That would be paint or hair dye in a bid to make herself slightly less intimidating to others yes! I did get the idea for that from seeing what other Void-touched had established.

Hello! I apparently misunderstood that Voidlings and Void-touched are different species and had assumed Voidlings was just a nickname for the race of Void-touched. (I have apparently been influenced by the dwarf players I've been around too much because they call everyone manlings, elflings- you get the idea LOL). Here is an ammended story tweaked to have her come in after the Sundering properly:     The Void-touched takes the glass of mulberry cider gratefully, her dark eyes trailing up to the round features of the well-lived bartender from beneath her hood. "A pleasure, Maarten." she hums, her voice a low purr akin to the soft scrape of chalk against slate. "My name is Avora." The question as to the Spire, however, has the female smiling softly, if a bit bittersweetly. "That is a rather brief and confusing one, my friend. But, suffice it to say- I suppose my purpose here is to welcome others of my kin who cross the Veil?" she shrugs, sipping her drink again and continuing with a small sigh through the nose. "I arrived here shortly after what is called the Sundering, after the battle with the Chained One. I think one of my first memories was of the Dreaming One waking me up alongside many others...and from there we kind of just had to learn to adapt to our new surroundings?" she glances at her dark colored claws, eyes narrowed in a faintly troubled expression. "...As odd as it is to say -for you to hear- it feels strange to admit that life itself feels like a foreign concept to me- and yet, I am living, and I will likely only have so much time, if I am like you or the others that live here." she puzzled to herself quietly. "It is a very...familiar, yet unfamiliar way of things here in a way I cannot explain. I wonder where we go after this life..." The bartender hums and nudges her to shift the subject a bit. "Did you have a personal involvement in the feud those two had? Or know anything of it?" "What do I know of the feud between the Chained One and the Dreaming One?..." Avora blinks, thinking. "...mmm...nothing." And yet, her tone is accepting of this. "There was likely a reason for the deal that was made- though that escapes me and many others. Perhaps I can learn more over time as to the details, if the Dreaming One left traces... I doubt I'd be able to catch Ciren'na for a quick chat abut her part in it, let alone one of that pricey of information without an adequate trade." she snorts. "The public archives have been rather helpful- I think I spent a good week hiding in there after emerging and just absorbed everything I possibly could." "Speaking of- the Spire is certainly not of the make of the craftsmen around here. I am not even certain if the so acclaimed Aedall made it...Activated it, perhaps. But I doubt it was made by them." she hums thoughtfully. "That tells me there's something important about it that the Patrons value for one reason or another." “An’ what makes you think that?” the man asks, quirking a brow. “This actually-” The Voidborn pulls her hood back, willing to dare exposing herself to the stares of others as she fiddles with her bag and pulls out a small journal, leafing through a chaotic mishmash of notes and sketches. "Where is it..." she pauses and taps her finger on a sketch of the Phoenix and the Equinox, before dragging her finger over the Equinox in particular. "Light and Dark. Life and Death. Day and Night. Waking and Resting. There is a theory that they operated around the foundational principles that everything functioned in cycles- specifically around these cycles. And...well- it is rather funny that there were two figures fighting over the Spire when we came to be in this world. The Chained One, and the Dreaming One..." she shrugs one shoulder and closes the book, smiling apologetically as she realizes her theorycrafting has likely made the poor man's head spin. "There's a lot to be learned. A lot to be found. Perhaps a new set of eyes is all that is needed.~" she winks. “Uh...huh...perhaps the Hermetic Assembly or the Southern Institute of the Arcane would be a place for you to grow in your studies?” he suggests, and the woman tilts her head thoughtfully. "You know- that might be a good next step, aye..." With the conversation winding down, the Voidborn's tails rustle dryly against one another as she pockets her book, sets some crowns on the counter, and pulls her hood up before heading back out into the rain. The feeling of the little droplets plinking on her tail and crests was soothing, but moisture was ever difficult to get out from between the creases of her natural armor, and so she wore the cloak. The names of those groups stuck in her head- but she had somewhere else to be before poking around again. Heels drumming with a steady pattern, Avora keeps her eyes closed as she wanders almost aimlessly, lazily using her sense of hearing to navigate more than her vision to avoid the splashing of children and their annoyed parents. As she turned a corner, feeling eyes on her, Avora glances to her left, seeing a guard watching her a bit warily.Not hostile. But they likely wouldn't forget the scars of the fighting anytime soon. Her eyes soften a bit as his hand- a hand with crooked fingers, likely from broken bones in the Sundering- clenches a bit on the haft of his spear. But she was doing nothing suspicious, and he was simply unwillingly reliving a memory he didn't wish to have. So she moves on. Finally, Avora reaches the outer wall of the Spire. Many often gawked at and tried to study it; her included. But for now, she simply sought something acutely "human". Comfort. Reaching out, the Voidborn lays her hand on the cool, damp stone, and closes her eyes. Perhaps it is all in her head, or perhaps she does feel something, but under the drum of raindrops, it is almost like the magic sings just a hairsbreadth under a shell of stone. Her jaw tightens, and her hand clenches- the woman bowing her head to press it against the wall, and taking a slow, shaky breath, before opening her eyes again. "...why did I come here...?" she mutters, realizing she never did, and might never be able to truly answer that question.

OOC Minecraft Username: Keitara Are you at least 18 years old?: 29 Have you read the rules? (Link): Yep~(Optional) How did you hear about Avalore?: Friend referral(Max. 1) Were you referred by someone? If so, please provide their in-game username: ItsMegBaybee (Optional) Introduce yourself if you’d like, as well as any creations you want to share (e.g. art, builds, skins): Hello; I've rped for close to 17 years now. Poking around minecraft again after taking a multiple year break, and ended up being pulled toward Avalore. I'm an old hand at writing, illustration, building, and lore, so you might see me asking questions about that to better familiarize myself with the setting! — In-Character Read the following prompt: The sound of clinking glasses and idle chatter welcome you in as you find yourself stepping into The Full Cask. An older man with a full mustache and warm smile beckons you over to the bar he's tending. His gazes washes over you, a glint of some knowing look shining in his eyes. As you sit, his voice rumbles out: "Hello there stranger! What can I get for you?"  After you order, he continues to make small talk. "You must be a newcomer. I'm Maarten, glad to meet you." He says with a certain kindness in his tone.  "Tell me, what brings you to the Spire?"   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?)Usage of AI to generate, modify or translate the writing on your application will result in denial of your whitelist. There will be no chance to re-apply afterwards. Your Response: The Void-touched takes the glass of mulberry cider gratefully, her dark eyes trailing up to the round features of the well-lived bartender from beneath her hood. "A pleasure, Maarten." she hums, her voice a low purr akin to the soft scrape of chalk against slate. "My name is Avora."The question as to the Spire, however, has the female smiling softly, if a bit bittersweetly. "That is a long tale, my friend, and sadly one I do not remember all the pieces of. But, suffice it to say- I suppose my purpose here is to welcome others of my kin who cross the Veil." she murmurs, sipping her drink again, and continuing as the man coaxes her to. "I arrived here sometime during what is called the Sundering, and was one of the 'Voidlings' who assisted in casting out the Chained One." Avora chuckles at the nickname, despite her height compared to most of the humans. Why they decided to refer to other races and creatures with diminutive names to make them sound cuter she would never understand. "I think one of my first memories was of the Dreaming One waking me up alongside many others... and from there it was a lot of fighting." she glances at her dark colored claws, eyes narrowed in a faintly troubled expression. "Several shrines were damaged, if not destroyed. Many were injured. Several lost their lives...it feels strange to admit that life itself feels like a foreign concept- and yet, I am living, and I will likely only have so much time, if I am like you or the others that live here." she puzzled to herself quietly. "I wonder where we go afterward..."The bartender hums and nudges her to shift the subject a bit. "Did you have a personal involvement in the feud those two had? Or know anything of it?" "What do I know of the feud between them?..." Avora blinks and is pulled from her reverie at the question, thinking. "...nothing." And yet, her tone is accepting of this. "I was brought here to help against the Chained One, and so I did. Or, at least, I feel like there must have been some reason I was brought. Why a deal had to be made. Perhaps I can learn more over time as to the details, if the Dreaming One left traces. I doubt I'd be able to catch Ciren'na for a quick chat, let alone one of that pricey of information." she snorts. " Likewise, the Spire is certainly not of the make of the craftsmen around here. I am not even certain if the so acclaimed Aedall made it...Activated it, perhaps. But I doubt it was made by them." she hums thoughtfully. "That tells me there's something important about it that the Patrons value for one reason or another." With that thought in mind, the Voidborn pulls her hood back, willing to dare exposing herself to the stares of others as she fiddles with her bag and pulls out a small journal, leafing through a chaotic mishmash of notes and sketches. "Where is it..." she pauses and taps her finger on a sketch of the Phoenix and the Equinox, before dragging her finger over the Equinox in particular. "Light and Dark. Life and Death. Day and Night. Waking and Resting. There is a theory that they operated around the foundational principles that everything functioned in cycles- specifically around these cycles. And...well- it is rather funny that there were two figures fighting over the Spire when we came to be in this world. The Chained One, and the Dreaming One..." she shrugs one shoulder and closes the book, smiling apologetically as she realizes her theorycrafting has likely made the poor man's head spin. "There's a lot to be learned. A lot to be found. Perhaps a new set of eyes is all that is needed.~" she winks. Conversation winding down, the Voidborn's tails rustle dryly against one another as she pockets her book, sets some crowns on the counter, and pulls her hood up before heading back out into the rain. The feeling of the little droplets plinking on her tail and crests was soothing, but moisture was ever difficult to get out from between the creases of her natural armor, and so she wore the cloak. Heels drumming with a steady pattern, Avora keeps her eyes closed as she wanders aimlessly, using her sense of hearing to navigate more than her vision to avoid the splashing of children and their annoyed parents. As she turned a corner, feeling eyes on her, she glances to her left, seeing a guard watching her a bit warily. Not hostile. But they likely wouldn't forget the scars of the fighting anytime soon. Her eyes soften a bit as his hand- a hand with twisted fingers, likely from broken bones in the Sundering- clenches a bit on the haft of his spear. But she was doing nothing suspicious, and he was simply unwillingly reliving a memory he didn't wish to have. So she moved on. Finally, Avora reached the far wall of the Spire. Many often gawked at and tried to study it; her included. But for now, she simply sought something acutely "human". Reaching out, the Voidborn lays her hand on the cool, damp stone, and closes her eyes. Perhaps it is all in her head, or perhaps she does feel something, but under the drum of raindrops, it is almost like the magic sings just a hairsbreadth under a shell of stone. Her jaw tightens, and her hand clenches- the woman bowing her head to press it against the wall, and taking a slow, shaky breath, before opening her eyes again. "...why did I come here...?" she mutters, realizing she never did, and might never be able to answer that question. — Character Name:  Avora Vai'Drahi Character Race: Void-Touched / Voidborn Character Age: (Pre Sundering) [???] / (Post Sundering) 10 Months / (Physically) 28 Character Height: 6'3" Brief Physical Description: Avora is tall and slender, with two whip-like chitinous tails that flow behind her. With dark slate-like hide and violet eyes, she evokes the sense of a night sky just at the end of twilight. Standing out in stark contrast to this coloration is a streak of vibrant white hair- her form mimicking that of humanoids with vitiligo slightly, the splash of pale color like a shooting star on her metaphorical canvas. Her clothing of choice is loose and light fabrics; cold blues and deep violets, with well oiled leather boots to cover her claws in an attempt to make herself a bit less visually alien to those she lives around. Easier said than done- but tweaking her appearance gives her something to do, if nothing else. Image of Skin and Figura Model: