El's Harem

[El]

◄ GAO ►

(▲) Delving Deeper, (▲) Cookery Chaos

◄ CIEL ►

(▲) The Wicked Taste of Whimsy, (▲) The Beaumont Ball

◄ FAJAR ►

(▲) Sands of Spirits Lost

◄ RAEMI ►

(▲) The Beaumont Ball

◄ LUCIUS ►

(▲) Clearing the Air

[El]

GAO

Name: Gao Lynn "G-ow Lin"
Pronouns: He/Him
Race: Sheikah
Class: Self-Proclaimed Monster Zoologist

Appearance:
"A behemoth in comparison to the typical stereotype of his race, Gao doesn't just stand tall but wide too. With a thick neck atop broad shoulders and a heavily toned trunk, his habitual wide-footed stance supports a rigorously muscled frame honed by daily, dedicated training across much of his 30yr+ life. Yet despite his bulk he moves with surprising ease, natural and arguably even elegant - to a degree - in a manner that feels primal.

Partially due to his direct Lurelin bloodline but also largely to blame on his lifestyle, Gao is incredibly dark-skinned. Even his hair - which typically would be a stark white - is instead a deep, earthy brown, accented with streaks of warm, ashy grey which fades upwards from the faded roots of his mane and speckles his facial hair. Despite the gruff edges he does take effort to groom himself, which can be seen in the way he braids the hair on both sides of his head and the pleasing bold shape of his chin-strap and goatee. Perhaps if he cared a bit more he'd actually cut it all properly, but the voluminous locks are instead half bunched-up in a Sheikah-style bun: out of sight and out of mind, because it always grows way too quickly to be worth the rupees anyway. All that aside, there's as much warmth to his facial features as there is in his natural palette. Intimidating at first with a bone structure that's bold and broad, defined in all its ridges and corners, the curl to his lips is nonetheless genial and the humour in his crimson eyes is welcoming - eager to be shared.

While Gao isn't exactly the sharpest dresser and certainly not the neatest, he aims for a practicality that often ends up curbed by his habit of collecting sentimental knickknacks of questionable origin. Over a sleeveless, skin-tight bodysuit of dulled navy, he clads himself in patchwork robes of animal hides lined with various furs. They are comfortably worn across one shoulder and usually cinched in at the waist with a broad array of different cloth and leather belts decorated with trinkets of feathers and beads and sections of bone and more. Baggy and airy ivory-white trousers are tucked into calf-guards bound with more strips of torn fabric, leading down to 'slippers' with thick soles but open roofs which allow him to be quick and nimble on his feet. Fur trim is a common theme throughout - he admittedly just really likes soft things - with bindings of more scraps protecting his calloused palms, and even more of his favourite knicknacks formed into a selection of necklaces strung around his beefy neck. He has even taken to keeping two rather large curved horns, which he wears pierced backwards through his burdened earlobes.

As if all that wasn't enough to raise the eyebrows of more civilised folk, the man has even covered himself in warpaint. Yes. Warpaint - a shade similar to the warm greys streaked throughout his hair but starker in its brightness. While at first it looks like a botched-up, clumsy job there is apparently indeed a reason behind the madness, the chaotic, blotchy patterns that line down the visible skin of his arms and cover much of his upper-face look remarkably familiar to various 'monsterkin' once you stop to think about it. Scars dot his visible skin also, the most immediately noticeable of which being the deep nick on the side of his lower lip and the rugged gash across his right brow right up and into his hairline. (Though countless more - vast in their shapes and severity - mar areas more often covered.) Oh! And I almost forgot his weapons! More often than not he's seen with a large axe-headed halberd across his back and a dagger or two slipped into his belts: though the soft-hearted brute would rather use less lethal or bloody means to resolve disputes.

Sidenote: Be warned, he usually reeks. He calls it a 'necessary musk' for his protection or some other nonsense."

--- Description written by my GOOD FRIEND, Gerald Smith, a novelist.

THREAD HISTORY

• FINISHED We Need to Lookout Landing (The Moon) - first encounter with Moonfruit + Raeko (will recognise on sight, but no introductions were made)
• CURRENT A Short Hike - met Ariadne, Victus + Yaku, first time meeting Claria too
• FINISHED Rebuilding Castle Town (Event) - met Axel, Malon and also interacted with Sin (though did not learn his name)
• FINISHED The Work Continues - more Malon + Sin interaction (still didn't learn Sin's name though), met Riva, also met Alyson (learned her occupation but not her name)
• CURRENT Delving Deeper- Met Ekik, also re-united with Sin and Claria
• CURRENT The Yuletide Festival - First meeting with Micah, Mabel + Ashley, reunited with Claria, Alyson + Ariadne
• CURRENT Cookery Chaos - Reunited with Micah, first time meeting Collin + Yuru

[El]

CIEL

Name: Ciel Beaumont "See-El Boo-Mon"
AKA: Lady CiCi, 'The Blue Fairy'
Pronouns: She/Her ...usually?⁽¹⁾
Race: Hylian...?
Class: Courier, 'The Spirits' Speaker', Socialite

Background:
While little is known publicly about Ciel's origins, it is a recorded fact that she is an adopted child. Discovered in a remote, rural orphanage in the corner of Central Hyrule, her charm immediately won the hearts of the affluent - but unfortunately infertile - Count & Countess Beaumont. While her age should've normally posed an issue - having already been in her early teen years and thus not a typically desirable candidate for a noble heir - the Director's biggest concerns were actually far more acute: Ciel wasn't just mute, she was illiterate too, with odd mannerisms at times befitting that of a wild animal. Perhaps this did indeed give the Beaumont's pause, but the truth is they posed no great obstacle, as on that very same day Ciel was whisked away to her new life of nobility, her name engraved upon the family register.

Rumour has it that the Beaumont's had been bewitched, for the child was a remarkable beauty even in her young age. Others remark that surely Ciel already had blue blood within her veins - an illegitimate child who had been spurned at birth, abandoned to the wilds - and this was a fact the Count & Countess had already been aware of. Some even speculate that it was madness, pure and simple, for desperation can do great damage to the mind, and having fruitlessly laboured for a child for nigh on over a decade it is little wonder that their judgement had been impaired: Ciel just happened to be there at the right place, at the right time, when their reason finally broke.

Whatever your thoughts may be, it is hard to rebuke their decision these days - especially if you have experienced the grace of Lady Ciel's fascinating company. For it had scarcely been a year since her adoption into the family that Countess Beaumont found herself with child! A true miracle! (A blessing of The Blue Fairy, in gratitude for her new home and family?) As for Ciel herself, she was discovered to be an incredibly quick learner of sharp intellect, swiftly blossoming under the private tutelage afforded to her. Sadly however, the music of the Hylian language still illudes her tongue, but the delightful sounds she does make are expressive enough and simply add to her mysterious charm in my most humble opinion.

But this tale of oddities does not end here, dear readers, for with the valiant resolution of The Upheaval the now young lady works: WORKS! As a courier at that! Hopping about the breadths of the Kingdom like a common mule, and often for barely a single pretty green rupee⁽²⁾. The daring and charitable whimsy of youth, perhaps? Or - dare I say - a calculated and compassionate move on her part? For with the Countess's successful birthing of a healthy son - bequeathed the noble name of Arthur - who continues to grow into a clever, promising young boy, the Beaumont's now have a direct blood relation to pass the title of heir onto. Perchance this is Lady Ciel's manner of distancing herself and displaying her independence, so that the Count & Countess may continue on with tradition without guilt or remorse?

But that is not to besmirch the Beaumont's deep adoration and love for their daughter! That is not at all my intention by airing such speculation! It is blatant for everyone to see that they still care for her deeply - spoil her rotten, even - and will spare no opportunity to brag about her latest achievements and adventures to all who will listen.

Their most favourite story in recent months is one which has at this point attained all the magic of a fairytale:

Tie a handkerchief embroidered with the likeness of an exquisite, sextuple-ferned rupee⁽³⁾ to your window at night,
And if glitters blue come the passing of three moons at most The Blue Fairy will alight,
Upon your sill to deliver your words to the dead,
And if earnest and true, their words back to you still.

Though no adult has yet managed to verify their claims, there have even been numerous accounts of children⁽⁴⁾ swearing upon all they hold dear that Ciel DOES speak! Her sweet, chiming voice rings clearly in their heads, they say. Remarkable, is it not! If this is all just some marketing ploy on her behalf to garner a wider customer base, it is doing an exquisite job. The Kingdom has no shortage of couriers - especially with the quick wings of many Rito at our disposal, and peace now abloom across our green pastures - but a messenger who can convey your sentiments to the dead and read their responses in return...? It is either a bewitching sham, or an incredibly rare blessing.

I so often wonder, just who is Ciel Beaumont really?

Appearance:
While perhaps nothing remarkable upon first, distant impressions, the true charm of Lady CiCi is in the details. Her figure is slight and petite, like that of a doll, with elegant limbs and slender bones that move in an effortless manner of quiet grace - and with startling speed and dexterous reflexes when the situation demands it⁽⁵⁾. Despite how often the naked sun must sear her skin, her complexion remains that of pure porcelain, cool both in its cast and to the touch. Some have remarked that the glow of her countenance is at times quite literal, a luminosity radiating from her entire being when the light hits just right - especially when shrouded in moonlight.

And for all the words her tongue forbids her from speaking, her expressive features instead say much. Ciel's golden eyes are large and rounded, rimmed with lush red eyelashes (the same rich crimson of her pupils) and crowned with fine but animated eyebrows. The structure of her face takes after the shape of a heart, from its widowspeak hairline down to a pointed chin, but with a small, pert nose and high cheekbones upon which she dusts a rosy blush - no doubt to bring some 'life' to her complexion, much like how her lips are painted.

While she has been seen to play with all manner of hairstyles, Lady CiCi opts for a fine balance between practical and ornate: oftentimes keeping her voluminous and incredibly soft mane of vibrant, icy blue tied back in low pigtails or a cascading, plaited bun. The length of it all is rather extraordinary, especially when you factor in the waves which take form at its very roots and curl into strong, bold ringlets by the ends: loose locks of which often frame her face, with a shapely fringe decorating her brow. It is clear that she tries her best to keep it all out of the way for the sake of her work, but takes too much pride in it to lock it away in entirely tight constraints.

That attachment she holds for the beauty of a more relaxed life is seen also in the glittering gold studs of her earrings and the set of ornate, stiff petal chains braided through her hair like laurels. They match well the glamour of the choker perpetually fastened around her neck: the gold plate ridged with floral motifs, dangling glistening beads and one singular, crimson garnet in the form of an inverted triangle - which some have deduced as remarkably similar to the Great Fairy Kaysa's own jewellery.

Yet for all Ciel's ethereal beauty and rich taste in ornamentation, her wardrobe in contrast - though exquisite in its quality of materials and silver embroidery - is far from colourful. In fact, Lady CiCi is always dressed completely in black and white: a mysterious tendency which she has yet to answer for. While many layers of frills and lace accent her figure, with loosened jabots, elaborate gloves and cropped bustles, the cuts themselves are finely tailored into practical shapes: corseted vests, airy shirts, tight but flexible pants, smart high-collared jackets with slitted sleeves, and thigh-high boots flat at their heels. 'Princely' is an adjective that often comes to mind. Ciel's taste in clothes is flamboyantly unisex but sensible in form.

And so now, you have the entire picture of Lady Ciel's impression on the common man. Dressed in the mourning garb of nobility, exuding an air almost celestial for its mysterious but playful grace. Her vibrant eyes glitter with an endearing mischief. Her lips play with secretive smiles. Chiming laughter comes quickly to her, but so too do crestfallen tears. Bearing the captivating but subtle aroma of Silent Princesses, Ciel Beaumont is just as likely to sink into your heart as the fragrance: perhaps at first unnoticed - or simply ignored - but nigh impossible to forget once you indulge in the whimsy of her curiosities. But be careful not to get too attached: many a suitor - unfortunately myself included - has been left heartbroken by her fickle affections, at once ardent and passionate one night, only to stagnate into boredom the next.

- An excerpt from the 'Who's Who?' column of 'Gaebora's Goldmine': a pretentious gossip newspaper aimed towards entertaining 'the elite' but often consumed by merchants and bored housewife/husbands. Additional information is printed below it in smaller, fainter text:

Editor's Notes:
⁽¹⁾ -  There are rumours that Ciel Beaumont has a secret twin brother she has kept secluded far away from the public eye. But others are instead convinced that the lady herself enjoys BOTH forms - male and female - through the use of transformative magic. Both their likeness and mannerisms are said to be incredibly similar, right down to the details of their personal memories.
⁽²⁾ - Remarkably though Lady CiCi has - and often does - work for as little as a singular green, she will stoop no lower even if her labour is essentially already charity at that point. She has been reported to refuse requests if zero payment (and it must be in the form of rupees) is offered. So please be adequately prepared if you wish to call upon her services, even if it may feel superfluous.
⁽³⁾ - Check the handkerchief for Ciel's own signature initials! It is imperative that the lady has embroidered them herself, otherwise the 'summoning ritual' will be unsuccessful. NOTE: Be wary of fraudulent copies which have recently come into circulation by way of predatory merchants with no conscience.
⁽⁴⁾ - These same children have also claimed that Lady CiCi must be incredibly fond of candy, for her tongue is always dyed a spectacular colour: ranging from rich blues to vibrant golds and more! The veracity of these claims has been verified by notable figures of society, who have caught sight of her tongue themselves while sharing drinks and laughter. (Though just as many have remarked that it was simply red "-as is usual for a tongue, no?")
⁽⁵⁾ - One overzealous fan of Lady CiCi confessed to having tailed her one night while she was working. But it wasn't her agility and speed that took him most by surprise, but the fact that she appeared to disappear into thin air...? The witness admits he had drunk quite a bit that evening so his vision wasn't at its finest, but he still swears the spot from which she vanished was aglow with a magical glitter for one full minute.

THREAD HISTORY

• CURRENT The Wicked Taste of Whimsy - Met Ashley
• FINISHED A Bottle Episode - Met Sable, Alyson, Claria + Moonfruit
• CURRENT The Yuletide Festival - Met Claria and Ashley again. First meeting with Malon and Ariadne (didn't catch Ariadne's name)
• CURRENT The Beaumont Ball
  

[El]

FAJAR

Stated Name: Fajar "Fa-Shar"
Family Branch: Du'Kana
Profession: Stonemason
Age: ---
[IMPORTANT NOTE: SUBJECT IS INFESTED WITH A 'GIBDO ROT' CURSE]

Discovery Location: Arbiter's Grounds, North-West (South of the Lightning Temple)
Family crypt located below a sinkhole. Disturbance reported by travelling Hylian adventurers who lost their belongings - incident investigated by Leena and Liana. Crypt contained: 3 aggressive Gibdo who were dispatched on sight, 2 skeletons, 5 cremation urns, and Fajar's sealed sarcophagus. Sarcophagus appeared to have been initially bound with rope and countless black talismans scrawled with white, traditional script, but the already eroded protection(?) was broken during the Gidbo conflict from errant blows and a stray fire arrow. (Note: The misplaced Hylian belongings were successfully retrieved.) Fajar was non-hostile upon awakening, but confused.

Following Action: Initially held under observation at the Southern Oasis Training Area. Deemed safe for socialisation after one month. Escorted back to Gerudo Town. Three pairs of shackles of Zonai origin were locked around Fajar's ankles, wrists and upper arms: they have been modified by Sheikah technicians for extra security, enabling the prisoner subject to be traced by a bright, sky-high beam of light when the relevant sister-device is triggered. The locked shackles cannot be removed by force. Attempts to use force - or unsanctioned tampering - will result in potentially lethal shocks, emitted by the multitude of highly-conductive horns built into the shackles.

Employment History: Fajar was monitored during her two-year internment at Gerudo Town where she was tasked with assisting the rebuilding efforts. Her work was incredibly efficient, marking her as by far the most superior stonemason of Gerudo ethnicity on the project, despite disabilities which prevented her from performing the more detailed work herself.

Unusual Observations:

• High Physical Endurance - Injury of more non-elemental and mundane nature (scrapes, blisters, blades) are especially rare. Areas of flesh heavily infested by Gibdo Rot appear completely impervious to such damage, as if the skin itself is an armoured shell. Fajar has also been noted to have an exceedingly high pain-tolerance - perhaps from the lack of or damaged nerves?
• Lightning + Fire Vulnerability - Unusually sensitive to raw heat (e.g naked flames) and hot elemental magics which easily cause severe injuries. These do not heal naturally.
• Daylight Aversion - Fajar states that both the high temperatures and strong sunlight of noons in the Desert are extremely uncomfortable for her. To date, ensuing symptoms include: heavy lethargy, loss of vision and increased thirst.
• Unique Vision - Impaired with a lack of clarity for detail (blurred vision) and the inability to discern shades of colour as we know them, instead seeing more assumedly desaturated varieties and sometimes confusing their classification. However, Fajar displays extraordinary night-vision and an ease in locating lifeforms in particular, even during heavy sandstorms (Note: This does not apply to plantlife or mechanics, only animals and other living beings with vascular systems.)
• Carnivorous Diet: Fajar is unable to digest anything that is not meat. While this was at first assumed to be just a strong dislike of the taste, more forceful feeding has shown that she almost immediately vomits it back out. While she can eat cooked meat, she remains sated for longer - and becomes notably happier - when the meat is completely raw. Hopefully this doesn't mean she has an appetite for her fellow kinswomen too.
• Physical Mannerisms: Observed to be generally sluggish in her movements, slow as if moving with effort or great weight. Her strength, while incredibly high (see: 'Door Shatter Incident Report 12', 'Boulder + Debris Removal' records and hospitalisation reports for Liana), also appears to be difficult to control (i.e heavy-handed). General inability to perform fine motor skills, (embroidery, detailed painting etc.), stating a rigidity in her fingers that is frustrating and nigh impossible to work with consistently.
• Voice Quality: Gravelly. Deep. Husky. At times it reverberates with a deep thrum of bass which stirs the stomachs of its listeners, but halfway through other sentences it breaks into weak rasps.
• Eroded Memory: Her body appears to retain a large amount of muscle memory in regards to her craft. But while many selective memory fragments have enabled her mostly seamless reintegration into Gerudo society, she has been unable supposedly to recall anything regarding how she ended up in a crypt and the curse which has assailed the Du'Kana family. Several Elders have gone on record to say that the legends of her ancestry mention the Gibdo Rot as far back as the family name itself.

[Cause of the Curse: Still Unknown]
[Cure Potential: Highly Unlikely]

Detailed Appearance:
Taller than average. Toned physique, with the defined skeletal structure of wide hips and broad shoulders as is typical of Gerudo. While her skintone is arguably tanned, it has a distinct greyish-green hue that is likely the result of many ages of malnutrition or decay. Her muscular structure too appears to have very likely been much larger in her original time, but has since degraded. Unusually she has not gained any muscle mass despite her vast quantities of physical labour over the last few years.

Her extremities are very evidently marred by the effects of Gibdo Rot, the worst affected of which are her hands, feet and legs with the progression having extended up almost the entirety of her right and just above the knee on her left. The spread is irregular and often patchy towards its edges, developing as scaly blotches which are hard and tough to the touch. Extending from her lower half, weaker, more sparse patches constrict her torso in a vaguely serpentine spiral, eventually ending at her lower jawline where it bleeds across a vast quantity of her left jawline and cheek. In heavily infected areas the fat appears to have been completely drained, leaving the skin - a dark, reddish-brown - pulled taut over the ligaments and bones: doctors have likened the appearance to an 'écorché'. Fajar's fingers appear remarkably long and even clawed as a result of this altered anatomy. While at her neck there bulges several pairs of deep, diagonal scars: like that of a vicious claw wound, or a fish's gills.

Fajar has chosen to shave her head due to her thinning hair, but the vibrant reds can still be seen across her scalp: artfully shaped into curved patterns reminiscent of the wind through our local dunes. While her facial features are just as distinct and bold as any sister, the high cheekbones, strong brow, expressive eyebrows and sculpted nose are accented by the lack of framing locks. Her already striking eyes are surrounded by a mask of thick, black streaks of kohl which stretch from temple to nose-bridge. This heavy contrast only intensifies the glassy white glaze of the eyes themselves: the gold all but lost below a pearly film, and her pupils aglow with an unnerving lilac hue. She tends to favour golden lipsticks but has known to wear blood-red too.

Fajar's choice in clothes meanwhile harkens back to more archaic times. She prefers the drapery of embroidered ivory panels, binding her chest with minimal coverage but allowing a hiked skirt to cascade around her legs. While it is true that she enjoys gold jewellery as much as the next Gerudo, she is understandably averse to its highly conductive nature and instead decorates herself with amber and lacquered clay painted a similar green to that of her Zonai-tech shackles. (Note: Despite the rumours, no, she does not wear the bones of her meals.) A circlet, large triangular earrings, necklaces, belts and rings - you can expect her to be wearing the usual variety of jewellery types. The shackles and their curling, golden horns are a noticeably cumbersome, chunkier addition to her favoured aesthetic but in an odd way seem to suit her well.

Probation Catalysts:

• Many elders of Gerudo Town have signed a petition for Fajar's freedom, stating her family's historical legacy of great honour in the stonemasonry field. Her work performance in helping to rebuild Gerudo Town and other nearby structures/statues/etc. was also extraordinarily exceptional with a co-operative attitude throughout.
• Routine medical exams have identified that Fajar's Gibdo Rot is progressing at an alarming pace. While this has caused some division amongst society, it has ultimately been decided that the most 'humane' reaction to this news is to allow her the chance to live out her remaining years in relative freedom.

------------------------------------

Conditions of Unsupervised Release:

• Fajar is to report every two weeks to the nearest Stable or settlement. Her report should be written and promptly sent to Gerudo Town, including her travel history and a brief summary of her activities. (Note: Fajar has been given an official stamp seal allowing free postage, courtesy of the recently established Royal Postal Service). If adventuring further from civilisation which renders the fortnightly reports impossible, prior permission must be given.
• One hour after every sunset the 'vertical beam device' built into her shackles will trigger, allowing Scouts to more accurately verify and record her location. After four weeks this regularity will be lowered from daily to every four days. After eight weeks this will lower to every seven days.
• Fajar must return in person to Gerudo Town every three months - a few days allowing.
• Any unlawful behaviour which results in grievous harm of another individual without reasonable justification will result in one to three strikes against her record, depending on the severity of the incident. Three strikes and Fajar's probation is rescinded, either returning her to confinement within Gerudo Town or incarceration. (Note: Execution is a possibility but unlikely.)

Signed:
[Subject is unable to write with a quill. An ink-stamped fingerprint has been accepted instead.]

THREAD HISTORY

• CURRENT Sands of Spirits Lost - Met Claria

[El]

RAEMI

Introduced As: Raemi of the Apsaras

"Ray-Me", "Uhp-Suh-Rahs"

Subtitles: Dancer by Trade, 'Ink Artist' at Heart

Decorated Lady of the Zoran Faron Sea

Appearance Details and Information for the Illustrator:
Colourful, delicate and elaborate, Raemi may be slightly smaller than the average Zora yet her presence is anything but. This youthful lady makes ample use of her natural gifts, both those of her foreign beauty and her inherited skills.

The majority of her scales shimmer like freshwater pearl with a cool, glacial cast, incredibly pale but rich with an array of aquatic colours when struck by the radiance of light. While there is little in the way of stark patterning - like the Zora many of us are used to - countless 'freckles' dapple many areas: "the shadows of stars", as she calls them fondly. Her figure is slender, but not lithe in the manner you'd expect a dancer to be toned. There is an elegant fragility to her supple limbs. A quiet grace in her gentle movements. Demure are her naturally sweet smiles, though her beauty often suffers at the hands of her fragile and doubtful confidence.

Blooming from countless extremities like luxurious swathes of silk, the myriad of tentacles which extend from her shoulders, elbows, hips and head are the framework for curtains of colour. These 'capes' - membranes - spill across her body and curl like a royal's exquisite robe, forming draping sleeves and curling skirts, the suckers of the leading tentacles lined like glistening beadwork across the seams. The base colour of these capes is a vibrant, vermillion orange. Yet their decoration is just as bold, lined with stripes of amber yellows, magenta pinks, amethyst purples, sapphire blues, metallic creams and punctuated at their hems by rows of 'peacock eyes' rimmed with emerald green. They shimmer and sparkle, much like her pale scales, but possess a luminosity all of their own which radiates best when allowed to shine in low-light.

Most striking of all however - the true 'centrepiece' of this natural artwork - would be that which we are wont to look at most: her face. For upon it rests what I originally thought was a butterfly! The shorter tentacles there expand from her brow, eyelids and cheekbones, the patterned membranes framing her softly rounded jaw and downturned topaz eyes with all the exquisite majesty of floral wings. Replicating the shapes of voluminous locks, two other membranes spill down the front of her 'ears' to her chest, while an enormous split-tailed cape extends behind her head, flowing all the way down to nip at her heels. All of these natural structures appear to possess something akin to their own intelligence, moving with the articulated precision of a man's own fingers! Indeed, Raemi herself has professed that while she can - and often does - control them with purpose, especially during performances, they have a natural tendency to wander when her mind does and reflect her deepest feelings - much to her embarrassed chagrin. They may coil with fright. Flare with joy or terror. Or even wrap protectively around her form with embarrassment.

What then of her jewellery, I hear some of you inquire? Well, dear readers, as this lady is not native to our Zora's Domain her choice of decoration is quite different - not that she needs more of it! Rather than silver - or even gold - Raemi is clad instead with clustered strings of coral branches accented occasionally with naturally misshapen pearls. Many of these chiming, clinking chains adorn her elegant figure, adding a subtle but audible flavour to her performances.

IMPORTANT Performance Information (Also for the Illustrator):
(Use glitter and gold leaf! Spare no expense - material costs have been covered. It is imperative that the illustration of Raemi is combined with a stylish depiction of her art in exaggerated detail - so we can capture the reader's eye and imagination! This is a front-cover piece!)

Just as she has embraced her natural colours, Raemi has spent many years honing her own flavour of magic. Twinned with her anatomy's defensive measures of expelling ink, she has an exquisitely delicate control over water, handling it - and any light substance it comes into contact with - like a sculptor handles clay, or how an artist swirls their brush. She 'paints' with this inky substance, tentacles, membranes, fingers, feet and limbs drawing into life all manner of living illustrations. One moment she may breathe into life a field of flowers through which to wade, the petals dispersing in her wake. The next she may conjure mirror images of herself, which erupt from her figure in a dazzling and disorientating display of rapid movement. Her imagination is the limit, the intended emotions of her performance the guide. Through it all she flows without pause, dancing amidst the varying colours as if the air itself was water: her incredibly light physique and innate buoyancy facilitating a manner of 'levitation'.

When questioned on if the many different colours of her ink are natural - the potential consequence of her own mood or something akin - she shook her head with blushing shame. "I almost wish so," she laughed weakly, "That would save me a great deal." The truth, dear readers, is that she uses natural ingredients to enhance her performance. While she is most familiar in working with the ground powder of ores, she has recently delved into the cheaper - but sadly less vibrant - options of dried flowers. "It's not just about the colour either," Raemi confessed. A timid peek of passionate pride tugged at her plump lips as she elaborated, "It's about the emotion also - as long as the audience is attentive and receptive. F-for example... [she deliberated a moment] ...if I used ruby as my accented base but warm safflina for the body, the result may be a hot, deep orange but it'd FEEL hot too: like a comforting embrace o-or... ... p-perhaps... maybe, the allure of... well, er... 'romance'. Heat of many forms..."

These self-made pigments - artfully crafted by the artist herself! - are applied upon her already colourful membranes: following the natural patterns so they can blend in as seamlessly as possible and be expelled smoothly mid-performance. For hard to reach places she even employs the assistance of the many tentacles themselves!

When questioned if she's ever applied these paints on anyone else her discomfort was evident. "T-That... might be dangerous - for a non-Zora anyway. I've... I've never tried on skin, feathers or... stone? Or-" She paused for a moment only to giggle, almost relieved at the idea that came to mind. "It might prove entirely useless! My own ink is what activates the effects after all - at least how I work. So I'd have to-... well... pre-farm it and add it into the mixture and-... but that's... aha..." (I did wonder at the time if such amplifying effects took their toll on the dancer herself, yet upon seeing how withdrawn she'd already become in her embarrassment, I chose not to press the issue.)

More on the Apsara Tribe:
Raemi spoke very proudly of her home tribe, the subject quickly luring her out of the shell she'd escaped into. The praise she sang was full of admiration... yet I couldn't help but detect an undercurrent of deep sorrow: homesickness, perhaps? That is what I first suspected, and it would've been logical to leave it as so. However, as the conversation continued onwards, some enlightening details in the way she spoke caught my attention and in hindsight uncovered a different theory. Contrary to MISSING her people, it felt almost as if she had never felt at home there to begin with. ...Had she been an outcast?

Regardless, her adoration of the Apsaras was blatant. Habitants of the southern Faron Sea, they are a clan of Zora free in both spirit and in society, making home in a series of underground caverns crowned by a cluster of ancient shipwrecks. The arts are highly regarded amongst their ranks and a key, central figure of their culture: singing, sculpture, dance, illustration, etc. Craftsmanship of every hue is praised and encouraged from a very young age to be taken as a hobby at least, if not a main profession. The more talented and skilled an individual in the arts, the higher their esteem, affording them idolised ranks and key roles in religious ceremonies dedicated to the waxing and waning of the waters and their harvests.

A council of leadership is elected based upon popular vote. And while they have - up until recently - been a very secluded society, Raemi explained that it was out of concern for safety not prejudice that they sealed themselves off from Hyrule. "Thankfully - hopefully! - the Calamities are over now! .......R-right?"

The Inspiration for Her 'Opening Act':
Though hesitant, I suspect that Raemi's drive to set foot within Hyrule proper has the potential for a most romantic story if framed well. She admitted, with a shy and perhaps ashamed smile, that the inspiration for 'leaving the roost' came not in the form of some sort of official ambassador or even as the result of passionate self-resolve, but rather that it was sparked by a brilliantly red-breasted Rito bard. 'Carmine', she called him - with fond affection.

"It was a chance encounter," She explained, golden eyes glazing with rosy memories. "Upon 'Puffer Beach'. I was-... well, I was there," (for reasons she refused to elaborate on) "-and he came across a performance I was practicing upon one of those beautiful ponds. He startled me, honestly." She giggled. "I hadn't seen one of his kind before, let alone conversed with one. But... well, we got along. Soon I realised it wasn't just his company that I enjoyed, but the stories of his Kingdom too. So I thought maybe I could-..."

She never did finish that sentence. I proposed many conclusions - each prod eliciting a different response - but she neither confirmed nor denied my assumptions. My intuition tells me that her true reason (or reasons) couldn't possibly be anything that'd make me think poorly of her. However, it appears she scarcely has the courage to admit them to herself, let alone to a stranger.

...How should I end this interview then? Or perhaps this mystery will make for an engaging cliffhanger for our readers.

- An interview draft for the 'Who's Who?' column of 'Gaebora's Goldmine': a pretentious gossip newspaper aimed towards entertaining 'the elite' but often consumed by merchants and bored housewife/husbands.
Interview SPONSORED by Ciel Beaumont.

THREAD HISTORY

• CURRENT The Beaumont Ball
  

[El]

LUCIUS

Name: Lucius
AKA: 'The Knight's Star'
Pronouns: Him/He
Race: Sentient Sword
Class: Knight, Blademaster / Instructor

Appearance:

The 'Hylian' form is the one I have observed by far the most, though describing him as a mere Hylian - or perhaps Sheikah - feels... vastly inaccurate, despite it being the closest common label available. This man is art, pure and simple. Whatever garb he dons (though he usually prefers a Hylian military uniform of some form and a moderate application of plate armour), his beauty by far outshines it, an elegant perfection to his every fine feature and sculpted limb.

        He is broad-shouldered with a tapered waist and long legs, yet his musculature is that of an idealised athlete, a form that emphasises agility and well-rounded strength rather than being a hulk of bulky mass. Sun-kissed is the warm hue of his lightly tanned skin, contrasting against his blonde mane and its soft waves which spread from a middle-parting, framing the flawless and slender structure of his face with all its sculpted ridges and corners; burned upon his forehead in chalky white is the symbol of a falling star, while two twin bolts of lightning frame his chin. There is a subtly magical sheen to Lucius's bright locks, their shadows falling in vibrant jade hues and the highlights radiant with a pale satin yellow. Yet I'd say the most enchanting part of him - in true cliché - would be his eyes. They are almost draconic in both their intensity and vibrancy: a bright yellow star explodes from a stark red pupil, expanding across an emerald iris before meeting another orange then red rimmed border. The lower eyelashes are framed with bold strokes of gold eyeliner(?), a fondness for this hue which is reflected also in his only jewellery - his Hylia-winged, topaz-drop earrings.

The Construct form is unlike anything I have ever witnessed before, different from both the Great Fairies and Sacred Satori: a curious blend of magic and sculpture that exudes an unmistakable power of presence beyond humanity, (but is most certainly NOT a spirit in the traditional sense of a lingering soul or a natural entity either). The very air around him crackles with energy, illuminated always, humming with a fierce and bold vitality. A golem of some sort...?

        Skin replaced and emboldened with a material akin to pale marble, very little burdens this enlarged form except a set of same-toned, sharp pauldrons and a pointed helm which obscures much of his face - the crown of its visor gilded with the depiction of a Triforce. Royal-red bindings of rope are tied about his waist and down one leg - trimmed with gold. While a similar gold - albeit one far more opulent and alive with conductivity - is shattered across much of his extremities in geometric patterns of stacked blocks and gathering, horizontal stripes; a noise of luxury that breaks entirely in the light of his chiseled chest where an embedded star sits large and bright. Similar points of light beam from trios of jewels which line up his arms and dot his neck, accented by pointed ridges of yet more gold. As if all that weren't dramatic enough, the 'plume' - if it can even be called that! - which extends from the top of his helm is a statement in itself: gloriously long, coiling with blade-sharp curls which crackle with electricity from roots of scaled emerald greens. Claws - not nails! - punctuate his fingertips and toes, while a proud smile sits confidently upon his sumptuous lips.

The Sword form is - as one might expect by this point - exquisitely ornamental. Despite the basis of its shape echoing that of a Royal Broadsword and so, by default, assuming an elegant simplicity in its yet exaggerated silhouette, everything else from then onwards oozes either opulence or electric intensity.

        Lucius has described the main materials used in his construction as such: ivory, gold, topaz, stardust, star fragments and last - but most certainly not least! - a large shard of Farosh's horn. The very latter of this list is what the blade itself is largely composed of, the pointed and curving ridges of its double-edges split down its head like the Thunderblades of old. The occasionally interrupted spine is covered with emerald scales and sporadically framed with sharp gold filigree. A spine down which is engraved - in antiquated Hylian script - the tenets of, 'Courage. Commitment. Chivalry.' (...Actually, I think I saw some of those characters on his back before too...? When he was in his more Hylian-facing forms.) A similar golden ornamentation accents the Hylia-crested wings of the guard, framing trios of diamond-chiseled topazes before forming a ring of triforce motifs above the grip. It then cascades in broken mosaic down towards a delicately sculpted depiction of Farosh themselves for the pommel - golden-horned, golden-fanged, and eyes ablaze with literal light. Sculpted ivory appears to make up the vast majority of this hilt, with a luxurious braid of noble-red framing both the top and the bottom of the grip, punctuated with golden beads.

        NOTE: While Lucius is traditionally only held in one hand, his size can expand to that of a giant two-handed claymore or shrink to a slender throwing knife, depending on will and wielder. The weight can also vary wildly, lifting to a comfortable burden for those he approves of, or sinking into an agonising anchor of nigh-indomitable disdain. Most notably, the true extent and capabilities of his awesome might and magical prowess can only be unlocked in the hands of another - NOT himself.

"A soul both noble and courageous, their heart ablaze with chivalry, so that we may, once two, resonate then as one." as Lucius himself once stated, clarifying the nature of such a candidate. "A spark which - most regrettably - is as fleeting as the dew at dawn, for human hearts shift with the tides of their emotions. Few throughout my existence to date have managed to wield the Spark of Courage with unrelenting persistence. Fewer still rose victorious over the mires of ill-intentions and their muddling poisons of rotting morality to fuel the spark with a continuously noble fire. I shall not - and shall never - champion such decay." Etc. Etc. Etc.

(...Much more was said, but I eventually stopped listening. Regardless, I'm sure you grasp the point, no?)

Origin:
Half the work of religious zealots and half a boastful medal of powerful noble families seeking to make a statement, Lucius was not the creation of one but the culmination of many efforts. He was created not as one man's fantasy, but as a symbol for many - a star to inspire, to train, an idol. The rare and expensive materials used in his forging were sourced across a small but impassioned community of supporters united in their allegiance to the Hylian Royal Family, a multitude of hands taking turns to craft the opulent beacon of a blade that he became. As a result Lucius refuses - and has always refused - to be owned by one individual for eternity, but to Hyrule itself, as a "champion of chivalry and justice."

Originally his purpose was twofold: a trophy awarded every three years to the Coliseum Champion, while in the two years between each 'service of honour' Lucius would help train the most promising members of the Hylian military - those usually being candidates for the Royal Guard. He was both a medal many warriors aspired to possess and also the very same instructor who helped them unleash the peaks of their own potential. Less of an individual, friend or mentor, but-... an icon instead. (...I can't say he ever seemed regretful when describing that way of life. It sounds lonely to me though.)

His 'Long Rest' began with the fall of Castle Town at the abrupt onset of the Great Calamity. While his wielder at the time - a fervently loyal knight of the royal order - fought bravely, his forces and comrades could not hold back the onslaught. They fled to fight another day by falling back to Akkala Citadel but-... well, we all know how that ended.

Lucius refuses to truly elaborate on those events - not that I have pressed him too deeply, curious as I may be. He simply stated that from the moment his knight fell, he too descended, clutched deep in the impassioned regrets until I chanced upon him that night many moons ago, in the Depths' Ancient Underground Fortress of Akkala. The letter I delivered released the knight's soul of its burdens and from his extended palms of misted black, Lucius too was freed.

He didn't wish to come with me at first - the dramatic fool! Pretty as he was he was unbearably obstinate! (Even singeing my fur at one point!!!) ...Until I gave him my current family name, that is. It wasn't until later that I discovered that the Beaumont family line helped fund his creation once upon a time: not that I care to wield a sword, gorgeous as he may be. It seems like he has little patience for my 'spirit of mischief' anyway. Tch.

- Some pages from Ciel Beaumont's diary.

THREAD HISTORY

N/A

• CURRENT Clearing the Air - Met Alyson, name not yet learned