[BrandenburgAngel]

Name: Nylitha Lyasa
Title: (former) Songstress of the Star Woods
Age: 237 years
Height: 4' 11"
Weight: 91 lbs
Hair: Iridescent silvery white
Eyes: Glacial mint green
Skin: Blue-tinged white
Race: Teu-tel-quessir {Moon Elf}
Status: Enslaved
~Owner: Gabriel Seraphiel, the Black Hand of Torm
~Home: House of the Silver Rose, Central Tyraturos


*Class: Bard/Rogue
*Alignment: Neutral Good


Marks:

*Scars

~a curl of pure white from the center of the back of her neck to the left side of the base of her neck


Living in public silence...


Without the demand for performance, the delicate elf prefers to remain in the background of everything, observing what goes on around her. Hands folded against her skirts, she lurks against walls and often around corners, finding shadows where she may remain for any length of time without being confronted. It's caution that has become second nature, discarded only in the presence of the few individuals she feels wholly safe with. Her retiring demeanor is largely self defense considering her 'social position.' An arrogant slave is one step away from being a dead slave, and although her legal owner is kind and gives her all the license one could wish for, that wouldn't necessarily stop others from administering discipline.

Or death.

In the company of those she's come to trust, the elf is still relatively quiet, tending to listen rather than speak of her own thoughts or troubles. Compassion is second nature, empathy is a trait she does not repress and those who have a weary mind have found it refreshed after taking the time to sit down and sip a cup of her tea, speak their thoughts and be given gentle words in response. There is an air of sorrow that moves with her as though it was part and parcel of the soft scent of fresh rain and apples that clings to her skin and hair. Her grief is a private thing, shared only by few, and she does not welcome inquiries into it.

Lacking any reason to be truly light-hearted, her laughter is rare and a giggle even more so. In repose, her face is calm and thoughtful, eyes the colour of glacial mint ice gazing into nothingness and her lips pressed slightly together. One would think that a bard would ache to perform, especially before audiences who would be inclined to underestimate an elf's ability or sneer at her washed-out appearance. Not so, as she reserves her songs for those who truly appreciate the heart that goes into the uplifting music.


What came before...

...she will not speak of, save in fractured bits and pieces. Although she remembers her upbringing in the Border Forest west of Anadroch, it is long distant and out of reach now. Her position as the Songstress of the Star Woods lost, her family believing her traveling the world with the betrothed who did not survive a single week into Thay. There are too many memories that have yet to fade, to lose their ability to bring tears to her eyes to be spoken of.

No... What Nylitha will refer to is only snippets, moments which can be handled in her mind's eye like small jewels before being returned to the back of her thoughts, shrouded by a concern for the present and thusly ignored until it's late at night and the moon elf is alone. Then she stands on the landing before the home in Pyrados, which her caring owner has so carefully purchased and furnished, and looks up to watch the stars. Nocturnal by preference, sunlight being too bright for her eyes to handle comfortably, the bard whiles away the hours not spent in reverie by retelling herself tales of the constellations and practicing on the small instruments she has begun to collect.

...there is very little of her past to keep in mind; she will focus on the present and manage as best she can.