#taemv

The ask is open

XAN SELEENE: The lighter side of the author's personality, representing sarcasm and an ever expanding quest to learn. Xan's full name (Xanthellae) is derived from zooxanthellae, a symbiotic algae found in coral (which relates to Xan's work in biology and the author's interest in the marine world).

LEOPOLD WILLIAMS: A representation of the darker side of humanity gone wrong. He contrasts with Xan in an example of yin and yang or Ma'at and Isfet. Both must exist, or there is none.

AVERY ARCHER: The reality of the author, symbolizing the effects of Aspergers syndrome. Archer is the darker part of the misunderstood. Avery represents the dual relationship of each piece of every individual and constantly wars over which side of her will become the victor.

SIMON GNATLY: The unnatural part of life, the unexplainable, but yet the very common part of a person. 

MONA FAMN: The ominescent, innocent child of every person. Mona symbolizes the opening of the human mind to the vastness of human ability, but also the chaos that enfolds the human condition.

ADUM FAMN: The artificial part of each human's wants and desires. Animal-like in his instincts, Adum represents fight or flight.

CAULERPA ARCHER: A representation of one the author's best friends in her child-like excitement about life. Cauly is named after the macroalgae caulerpa, which grows best under adverse conditions -- Cauly herself flourishes when Perchwater gets destroyed.

TOLLAK SEGRUEN: The ugly side of humanity. Lacking skills in which he can understand the motives and ideals of more humanoid species, Tollak not only challenges human culture, but also introduces his own. Tollak is the alien. As a Nackid, he comes from Ungoliant -- the spider planet named for the evil spirit in Tolkien's legendarium that takes the form of a spider.

LANCE BISHOP: Represents the growth of optimism even when faced with abandonment or disinterest in his general existence. 

NIKOLAI BRZEZOMSLO: Father-like figure for the lost or the searching. Nikolai is the saint.

ASTRID ROMARILLON: Science idealized as a god (or in this case, goddess). The creator.

IMKE LAN/ TEMME SOODE: Both are Mitosian beings. In both books, Mitosians are often discriminated against (called 'Sprouts'). Imke and Temme both represent misunderstood beings that are constantly discriminated against, butt yet do not lash out.

TNECILLIM CASPER: Another Mitosian, Tneci breaks from the ranks of traditional Mitosian relationships (Mitosian-Mitosian) and marries a Nehtreyan. Tnecillim is the acceptance of love in any form.

AUDREY NELL/ 'BERNARD': Representing forbidden love (much like Tnecillim). Bernard (who is an android) represents mindless acceptance.

Illari heat patch concept 

For those of you that don't know:

Illari are from a volcanic planet, second from their sun. In order to survive in the harsh climates, Illari have adapted 'heat patches' that are able to absorb and in some cases redistribute the heat off the body. (Heat patches are not an Illari's only defense against Illari's heat, but they're a big factor in keeping them alive.)

For most Illari, the extent of the heat patches is much more than just the temples and hairline of the face. True Illari have heat patches extending into the cheek area, on the sides of the neck, shoulders, arms, beneath their hair, and heavily along the back and eventually down to their legs. Illari with rare 'hold-over' genes have heat patches extending over the bridges of their noses and sometimes over the eyebrows.

In this instance, this is the concept for Mr. Wade's "Nillari" (Illari-Nehtreyan hybrids), who have substantially less patches, usually along the temples, hairline, back of neck/back and sometimes the hands.

My home lies on a cliff overlooking the grassy glades that stretch for a mile before turning to the sea. I push open the gates separating the ships-on-end that make up my home, leaving behind further trickles of blood. The courtyard that lies in the center of the four ships-on-end is deserted, and thankfully and blissfully vacant of my sister. I decide the best course of action is to find my mother, and show her the wounds I have sustained.

“Xanthé!” My mother's eyes go wide as she takes in my bloody hands, and she drops the tablet that she always has in her hands. "What happened?"

“Thorns,” I say simply, holding out my hand for her to inspect.

“Were you out in the Black Forest again?” she scolds gently.

“Yeah,” I stop her before she can continue her scolding, “but only for training. Not causing trouble, or anything.”

“Xanthéllae Seleene, you know that the forests can be dangerous.”

“Not any more dangerous than living in Nehtreya,” I mumble.

“Excuse me?”

“It's dangerous. Living in Nehtreya. The forest is nothing compared to it.”

My mother runs her fingers through her hair, and then rubs her eyes with her palms. She should look several years younger than she does. She's only in her thirties, yet I can see the first signs of grey hair peeking above her scalp. My mother runs the whole of Nehtreya, of our empire. She works long hours, and she's rarely home. She's grown pale in the past years from spending so much time beneath the waves and she looks in a perpetual state of tiredness.

“Xanthéllae,” she says calmly, “you need to bring someone with you if you're going into the forest. Everyday I hear stories from the townsfolk that you've gotten into another spot of trouble. Steer clear of trouble, and trouble will steer clear of you.”

Only, I like the trouble – not that I've ever classified it as trouble, exactly. My siblings and I were the one and only result to ever come out of Astrid Romarillon's death, but I am even rarer than this new race created by the brilliant scientists of today's Nehtreya. Here I stand today, not a miracle of medical intervention, not a resuscitated heartbeat, but a naturally occurring rebirth through means unknown. They call me a Rebirthe, and they say I am special. There have only ever been six Rebirthes, two of which Nehtreya has been fortunate to lay claim to. I am the sixth and most recent. One can never predict when a Rebirthe might crop up. From most research, one turns up every two millennium, but never in the same place. I'm the first for that, too.

I have a feeling my life is going to be full of firsts. Everyone knows that Rebirthes are cut from a different cloth, and everyone knows that there hasn't been a Rebirthe yet that hasn't impacted the system. Those are the shoes I have to fill. For now, I am the life-raft of my country. Years of war ravaged them eight years before my birth, and I am now the final piece of the puzzle, the final touch to get them back on their feet again. I am the beacon of hope left to them in a dismal world.

“I'm sorry,” is all I can say to my mother, who watches me with a patient expression.

“Thank you,” she says, “now come along. We need to get those thorns out of yours hands.”

This means we're headed to the underground. Carved into the base of the island is a system of cities spanning the whole of the Empire, including Nest, my home country, Nehtreya, Endo and Cheros. All the underwater bases are connected by some means, and they have remained since the start of Nehtreya as the heartbeat of our people. Since my mother is the Chief Commander of the entire empire, we have a high-speed elevator installed directly into our home straight into the city beneath our feet. The trip is always quick and smooth, but the feelings of bodily insides jumping on the descent never go away, no matter the frequency of trips.

“I won't talk to the other doctors,” I say sheepishly.

My mother rolls her eyes, “Xanthé, they're just doctors.”

“I trust Laemae,” I say firmly, averting my eyes from my mother's gaze.

“Fine. Laemae it is, then.” I can hear the bite in her voice.

Laemae has been my doctor since the very first day I can remember. She was apparently there when my mother was pregnant with me as well, and has known me since I was nothing more than a zygote. Laemae isn't exactly someone who is easy to like. She can be sharp and stiff at the best of times, and can often come off as heartless and indifferent. But there are rare times when she can be very much like a mother figure. Laemae has often stood in for my own mother, since her job is so demanding. Even so, Laemae is hard to reach as well. She's the one of the Chief Medical Officers of Nehtreya, and gets reports from the entire country. Everyone in my life is a busy person.

As we enter the main hall of the city, I can make out the rush of people. The underground is always crowded with operatives, no matter the time of day. I swear that nobody here ever sleeps. Most of the population prefers to live beneath the waves, closer to their work. Nehtreyans have always been well known for their finesse with submarines. The city is always clean and crisp, even with the ridiculous amounts of people running through it each day. My mother holds onto my shirt sleeve and drags me along after her, along a familiar path to Laemae's office. The doors slide open with neat hissing sounds to reveal Laemae, tall and pale blonde in her medical officer's gear, pouring over a tablet like my mother's. Laemae looks up at the noise of the doors and then gives us a small, tight smile.

“What'd you do this time?” she asks me, bending down to tug at my earlobe. I hold out my hands to show her the thorns embedded in my palms.

“How the hell did you get into a hemlock thorn?” she asks incredulously.

“I tripped,” I say, wincing as she pokes about the thorns.

“Xanthé, these have poison in them.”

Poison doesn't scare me. It should scare my mother, but we're both unafraid for the same reason. Poison has almost no effect on my body, thanks to my engineering. The most I'll get from an injection of poison is a mild headache and maybe a few days of being bedridden. It's happened before. Laemae rolls her eyes at me, “If you were a normal Nehtreyan, you'd be dead.”

“Huzzah for not normal,” I smile up at her.

“Oop,” Laemae gives me one of her rare smiles, “you've lost another tooth, you pirate.”

“Laemae,” my mother says hurriedly, “could you please tend to Xanthé and then bring her to the surface? I have to run. Factory has some sort of problem,” my mother points to the sword sleeve on her forearm that provides her with information and communications, and is also the stole kidnapper of most of my mother's attention.

“Of course, Sivra. Take care.” My mother gives both of us a curt nod, and then walks out of the medical office and into the throngs of people. I watch her go sadly, because I know the back of my mother better than the front.

“So how did you really get hemlock thorns in your hand?” Laemae looks up at me as she cleans my wounds.

“I was collecting them.”

“For?”

“To set a trap.”

“...For?”

“A Dilopidus.”

“Dilopidus are not to be messed with, Xan,” Laemae says sternly, though I can see the smile on her lips as she pulls thorns out of my hands.

“Don't tell mum and dad, please Laemae,” I plead weakly.