Laroux

Laroux Dejacque
Status	Active
Race	Elf
Gender	Female
Guild	Bard
Instance	Prime
Relatives	Caidie, Maxwelinski

Masked

Ebony and ivory sculpted into a genderless visage conceal her features in stark monochrome, the false face bisected by a single brushstroke of bright carmine glitter. Deeply etched into the mask's milky half, furrows transform the expression of profound sorrow with a fathomless, pitch-dark lens veiling the eye. Strikingly different beyond the sparkling divide, starless ebony reveals a look of joy conveyed by a blissfully curving smile and an opaque white lens with fine laugh lines playing at its edges.

Behind the Mask

You see Macabre Laroux Dejacque, Inspiration of Elanthia, an Elf.

She has an oval face, pointed ears, a polished silversteel eyebrow ring set with a purple crystal that accents smoulderingly intense, starry amethyst eyes and a freckled nose. Her red hair is very long and curly, and is worn swept up by a pair of dark iroko chopsticks capped in boneflower-carved ivory and allowed to tumble freely down the back. She has fair skin daubed with streaks of glittering blue gold dust and a sleek, sylphlike figure.

She is tall for an Elf.

She is young.

Bright reds and purples are painted in a variegated design down her arms and legs as if a sunset had spilled onto her skin. A set of three clear crystals lines up from the corner of each eye, held there with drops of red paint.

She is wearing a two-tone mask bisected by a vertical line of lurid carmine glitter, some bone-beaded cords dangling a jungle green parrot feather, some lusterless blackwater jet teardrop earrings, a sanowret crystal, an exquisitely tailored mistsilk opera cloak lined in atramentous moonsilk, a golden firesilk instrument case with bronze corners, a vibrant multi-colored spidersilk haversack clasped with a gold lute, a snug white mistsilk bandeau wrapped around the chest, a steel neithrel band dangling smooth sapphire raindrops along the chains, a pair of graceful black silk gauze haussa seamed with scarlet and gold twined cord, some rich thigh straps wrapped in golden silk and a pair of knee-high white leather boots clasped with cambrinth ravens.

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Character Breakdown

Divine: Murrula Kerenhappuch

Fancies: Masks, of all shapes and sizes. Has an odd, eclectic sort of style.

Alignment: Chaotic neutral

Dislikes: Squirrels

Pets: Kittinski - a whiskey-colored kitten

Poetry

Business as Usual

He donned black, his usual shade
Slipped on a jacket, old and frayed
Worn boots that had seen many winters
Picked up his shovel, heedless of splinters

Company to tend, he must make haste
With eventide fading and no time to waste
The stars glitter faintly, frigid candlelight
Owls hoot the low symphony of the night

Humming a tune that most have forgotten
He tramples the earth below, so sodden
A nod in greeting to those who can't speak
Opens the door with a grunt and a creak

"Welcome", he says, in a hoarse salutation
"We've room for all with due accommodation"
His chuckle is more cough, nay a wheeze 
As he shuffles back out in a jingle of keys

The guests roll into their luxury suites
In a rustle of cloth and rigamortis feet
Absent were smiles as dead eyes looked ahead
Spent, their host hoisted dirt on their heads

"Do let me know if you've any complaints"
Mocking, his laughter escaped through the gates.

Ghoulish Courtship

Dances are dances unless they are not
You swing and you sway, a corpse hung to rot
Their mocking laughter rises, a low-ringing dirge
That heart in a meat cage gives jostle and lurch
Watch as poets wash your feet with their hair
Grasping beyond means, withering, their stares
Ladies don ribbons, men brush lapels
Here in maddest courtship the emptiest dwell
Grim are smiles in a masquerade for plenty
Death becomes more than deterrent for many
Sour teeth bare, let all behold such a smile!
Titter and chuckle, make polite all the while
Until in that final stretch, undeath is revealed
And they to bed, churned in earth do steal

Heartstrings

He's tugging at her heartstrings, this way and that
A game of old repeated so, and she, his marionette
Swinging upon tendons, ripened in bloody woe
Dizzy, distressed darling, with nowhere else to go.