dulidula

Célie of the Eastern Peninsula

Célie was born in a river-market town . She was Eastern farfolk through and through: dark hair, pale skin, eyes too curious to stay still, and a stature that made her easy to overlook.

As a child, she was never graceful.

She knocked over shrine bowls, tripped over silk hems, spoke before thinking, and asked questions long after politeness suggested silence. Yet she was also observant. While adults scolded her clumsiness, Célie noticed things—how merchants altered prices by accent alone and how people paused before lies.

Her parents were alive but tired.

They worked constantly and loved her quietly, believing that life’s path was something to endured rather than shape and enjoy. When sickness came to them it was slow and expensive, it hollowed the household. First her mother, then her father followed within a year. There was no dramatic farewell, only unfinished conversations and debts that outlived them.

Célie was sixteen.

Friends helped at first. A girl smuggled her meals. A boy taught her how to count coin properly. An man of the shrine let her sleep near the them. But time eroded kindness. People married, moved or died. Célie never fought this drift—she talked too much, apologized too often, and hated asking for more than she was offered.

She survived by adjusting.

She learned when to speak and when silence carried more weight. She learned to read rooms before entering them . Panic became useless once hunger set in, so she learned to breathe and act. 

At nineteen, Célie has no family and no fixed home.

Some friends are gone. Some chose distance. Some simply became memories that ache less with time.

She believes, as a teacher said to her that this life is not punishment nor reward but a  journey

And if she stumbles along the way

She has learned how to stand back up.

Roleplay scenario

Célie hesitates at the edge of the tent, the hem of her cloak clutched too tightly in one hand. She smells the candles before she feels their warmth—wax, herbs, something bitter underneath.

She sits. A little too fast. The cushion shifts and she almost tips forward, catching herself with an awkward laugh.

"um- sorry for the sudden entrance"  she says while fidgeting with her hands

"do i start from somewhere specific or-" she gets interrupted by the other

"don't worry start from where you feel more comfortable"

"ah.. ok,  when i was young i had a nice family, they took care of me really well..."

"but an illness took over them and- well-  they" a pause

"well they are not in this world anymore, at first i had friend to take care of me and occasionally kind people that didn't know me well that helped me, i was able to get food, enough to survive and i was taught by them how to count money and how to read" another pause

" i belive i was very lucky, even if i didn't have my parents anymore i had people that helped me at first- now not so much but i am doing well on my own, thanks to their teaching and kindness i was able to survive longer than i could ever think of"

"since now i am on my own- i want to learn and to live my life as i want, but will i be able to do that?"