Registration Date: 05-15-2013
Last Visit: 01-10-2014 10:03 AM
Total Posts 41
Played By: Lexx

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65

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Age Four years	Gender Female
Species Changeling	Sexuality Heterosexual
Mate	Pack Loner
Rank Wandering clairvoyant	Alignment Godless

Relations:

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Other Info:

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Reference

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Invidia’s pelt is a deep shade of midnight blue, as rich and soft as indigo velvet. When she moves, her glow glitters off of the edges of her form, flashing and fading silver; it’s something that cannot be seen in broad daylight, but seems to be ever present around her when she stands in shadow. She’s a very petite wolf – in build, she mimics a wolf of Acerbus descent, with large, cupped ears and stilt-thin legs. Her muzzle is a very dark shade of blue-gray, turning into a lighter strip of blue between her eyes and ears; her chest is marked with stark white fur, streaking into slender lines like a ‘v’ that reach toward her shoulders. Pressed tenderly against her neck are watery blue stripes, similar to a zebra’s in composition – these fade just after her shoulder blade, and her fur becomes an unbroken indigo once more. Her legs are dark blue, like the color of her maw, yet the toes of her left forepaw are white. An almost tribal-like marking takes up space on her left thigh and hip, curving and strange, akin to her zebra striping in color. Her tail is much longer than average and quite fluffy, the same deep indigo as the rest of her pelt.

Her eyes are a striking shade of molten orange-gold, fierce and bright, and they betray a wisdom that surpasses her years. A thin scar runs through her left eye, and her eyesight has suffered from that past injury; things are blurry and often indiscernible when seeing with her good eye closed. She has a far larger blind spot in her bad eye, with hardly any peripheral vision to speak of. Even so, it doesn’t seem particularly sightless or clouded, and Invidia has trained herself not to jump when a wolf approaches her blind side. Her magic, now lost, no longer fills in the gaps left by her bad eye; her disability is more obvious than ever. Even so, the story of her injury is one she’d prefer to leave alone; she rarely tells others of her condition, and it's instead something observed about her rather than widely known.

The Invidia of one year ago was once a charming little wolf, bursting with sarcasm and sass and good humor, constantly joking around with an infectious grin on her maw. She was playful and kind, and almost perpetually in a good mood, regardless of whatever little trials her position as a Shaman found her facing on a daily basis. She was always up for adventure, yet she was trustworthy with pups – and also excellent at keeping their attention, which meant she was well loved by both children and parents from the pack of her past. She was—and still is—very down-to-earth in discussions, relatively unruffled in most situations, and while she’s quick to snark in the face of danger, she would also never risk the lives of her packmates. Even though she’s brave, she’s also conscious that her actions will have consequences, and she would never betray the goodwill of any wolf that would take her in for the night. She was the sort to help anyone with anything, be it training in magic or scaling a cliff for a hidden soul shadow—those days are gone, and her magic has run dry. The most important facet of her lost personality was her once-perpetual cheer; her energy used to be boundless and she lived by the happy, if partially naïve, belief that there was always something to be gained by putting herself out there.

These days, Invidia has lost her naivety and joy.

She doesn’t talk much anymore—or, really, at all. Had you known her a mere year ago, at the very peak of her career as a talented healer, you would have been hard-pressed to shut her up; now she remains perfectly silent, her golden eyes thoughtful and soft and a little bit sad. The way she carries herself is no longer bright, nor does she have the confidence or self-importance she once did. She still knows how to smile, but it’s rarer, and more withdrawn. She seems mislaid here, in a world full of foreign plants and magic that she once knew and lost. Invidia is unfamiliar with the language in this world, and so while at first glance her self-imposed silence was formed due to the language barrier, it seems to exist on a deeper meaning…perhaps it’s not an inability to speak, but instead a refusal. The circumstances within which she’ll speak again, however, are unknown.

When Invidia was born, her world was a small, cold place. She and her two siblings had been brought into Victus during its coldest months, their birth occurring strangely out of season, and by a young woman with no mate nor pack. Her mother was an Invisus loner named Shiver, a very small, beautiful creature who had eyes like winter and a smile like spring. Their father was a warrior named Orsun, who had died about a month before her pregnancy had come to fruition. Shiver had feared placing her children before an alpha, and so she’d hidden herself away from the large packs within the area as well as the various loner bands living within the outlands. She fought desperately to bring her three children through the winter, and while she failed to save young Ithansia’s life, she succeeded in showing Invidia and her brother Indivoir a thawed-out land, one in which small prey was plentiful and the sun was warm on their backs.

For the first year of her life, Invidia was carefree and happy; Shiver, though sometimes faraway with old grief, loved her dearly, and Indivoir was everything she could’ve asked for in a friend. She grew up in a meadow that glowed with sunlight, one that smelled like lavender and earth in the rain. But as autumn drew near, Shiver grew ill, suddenly wracked with a cough that Invidia didn’t have the strength to heal with her magic. Desperate, she left her mother and brother for hours, even days, at a time, seeking out knowledge of plants, begging healers from nearby packs to help. Nobody spared her a second glance, and she was chased to the border on most, if not all, of her quests to find help. It was only when Shiver lay on the threshold of death that Invidia found the help she needed in the form of a wolf who wandered the Outlands; he was a strange wolf, one who wore a pelt like a cloak, and who was much older than he’d initially seemed. He seemed to grow exhausted of her pleading and eventually showed her how to make a concoction that would ease her mother’s cough and clear the liquid from her lungs.

It was, however, too late for her mother. The potion came while the she-wolf lay on the very verge of death, and despite ingesting its healing properties, Shiver passed away, her body too wasted from illness to recover.

Indivoir turned on his sister in a furious rage, demanding to know where she’d been, why she’d left them alone while their mother slowly died; Invidia struggled to make him see that she’d been trying to help in the only way she could think of. She pleaded with her brother, but he was consumed with grief and hatred. She asked for his forgiveness, and he brought his paw down over her left eye, permanently damaging it. He turned and ran. He didn’t return, and Invidia never sought him out – it was the last time she would see his face.

She did her best to bury their mother under a carpet of fallen leaves, despite the furious pain in her eye; she wanted to pay her respects, lest her mother’s spirit truly think that she hadn’t cared. Once this was done, she went in search of the loner who had helped her before. It was he who saved her eyesight in that eye, what little of it there could be salvaged. She followed him around for a long while afterward, lost and unsure of where to go. Eventually, he seemed to accept the fact that she wouldn’t leave him alone, and sent her on long, pointless tasks with false promises, inadvertently teaching her the effects of certain herbs when consumed or mixed. Eventually, she became his apprentice of sorts out of sheer stubbornness. In their time together, he taught her about plants that could heal and plants that would kill, plants that worked well together and plants that had ill effects when mixed. Under his tutelage, she became skilled at healing with both natural and magical remedies; more than that, however, he gave her a second chance when she was desperate. He had saved her.

Invidia eventually left him in order to pursue a life that allowed her to heal others. She joined a pack led by a joyful alpha and supported by unlikely warriors. She made her home in an impressive sprawling den, one that could only be entered by walking through the hollow of an old tree and down into the earth; she soon met her neighbor and closest friend, a mute warrior by the name of Sivaas, who made his home in a great nest atop the tree that marked her den. It was there she dried herbs and created magical, medicinal teas, able to cure small aches to internal bleeding. She worked hard, and she loved her new family; in turn, they came to trust her, despite her off-kilter methods and obnoxiously sunny personality.

But things were too good, and they soon turned sour. Her pack was challenged by another, one hungry for their land; the joyful alpha lost his life, and his children fought to claim his throne. His daughter won out, exerting shaky power upon them, and signed them all off to fight as an alliance to two larger, stronger packs. The alliance was a political move, meant to give Invidia’s own pack safety for the next time they squabbled with larger powers, and so they found themselves at war. Invidia thinks back on it all very bitterly these days; it wasn’t the young daughter’s fault that things unfolded so horribly. It was hers. Her mute warrior was kidnapped and killed within the thick of battle, and she stood by, helpless to save him, helpless to do anything but scream and cry. She was overcome with grief; she attacked his killer, intending to murder her and then kill herself. She failed, and was left wounded beside the drop off where Sivaas had fallen, his body cold and still on the ground below, his head seemingly crushed against a large spike.

When she looked down at him again, trying to work up the nerve to kill herself without avenging him, his body was gone. There was merely a great stain of dried blood on the earth, and a large hole.

He had been swallowed.

Invidia returned to her den and rested, healing her wounds, praying that Sivaas had somehow survived, that he would somehow return to her. He did not; eventually, she packed as many herbs as she could carry. From there she set out, over the mountain range that encircled her home, the world of Victus. She hadn’t spoken since his death, since the fight with his killer that had drained her of her magic. She resolved from then on to never speak, to impose upon herself a vow of silence until Sivaas was found or she died. After grueling months of travel, she finally found herself in Adymeria, a world where everything was foreign; she could not understand its common language, nor did she understand their gods or myths. She merely drifted within its lands, drawn into herself and unable to communicate, able to heal with weak magic and what remaining stores of plants she still held from her time in Victus.