OOC

Minecraft Username: flywiththenight 

Are you at least 18 years old?: yes

Have you read the rules? (Link): yes

(Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: From friends.

(Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): I go by zee, and I like star rail a lot :)  

(my builds on seeleland)

—

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 (in character)? (250 word minimum - please make sure to include at least three references to our lore in your response, with two coming from different pages  in the Compendium.  Two of the three selected should also be in-depth, avoid simply name-dropping lore terms. Tie the terms into your character's backstory. Why are they important to them?)

As the cart trudged on, her eyes never met the vast landscapes of Southern Reach. They did not meet the swathes of greenery laid over hills that swayed in the light wind. Nor did she dare to meet any gaze of the strangers aside her, who squished the fabric of her coat tails into bunches. Instead her focus remained on one single, silver band on her right index finger as it twirled from the flicks of her thumbs. She simply thought, a thought she had been thinking the whole journey, one she will continue to have.

It was raining on the day of her rite. 

It wasn’t a spectacle, just a passage of change. Her family, all lined up on the wooden docks of Eryndor. Raindrops teetering off their shoulders from the harsh winds, as the fog curled around their feet at the bottom of the cliffs. An odd look on their faces, especially her mother’s - a grief she has never seen before in her eyes. One of her first children to take on the Mistan rite, to go sailing across the seas once they are of age. Deryn was the first of her siblings to take on the rite, to not be dissuaded. The rogue waves did not stop her from boarding. It didn’t make her stumble in her steps towards the boat. She looked ahead to the seascape, not back to the land.

“Nervous?”

Deryn blinks a few times, the fog clearing from her mind as her focus returns to the wooden slits making up the cart. Before her eyes raise to look upon the old woman speaking to her. 

“Why have you come to the Reach?”

The ring twirls again.

“. . Why have I?” Something sparks Deryn to answer, offering a polite smile. “The stars, my fortune, it’s. .”

The phrase is familiar, bringing back a soft, warm memory that makes her pause. One where Deryn and her mother sat sheltered in their home from the rain, hours before the rite. Where she sat cross-legged on the floor, with her back facing her Mother who sat in an old chair. Her mother's hands carded through her ginger locks, carefully pulling them into a pair of twin ponytails at Deryn’s back. 

“Dove. .” Her mother begins, as she ties one blue ribbon into the right ponytail. “I know you have already decided, but as your mother I just worry - that you will simply wash back onto the shores if you misstep and anger her.” 

“I don’t believe my journey will harm the waters.” Deryn replies for a moment, eyes meeting the fireplace before her. “I don’t intend to incur the siren’s anger, if anything I’ll do as I always do.”

“Your fortune is also what ails me. Being born in Highsun, under the magpie.” Her mother trails off for a moment, tying the other ribbon and pulling the hair to lay lax on Deryn’s back. “If the stars declare you are to lose something. . . I am just afraid that you will be lost without our little flock. My Dove.” 

“But that’s why I can’t sit still. When I look at the stars from the rocky cliffs, I feel like I can feel the stars pulling me to the ocean - I don’t believe my fate is to lose something.”

She turns to face her mother, who gently placed the palm of her hand onto her cheek. 

“I know there is something to be gained out there for me.” Deryn continues, spurred on by the same adventurous desire she has seen in other Mistan residents before. “I have to go find it. - Plus, uh the boat’s already been built by us.”

“I know Deryn.” Her mother interjects, “You really have so much to gain in this wide world. But I can’t help but be selfish and wish you could find what the fates hid from you here, in the mist. But, I know you are strong, and you will be safe.”

Deryn recalls her mother replied, with the same warm smile the old lady in the cart holds on her face. The memory slips away, the warmth of the fire and loving hands fade back into the fog of her mind. She looks up to the old woman, picking up where she last left off. A determined shine in her eyes.

“I have something to gain in this world.” Deryn looks at the old woman. “I intend to find what it is.”

----

Character Name: Deryn Beddoe 

Character Race: Human 

Character Age: 31

Brief Physical Description:

Deryn stands around 5’5 with soft, rounder features. Her face shows minute signs of aging on her tanned skin. Her ginger hair falls around her face in asymmetrical bangs before being pulled back into twin tails, held by two dark blue ribbons. If her hair was fully down it would come out as wavy, draping over her midback before stopping. 

In terms of attire, Deryn typically is seen with a grey military fashioned coat draped over her shoulders, that buttons stop at her hips, leaving the rest of the coat to continue down past the back of her knees. Under this coat her dress is ordinary, with a shawl based top. While the blue dress skirt flows down past her shoes. Deryn hardly takes off her coat indoors, finding the fabric comforting, though she will feel inclined in place she feels more safe. A few unique features mark her skin, on her right hand the skin on her index finger is scratched, a habit from her fidgeting with the silver band that resides there. 

Image of Skin and Figura Model:

dress / skirt referenced from a FTU on PMC - credit to ImStuckInHell :)