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Vysella Celgari

Light exists in all darkness, and in turn, the dark in all light.

0 · 278 views · located in Sevaecia

a character in “The Knights of Artorias”, as played by mombie

Description

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"Light exists in all darkness if you look hard enough."
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β‰Ό General Information ≽

∷ Vysella Celgari

∷ Sella, Vys

∷ Female

∷ 25

∷ Endearingly Human

∷ Knight of Artorias

∷ Soft Copper Waves
∷ Dark Lackluster Blue
∷ Gently Favored by the Sun
∷ 5'6"
∷ 132 lbs.
∷ Svelte, Soft
∷ There is light scarring in places that normally do not earn attention.


β‰Ό Physical Description ≽
At first glance, a mane of fiery red hair ignited by the Solaris sun. One might expect it to crown a thing of awe and beauty, but a venturing gaze instead finds an ordinary woman that disappoints too-high an expectation. Most will look away from her, and she’d not notice for her eyes are cast down to the ground as she walks. Everyone looks at her like this small creature, and in turn, she feels dwarfed by the shadows of their disenchantment. Yet, she is empowered by the daylight, in which her most brilliant feature falls down a slender back like a fiery red sea, viciously ebbing and flowing and swallowing up all that is simply ordinary, in hopes that perhaps she’ll earn a third look from someone. That someone might not just see this frail creature, a gentle petal, wisping helplessly through the breezes of busy pedestrians.

In the virgin morn she dons her dress; just classical simplicity, nothing lurid and attention seeking. They are typically form fitting, but at times a touch too loose. There is much left to the imagination, but as it is - she is feminine in shape, though not ample in places where such malleable flesh is so admired and sought after. She enjoys to marry the copper hue of her hair with softer colors of dress like pale or rose gold, and if she’s feeling adventurous, she might even go for a striking red. She chooses to dress as she feels for the most part, and that is very much like something unseen and unworthy of being seen. Every so often, when she is vying for some kind of attention, that is when she ventures into the realm of dressing to earn a spot of attention. Otherwise, she finds comfort in a great deal of clothing from armor to tunics, but she does prefer to wiggle into a dress as she does not find herself in situations that force her to require much movement or fighting.

It doesn’t appear that she is muscular, and that is largely due to the fact that she is not a physical brawler in any way, shape, or form. While she has the endurance and strength enough to wear armor of lighter metals and swing a sword, she can mostly be found in the back better taking on a role more fit for those that were not front-line soldier material. Her small and seemingly fragile features make her either an easy target to strike down, or something to be dismissed in favor of a stronger foe.

Her eyes are seeking, but they don’t shine as powerfully as her hair. They are a somber shade of blue; like a cloudy muggy afternoon that everyone complains about. They are depressingly stormy, and nearly always looking down at her feet and never directly at someone. At the same time, when she smiles or as she heals an ally, they have a small green glimmer as if they might actually be some kind of deep dark teal. Her flesh is lightly graced by the sun, tanning sometimes and paling others. She remains on the spectrum of pallid to just sun-stroked enough to have a blush of warmth. It is also riddled with freckles, from head to toe.

She does not wear much in the way of make-up, and her hair tends to be rather lax. If she knows that there is a conflict in which she must keep it out of her face, she pulls her strands into loose sloppy braids. Overall, Vysella seems very unaffected by Knights that might look down upon her for her lack of this or that physically, and she is aware that she does not look at all like the others. A close one would be Aeva, but even that one has muscle. She’s picked on from time to time about her strength, or the lack thereof. She never believed that there is solely physical strength anyway.

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xβ‰Ό Proficiency ≽
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STR 」x. β–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Š AAACON 」xβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Š
DEX 」.x.β–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Š AAAWIL 」x.β–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Š
CNG 」x β–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Š AAARES 」x.β–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Š
ARC 」x β–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Š AAACHA 」xβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Š
SKL 」x β–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Š AAASPD 」x β–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Šβ–Š

Physically, Vys doesn't look like much. However, her mother was well-versed in the arcane, and if she was not teaching her daughter mastery languages and other scholarly pursuits, then she was guiding her on magicka. At an early age, Vysella developed this strange "Inner Glow", her mother would call it. It brought specks of green into otherwise deep dark eyes, and it exuded warmth and affirmation. Vysella learned slowly how to tap into this mana, drawing from the bright warm well the ability for svelte fingers to be wrapped in healing light. However, her mother would not be the one to show her all that her magicka could empower her to do. It was her father that really taught her how to delve more deeply than just healing; to offer protection to those that could not protect themselves, to be a spell-weaver that can inspire greatness. Times were growing tumultuous, and the uncertainty of Sevaecia's restlessness forced her father to train her to be ready for what may come. He could not be there for her always. As it turns out, nothing could be more true than that. Thusly, in the short time she spent with her father, he emboldened her with not only the ability to heal with her hands, but to draw some sort of divine light that bolsters others in the way of strength, fortitude, resilience, willpower, and more. But she only used all of these in practice, even if she became good at it. What her mana is used most for is healing, and she has yet to need the rest.

Alchemy is her best proficiency, and she is very skilled. Picking flowers, hunting down rare herbs - it is all a wild adventure for her. Of course, after the mishaps in Rotherhithe, she's gone to great lengths to make sure that there are no more errs in her mixtures. Vysella is careful and meticulous, providing all manner of tinctures and salves upon request. Even the surly ones if she really must.

She does have short sword skills, but they are truly abysmal. If anything, a weapon in her hand serves as a tuning object to amplify her mana if needed on the battlefield. The safest enemy is the one right in front of her. Or so, that's what some of the other Knights say.

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β‰Ό Demeanor ≽
She is kind and compassionate; at times admonished for wearing her heart on her sleeve. She has a lovely inner light, both literally and metaphorically, that manifests itself in mana and in the way she treats others. Respect and warmth serve her guiding principles, and she hands it out to even those that are seemingly undeserving. Seeing that small flicker of light yearning to come to life in another overshadowing darkness is one of her traits that make her undeniably charismatic and empathic to others. She can find the good in all people, just as she can be blind to the darkness lurking in a deceptively kind face. It is safe to say that she is an easy object to deceive, and if anyone were looking for someone to sway and manipulate without much work, she would be a prime victim.

Vysella is a giving soul as well, offering a hand in healing or alchemical aid. If anyone needs a kind word to lift their spirits, they would do well to seek her out for all of the affirmations they require. When it comes down to her life or another, she'd risk her own if there were no other choice. For some reason or the other, be it the strange occurrences and secrets of her past or just knowing that she is weaker than the rest, she does not place a high value upon herself. There is always this strange notion that, no matter how much better she might be at something than someone else, everyone else is always above her. They were just worth more, and if the world would miss anyone, she'd not be it. There is not much else to be said about the way that she treats others, and no question of her amiable nature. They know that they sit in the presence of loyalty and warmth; practically bask in the brilliant aura that radiates from her. If a dagger in the back could come from anyone, it would never be her. It could never be her. It would be unquestionable. People can also feel safe that they will hear what they desire, even if it is not what they should - and that is not always a good thing.

The healer is easily hurt, either by words or by actions. It is because she's so unabashedly emotional that the smallest slight can make her shrivel up on the inside and die. It's truly a wonder how she has managed to wiggle into the realm of Knighthood when she can be sent to tears because of something someone says. At the same time, she rarely makes a fuss in the public eye, making it a point to deal with her emotional self in the privacy of her room or a lonesome place where people don't typically wander. But one can tell if they hurt her, for she offers a small smile and simply turns away in quiet, parting ways with others to make for solitude. It is clear that something is pent up inside of her; the well of her past swelling without escape. If one is not too careful, perhaps the ugly beast of that which has not been mourned will reel its ugly head and snap. For now, she weeps silently.

The real question that one should ask is: Is there truly such a thing as genuine selflessness? What is lurking in the dark recesses of her mind that none dare venture nor think to even begin to question? If someone so kind, empathetic, and sweet could have such eerily somber eyes, what are the scenes that play endlessly through the dark windows? There is certainly something that no one is seeing. There is a reason she is on this quest to become a true Knight. Something is amiss in this unseeming facade, for like the others, she too seeks to turn her life around. An assassin might whisper that she is deadly poison masquerading as a beautiful vibrant bloom; a lure for those that might fall prey to something so sickeningly sweet.

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xβ‰Ό Personal History ≽
Vysella was born of high status in Solaris; her father, some sort of trader on the seas and her mother a master of the Arcane with a small school of enthusiastic learners. There was comfort in her life, and she grew up with friends. In fact, her childhood was, as most would remember it, warm and something to be envied by others. There was no shortage of anything, and she could have anything she wanted whenever she wanted to have it. Yet, all things good come with some grim caveat, don't they? Comfort is not freely given, not even by ones parents. Her mother was strict; allowing her to play only with her friends during certain hours of the day, forcing her into endless studies of language, magicka, and alchemy that would keep her indoors for most of the time. If she did well, she had certain privileges, and if she did not - well, let's not bare all family secrets. There was nothing to suspect on the outside looking in, but that is always the case. No one truly ever knows what happens in a family, and it is for the best. Her mother watched her like a hawk, and whilst Vysella's lifestyle appeared lavish and as though she was fulfilled, her mother planned her every second of her every day. She was okay with that because it was the only life she knew. It was the life of those born with more, and perhaps it was better than being out on the streets. Or so she thought.

At the age of sixteen, her father's vessel was attacked by pirates. The sea scavengers left naught in their wake, and after months of her father's absence, they were finally notified of his death. Just like that, her father's warmth vanished; his kind forgiving eyes, the way he secretly gave her treats and nick-knacks from his travels. He made her feel loved and safe, and she yearned for him like most daughters did their fathers. Even though he was barely home, Vysella had always been her father's daughter, and there were no other children to give his heart less space for her. Her mother grew cold as finances became such burden that they were forced to give up their comfortable lifestyle.

When they moved to the grimy and impoverished underbelly of Rotherhithe, everything took a turn for the worse. Vysella's mother was too old for certain things; like being beautiful, and even if she had not been, the way tragedy crinkled her flesh in these ghastly wrinkles would make even the most desperate of them turn away from her. But she did have something - a way to make a living in this rough part of town, and that was her daughter. She was beautiful, even if a bit odd at times. She was well-educated and had skills that could help them make a living. They opened up a small alchemical shop, selling things like potions, salves, tinctures... a little bit of this and that. Vysella could often be seen venturing out to scavenge herbs and strange flowers from the heat of the stretching copper sands, fetching and mixing requests. She was so radiant at that time that she could sell anything to anyone, even if they didn't need it. Guided by her mother like some unknowing doll dangling on marionette strings, she forced her daughter to do many unsavory things.

Her mother began to tell her lies, and the gullible child received them with great enthusiasm, eager to please her stern maternal figure. After all, one never believes that their mother could do them wrongly. She'd tell her what to mix and how, inventing lies so that Vysella would draw up more lethal combinations for customers that had deeper pockets for no questions asked. There were always strange men coming in and out of the shop, but her mother knew that Vysella was too kind to notice. Since she treated everyone so fairly, she never really knew the difference. In fact, that carries on today. Because of her mother's deception, she never truly learned how to tell who is not what they seem. Even if, deep down inside, she must know. Doesn't everyone? Someone was watching her always, and she wasn't sure who it was. Sometimes she'd catch a glimpse of a shadow in an alleyway, only for it to not be there when she tries to look. It was always a man, but she never saw his face. It made her feel uneasy at time, but if she were honest - she'd say that she didn't truly know how his presence made her feel. He never hurt her or came close, so maybe he's just a shadow that came and went.

Some people in more high up places were meeting their end, and investigations were beginning to look into these occurrences. Someone was finally made to spill her secrets; an assassin for hire finally caught in the act, and in a plead for a swift execution rather than a lengthy jail sentence, she gave out Vysella's name and the location of her shop. Her mother abandoned her right there; fleeing before guards could come and seize her like they would her daughter. Despite all of the, now young, woman's pleading and insistence that she did not work for assassins, she was taken someplace. It was not a pleasant place, and when she came out of it by the grace of one in need of a capable alchemist and healer from an esteemed family such as her own, her criminal charges were expunged and she was offered a chance to right her wrongs. But she was not the same woman as she was before. Still kind. Still warm, but broken in ways that the eyes could not reach and the fingers cannot touch. But she refuses to believe that her mother betrayed and manipulated her. There must be a reasonable explanation for all of this - mixtures gone wrong, a deadly flower unknowingly entangled with other herbs.

Terrible things happened in prison, but the worse has yet to come for this guileless beauty.


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β‰ΌPersonal Quests:≽
  • Finally laying eyes on The Shadow.
  • Locating her mother.
  • Clearing her name in being a knowing and willing accomplice to assassins.

β‰ΌR E L A T I O N S H I P S≽
β™₯ = romantic || ☺= friends || ☠ = enemies || β—‘ = Neutral
(WIP)



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So begins...

Vysella Celgari's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vysella Celgari Character Portrait: Khilith Hruind

0.00 INK

#, as written by mombie
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It was, perhaps, humorous as this lithe frail woman in gently flowing violet robes was seeking Knighthood. However, as she scurries toward the gate in hopes of catching up with Khilith, since she had not been far behind at all, she radiates a sort of confidence that only a small thing could have with such seemingly impossible task set out before her. Vysella hopes to hide behind the other man, but she soon caught the eye of one of the sentries that had a hard time believing what was before them now.

"Oh, hello, she begins, offering up a small and cheerful wave. "I am here to become a real Knight," she beams with pride. Sure, she's small and unseeming, but the underdog in every novel eventually becomes the top dog. Not that her story would end so fruitfully, but she could at least be optimistic about where she was headed.

A slight laughter slipped from the lips of one of them, and they murmur something. She already knows that she'll be the laughing stock of all of the Knight potentials; physically inept, svelte, a tad timid of nature. But she had other things to offer; things that others often missed in the fray of being the big bad meat shield.

They grant her entry, and her swift heeled feet take her through the gates. Just as she thought about going ahead and dismissing the fact that she was being made fun of, she turns around swiftly and sticks her index finger out at the both of them. "I was hand chosen by the King! You'll really regret picking on me," she promises them both. It would have been threatening coming from anyone else but the meek redhead.

Regardless of whether they say anything back to her or not, she pivots back to face the courtyard and looks up at this new place. Hand chosen by the king! What a fateful thing, really. It must be destiny. She admired him so much because in him she saw a sort of kinship that only gentle souls could have in this dark times. It was a relief to have him on the throne, and she couldn't wait to meet him face-to-face.

Alas, there was an hour to go and Vysella had nothing to do and nowhere else to be. Instead, she just idles around. She's a bit nervous coupled with a whole lot of lost. She has to remind herself that she trained for this. She was one of the chosen. Even if she wasn't exactly physically intimidating, she had a place somewhere in all of this chaos.

She had proven herself to be a great healer and an even better alchemist. She had a knack for putting herself in harms way to offer someone else a way out, and to make sure that the warriors of the unit were in a position to fight when needed. Healers are often the unsung heroes of war, and it was no different for her. She loved it - the ability to seal a wound or inspire others to bring their best to the battlefield. Everyone could train to be a fighter, but only a few have the patience and the willpower to use their abilities to woundmend. It was a dangerous job out in the field, but so long as the others have her back, she has theirs indefinitely.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Editus Rayne Character Portrait: Vysella Celgari Character Portrait: Khilith Hruind

0.00 INK

A lone man walked the path towards the castle, dressed in armor that had been hastily strapped on, leaving him to adjust it every once in a while. His expression was sullen, trying not to make eye contact with those that looked upon him. They whispered to one another, keeping their distance from him like he were some ill omen. He was a strange man, of the like from a foreign land, darker complexion and eyes a hot yellow, messy hair black as night with a strange bluish glisten to it.

He had no real name, no lineage that was obvious to him, things that even a lowly peasant would have in comfort. Rumors spread about him, that he was born of a devil, or cursed at birth, and he wouldn't be surprised if they were right. They called him Editus Rayne, a bringer of misfortune. Ever since he could think on his own, he has known only a cycle of unending struggle, and the cruel cold within and without. He didn't even know why he had survived this long, or cared to do so. He was here, now, hand picked to be sized up for the role of knight.

Why am I even doing this? This is laughable, I'm not fit for a knight, they know it well, and yet... picked by the king himself? Why? he wondered as he scratched through his hair with slight visible frustration. From everything he knew, from what all people have said, the king wasn't the kind to pull such a cruel prank. They say he is a good man, a righteous man, concepts foreign to an unwanted child grown into a cynical man. Everything to him was a subject of suspect, as much as his own existence was. Just, what the hell even is a righteous man? he wondered in frustration. He wanted to see it with his own eyes, what is truly the brightest of virtues.

He looked ahead to the gate, taking a deep breath and exhaling, blowing his messy hair from his eyes. By no surprise to him, others had come before him, likely more enthusiastic than him. What sort would these others be? Glory seekers, looking for their slice of fame and fortune? Were they the noble sort that looked down on blots like himself, was there going to be a fight as soon as he entered their presence? He wasn't afraid of conflict, he wasn't afraid of battle, and he certainly wasn't afraid of being honest.

"Well then, o' noblest of parties, the stray mangy dog, Editus Rayne, now walks among you!" he cried out with an irreverent yet smooth tone, thick with flagrant disregard of even his own self. He then fished out something from his bag, a rolled up piece of parchment with the undeniable royal seal. "Perhaps I was mistaken and this is my arrest for some crime instead, but this summons I received seems to indicate that I was called for... service?"

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