegant upswept arrangement threaded with a rope of briolette-cut night diamonds twined with bloodlace star's tear lilies. You have pale skin and a curvaceous figure.
You are short for an Elothean.
Some night-black idopun pearls accented by moonstones float lazily around your neck, glowing with a lustrous sheen against your skin.
You are young.
Your forehead is shielded by a fluted crescent of blackened moonsilver, forming a lunate adornment. Rays extend from its edge to display a scattered array of step-cut smoke rubies, the focal point a tapered baguette along the bridge of your nose.
Your left hip has a tattoo of a ring of moons in every stage of waxing circling a single lotus flower. Each moon displays a different hue, from icy blue to shadowy black and blood-red.
You are wearing a dull serpent earcuff, a dull serpent earcuff, an elaborate pair of platinum chandelier earrings dangling tear-shaped black diamonds, a snake charm, a malevolent blight bat constructed from crimson moonsilver, a witch ball, a shadowy hooded kimono of fluid raw silk with gracefully trailing sleeves, a coiled onyx adder set with ruby eyes, an erythraean-inlaid dakohirdu bone wrist knife with a spidersilk-wrapped hilt, a platinum marital ring with an oval bezel-set matte charcoal er'qutrite and midnight ruby halo, an intricate mistwood shesegri ring interwoven with steelsilk threads, a charcoal-grey and silver raw silk sash tied with an intricate knot, a pair of black thigh-high silk stockings with a tiny bow, a pallid glass orchid fettered by a sinuous platinum chain and some knee-high black leather boots with ruby-inset toes.
- You were born on the 28th day of the 9th month of Dolefaren the Brigantine (ship) in the year of the Iron Toad, 389 years after the victory of Lanival the Redeemer.
- You affirmed your vows before the gods in the 2nd month of Ka'len the Sea Drake in the year of the Crystal Snow Hare, 412.
"Are you the Clockmaker?" she asked, her five year old voice steady. Her doll-like features were veiled from view by a layer of grey gauze and an equal shade of linen fashioned into a cowled overcoat. How the young girl found her way through the busy thoroughfare and into the mechanic's business remained to be seen; yet there she was, standing defiantly in her dimunutive red dress and shoes that were picked especially for her dark curls and inky eyes. This child was loved by someone, perhaps too well.
The elderly man refused to turn from his perch on the swivel stool as he tinkered with the cuckoo clock on his workbench. He went about his repairs as if he hadn't heard her question. After many long, tense moments, he replied, "And you're the Grey Lady of the Hourglass. You're right on time."
"Why do they call you the Grey Lady on the island?"
"You don't like it?"
"I don't know if I like it."
"You don't have to like it."
"Don't get mad, Aevel! I'll love you no matter what shade you are! I wish you had horns, though.."
"He's waiting for me."
"Who's waiting for you?"
"He's the glass."
"You're really going to need those horns, maybe some fur.."
"I don't need anything else," she confessed, panting from the exertion her struggles caused. Locked together in physical conflict, her savior held her hands in his cruel grip. Several chairs were overturned and more than one hourglass lay broken around their bodies. "It's acceptable if you hate me but you will think only of me. Only of me when you come to this place." Her husky voice held a magnetic, seductive quality which was an amalgam of triumph and defiance. Her captor breathed in great, greedy gulps of air as he fought for control.
"You're in luck, female. You're still useful to me so I won't kill you now." He heaved himself away from her delicate frame and straightened his clothes, restoring himself to rights. Aevel surveyed the glass carnage, gingerly touching a few ragged shards and sifting her fingers through scattered sand. She sighed mournfully and shook her head, murmuring, "Now look what you've done, these are debts I'll never collect. You've taken all their time."
"What's this?" He flicked the silver and gold hourglass pendant that hung around her neck.
"It's a symbol."
"Of what I should do."
"You don't say much, do you?"
"Should I say more?"
"Do you always deflect in conversation?"
"Will I ever get a straight answer out of you, female?"
"Only when it matters."
"Why am I not surprised? Now I want to kill something."
Aevel shook her head and slipped into her workshop. In the middle of the room stood a monstrous creation, blocks upon blocks of puzzle pieces that created an intricate structure of colors.
"Time is not my friend today," she murmured, reaching for the tinted glass window and pressing her warm forehead against the cool pane.
Aevel stepped back and out of the winter morning light, approaching the giant model. Long pale fingers caressed the piece slowly until she found the colapsing point and tapped. Sand cascaded to the floor from a large vase suspended in the center of the puzzle, which in turn lowered a large weight. Eight anlas. That's all this enigma had left, eight anlas of glittering colors and interlocking pieces, seven feet high, overlooking the academy's six gardens, from the fifth window shaped like a diamond, whose four panes were red and blue to match a room with three purple doors wherein a Lady and her fawn sat waiting for the one savior to arrive.
We are visceral and inescapable. He had spellbinding eyes the color of tarnished amber with irises ringed in a deep and sinister black. His rough-hewn features were handsome, yet not classically so — a barbarian with a weary face and deceptive aura of boredom which did little to hide his savage origins. He radiated violence and I found his scarred knuckles charming. He was reason and will, time and place. Love was too tame a catchphrase for our feelings.
- "What did I miss?" — Aevel
- "Keta." — Telutci to Aevel
- "Akasu." — Aevel to Telutci
- "There's nothing wrong with tarting people up a bit." — Aevel to Arianah
- "Blow something off you'll miss." — Aevel to Uritel
- "I am never going in that barn again." — Sielar to Aevel
- "And so that's how I came to be an Empath, horse poop.." — Aevel
- "I don't think he's made of brownies. — Dyamond to Aevel after Evro accuses the Arkarms of supporting Necromancy
- "(Erixx looks at Aevel and screams!) Skin!" — Erixx to Aevel whenever he exits a moongate
- "Is it time for blood yet?" — Dahaita, the Doctor to Aevel
- "You're the PPPP. Perverted, Pirate, Prydaen Paladin." — Aevel to Teloc
- "I should confiscate this! — Lennon to Aevel when he realizes just how beat up her armor is from hunting
- "Heal my parts." — Limani, rather grumpily, to Aevel
- "I will now tingle your parts." — Aevel to Limani, in response to her grumpy request