A Sky Full of Stars

>>The Basics

Name: Altherei Lethelle Darkwind Nickname: Alth Age: Adult, ~161 Birthday: December 28, -120 Race: Sin'dorei Height: Average, around 5'8" Appearance: Altherei has a slim and slender build, softly-glowing white-blue eyes, pale ivory skin, and long, navy-black hair. Indications of astral magic and its effects are woven throughout her person: her eyes have a soft, moonlit-esque glow; her hair has a shimmer as if threaded with starlight, and her overall aura is one highly attuned to astral and celestial magic. Likeness: Ana de Armas Tattoos/Piercings: One piercing in each earlobe; white-blue astral tattoos on her left lower jaw, and running from the left side of her neck down her left arm. They're a mix of constellation maps, runes, and various astral sigils. Occupation: Astronomer/researcher, part-time paper pusher/courier still for a conservation unit in the Ghostlands, Speaker for the Court of Eternity. Home: Eversong Woods. Hobbies: Reading, playing the harp, painting, baking/cooking, stargazing, walking, people-watching.

>>Family & Relationships

Family: Darsamane Darkwind, father (deceased); Lethelle Darkwind, mother (deceased); Eldwin Darkwind, eldest brother (deceased); Salaras Darkwind, second-eldest brother; Oraen Darkwind, third-eldest brother; Arathaer Darkwind, fourth-eldest brother (deceased). Marital Status: In a relationship with @veilosdaigoa Gender: Female Sexuality: Straight Personality: Altherei is fairly introverted and shy until coaxed out of her shell. She's polite and congenial, and deeply empathetic. Her sympathies are easily engaged to the struggles of others, and will do what she can to assist (though she's reluctant to accept help from others). She's honest, loyal, trustworthy, but also rather logical in her thought processes. Favorite Traits in Others: Honesty, loyalty, spontaneity, compassion, protectiveness, curiosity. Least Favorite Traits in Others: Dishonesty, rigidity, cruelty, lasciviousness, flightiness, willful ignorance.

>>The Deep Lore

Most Cherished Childhood Memory: Her favorite memories as a child stem from her father stealing her out of bed in the middle of the night to show her the stars and planets through his telescope. It was those moments that kindled the passion for astronomy she has to this day. Worst Childhood Memory: She wasn't a child per se when it happened, but her youngest older brother's death rocked the whole of the family. He was killed as a green Farstrider in a skirmish with Amani forces, and it was ultimately the event that led to her mother's death soon after; she couldn't cope with having to bury any of her children. Most Cherished Adult Memory: Graduating Dalaran and Silvermoon's universities are both proud moments, but it was a gift her father gave her to celebrate and congratulate her on her achievements that holds a special place. To celebrate her success, he gave her a simple moonstone ring, with the man in the moon carved in its face. It's her most prized possession, and a very fond memory. Worst Adult Memory: There's no shortage to pick from: the fall of Quel'Thalas is certainly up there. But more personally, the court martial and execution of her oldest brother, and her father's death a few years after have utterly upended her world. She's coped with neither well- or at all, really- and as a result has developed some very bad habits in compartmentalizing her pain instead of facing it. Biggest Character Strength: Altherei feels very deeply, and her empathy is what ultimately pushes her to act and try and create a better world for others. She has a strong sense of justice and can't abide suffering if she feels there's something- however small- that she can do about it. Biggest Character Weakness: Altherei's empathy is also her downfall, but not in the way one might expect. She's quick to pour into another's cup, but will deliberately ignore her own. In her mind, she does not have the luxury to break down or express pain or show anything but a happy and strong facade. She minimizes her own problems in comparison to the problems of others, and believes very firmly that she can't afford to show her own vulnerability, lest others find her unreliable. Fears: Undead (especially those in a greater state of decomposition), deep water, the Void, being thought of as weak, being vulnerable, losing loved ones.

>>Contact

Altherei’s gaze lingered at the growing mounds of paperwork on her desk, scattered in varying states of disarray. It spoke to the amount of work and stress she’d put on herself that they were nowhere near as organized as she would like. She knew what most were and where in the stacks to find what she needed. Grant applications, bond applications, flyers for events and more- it was all there. The outside was just a reflection of the clutter inside her mind. She knew it, too.

She needed air, and she pushed herself away from the table before the mere sight of it all overwhelmed her. 

She’d quietly known it for some time, but like so many other unpleasant things she told herself she just didn’t have time to think about, she pushed it aside. Except now, with the Summer Gala planning in full swing and with twice the workload and half the help.. Altherei didn’t arrive at the realization so much as crash into it abruptly. It wasn’t as though she couldn’t have seen it coming- she just didn’t want to.

The Reprieve had been struggling for months. Es’dai had been able to take it over for a time, but with her recent disappearance, Altherei was barely keeping it- and herself- afloat. While she was assured her fellow Speaker was alive and all right, her whereabouts remained unknown. Revlas could wash dishes, but that seemed about all he could- and would- do if he wasn’t permitted to put his feet on the table. Her growing concerns about their bratty baron-Advisor would have to wait until another day. Their conversation the night prior had drained her of all optimism, and the sinking reality was one she forced herself to push to the side. There were other things to deal with. He’d have to wait.

She was doing all she could to keep the Court afloat, but the weighty silence in Dawncourt’s hall pressed down heavily onto her shoulders. It lingered like an uncomfortable truth everyone in a room knew, but no one dared say aloud. She thought of Waylight Refuge. Waylight Outreach. Organizations before, attempts before to do the very same good she was trying to do now.

Always, it ended the same. Folded, disbanded, dissolved. Her lips pulled into a frown to think of it, and she shifted her weight in her chair as if changing position would free her from the discomfort of her thoughts.

Was she just.. bad at this? At running things that weren’t singular events? At leading organizations? Did she just not have what it took to gather a following- or was she not charismatic enough? Strong enough?

These and a thousand other questions piled in her mind one after the other, and she pulled her cardigan tighter across her shoulders before she realized she wasn’t actually cold. It was the unique chill that came with feeling horribly inadequate, worrying she wasn’t really cut out for anything but throwing fancy events, and fearing that she was staring down yet one more failure.

She didn’t want it to be. She wanted to succeed- she wanted the Court’s mission to succeed. But if she were to be brutally honest with herself, it meant acknowledging she would be, essentially, starting from ground zero. That there was no one to rely on- at least, not right now. That if success was what she really wanted.. she’d probably be at it alone until her friends either returned, or she found other like minds to bridge those gaps.

She could do it by herself. She had before. She could again. But she didn’t want to.

Altherei had never considered herself to be particularly vain. It was one thing- and important, she thought- to care about one’s appearance. To put in effort to look your best so you might then feel your best, to show the world the most polished version of yourself. There was a difference between that and blind vanity, and while she took pride in how she looked, and ensuring she presented herself well, she’d never given it that much thought.

Not, at least, until she’d emerged from K’aresh with an ugly set of scars, and for the attacks of the Devouring Host to add to them. The wounds themselves had been easy for skilled healers to patch up, but the scars themselves remained.

Altherei stood in front of her full-length mirror, one arm pulled through the sleeve of her blouse while the other draped off her shoulder, the marks on full display in stark contrast to her astral tattoos.

It was easy to ignore their presence when she didn’t have to look at them- her or anyone else, for that matter. To cover them with sleeves or scarves and not have to think about them until winding down for evening’s end. It had come as some shock to her, then, when instinct caused her to recoil ever so slightly when Veilos’ fingers brushed across them for the first time. Sensuality became self-consciousness in the blink of an eye.

Aware and attentive, he’d first sought to make sure everything was all right. That she was all right. There was no rush to pursue intimacy, and she knew he’d never push it if she decided she wasn’t ready.. but that wasn’t the issue. A small part of her wondered for a moment if it would’ve been easier if it had been. It was much more difficult to be vulnerable- to literally share her scars alongside the rest of her, and not feel some way about them.

He knew. He understood. And instead of offering vague niceties or bland reassurances, he’d taken her hand and traced her fingers along his scars. The one on his head- a result of grief becoming near-suicidal recklessness. The one on his left forearm- earned as a child in defense of his mother. His own skin was a map of history and battles that he walked her through with the same softness he’d traced her own with after. Her fingertips followed each jagged line, each clean edge, committing them and their stories to memory, precious pieces of him he didn’t need to share, but chose to all the same.

So when his thumb returned to brush over the gnarled bite marks on her shoulder, she didn’t flinch. His touch was gentle then, but not as though she were some delicate, fragile thing who might break under it. Rather, it was careful the way a sculptor cared for their marble- purposeful, thoughtful, yet with intent and seeing the truth of what was underneath.

That truth- as he’d spoken it when pressing a kiss to the jagged crescent scar on her forehead- was that these were signs of what she survived. Of strength. And that whether she chose to keep them or not.. he’d find her just as beautiful either way.

A brief shake of her head brought her back to the present, shirt sleeve still hanging loose over her shoulder. Slowly, Altherei brought her own hand up, running slender fingers across those same bite marks. She pushed a strand of starlight-threaded black hair away from the crescent scar. Time to reflect- literally and figuratively- had finally brought her to a conclusion. Her lips spread into a gentle, endearing smile as she pulled the sleeve up over her shoulder and finished securing the buttons. She didn’t need to show the world her scars. She didn’t need to show anyone. She didn’t need to keep them to know she was strong.

But maybe, in time.. she could see them as something she was beautiful because of, and not in spite of.

Familiar pangs of wariness gnawed at the back of her mind, doubts and fears creeping along the corridors therein like shadowy gheists. Just because Altherei had grown accustomed to them at this point didn’t make them any less unwelcome.. or unsettling.

It was with a start that she woke in the middle of the night in her room, eyes blinking once, twice, thrice to adjust to the darkness. The disturbance of her sleep was also growing more commonplace, with nightmares both familiar and fresh robbing her of a peaceful night’s rest. Sometimes, it was a dream of her oldest brother- risen from the grave, gunshot wounds still marring his Farstrider’s armor. How he hated her, blamed her- it wasn’t him, she knew it. He’d never say such things. Never raise a hand to harm her, much less take her life.

Other nights, it was the visions of what she now clearly understood to be House Dae’menel. The grand hallways she never visited in person of an estate long forgotten left to gather dust with time. The ghosts were always keen to remind her of the very thing Ilvisar had: their legacy was inescapable. Like an eclipse, it would eventually overshadow her.

The new ones ran par for the course- being chased by undead, drowning, falling from great mountain heights.. things her subconscious could easily have conjured as a byproduct from stress now made more vibrant in their disquieting nature by virtue of the growing presence of the Void everywhere she turned. Just because the Devouring Host had been driven back didn’t mean they were defeated- Altherei knew better than to have that much optimism.

Still.. that growing restlessness of sleep- when it did come- was taking its toll. Between planning for the gala and trying to stay on top of growing concerns in the Court, she couldn’t afford to sleep poorly. On top of it all, though, was the gravest concern:

The ward.

She knew whose it was- or from whom it came. Why Ilvisar had done it, she still didn’t know. Even if she had guesses, the most charitable still had robbed her of her chance to consent, and put her into a situation that very well could’ve gotten her killed. She still bore those scars- mental and physical.

She knew it would only leave the shadows looming larger in her room; the pinpricks under her skin would only continue crawling until it was dealt with. She was ready to be done with it- with him- more than ready, in fact. Curious as she may still have been about the house and what happened to it.. some mysteries were best left unsolved.

And once this final tether was gone? Perhaps sleep would finally return.

The fog hung thickly across Silverpine, clinging to tree branches like tattered shreds of gauze, and caressing the cold ground as if it could tempt the still bodies buried beneath back to life. Heavy gray clouds added to the gloom, looming over the tops of black granite mountains that made the backdrop for House Dae’menel.

Inside the house’s manor, Ilvisar leaned back in his chair in a manner most casual. He knew better than to prop his feet on any table, but to Marne, he still seemed shockingly relaxed as he entered the study. The undead’s one yellow eye flicked to the two opened letters on the desk- letters from Altherei, he knew- letters that had gone unanswered.

“You seem .. at ease.” Marne offered- it wasn’t a question, but Ilvisar heard the uncertainty in his voice all the same.

“Should I not be?” Ilvisar arched a brow, and Marne’s silence only invited him to further speak.

“The Devouring Host was a most unexpected- but welcome- surprise. Yes, yes, they were beaten back.. but I know what she experienced out there,” His lips pulled into a thin grin, devoid of joy but full of the quiet, almost sadistic glee Marne had seen one too many times in Void users who dove too deeply and greedily into their chosen magics.

He’d seen it through Altherei’s own eyes- after a fashion. If she found herself in danger, he knew about it. It would’ve protected her from the Voidwalker that sought to make a meal of her when she had been trapped on the Isle. She hadn’t needed saving, not that she knew that.

“It’s just made her more afraid of the Void though, hasn’t it?”

“Probably.. but she’ll be thinking of what I told her in our last meeting.. that it’s inescapable. This house.. is inescapable. The Void came right to her doorstep- befouled their Sunwell. I know how she thinks. The doubt is there. ‘What if he’s right?’” He spoke in hypothetical, “‘What if I can’t escape the legacy after all?’” His grin widened.

“That doesn’t seem likely to push her towards it.” Marne noted with his characteristic dryness and practicality. Ilvisar rolled his eyes like a man who knew he was the most intelligent in the room.

“It doesn’t have to- fear and doubt are incredibly powerful tools, when wielded properly, and by one who knows how to.. shape them,” He waved a hand around in the air, punctuating his point with a few well-crafted tendrils of Void magic that swirled and dissipated like smoke.

“She doesn’t have to see the allure of it. I know she won’t- her fear won’t let her. No, she doesn’t need that at all,” He shook his head. Marne was not a man easily bothered, but even he felt the briefest tingle crawl up his spine at the way Ilvisar’s grin pulled almost too far to be natural. The dim candlelight of the study cast shadows onto the older elf’s face and the enchantment keeping his eyes green melted away to their Void-seeped violet.

“She just needs to have her back against the wall.. and I know just where to start.”

Altherei has actually done a considerable amount of research into Void magic prior to Ilvisar ever entering the picture! She believes knowledge is power, and even if she's afraid to use it herself, she thinks there's value in knowing the theory and history of it.

Does that, to a degree, make her more afraid? A little bit! Even if she's more mentally disciplined than she gives herself credit for, the fear of losing her mind and herself to a primal force is a pretty compelling fear. Part of her worries there'll come a time when she doesn't have a choice but to use it- some manner of desperate measure where nothing else will do. (It also doesn't escape her the irony of fearing a magic that feeds on emotions like fear.)