Seron - Mage of Moonglade
Nov 29, 2022 0:50:34 GMT -5
Post by Seron on Nov 29, 2022 0:50:34 GMT -5
Seron
Mage of Moonglade
Gender - Male
Age - 400 | Appears to be in his mid thirties
Race - Half Wood Elf | Half Moon Elf
Nationality - Crescent Island
Appearance -
Age - 400 | Appears to be in his mid thirties
Race - Half Wood Elf | Half Moon Elf
Nationality - Crescent Island
Appearance -
Elegance in Physical Form.
A striking man all things considered, though Seron often goes out of his way to stand out as little as possible and appear rather like a mundane traveler. There are certain aspects to his physique, gait and even vocal tone that are simply difficult to ignore or assume to be 'ordinary'. Standing at an impressive 6'1", he has never had any trouble cutting through a crowd and looking above many who wander the world as he does. Holding a lithe physique that speaks to decades of travel, built far more for speed and agility over raw brute force though he is not without such strength when it counts. Often such a form remains concealed by clothing, neutral and lighter colors that speak of his origins both as a one of Moonglade, interspersed with sparks of the occasional brighter color obtained from his travels across the world.
With a strong jawline, freckles that dot along both his cheekbones as well as all along the top of his back and shoulders. A faintly tanned, and often slightly paler in the colder months, form alongside grey irises that seem to flicker with flecks of violet like rumbling storm-clouds every so often, it is no wonder as to why he might catch the attention of passersby during his journey. Where once he held a full head of hair, a deep chocolate brown of braided locks that fell down to his hips in his first few centuries of life, he has since removed such a distinctive feature in favor of the ease that being without such allows him when exploring the world as often as he does.
In addition to this, while not a full Moon Elf as his mother was, Seron still maintains the grace of his people - regardless of sub species. Steps light and soft and his general gait resembling that of a dancer, no thanks to the tutelage he received during his formative years, very few people seem to manage to hear the elf in question before he appears. Either in their view to be polite and greet them, or something far more unsavory. When he speaks however, it is not as gruff or demanding as many may expect based upon how the elder carries himself. An even and measured tone, sarcasm often injected in-between as he speaks. A firm yet soothing timbre capable of relaxing others and offering reassurances one minute, while just as easily able to command and take control of a situation in the next.
The last thing that many often take notice of, is not apart of the individual himself, but of something he carries. Hanging from simple sturdy cord is an oval shaped gem, that of a faded white coloration, within the center of the gem itself often looking like grey clouds filling it within. This is an item gifted to Seron by his late father, something he will often refuse to remove under any circumstance regardless of how it may clash or even impede his own actions. It is however unbeknownst to the elven male himself, a symbol of nobility, gifted to his father by Cyrilla Fenastra just before they parted ways.
With a strong jawline, freckles that dot along both his cheekbones as well as all along the top of his back and shoulders. A faintly tanned, and often slightly paler in the colder months, form alongside grey irises that seem to flicker with flecks of violet like rumbling storm-clouds every so often, it is no wonder as to why he might catch the attention of passersby during his journey. Where once he held a full head of hair, a deep chocolate brown of braided locks that fell down to his hips in his first few centuries of life, he has since removed such a distinctive feature in favor of the ease that being without such allows him when exploring the world as often as he does.
In addition to this, while not a full Moon Elf as his mother was, Seron still maintains the grace of his people - regardless of sub species. Steps light and soft and his general gait resembling that of a dancer, no thanks to the tutelage he received during his formative years, very few people seem to manage to hear the elf in question before he appears. Either in their view to be polite and greet them, or something far more unsavory. When he speaks however, it is not as gruff or demanding as many may expect based upon how the elder carries himself. An even and measured tone, sarcasm often injected in-between as he speaks. A firm yet soothing timbre capable of relaxing others and offering reassurances one minute, while just as easily able to command and take control of a situation in the next.
The last thing that many often take notice of, is not apart of the individual himself, but of something he carries. Hanging from simple sturdy cord is an oval shaped gem, that of a faded white coloration, within the center of the gem itself often looking like grey clouds filling it within. This is an item gifted to Seron by his late father, something he will often refuse to remove under any circumstance regardless of how it may clash or even impede his own actions. It is however unbeknownst to the elven male himself, a symbol of nobility, gifted to his father by Cyrilla Fenastra just before they parted ways.
Personality -
A man of all things grey, in every sense of the word. From his eyes to even his morals- there is little Seron takes a black or white stance on. Life simply isn't like that, no matter how careful he may be. In centuries he has carved layers and layers of himself to be shown to the world, parts to be hidden away from all but himself, walls placed around his most delicate emotions that show him for what he is. A broken man with too much pride to allow others to bear witness to it, and in spite of everything it works. At the heart of it all, he has grown adept at lying to himself and projecting such a front onto his own form. His expressions and careful reactions to everything presented to him, all of it little but a falsehood with sparks of something real peeking through the cracks every so often. No matter the situation, above all, he works to keep himself safe. Lest he shatter and show those around him the depths of his anguish.
Controlled. This is perhaps, the most often used word when describing Seron and his actions on a daily basis. When aiding or teaching others he is the calm among the storm of chattering voices and anxious children, and when working with fellow magic users he applies those same principles. A calmly spoken yet firm hand to guide, never too much of one emotion, be it praise or criticism. With those he works alongside, that tightly-held control remains, be it in following orders or handing them out to ensure success. He is direct but brief in the field. Throughout though in his planning and strategy prior, willing to listen, to understand other perspectives even if he should end up correcting them in the end. He will rarely not at least attempt to hear others out, to understanding their wants before taking action.
Polite. Is another often used, one which stems from his upbringing, taught to act a certain way around those who may judge him. It is in such formal interactions that he displays his childhood the most, the only son of nobility, words to set others at ease and offer false kind words to lure them in - to trust him. This he uses in daily life perhaps too much, when interacting with strangers, he keeps them at a polite distance. A touch more soft spoken but no less curious, seeking information to be collected and stored away, a potential threat or new ally. Either way he ensures he knows all he can before making a judgement call on someone new, no matter how his emotions may tug him in one way or another towards anyone, he does not let that cloud whatever conclusion he may come to.
Calm. Yet another used to describe him, nothing but a simple deception really. If nothing else, in the heat of battle he tries to be, yet when it comes to dealing with people he is more than experienced with such matters. Most he encounters, be they ally, an unknown or even something dangerously close to a friend, see this part of him. A man who considers before he speaks, who attempts to be thoughtful in what ways he can, to offer aid if it should be possible and to show decency to others who have received none. While he has never been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, not even as a boy, that slightly guarded yet calming nature he possess often has others seek him out. A knowledge of such a fact that he takes rather seriously, a burden of hope from others placed upon him, one he willingly accepts in an attempt to ease the pain of others through calm acceptance while smothering his own.
Protective. Like a wolf seeking a pack to belong to, Seron has always been one to shield his own from harm. What little he treasures he keeps as close as they might allow him to be, and rains almighty and everlasting hell upon those that dare seek to incur his wrath. Trust broken is not easily regained by any stretch, and those that snap such a fragile bond will find there is almost no way of coming back from that. His fury often told in cold indifference and short words meant to bite and hurt in the deepest parts of another. He knows how to hurt, how to be cruel when needed and that weight shall be brought upon any that seek to cause him or others suffering of any kind. Second chances while rare to exist, can happen should a new perspective be granted, reasonable a wolf can be - yet brutal in equal measure. Such a thing however, must be persistently striven for should anyone want his good favor once again.
Chaotic. Capable of causing it and stilling the tide in equal measure, there is little to be done when he focuses on something so greatly. Yet even one as aged as he, can let his whims take hold when he feels that urge, and this often leads to others being dragged into such turbulent situations. Free spirited, if given the chance, Seron will often let such things unfold as they should. Though this has led to troublesome outcomes on more than one occasion, he does not mind it, a playful spirit that every so often peeks out. One of sarcasm and dry wit, one who might just be a touch smug upon a victory or fueled by a desire to succeed upon witnessing his own failure with a single-mindedness that could be scary to some. Nevertheless what those rare few witness of him, those he might call 'friend' is something just slightly more than the polite facade he presents to the world.
Disciplined. Though he may be pulled away at times, to indulge in his more disorderly tendencies, there is not a moment that he forgets his duty. To keep in control and help wherever it helps him, and even others when it calls for it. While time and time again in his youth Seron held a rebellious attitude, one thing that never wavered was his dedication towards controlling the magic he learnt, lest that same horrid act be repeated. This has since extended into other aspects of his life, in how he lives it, where he travels and even in how much he indulges in things such as alcohol from time to time. Shades of grey exist everywhere. Yet a wavering level of morals does not always stop one from possessing unwavering discipline as he does towards certain aspects of the world.
Lost. Moments are rare and fleeting, but to grow close to a man such as him, is to carry the burden of witnessing the pain he carries. When all pretenses, lies and masks fall away, so too does the strength he carries in his stance. Leaving behind a soft spoken, emotional and hopeful man that simply wishes better for others and little for himself. Yet broken he remains, tears easily shed now, but to gain such trust. To come to understand the closeness he secretly so desperately seeks from another, to be so completely open requires nothing short of a miracle, and a determination unlike any other to be kind and to care unlike those that have used him only to cast the shadowed remains of his psyche aside. Such depth of emotion is never simply won, after all.
Controlled. This is perhaps, the most often used word when describing Seron and his actions on a daily basis. When aiding or teaching others he is the calm among the storm of chattering voices and anxious children, and when working with fellow magic users he applies those same principles. A calmly spoken yet firm hand to guide, never too much of one emotion, be it praise or criticism. With those he works alongside, that tightly-held control remains, be it in following orders or handing them out to ensure success. He is direct but brief in the field. Throughout though in his planning and strategy prior, willing to listen, to understand other perspectives even if he should end up correcting them in the end. He will rarely not at least attempt to hear others out, to understanding their wants before taking action.
Polite. Is another often used, one which stems from his upbringing, taught to act a certain way around those who may judge him. It is in such formal interactions that he displays his childhood the most, the only son of nobility, words to set others at ease and offer false kind words to lure them in - to trust him. This he uses in daily life perhaps too much, when interacting with strangers, he keeps them at a polite distance. A touch more soft spoken but no less curious, seeking information to be collected and stored away, a potential threat or new ally. Either way he ensures he knows all he can before making a judgement call on someone new, no matter how his emotions may tug him in one way or another towards anyone, he does not let that cloud whatever conclusion he may come to.
Calm. Yet another used to describe him, nothing but a simple deception really. If nothing else, in the heat of battle he tries to be, yet when it comes to dealing with people he is more than experienced with such matters. Most he encounters, be they ally, an unknown or even something dangerously close to a friend, see this part of him. A man who considers before he speaks, who attempts to be thoughtful in what ways he can, to offer aid if it should be possible and to show decency to others who have received none. While he has never been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, not even as a boy, that slightly guarded yet calming nature he possess often has others seek him out. A knowledge of such a fact that he takes rather seriously, a burden of hope from others placed upon him, one he willingly accepts in an attempt to ease the pain of others through calm acceptance while smothering his own.
Protective. Like a wolf seeking a pack to belong to, Seron has always been one to shield his own from harm. What little he treasures he keeps as close as they might allow him to be, and rains almighty and everlasting hell upon those that dare seek to incur his wrath. Trust broken is not easily regained by any stretch, and those that snap such a fragile bond will find there is almost no way of coming back from that. His fury often told in cold indifference and short words meant to bite and hurt in the deepest parts of another. He knows how to hurt, how to be cruel when needed and that weight shall be brought upon any that seek to cause him or others suffering of any kind. Second chances while rare to exist, can happen should a new perspective be granted, reasonable a wolf can be - yet brutal in equal measure. Such a thing however, must be persistently striven for should anyone want his good favor once again.
Chaotic. Capable of causing it and stilling the tide in equal measure, there is little to be done when he focuses on something so greatly. Yet even one as aged as he, can let his whims take hold when he feels that urge, and this often leads to others being dragged into such turbulent situations. Free spirited, if given the chance, Seron will often let such things unfold as they should. Though this has led to troublesome outcomes on more than one occasion, he does not mind it, a playful spirit that every so often peeks out. One of sarcasm and dry wit, one who might just be a touch smug upon a victory or fueled by a desire to succeed upon witnessing his own failure with a single-mindedness that could be scary to some. Nevertheless what those rare few witness of him, those he might call 'friend' is something just slightly more than the polite facade he presents to the world.
Disciplined. Though he may be pulled away at times, to indulge in his more disorderly tendencies, there is not a moment that he forgets his duty. To keep in control and help wherever it helps him, and even others when it calls for it. While time and time again in his youth Seron held a rebellious attitude, one thing that never wavered was his dedication towards controlling the magic he learnt, lest that same horrid act be repeated. This has since extended into other aspects of his life, in how he lives it, where he travels and even in how much he indulges in things such as alcohol from time to time. Shades of grey exist everywhere. Yet a wavering level of morals does not always stop one from possessing unwavering discipline as he does towards certain aspects of the world.
Lost. Moments are rare and fleeting, but to grow close to a man such as him, is to carry the burden of witnessing the pain he carries. When all pretenses, lies and masks fall away, so too does the strength he carries in his stance. Leaving behind a soft spoken, emotional and hopeful man that simply wishes better for others and little for himself. Yet broken he remains, tears easily shed now, but to gain such trust. To come to understand the closeness he secretly so desperately seeks from another, to be so completely open requires nothing short of a miracle, and a determination unlike any other to be kind and to care unlike those that have used him only to cast the shadowed remains of his psyche aside. Such depth of emotion is never simply won, after all.
Memorable Figures -
- Cyrilla Fenastra - Birth Mother, Moon Elf, Alive
- Yulian Arunave - Birth Father, Wood Elf, Deceased
- Alexios Arunave - Step-Father, Moon Elf, Deceased
- Liana aka 'Lia' - Mentor, Moon Elf, Unknown
History -
"Life will never be easy for people such as us, you must remember that little one."
As sure as the moon rises and falls in the sky each and every night, he knows this. Learning it well from a young age and taking what wisdom he can from it during his early adolescence. Seron's life is simple, unburdened by the trappings of nobility or those within the city walls and the expectations of others trying to suffocate everyone else to get ahead. He spends his youth helping on the farmland and slipping away occasionally to explore, a place both his Father and Pa love nearly as much as they adore the young boy himself. Things are simple and happy for decades, yet his curiosity leads him astray countless times. Asking questions of anyone who will answer that in the end, he never should have sought the answers to. Of magic, of what came before as he grows and matures. Even his grandparents tell stories in bits and pieces, flickers of magic that enchant and amaze the boy in the way it flows from them so easily. Despite their stories, his parents tell him so few, but everyone has their secrets and he comes to accept that reluctantly.
Not once does his father truly mention your mother, only that she is likely dead and gone, as a boy he mourns the loss of a parent and of one who seemingly wanted nothing to do with him. Abandoned. A fact he believes just as easily as the frustration it brings to think of what might have been, but there is little need to dwell on it. So sure he is that his family would never lie to you after all. As much as the magic he gets to witness from his grandparents sparks his thirst to know more, stories are all he sees save the odd flourish. Such talents had not passed down to his own father, or his late mother. No element or magic would heed his call, it is disappointing to know he will always lack understanding in things others use so freely. But even still he remains content.
Of course, nothing lasts forever.
By his fiftieth year, his grandparents are no more, lost to this world. Magic holds power, but neither are so strong as to grant them boundless years of wisdom enough to delay their eternal slumber. It is this that sparks a plentiful amount of rage and fury, fueled by grief, and in that rage for the first time in his life - magic heeds his call. Nothing but storms that drown the land beyond the walls of his home as he sleeps, at least at first. What sets it off truly is his father, years later as he still dwells in sorrow and it isn't good enough. Still treated like a child, like a fool who knows nothing, despite all they have both taught him. To them Seron knows they expect better. He listens and learn, so what if such feelings don't fade fast enough for their liking or he never come to terms with it in the same way they do. It all boils over barely a few years later, the storms more intense as he sleeps grow, more regular. Until such dormant magic can no longer be contained. A single heated argument is all it takes between the three of two parents and what amounts to still a child, a flash of lightning beyond the walls of their shared home. Once sturdy and now ruined, he soon loses his voice to screaming that night. First in anger at his parents refusal to listen, then in grief as understanding takes hold. Of what he had done, of what he had unleashed with his temper.
He starts to run and doesn't look back.
Those are the first words he recalls upon waking, a soothing tone to relax him and perhaps the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life. As he heals, she speaks of herself and how she'd found him. Passed out and half dead at the edge of a nearby small forest, a place in which she lived and now? So did he, if he wished it. Liana. A name he does not forget. Soon enough he agrees to stay, and she teaches him control, patience and discipline with the magic he is now able to call at will. While her home stays in one spot, she travels and after time enough that Seron no longer fears interacting with others in case he brings them harm, he joins her. Across the entire Crescent Isles, Moonglade and even further beyond occasionally.
Rarely does he speak of why she had found him in such a state, and she does not pry. It is only almost a century later that he speaks of it, shaking and loose-lipped from a little too much alcohol. His dreams disturb him that night, almost as a reminder, he does not speak of it ever again. Instead only apologies fall from him that following morning, something she dismisses like the passing breeze. Things go back to how they were, but as time passes, he travels more and more alone. For longer and longer stretches of time, not for answers, not for magic, but to calm his mind. To settle into a life that does not seem to truly have a proper home, or at least save for the one he returns to, it is not his home. But she tells him he is always welcome, and that is enough.
Words which he offers to a crying child, injured from a nearby attack. Finally the one to soothe, rather then being aided himself. Centuries have passed with his ongoing travels, from Moonglade and beyond to the furthermost reaches of the world and back. Be it on land or sea he finds a way, makes friends with those who are willing with a stranger such as he. But as he moves from one place to another, everyone else remains rooted. All the while he wanders. He offers what small help he can, but tries never too linger for long. It is safer that way, easier to remind himself that he does not particularly belong anywhere anymore and that is fine.
Only once does he return to his crumbled, abandoned and long since overgrown home during those years. Taking what had not wasted away, things he recalls, sentimental items he keeps from his childhood. And strangely enough, a diary of his father's that had been tucked away, still bone dry despite the centuries of potential damage. A minor enchantment placed upon it. Strange. But what he finds hidden between the pages is even more unsettling. Mentions of a woman his father had met long ago, of a secret kept and hidden from the world. But most importantly, from him. It does not take long for the mage to put two and two together, especially when his father had dated each entry. His mother was still alive, somewhere.
While it changes little in his day to day, the information still sets him on edge. Enough that once again he seeks out an old friend, a familiar face and perhaps the only person he trusted with such information. Yet when he found her home, there was nothing. Everything was as it had been, as he remembered it, yet she was not there. And so he begins his travels once more, not just for his own purpose this time but for that of finding those left that still mean something to him.
Not once does his father truly mention your mother, only that she is likely dead and gone, as a boy he mourns the loss of a parent and of one who seemingly wanted nothing to do with him. Abandoned. A fact he believes just as easily as the frustration it brings to think of what might have been, but there is little need to dwell on it. So sure he is that his family would never lie to you after all. As much as the magic he gets to witness from his grandparents sparks his thirst to know more, stories are all he sees save the odd flourish. Such talents had not passed down to his own father, or his late mother. No element or magic would heed his call, it is disappointing to know he will always lack understanding in things others use so freely. But even still he remains content.
Of course, nothing lasts forever.
By his fiftieth year, his grandparents are no more, lost to this world. Magic holds power, but neither are so strong as to grant them boundless years of wisdom enough to delay their eternal slumber. It is this that sparks a plentiful amount of rage and fury, fueled by grief, and in that rage for the first time in his life - magic heeds his call. Nothing but storms that drown the land beyond the walls of his home as he sleeps, at least at first. What sets it off truly is his father, years later as he still dwells in sorrow and it isn't good enough. Still treated like a child, like a fool who knows nothing, despite all they have both taught him. To them Seron knows they expect better. He listens and learn, so what if such feelings don't fade fast enough for their liking or he never come to terms with it in the same way they do. It all boils over barely a few years later, the storms more intense as he sleeps grow, more regular. Until such dormant magic can no longer be contained. A single heated argument is all it takes between the three of two parents and what amounts to still a child, a flash of lightning beyond the walls of their shared home. Once sturdy and now ruined, he soon loses his voice to screaming that night. First in anger at his parents refusal to listen, then in grief as understanding takes hold. Of what he had done, of what he had unleashed with his temper.
He starts to run and doesn't look back.
"Be at ease young mage, you are safe here."
Those are the first words he recalls upon waking, a soothing tone to relax him and perhaps the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life. As he heals, she speaks of herself and how she'd found him. Passed out and half dead at the edge of a nearby small forest, a place in which she lived and now? So did he, if he wished it. Liana. A name he does not forget. Soon enough he agrees to stay, and she teaches him control, patience and discipline with the magic he is now able to call at will. While her home stays in one spot, she travels and after time enough that Seron no longer fears interacting with others in case he brings them harm, he joins her. Across the entire Crescent Isles, Moonglade and even further beyond occasionally.
Rarely does he speak of why she had found him in such a state, and she does not pry. It is only almost a century later that he speaks of it, shaking and loose-lipped from a little too much alcohol. His dreams disturb him that night, almost as a reminder, he does not speak of it ever again. Instead only apologies fall from him that following morning, something she dismisses like the passing breeze. Things go back to how they were, but as time passes, he travels more and more alone. For longer and longer stretches of time, not for answers, not for magic, but to calm his mind. To settle into a life that does not seem to truly have a proper home, or at least save for the one he returns to, it is not his home. But she tells him he is always welcome, and that is enough.
"Shh, you are safe little one I am not here to harm you, just to help. Alright?"
Words which he offers to a crying child, injured from a nearby attack. Finally the one to soothe, rather then being aided himself. Centuries have passed with his ongoing travels, from Moonglade and beyond to the furthermost reaches of the world and back. Be it on land or sea he finds a way, makes friends with those who are willing with a stranger such as he. But as he moves from one place to another, everyone else remains rooted. All the while he wanders. He offers what small help he can, but tries never too linger for long. It is safer that way, easier to remind himself that he does not particularly belong anywhere anymore and that is fine.
Only once does he return to his crumbled, abandoned and long since overgrown home during those years. Taking what had not wasted away, things he recalls, sentimental items he keeps from his childhood. And strangely enough, a diary of his father's that had been tucked away, still bone dry despite the centuries of potential damage. A minor enchantment placed upon it. Strange. But what he finds hidden between the pages is even more unsettling. Mentions of a woman his father had met long ago, of a secret kept and hidden from the world. But most importantly, from him. It does not take long for the mage to put two and two together, especially when his father had dated each entry. His mother was still alive, somewhere.
While it changes little in his day to day, the information still sets him on edge. Enough that once again he seeks out an old friend, a familiar face and perhaps the only person he trusted with such information. Yet when he found her home, there was nothing. Everything was as it had been, as he remembered it, yet she was not there. And so he begins his travels once more, not just for his own purpose this time but for that of finding those left that still mean something to him.