OOC
Minecraft Username: elanite
Are you at least 18 years old? Yes.
Have you read the rules? Yes.
How did you hear about Avalore? MC Server List
Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share:
Hello! I'm Rina. I'm an English Language Arts teacher by day, and an avid reader / gamer by night and weekend. Teaching keeps me pretty busy, so my free time is somewhat sporadic... but I've been looking for an opportunity to get back into roleplay again, and I hope this is it!
My builds in Minecraft largely follow tutorials online; though I love the creative aspect of building, I am not as well-versed in building from scratch. It's something I'm interested in doing more of, though!
In-Character
Read the following prompt:
The rhythmic lull of hoofbeats are a marching drum to the small group of pioneers and variety of folk you have found yourself amongst, packed into a wobbling wagon. The rolling plains of the Southern Reach and a clear sky stretch out all around you, the buzz of excited chatter a dull wash in your ears as your mind strays to your former life and what has led you here to new lands.
“Nervous?”
You blink, returning to the present moment. A kindly older woman sat near you is smiling warmly with a crinkle to her eyes.
“I can tell it’s your first time. Still remember mine,” she flashes a grin and leans in.
“Tell me my dear, why have you come to the Reach?”
How do you respond?
Miel blinked once, twice, an echo of a memory forming in her mind. Why had she made the journey from the Midlands to the Reach?
"There's... not much of a story to tell, I'm afraid," she mumbled, fidgeting with the leather straps on her satchel - a crossbody bag containing a modest selection of clothing and rations to last her through her travels, until she could reach the Spire. She had packed such a modest selection, of course, so that there would be more room for the important things: her ink and quill, stationery, and a letter scrawled onto faded parchment. The letter... Now, that's where the story was.
-~-
Miel had come across the letter just a few moons ago - on the last night of the spring market festival in Mariza.
The Nevarres - a small family from Coteaux, in Sanguifleur - had made a somewhat-comfortable living cultivating grapes and other seasonal fruits. Though the Nevarres were not winemakers themselves, they often traded and bartered with such craftsmen, and the Nevarre name had come to be known for their succulent crops. Being the eldest daughter, Miel was tasked with delivering a share of their spring harvest to Mariza, where the annual market festival would soon be held.
And so, she had traveled to Mariza with a meager - or, as her father would correct her, an exclusive - selection of fruits, intended for presentation to any foreign winemakers amongst the merchants. Perhaps this season, they might expand their family business beyond the winemakers of Auclair. Perhaps merchants sailing into the harbor might take interest - travelers who might carry the Nevarre name upon sweet, fruit-stained lips to distant shores, where winemakers or bakers or chefs might recognize the fruits of their labor as worthy of investing into. And perhaps those opportunities would allow Miel to finally leave the farm and travel the world. Or so she kept telling herself.
But upon arrival, her daydreams (and her grapes) were summarily squashed, as the bustle of the market overwhelmed the timid farmgirl. Her ears buzzed with the shouts of merchants peddling wares, the tales of foreigners just arrived ashore, the crooning of bards and ballads. Though she hadn't opened a single bottle, Miel felt as woozy as if she had downed the entirety of her own goods. Eventually, she found herself settling into a teashop to calm her nerves. Without a specific destination in mind, she'd become all but lost - and at this rate, she'd return home with empty pockets and a dream that would have to remain a dream for yet another long year.
It was then that fate intervened.
"Excuse me, miss?" The teashop's waitress stood nearby, startling Miel out of her thoughts. There was something different about her. Something... ethereal. "I hate to trouble you, but might I ask for a favor?"
Miel blinked at the woman, unsure of what she might request. "Ah... I suppose so?"
"Oh, thank you! I need you to deliver this letter to the post for me." She shoved a letter into Miel's hands and clasped them together tightly, the edges of the envelope creasing ever-so-slightly. "It's already nightfall, but I can't possibly leave the shop right now - we're simply too busy, and the owner would turn me into the next blend if I went off somewhere in the middle of a rush. So, if you would, just this one letter?"
"That's it?" Miel asked.
"That's it!" the waitress replied with a wink. "And your tea is on the house."
"I suppose I have time, sure," Miel replied as if in a daze, nodding. Though she wouldn't say it aloud, Miel felt thankful for some semblance of purpose. At the very least, it would give her a destination to meander toward as she offloaded her fruits and wines amongst the merchants.
"Delightful! The recipient will be on the envelope," the waitress explained. "Just make your way to the harbor, and you'll find the White Raven along the dock. I'm sure you'll know where to go from there."
Before Miel could reply, the waitress patted her on the cheek and bustled off into the crowd of patrons, leaving Miel alone with the letter and her empty cup. She stood, pushed in her chair, and left the teashop.
After a few minutes of weaving through crowds, Miel found herself at the harbor, just on the outskirts of the festival. Overhead, the crescent of the Light Moon glistened, its reflection of light outlining the shape of the Dark Moon. A sharp "caw!" echoed over the busy hum of the market, drawing Miel's attention to a raven perched upon the stall for the White Raven Post. Fitting. Miel approached the stall and its attendant.
"Evenin', miss. Welcome to the White Raven Post. Mailin' home some of your shopping?" he asked, glancing at Miel's satchel of produce.
"Ah, no," she replied, shaking her head. She pushed her satchel aside on her shoulder and offered the envelope to the attendant. "I have a delivery to make."
"Aye, we can do that for you." The attendant took the envelope from Miel and stared at it, an eyebrow raised. "... Did you forget to address it?"
Miel blinked. "What do you mean?"
"What I mean is, it's got no name. Not a one. Did'ja forget to write that down?"
"... That can't be right."
Miel took the letter back from the attendant, looking over it. Although the attendant had claimed the envelope to be empty, there was clearly a name written along the front in elegant script: Miel Nevarre.
Miel froze. My name?
The attendant traced Miel's eyes down to the name on the envelope. "Why don't you open it, miss?"
Miel's gaze darted from the envelope, to the attendant, and back. What exactly was going on? She hastily unsealed the envelope, revealing its contents: a small piece of folded parchment, a divining card, and a few coins. Miel unfolded the parchment first, desperate for an explanation.
To Avelore's newest courier,
Congratulations on your first successful delivery. Enclosed is your payment for your services. You might consider a future in such a business.
A white raven is an omen of something to come; perhaps it is you who must venture forth, rather than merely waiting around for fate to deliver itself within a sealed envelope. Dreams of tomorrow are too readily drowned out by lamentations on the past.
Another card beckons; The Spire might be a good place to start.
Miel looked up, but found herself staring at an empty stall. Where the attendant had once stood, there was naught but air and old crates. She next looked to the divining card in her hand; on the front was a white raven, set in flight against a starlit scene. And the coins - just enough for a trip via carriage from Mariza to the Southern Reach. Miel grasped the letter, her heart quickening.
... Well, she had wanted to travel the world.
-~-
By the end of that evening, Miel had sold her family's goods, purchased a few rations, and found a place to stay for the night. But instead of returning home to Sanguifleur the next morning, she set off for the Reach on the first carriage. Which, in turn, carried her across the region until she ended up here — on a wobbling wagon alongside this wondering old woman.
"I've come seeking work, you see," Miel replied to the woman. "I'm an independent courier. Miel Nevarre, of the White Raven Post. I'd be happy to be of service."
Character Details
Character Name: Miel Nevarre
Character Race: Human
Character Age: 22
Brief Physical Description:
- Height: 5'2"
- Skin: Light / pale
- Hair: Black, back-length, slight wave; usually half-up
- Eyes: Dark blue-indigo
Despite being human, Miel has slightly-pointed ears - certainly, they are more rounded and shallow than those of the Arsa Sidhe, but it is an uncommon trait nonetheless. Miel is a little short compared to other humans, with a slight pear-shaped physique. Although she is not particularly athletic-looking, she has strong legs and decent stamina from working sporadically on her family farm. She was more often tasked with delivering produce to and from the farm and Auclair, but occasionally tended the fields with her younger brother, Milo.
Miel dresses rather simply, with a white linen shirt, brown corset, and brown pants. She typically carries some sort of satchel - most often a crossbody bag, which contains her stationery, a book, and any letters she might be in the process of delivering.
Image of Skin and Figura Model:
