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20 for Ena, 61 for Rienmar and 80 for as many of your OCs as you can manage :D
20. What kind of mother/father would your OC be?
Ena would be a little bit of a helicopter mom that would need to be restrained a little. She had a hard childhood, so she would want to make sure that her child/children know how loved they are by her.
61. What is the general impression your OC gives other people?
Rienmar can give off an initial impression of intimidation. He is tall, broad, and typically quiet and kind of looming. However, once he is comfortable and engages in conversation, he doesn’t appear like any of that.
The sun was shining bright, its beams breaking through the canopy of the forest, peppering the ground and warming it. The birds were singing their songs without a care, the halla moved slowly, looking for good grazing, and the spirits flitted about as they pleased. Many things were different in the world than several decades ago. Things were still changing, though perhaps for the better. It was all dependent on who you asked.
Within the forest was not only animals and spirits. There was other forms of life and even infrastructure. Beautiful buildings and halls of stone on the ground, built around the trees so that may continue to grow. Ramps of wooden stairs, winding round the trees to go up towards the canopy. Dangling bridges connecting the canopy together to all of the different huts that were built up there, simple and quaint. Bathing in one of the larger sunbeams was a small courtyard with only dirt paths and elegant flowers blooming in rows that had been planted and cared for meticulously. Sitting patiently on a few wooden benches that had been brought outside was a small group of elven children, listening intently to their teacher, who was standing before them and pacing slowly back a forth while he carried a ball of flame in his hand, discussing magic, its uses, and how to control it.
This young man had wavy, medium length brown hair that reached to his mid-back. The right side of his head had three horizontal braids, and his bangs that normally fell into his left eye were currently tucked behind his elongated ear. His blue-grey eyes, filled with a patient wisdom, shifted constantly between the flickering flame in his hand to the children that were watching with awe and excitement. Though he spoke to them as though he had lived several lifetimes, he himself looked no older than a young man in his twenties.
Once he came to the end of his lecture, he closed his palm, letting the fire fade out from existence. He dismissed the children, who looked disappointed that they weren’t leaving the courtyard holding their own tinder balls of flame. He waited until they were all gone, then turned to look at the flowers and their brilliant colors of red, purple, orange, pink, and yellow. As per routine, with the departure of the children came the arrival of someone else. The instructor could feel the aura of magic long before he heard the footsteps approaching from behind.
“Finished with the lesson today, Vanyar?” a voice nearly identical to his inquired in elvhen.
Vanyar turned on the bare ball of his foot and faced his elder twin brother. Many things were similar in their appearance. His brother, however, had straight, shoulder length auburn hair and blue-green eyes. Otherwise, they were entirely similar from their angular facial structures down to the way their hair was braided. Vanyar gave a single nod and clasped his hands behind his back. “Yes. And you, Nuvian? Did you get much training finished today?”
“Hmm. I did.” Nuvian gave Vanyar a small grin. “I do believe that I am improving. However...I don’t suppose that you’ve seen our darling little sister anywhere today, have you?”
Vanyar frowned with thought, narrowing his eyes and glancing off to the side, as though it would help him scour through his memories of the day. “I believe I saw her at one point going off into the forest, but she had her staff with her, so I wasn’t concerned. I thought maybe she was going off to watch you and the other arcane warriors train.”
“If she did, she was good at hiding and keeping her aura tucked in.” Nuvian gave a small sigh and patted Vanyar on the shoulder. “Shall we go and investigate?”
Vanyar arched an indifferent eyebrow. “She’ll return soon enough. You know how she likes to gallivant off and explore with the spirits.”
“...Did you forget? Mother and Father are coming home today.”
Silence stretched between them while Vanyar panicked for a short moment, counting days in his head. When time was irrelevant, one tended to lose track of it quite easily. “...Fenedhis. I can already see their faces if we tell them we lost her.”
“Again,” Nuvian pointed out.
“Be quiet. Let’s just get going.”
“And to think you’re helping teach the future generation…”
“She’s my sister, not my charge!” As he started to walk, Vanyar grumbled quietly and added, “I know, she is in our charge, but come now - you’re the elder one, as you love to point out.”
“Only when it’s relevant. You’re much more level headed and responsible. I mean, you are helping teach the futur-”
“If you do not stop talking, I will-”
“What? Blast me with a fireball? Now, brother. That threat has gotten old, hasn’t it?”
Vanyar’s nostrils flared at Nuvian’s incessant teasing, so he briefly came to a halt and began to raise his hand with a roaring flame, but Nuvian laughed and rushed by him, a barrier cloaked around his body, just in case. His own staff was strapped securely to his back and attached to his hip, a sword hilt clinked against his belt as he ran. Vanyar kept his staff in hand, but chased after his brother.
He silently questioned how people weren’t worried about the future of their people when he succumbed to his brother’s occasional (okay, more than occasional) jabs and acted like...well, less than professional. The two brothers and their sister had a lot of weight and pressure on their shoulders, but it’s truly only as much as they put on themselves. Nuvian saw an opportunity to be physical and a fighter, wielding his magic in more unique ways than just casting spells, so he joined the arcane warriors as soon as he was able. Vanyar appreciated a more scholarly approach. His parents had taught him much and were continuing to do so. However, at the same time, he was incredibly gifted with his control of magic, even from a young age. He had been so excited and proud of his magic, but he saw how other parents or even other children were sometimes fearful of the raw power that was magic these days. So he applied himself to learn as much as he could so that he could pass knowledge along to new bearers of magic. As for their younger sister...she was still a bit young to grasp the standing that she herself had among the people. She spoke at length with spirits and ran off into the forest to practice her own magic. Lately, she had a growing fascination with necromancy. Their mother had mumbled something under her breath about...someone she knew that would be excited to know about it, but they hadn’t caught the name.
Unfortunately, since Nuvian was more nimble and active, he quickly put distance between them. Or, more specifically, him and Vanyar’s fireballs. Soon enough, Vanyar dropped his spell he had prepared and just took to running, his bare feet moving gracefully across the ground, revelling at the feeling of the ground beneath him. He saw Nuvian glance over his shoulder once or twice, making sure he hadn’t lost him.
He wasn’t out of shape, the bastard! He just wasn’t as fast as him!
Once they had gotten a decent distance away from the small elven city, Nuvian began to slow down. Vanyar caught up and the two took deep breaths, their shoulders heaving. When their lungs were a little more full, they each cupped a hand around their mouths and shouted, “Isylia!”
The sound bounced off the trees and was swallowed up by them. They heard no return call, so they kept moving. She normally didn’t wander out too far, knowing that there were dangers outside of the magic that was around the perimeter of the city. The brothers called for her again. Once more, there was only silence.
The further they went, the more nervous they got. “Do you think she went beyond the border?” Nuvian inquired.
“I would like to think not, but perhaps she did. She may have explored everything within the borders and got bored.” Vanyar gave a light shudder. “Feel that? It’s growing colder. The magic’s getting thinner.”
“Hmm. We should have grabbed our harts.”
“She can’t be much further. Isylia!”
“Come on, Isylia! Where are you at?!”
Soon enough, their feet were crunching on the ground in a thin layer of snow. The powerful magic that had been set around the city and the surrounding area fended off the cold and unfavorable elements so that they could have comfortable living conditions while they still worked on building the city up more and more. It was growing every day, that much was certain. But they were not all powerful, so their magic had a range. Apparently, their sister had wandered quite far today indeed. Or maybe she had done so before, but made her way back before anyone was aware of it.
At last, they spotted her. She was surrounded by four spirits, hovering just above her as she knelt on the ground, listening to their tales. She appeared to look like a young teenager with short, wavy, dark auburn hair that stopped just a couple of inches above her shoulders. Her hair typically parted so strongly to hang in her right eye, so she kept her bangs pinned back with small hair clips. When she noticed her brothers approaching, her light green eyes lit up. “Nuvian! Vanyar!”
“Pardon us.” Vanyar bobbed his head at the spirits.
In the next heartbeat, Nuvian crossed his arms, raising his foot and bringing it down to crunch in the snow that was easily up to his ankles. “And just what are you doing all the way out here?”
“Oh, come on.” She rolled her eyes and stood upright, the spirits moving back so that they weren’t in the middle. “You know I can take care of myself. Besides, the spirits won’t let anything happen to me.”
“That isn’t an excuse. You know when you aren’t with anyone, you’re to stay inside the borders.” Vanyar mimicked his brother’s stance unintentionally. The moment he realized he was, he settled for propping his hands on his hips.
“I was barely outside them-”
“But still outside, not in. Come on. We need to head back. Mother and Father will be returning tonight.”
A broad smile came to her face, emphasized by small dimples. “That’s today?”
“I can’t believe I’m the only one that remembered,” Nuvian muttered. He glanced to the spirits. “I’m sorry, but we’ll have to take her back.”
The spirits shook their heads with soft smiles. Isylia spun around to look at them. “Thank you for telling me your stories! I love them.”
“We will see you soon,” one of them promised in a sweet, lulling voice.
“Mm-hmm!” She nodded enthusiastically. “Bye!”
There was a chorus of ‘bye’s as they went their separate ways. Isylia hummed and skipped ahead of her brothers, her hair bouncing with each movement. Her staff, a bit tall still for her, but she insisted she liked it that way, which was shaped almost like a spear, was still attached to her back. “When do you think Mamae and Papae will be here?”
“Hopefully a little bit later, after you can get cleaned up.” Vanyar gestured to her. “Look at you! Covered in dirt and grass stains. What were you doing today?”
“Oh...you know.”
Nuvian scoffed. “Right. Like that tells us anything.”
“I was training!” she huffed indignantly.
Vanyar joined in. “With what? A hill? You slip and fall?”
“No,” she mumbled irritably. “The spirits showed me different ways of fighting they’ve observed and I wanted to try them. There was one where,” she pulled her staff off of her back, “it was almost like an arcane warrior, but with a staff instead of a sword! They reinforced it with magic and jumped around, using it like a lance!”
The brothers exchanged a knowing look. “So that’s why you wanted a staff like that?”
“Well, yeah!” She made sure she was far enough ahead of them to not strike them, then sank into a stance with a sudden shift in demeanor. Her now focused eyes narrowed and she spun around several times, rather gracefully, twirling her staff before making a few jabbing motions. She looked back with a proud grin. “See?”
They couldn’t help it. They broke out into small smirks. “That’s impressive,” Vanyar said.
“Maybe you could make your own faction within the arcane warriors,” Nuvian added. “That’d be pretty fascinating, wouldn’t it?”
“I could be the commander?!” Her eyes sparkled with a dangerous glint.
“Not when you can’t follow instructions,” Vanyar drawled with raised eyebrows.
She pouted and glared lightly at him. “Fiiine. Here, I’ll race you back and get cleaned up!” She strapped her staff back quickly. “Ready? Go!”
She darted off, barely leaving her brothers a chance to prepare and chase after her.
Much to her dismay, Nuvian quickly overtook her with his longer legs, but she at least beat Vanyar. They snickered softly at him before he shot them a look. Nuvian clammed up, though he was still grinning, and Isylia squeaked and hurried off towards her room to have a quick bath drawn and clean up. While they waited, the two young men veered off towards their own quarters to change into more relaxed clothing for the evening. They finished up quickly, though it wasn’t long before Isylia emerged from her room, hair still a little damp and a smile of anticipation creasing her lips.
They walked together back out to the courtyard and sat down on benches, talking about their day, their difficulties, what they had learned, and what they hoped to improve on tomorrow. As they sat their, the light beginning to dim, an elven man approached them. “My lords, my lady.”
