GUTEN MORGEN~!!! It’s 7:40 and I just pulled into work early after getting some Starbucks to start off my day. I’ll be able to get some Duolingo in before my shift to please the owl, lol. @everyone sending me replies - IM GONNA TREAT MYSELF SO GOOD you just wait. I’m gonna take myself on the best date.
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The day was a pattern of clouds and light drizzle, the earth outside turning soft and moist as the elements moved overhead. She woke up on her cue, early enough to breathe in the novelty of the day, and rose from the bed. The teapot was steaming in the cold, and the sips she took were invigorating.
It was perfectly usual of a morning. One such as the others when the weather was upset. Mending and knitting and etching. Writing and reading. Relaxing to the pitter-patter sounds from the outside. Letting the stray fly sit on the windowsill until it was safe outside.
Her days were usually the same. She had to admit, she had a weakness for the familiar. It was comforting. Putting on her travelling boots, the feel of the cane in her palm, the quacking of her ducks and geese, the feel of coming home after an arduous journey. It never got boring to her. Though she loved discovering the new, the old held her unyielding affection. Her life was set and known and so enjoyable.
But then she died.
She was sipping and the rain was falling onto the tiles on the roof and there was Kindred on the table in front of her. The cup froze at her mouth as she noticed it's presence - right in her face, and yet - the wolfish mask was staring at her, static in the air, the creature behind it unmoving.
The second she saw the Lamb, she knew. All knew. She put down the jasmine cup and opened her mouth to say something, but the question readily died on her throat.
A compulsion tilted her head to the side. Her eyes shifted from Lamb's mask to the bedding. Dimly, she realized she forgot to rearrange it as she rose into wakefulness. She-
A shuddering sigh escaped her as she took in the gentle curve of the blankets. The hair spread over the pillow, alight with tiny reflexes. The curled hands. The face, comforted and still.
She counted each individual eyelash on that face.
Soundlessly, she rose from the table stool, and approached herself. Her eyes trailed from her face to her hands. She took her hands in her hands.
Kindred was already at her bedside when she arrived, and it stared at her as she gingerly touched at the strands of her own hair. Trailed the edge of her ear. She asked Lamb if it was okay. Lamb told her it was.
Finding her tools in the basement took a little longer than expected. As the earth became soft from the rain, she dug in her field, just by the road. Rivulets of water seeped down into her coat, down her face - she dug a hole the size of a large person and looked like a pig for it. Her hands were wiped against her slacks every few seconds as she cut the blooms in the garden - she decorated the hole meticulously, with a bedding of vibrant flowers and branches. Apple and grape, tulip and lily and pasque. Many, many flowers. A wreath of fresh yew.
She held the body in a traveling coat and stood over the grave, feeling strange. Kindred stood next to her, and they looked at the ground silently - the rain was lost on her - Isolde knelt down and laid herself to rest.
She died as she lived. Quietly and peacefully. With an inherent beauty, and someone to watch her go.
Or was that a lie?
Soaked to the bones and breathing heavily, the creature that remained set a heavy marker and pressed it into the ground. As it slid into place obediently, she faltered, and knelt next to it to catch her breath.
Thank you - She breathed to the lamb, who now had its eyes on her. Though I'm sorry for keeping you as much as I have.
You can go now.
Lamb's silken voice was untouched by surprise. You stay.
Isolde smiled, a shaky little thing.
Force of habit.
Afterword
I’ve been gearing up to write this infodump for a while now, to throw some context into the mysterious of Isolde’s life. The truth is, to put it simply- you probably suspected it to an extent- Isolde is dead.
Yup, that’s right. For a while now, I wrote the motherly traveler as someone who already died. Specifically, a motherly traveler who didn’t exactly let death slow her down.
Post-death, she is a ghost, a spirit, a benevolent mirage of varying consistency that keeps to it’s habits, places and people out of affection instead of moving on into the afterlife. While Kindred succesfully rang her death a lifetime ago, many secrets surround the true nature of her race. And death is slightly more complicated when you are half-spirit and imbued with attachment.
There are many uncertainities when it comes to Isolde’s powers post-death. It is not a side of her that is very well explored by others, because cmon.
Anyways, for your convenience, you can think fire -> ghost fire, amidst other things a regular spirit would do. Haunting, blinking, undying, being summoned, being corporeal to an extent, in tune with her affections. Knowing that which should be not. Also, potentially this.
If you have any doubts, feel free to ask or rp it out. More headcanons will pop up as I’ll update her page... Slowly...
And know that whether she’s solid or gas, Isolde will always gladly become your grandma (well unless the world ends, but even so.)
The Yew tree would sway in the quiet. And Isolde would hum, laying upon its roots, the tombstone was peeking at her whenever she opened her eyes, which wasn't all that much. Her birds would keen and coo, busy with their own business.
As she’d relax, her wands would undoubtly wander away from underneath her head, and into the soft needles and berries strewn on the underbrush about her. Blindly, she’d find a needled twig, then another one. With the sun moving along behind the branches, a frail accessory would be deftly crafted, and promptly tucked behind her ear.
Isolde would sigh and smile, her hands weaving themselves about her belly. How content. All was well.
Then she’d sit up so abruptly, her green bauble would take clean off her head. The birds would look at her, suddenly silent, completely mystified.
"..." Isolde would say, which was really not all that informative.
━━ FULL NAME: Isolde
━━ GENDER & SEXUALITY: Female, Bi I guess
━━ ETHNICITY & SPECIES: ???/ Yordle
━━ BIRTHPLACE & BIRTHDATE: ???; 28th of May
━ GUILTY PLEASURES: Tasty food and Cuddles.
━ PHOBIAS: Perpetual entrapment.
━ WHAT THEY WOULD BE FAMOUS / INFAMOUS FOR: Although she doesn't quite pay attention to it, she is famous among some as a true guide and lucky omen on the road. For some, she is also well known for her numerous dwellings.
━ WHAT HAVE THEY / WOULD THEY HAVE GOTTEN ARRESTED FOR: Trespassing! Oh so much. Also building on owned property and using owned resources. Probably accidental arson. And not adhering to the country law.
━ A CHARACTER YOU SHIP THEM WITH: Amelia! ( @ask-a-yordle-witch )
Secretly a few others :P But I’m too shy to rp with them.
━ CHARACTER MOST LIKELY TO MURDER THEM: Shadow Isles champions.
━ FAVORITE BOOK GENRE: Comedy, romance, utility.
━ LEAST FAVORITE BOOK CLICHE: When the characters die suddenly for no good reason but to push the plot forward.
━ TALENTS AND / OR POWERS: Wisdom and Knowledge, innate magical power, strength and durability, great longevity, powerful personal charm, cool friends who are better than you.
━ WHY SOMEONE MIGHT LOVE THEM: Kind and loyal and stable as a continental plate. Helps those in need with everything she has. Free-spirited. Also quite pretty and can cook well!
━ WHY SOMEONE MIGHT HATE THEM: She disappears a lot and sometimes for a long time. Will not let you bind her to one place. Surprisingly secretive. Sometimes appears as too simple or weak. Stop helping me!
━ HOW THEY CHANGE: She doesn't, not really... But her core self bends in tandem with the world around her, so she might be different from era to era. Also, seems to slowly become... Enlightened. There is only so much wisdom you can achieve before that happens to you.
━ WHY YOU LOVE THEM: She represents what I wish to be like in the future. She enjoys the simple things in life and has adventures with true companions. Also she's super fluffy and has a horde of birds.
Totally tagging all me pals!~: @ask-academy-akali @click-the-damn-lantern @freljord-le @ask-zyra-thecuriousflower @celesto-the-amazing @yordle-detective
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Unsure if Amelia would be scared for her life, but I don't think she wants to find out what would make Isolde "snap"...
On a scale of 1-10 how scared for your life would you be if my character suddenly snapped?
/Not sure anyone would want to find out. Isolde is basically a monolith of patience, and there is little, or little is ever shown, of her being truly agitated. To snap like that… *Shudder*
/Also to be more specific, I envision a crazed Isolde to be a lot like Gyokuen Ren from magi in all of her incarnations. I, myself, had a hard time processing how someone so pretty and with such a beautiful smile can be so grotesque the very next panel O.O;;;;; Her self-control is so frighteningly on point and the switch got me every time. And also the casual dialogue she produces while she tears you to shreds. Yeah, Gyokuen Ren is just…
31. Would your characterbe the kind capable of killing? Would they enjoy killing or only use it whennecessary or, perhaps, refuse to kill no matter what?
She sees killing as pointless and would rather 'flight'than 'fight'. In battle, she is more of a disabler, looking for an opportunityto talk or leave. But ultimately she is not above it, and if you push her toofar, she will strike you down.