Indicinis

|  HISTORY  |

Year 1536: time of rampant warfare between Orenian Empire and the dwarves, just few decades before abandonment of Vailor, and inhabitance of Axior. Two elves, pale-blonde, had fallen in love; and their love, which had lasted the past century-and-thirty-three years, fruited in new life. 

The daughter of Win'taliyu and a cheating exile of a man, Llyre is a mali'aheral- alas, one with little ground to stand with her own kind. It is as they say, the firstborn daughter oft' takes after the father: whilst her mother is an intellect, a once-respected Maehr'sae with a handful of publications on local botany around Haelun'or, Llyre is much too often found floating her hours away in comforts of songs and drawings, daydreams- none of which have made particular contribution to the collective pool of knowledge that her people aspires to fill. Her mother- and a handful of acquaintances' - attempts to educate her in magics have been for naught. But at least she can draw. Now, if someone would only convince her to stop sketching orcs and ships, and indulge in the anatomical beauty of a mali'aheral... It's truly not a wonder, why this one gets upturnt looks and disapproving glares in the streets of Haelun'or.

It's clearly not her fault, however, that she has different interests than her mother? It's not her fault that her unnamed father fell for the voluptuous curves of a passing mali'ker-- is it?  Nor her fault that he was irresponsible enough to leave letters and sketches of his lover along his music sheets just year into her existence, all of which were found by her darling dearest haelun? Indecency can't be hereditary-- or could it be? Impurity is like an ink stain upon everything it touches, after all; ugly, persistent. She's so, so similar of her father, after all, with that artistic streak of her's- there's nothing that prevents others from saying that, maybe what led him awry will tug her collar that way too.

The wrong path, the tainted path-- always aspiring to mingle with the lower races.

After all, why would a self-respecting Mali'aheral aspire to stray far from the Silver City- and to the Dominion, of all places?

But ah, here she is, year 1663, one of the many deviants of the higher elves. Packed only with a meager sack of spending-money (people pay for quick portraits? amazing!), clothes, sketch-pad and artist's tools, rumors say the effeminate Mali'aheral nears the gates of the Dominion of Malin in hopes of rekindling her life. Maybe she'll find a job. Maybe some friends. Who knows- possibilities are surely endless.

|  APPEARANCE (PICTORIAL) |