#bane.intro

PART  ONE     [     dossier     ]

FULL  NAME     .     maerope   (  pron.  mer - oh - pea,  like  calli—ope  )  nievethil     NICKNAME(S)  /  ALIAS(ES)  /  TITLE(S)     .     tbd     PREFERRED  NAME     .   maerope     AGE     .   twenty - nine  ( 29 )  /  three  hundred  and  twenty - seven  ( 327 )     GENDER  +  PRONOUNS     .   cis  woman,  she  +  her     ORIENTATION     .   bisexual,  kinsey  4     BIRTHPLACE     .   somewhere  in  the  region  now  known  as  caerfaen,  rinlun

EYES     .   large,  dark  as  midnight,  fitting  to  the  face  —  innocent  looking,  almost  doe  like  —  always  observing  and  rarely  seen     HAIR     .   takes  after  her  human  mother  with  long,  thick  hair  of  raven  black.  falls  to  about  the  waist,  straight,  only  ever  styled  or  decorated  when  in  miras.  outside  of  elendim,  often  tied  or  braided  back     HEIGHT     .   five  feet,  nine  inches  /  175cm

LANGUAGE(S)  SPOKEN     .   common  &  elder     DOMINANT  HAND     .   ambidextrous     JUNG  TYPE     .   intp  —  the  thinker  (  analytical,  objective,  and  logical  )     ENNEAGRAM     .   type  5w6  —  the  troubleshooter     MORAL  ALIGNMENT     .   lawful  neutral  (  lives  strictly  by  her  own  personal  code  )     CHARACTER  INFLUENCES     .   sévérine  (  skyfall  ),  heloise  (  portrait  of  a  lady  on  fire  ),  satine  (  moulin  rouge  ),  rita  (  mulholland  drive  ),  marianne  sheridan  (  normal  people  ),  berelain  (  the  wheel  of  time  )  but  also,  mat  cauthon  (  the  wheel  of  time  ),  polly  (  peaky  blinders  ),  clementine  (  westworld  )

PART  TWO     [     history     ]

born  three  hundred  years  ago  near  the  elendim  border  to  a  human  mother  and  an  elven  father.  her  mother  (  affectionately  called  maman  ) was  just  a  woman,  a  village  woman,  a  kind  woman,  just  a  mother,  just  a  wife  —  and  her  father  (  lovingly  called  pére  )  was  the  captain  of  the  elven  guard  and  served  in  a  city  that  neither  maman  nor  maerope  was  allowed.  her  youth  was  often  without  a  father,  but  he  was  still  loved  greatly  and  deeply  by  both  maerope  and  maman.

the  small  village  in  which  maerope  and  maman  lived  was  normal  enough.  it  was  just  fine.  people  were  fine  with  maman  and  they  were  fine  with  maerope  —  until  maerope  began  growing  from  babe  to  girl  and  there  was  suddenly  all  this  hatred  that  she  had  never  seen  before.  her  very  first  brush  with  this  hatred  is  the  shepherd  dragging  her  by  the  ear  to  maman  and  kicking  dirt  into  them,  which  has  stayed  with  her  nearly  forever.

when  maman  and  pére  die,  maerope  is  still  a  girl,  halfway  to  womanhood.  they  die  by  ...  and  they  are  killed  by  ...  and  their  deaths  themselves  don't  matter  because  what  matters  is  that  they  are  dead  —  and  there's  nothing  she  can  do  about  it  but  mourn.  they  are  dead  and  all  she  has  is  a  pair  of  graves  that  she  won't  return  to  when  she's  older.

so  she  grows.  maerope  doesn't  speak  about  her  past  much,  there  isn't  much  to  it.  one  day  she  is  a  girl  and  one  day  she  is  a  woman.

these  years  are  filled  with  learning  —  surviving.  her  most  important  skill  is  latched  onto  during  this  time,  invisibility,  elusivity,  a  complete  and  total  stealth.  she  learns  how  to  blend  in  among  mortal  men  and  how  to  kill  them,  how  to  become  unnoticed  in  the  midst  of  day  and  beneath  the  shadows  of  the  darkness.  when  she  is  at  an  appropriate  age,  she  goes  to  find  the  men  that  killed  her  parents  (  there  is  a  small  village  in  which  maerope  and  maman  once  lived,  a  perfectly  normal  village,  it  was  just  fine  —  and  one  day  it  was  not  ).

this  part,  i  imagine,  she  made  into  a  game.  killed  them  one  by  one,  at  first  a  random  pattern  and  then,  a  knowing.  she  was  coming.  she  never  forgot.  if  you  were  going  to  slaughter  parents  in  front  of  their  child,  you  should  have  killed  her  too  —  because  now  she  has  a  right  to  hunt  you  down.

continued  mostly  as  an  assassin,  then,  likely  for  hire  but  had  her  own  moral  code.  robin  hood,  if  robin  hood  protected  half  -  elven  children  and  women,  if  he  was  a  nameless  champion  of  whoever  was  left  behind  in  this  realm,  left  beyond  the  borders  of  elendim.

[  to  be  plotted  tbd  but  met  dark  heir,  was  taken  to  miras  ]

settled  in  fine  to  miras,  to  elendim.  it  was  the  most  home  she  had  ever  really  had.  maerope  was  quick  to  become  someone  else,  a  softer  version  of  herself.  she  immersed  herself  greatly  into  the  culture  and  lifestyle,  finding  indulgence  in  the  spirits  and  the  community.

has,  in  the  past  few  centuries,  carved  out  a  specific  image  for  herself  amongst  her  peers.  a  social  butterfly  and  still  unknowable,  a  beloved  neighbor  yet  near  nameless,  completely  blank,  empty  —  whatever  it  is  her  people  want  to  see  of  her.  joins  the  fellowship  to  protect  them,  of  course,  and  follow  in  her  father's  footsteps  !

PART  THREE     [     personality     ]

languid,  like  a  cat  —  something  adopted  from  her  time  in  miras.  takes  things  easy,  viewed  as  someone  most  likely  to  drape  themselves  over  the  nearest  piece  of  furniture.  speaks  slowly,  like  a  book  of  purple  prose  brought  to  life,  attributes  this  to  the  discovery  that  she  has  all  the  time  in  the  world  —  is  sort  of  always  floating  around  like  a  dandelion  seed,  is  here  but  not  really,  not  until  —

well,  there's  obviously  something  hidden  beneath  the  surface,  the  fluid  laziness.  alert,  like  a  cat  —  a  feral  kitten  left  in  the  rain  to  die  without  the  milk  of  her  mother.  stalks  her  prey  with  silent  footsteps  (  they  never  see  her  coming  )  and  strikes  when  least  expected.  always  watching,  always  seeing  —  often  forgotten  and  left  behind,  and  —

a  woman  is  never  seen  until  she  is  heard,  and  she  is  never  heard  until  she  wants  to  be,  revealed  until  the  moment  is  just  right,  when  the  light  hits  the  skin  in  such  a  way,  when  the  moon  is  at  its  highest  peak  in  the  sky.

PART  FOUR     [     wanted  connections     ]

FULL NAME lucaris castille vanstrada.  

NICKNAME(S) luc.

AGE twenty9.

RACE half - mortal, half - mage.   

CLASS warlock.   

GENDER cis man.   

PRONOUNS he/him.   

SEXUALITY bisexual, kinsey scale 3.   

BIRTHPLACE montsart, nansir.    

FAMILY edric castille , adoptive father. alya vanstrada , mother.    selayna castille vanstrada , elder sister. vicarin castille vanstrada , elder brother.

SKILLS arcana, history, persuasion, deception

LANGUAGES common speech, scholar language.

VIRTUES loyal, charismatic, determined, empathetic.    

NEGATIVES selfish, short - sighted, ambitious, insensitive.     

HEIGHT 6'0".     

ENNEAGRAM type 4 , the individualist. 

MBTI isfp , the adventurer.   

BACKSTORY trigger warning - child abuse, violence.   

the   castille  family   were   the   most   powerful   mages   in   their   port   -   town   in   the   northern   region   of   montsart -   a   bloodline   blessed   by   lineage   and   charm,   no   one   expected   luc.   his   appearance   was   a   tell   -   tale   sign   of   his   mother's   betrayal,    but   with   the   mortal   man   down   the   road   splitting   as   soon   as   he   was   born,   who   was   to   say?   he   knew   from   an   early   age   that   he   was   different.   even   at   age   10,   his   siblings   were   describing   the   feeling   of   lightning   in   their   fingers,   or   the   taste   of   fire   on   their   tongue.   his   mother   insisted   hers   was   a   family   of   late   bloomers.   luc   didn't   believe   her.

his   siblings   were   cruel   things.   powerful,   if   a   bit   undisciplined,   their   grip   on   the   control   of   the   household   smothered   lucaris.   when   his   mother   was   home,   caring   for   them   all,   she   at   the   very   least   attempted   to   level   the   field.   but   she   was   a   gifted   divination   mage,   often   called   to   the   larger   cities,   so   he   was   left   with   his   father   most   days.   ridiculed   by   his   siblings,   who   were   in   turn   praised   for   doing   so.   it   was   a   dangerous   mix.   

in   all   of   montsart,   power   was   the   dignifier.   no   one   was   strong   or   beautiful   or   intelligent   unless   they   were   powerful.   some   would   call   his   decisions   greedy,   or   envious,   but   in   truth   it   was   survival.   on   his   28th   birthday,   when   he   became   the   latest   late   bloomer,   luc   grew   desperate.  

he   found   the   book   in   a   library   he   frequented,   but   hadn't   seen   it   before.   it's   cover   was   plain,   undistinguished,   but   as   his   eyes   hovered   over   it,   he   heard   a   cacophony   of   whispers.   the   book   was   filled   with   words   he   didn't   understand,   but   he   tasted   it.   a   crackle   in   his   mouth,   like   just   before   lightning   would   strike.   magic.   

luc   never   saw   the   entity   that   he   pacted   with.   the   world   drained   of   color.   the   whispers   coalesced,   become   more   or   less   one   voice,   and   luc   understood   it   to   be   casir,   the   lord   of   shadow.   the   dream-renderer.   luc   never   thought   he'd   describe   a   devil   as   nonchalant,   but   he   supposed   casir   wasn't   normal.   the   shadow   lord   named   his   price.   his   soul,   sure.   but   a   soul   equal   in   measure   was   required   as   collateral.   a   sacrifice. 

luc   toiled   for   days   over   who   it   would   be.   his   first   instinct   was   someone   who   deserved   it.   but   what   would   it   say   of   him   if   a   soul   equal   to   his   deserved   death?   the   whispers   grew   louder   each   night   in   anticipation,   robbing   him   of   his   sleep.   but   what   if   all   souls   were   equal?   his   studies   didn’t   cover   this.   his   father,   he   thought,   was   a   wretched   man.   haughty   and   self-aggrandizing.   even   if   the   ritual   were   to   fail,   the   universe   would   thank   him   for   his   death.   it   didn’t   fail.   luc   knew   it   from   the   moment   his   father’s   blood   touched   his   fingers.   whispers   erupted.   equal   in   measure,   equal   in   measure.   shadows   enveloped   him.   

when   luc   awoke   as   if   from   a   dream,   he   realized   his   sister   had   entered   his   bedroom.   he   just   didn't   see   her   at   first.   in   fact,   he   didn't   see   anything   for   a   while,   with   the   shadows   surrounding   him.   they   never   left.   a   darkness   so   thick   it   smothered   him   more   than   his   family   ever   did.   this   is   what   he   was   now,   a   bearer   of   casir's   cloak.   he   just   didn't   realize   it'd   be   so   literally.