Eldya Blackwell

Godbrand: Wait b-

DM: I’ll allow it

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{{  @caladhel-iarian​ }}

A clattering of bony hooves pummeled the ground at breakneck speed, trampling over grass and flowers indiscriminately, cutting a wilted broken-path straight for Silvermoon City. Hardened crimson flesh and a jet black mane of tendrils clashed with the forest’s pastel palette of cream, gold, and green. The demon’s aura of death and chaos sent small woodland creatures scattering for cover, leaving a wake of uneasy silence.

It certainly wasn’t the most discreet way to travel, but speed was of the essence, and Eldya’s Felstalker was always a reliable choice when it came to mounts. A body-length stream of inky black hair whipped behind her like a ribbon in a storm.

Pulling a note from her dusky grey robes she held the paper up, flapping against the wind. ‘Sunfury Academy, Professor Ia’rian’ it read, followed by office hours. An hour and a half to reach the city and make her way to Sunfury Academy. The note was stuffed back into her pocket, lips pressing into an irritated thin line. If she didn’t hurry she was going to miss her chance.

The Felstalker’s jaws clattered excitedly as it ran, enticed by the magic of the enchanted forest and the city just beyond, ripe with magical flesh. Drool oozed and spilled between jagged bony teeth, sizzling as it dribbled to the ground.

Deep as summer thunder and full of disdain for the world beneath it, the voice rumbled in her ear. Cool breath washed over her skin, stirring her hair and a dark shadow swallowed her up like a black hole eating every star that crossed its path. The shadow straightened up and shifted, spitting her out as if she tasted vile and an enormous elf sidled around her without a single backward glance.

He carried a briefcase under one arm and a steaming cup in his other hand, and he tossed the former onto the sofa against the wall before setting the latter on his desk with great care. The briefcase bounced once on the soft grey cushion and settled, a dog commanded to sit and stay; not even a pen escaped its pockets. His cup filled the office with the scent of warm honey and refreshing spearmint, and he closed his eyes as he inhaled the steam.

And ignored his guest.

His office belonged in a showroom. Massive bookcases lined the walls and only a few pieces of furniture interrupted the long stretches of black walnut shelves. A fat globe took up one corner, his sofa ate up another wall, and two giant floor vases occupied a second corner and a break between his books. Silver ivy bloomed in one vase, and sprays of love-lies-bleeding spilled out of the second like trickles of dried blood against the white porcelain. Papers made neat skyscrapers atop his gargantuan desk and its polished marble surface reflected everything it caught, including the soft light from his lamp. Books filled his shelves, organized by category first, size second, and author third. When his palms settled on his desktop, the air around him wavered; an observant caster might notice the way the room seemed to slide a centimeter to the left and everything clicked into place like the final piece set down to complete the puzzle. 

A faint lavender glow flared above his collar and lit up his arms for a split second before it faded out as if it had never existed.

The professor matched his pristine surroundings. Unlike his guest, he wore tailored trousers that showed off endless legs, a vest that displayed broad shoulders and a lean frame. He hadn’t even bothered to undo his tie and his only concession to comfort were the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Tattoos covered his forearms in a variety of whimsical scenes, scrollwork, and poetry, and he folded those arms over his chest as he turned to face his unexpected visitor.

Violet clouds wafted up from his cigarette, joining the steam from his tea and creating a wreath around his head. Crowning him. Here stands King Nothing. He stared at her, sizing her up as if he could see right through her potato sack robes and into all the secrets she hid inside herself. His eyes glowed in the gloom, brighter and hotter than stars despite the chill that clung to him like the last frost before spring thaws and he cocked his head, sucking down the cigarette smoke. It escaped through his nose in a slow jet seconds later; he looked less like an elf and more like a dragon ready to belch fire at the next hapless knight.

Who the hell did she think she was, barging into his office as if she had every right to be there? What did she want? He remembered every student he’d ever taught, but he didn’t recall her face–or her shapeless robes and gaudy hat–in any of his classrooms. Most of his students trembled like earthquake victims when standing in front of his door; they never knocked with the confidence of solicitors certain that everyone needed and wanted their product. They never pushed open the door with sure hands and stood in the way, gazing around the room like queens surveying the new lands they’d conquered.

They also never stood with their chins lifted so high they would have drowned had it rained. Dhel squinted at his guest and suspicion cast dark shadows in his eyes. Had someone sent an assassin? A con artist seeking to blackmail him? A thief intent on stealing anything that wasn’t nailed down–and trying to lift whatever was?

She is a stupid thief and a piss poor killer, then. An open door into an unfamiliar place is a trap. Shame she didn’t walk inside. Then I’d be blissfully alone…

“If you are here to complain about your latest grade, then save your breath,” he finally said, his voice dry as old bones. “I don’t hand out awards for piles of shit any monkey with a quill could turn in. Want a gold star for half-assed effort, go back to kindergarten.”

His magic and strength of will clawed at her like a riptide, causing the fingers of her freehand to instinctively stretch to their full lengths at her side. Like flowers drawn to sunlight. the slender digits pushed against their gloved prisons, anguishing in their missed opportunity to sup at his soul energies. ‘No.’ she told herself. ‘Not yet.’

Character Creation Questions

1: Origins! How did you come up with the concept for your OC?

2: Were they originally well received by the fandom? Or if they’re fandomless, did the RP community take to them right away or was it hard to get attention?

3: Has your OC gone through different incarnations during their stay on Tumblr? Were they reimagined or have they stayed the same all this time?

4: How do you get into your OC’s mindset to write for them? How do you find the muse for them?

5: Were you nervous about putting your OC out there? How long did it take before you decided to play your OC here on Tumblr.

IC Interaction Questions

6: What is your OC’s family situation? Do they get along? Do they fight? Or are they alone?

7: What does your OC look for in a friend? Do they value friendship a lot?

8: What does your OC look for in a significant other? Are they looking at all?

9: What is your OC like when at work? Are they diligent? Slacker? Do they get along with their co-workers?

10: How do they deal with strangers?

Inside the Muse’s Mind Questions

11: Is there a place they go to in order to escape the world, the stresses of life? What’s their favourite place?

12: What scent calms them? Reminds them of home or something soothing?

13: Do they have any favourite foods? Would they eat it all the time if they had the chance? What do they hate to eat?

14: Pet peeves. Tell us what would really tick them off. Do they have a Berserk Button?

15: Does your OC have any awful fears? Do they get paralyzed with fear or can they work through their fears?

16: What are concepts they value? Virtues? What do they look down upon?

17: Do they have any guilty pleasures? They embarrassed about them? Do they flaunt them?

18: Do they have a guilty conscience? Why? Did they ever do something they totally regretted?

Miscellaneous Questions

19: Have they ever been injured? Sick? How do they deal with it?

20: What are Tropes you associate with your muse?

21: Name an embarrassing situation that your muse has been in.

22: If given a million dollars, what would your OC do?

23: Any ships for your OC?

24: Have you ever gotten anon hate because of your OC?