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Of the Months
Anmarisa Pelagios




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 deep end, Mari
Regina Dalco
 Posted: Apr 13 2018, 06:19 PM

Age: 38
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Posts: 186
OOC: Spotty


The tawny wolf deftly navigated the forests that skirted the lake most rogue civilization was concentrated around. It had been so long since she had had time to herself and now that her children were older and more than self-sufficient, she let herself break away from the responsibilities of both her healing duties and managing their home on the frontier reaches of the village more often. Hunting with both bow and teeth had become a skill she had refined over the years with little difficulty. The odds certainly seemed against her, but being a young city woman with money hadn't inflated her ego. And becoming a single mother at eighteen who refused to return back to said affluence and relative safety her family could provide, because of her own sense of shame, did wonders for building a foundation of self-reliance. The Frosts were a hardy people, and even though she wasn't gifted with ice herself she still held the characteristic stubbornness those raised within the ice tribe would be more than familiar with. Once she set her mind to something, it would get done.

She was tracking her quarry when the sounds of another, more human, disturbance caused her ears to swivel in an attempt to pinpoint the source. Fixating on the sound, as she stalked closer to the noise, she could finally identify the sound as crying. Perhaps it was her wolven counterpart that stirred the more instinctive need for her to investigate further - based on maternal instinct, but she listened to it, pressing forth unhindered but still vigilant.

Finally a humanoid form came into view, one that became increasingly familiar the closer she ventured. Identifying it as the girl who had wandered onto their land a moon or perhaps more ago, she shifted back to her human guise, making her presence known before approaching within the range of fist or blade, in the event she startled the younger woman. “Anmarisa, what's wrong?” Genuine concern for her wellbeing was held in her voice. Not only was she an upset youth, but she reminded Regina a lot of herself at that age, ready to tackle the world but not quite imbued with the emotional strength to do so without repressing feelings so deep, it was only a matter of time before such a dam broke. That, and even if her declaration of being Alexander's daughter might have held contradictions of the man's displayed behavior, other Averians couldn't look over, Regina believed her. Alexander was like the former Frost in some ways, both of them water elementals surrounded by ice and desperately clinging to a much more stable and predictable element. Though she ventured his was bred from his life in the military, while her’s was from an upbringing she blended into to survive emotionally. Or at least, she saw it that way. The last military head of the now crippled Aver had always been good to her as well. The least she could do was extended his hospitality towards her and her kin to his.


Anmarisa Pelagios
 Posted: Apr 16 2018, 07:05 PM

Water & Earth
Age: 17
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Posts: 31
OOC: Nith


Her trip to Caldo had not gone how she had hoped it would. New feelings of fear and anxiety had welled inside of her. The cauterized wound on her thigh was healing, slowly, and she had reason to believe it would leave a long and ugly scar. The first of many, but not one she was particularly proud of. Sure, she had fought Conan Alinari in the sands of Attirac and lived to tell the tale, but Anmarisa wasn’t entirely sure there was a tale she could tell. What means of being was she? What secondary did she posses, and what exactly did it mean? She had so many questions, and new ones every time she thought about it, that she had finally shoved them deep down and left them bottled inside her heart. There was no one to help her, or explain it to her, not until she found Alexander. And her quest to find him was only more righteous; he was the only on in Eudocia who could explain it to her. He was the only on in Eudocia that could help her through and through, and yet he was a ghost. Gone to the wind, a man made of myths now.

Her ordeal had been enough that she had wandered back home, circling around the Great Lake and through Miador instead of risking herself through the marshes and the Underground. Her mouth had healed nicely in only two weeks time, but severe burns traced over the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. They had been burning red and bubbled before, but her youth had persuaded them to a soft pink, and they did not bear the ugliness of her thigh; with any hope, they would heal entirely. She had made a bed in the soft moss outside of Miador in the forest. Far enough away that she hoped no one would find her, but close enough that she could travel to town in the morning. In her slumber a bandit had found her; she had fought them before, but with the strings of her crossbow burnt and caught so off guard, she’d barely stood a chance. He’d robbed her of what she had left. Her crossbow and her bag, that’d had her change of clothes, some food, a map and a few pretty things she’d found in her travels. She’d chased the bandit down as far as she could, but ultimately hobbled even just walking. He’d thrown aside her cross bow when he’d realized how useless it was. Her tinkering to make it shoot three bolts was shoddy at best, and without any strings it was nothing more than an overly cumbersome club.

She’d found it tossed aside in the brush and scooped it back up. The bandits carelessness had snapped a limb and bent another, giving her only more work to do to fix it. She clutched it in her arms and held it tightly to her chest, finally feeling the overwhelming pressure of bad luck weigh down on her shoulders. Anmarisas knees buckled underneath her and sunk into the soft mud of the forest floor. The hot tears spilled from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks, and when she inhaled she felt her body shake and sob. She nuzzled her face into the wood of the weapon, not from a particular fondness but rather a strong loneliness, and welcomed the way the wood and metal swiped away her tears even if she had to do it herself. She had started from Aver with nothing, and was heading back home with even less. She had nothing to show her people, no hope to offer them or cities to start rebuilding, but the fear that Conan would find her and hurt her Averian kin even more worried her sick.

The soft and delicate footsteps and voice of Regina did not startle her. She looked up slowly, her blue eyes swollen red and pouring fountains worth of tears. She wiped at her eyes and running nose with the back of her sleeve, and in an attempt to look less pathetic, found her legs again. Anmarisa favored her left leg by keeping her weight off of it, ”Regina?” She swallowed hard, her voice broken between tears as she limped closer to the woman. They’d met months ago when she had first begun her travels; it seemed fitting that they’d meet here again now that she was back. Though she’d been nearly eaten by Mykolas horses, she liked the pair and they had believed her when she’d told them she was Alexanders daughter. There were few people in Aver, or close to it, that did. ”A bandit stole my bag,” she tried to sound less pathetic but failed; there was more than just a stolen bag bothering her. She wiped at her cheeks again and winced as the rough fabric of her sleeve pulled up the healing scabs, blood now mingling with the salt water. She looked at the blood on her sleeve and felt her body quake again with another sob, looking to the ice woman, ”..Gina,” was all she could choke out. Without hesitation Anmarisa went to her, her arms wrapping around Regina’s waist as she buried her face into her shoulder.

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