Post by junai on Sept 21, 2011 14:53:28 GMT -5
Name: Countess Thenidiel ah Ferendir
Age: 172
Race: Elf
Occupation: Countess of Nädindel
Allegiance: Du Weldenvarden
Physical Description:
Pretty enough, Thenidiel looks young for her age, still having rounded cheeks and a small nose, despite her stubborn chin. Under other circumstances, she might've been called a little more than pretty, had it not been for her bizarre coloring. Violet eyes, while uncommon, isn't the problem, even if they are a little large in her face, giving her the appearance of innocence. It's her hair. Long, falling to the back of her knees, it is pure white. Not a light color of blonde, not grey, but pure white. Rumors and whispers seem to center on her hair, people wondering why she keeps it so long when it must be such trouble. It's smooth and parts are braided, though her bangs are a bit ragged. She is slender, with a dancer's body (and to her annoyance, a dancer's bodice) with long limbs and long fingers. Despite how delicate she looks, she is lightly muscled. Enough for a quick fight but not enough to over power guards.
Playing to her hair, she wears mostly white, earning her the nickname the 'White Lady'. Not terribly original, but she supposed it didn't matter as it was true. In almost defiance of the rumors that her city is full of savages, she almost always dresses for court, sweeping gowns and long trains speaking of a cultured woman. They also hide knives rather well, both in her sleeves and against her legs. She'll often wear something that stands out against her white clothes-a scarlet sash, an oddly colored rose, a thin wrap of black ribbon. It is almost always tasteful and draws the eye to wherever she wants it to go.
Personality:
Thenidiel uses every thing about her appearance to her advantage. Her innocent face hides a very dark personality, one that some have learned first hand to avoid. Of course, it was the last thing they learned. A great player in The Game, Thenindiel is a person in which ambition and the lust for power festers within. She clawed her way to her position, seducing or killing or bribing her way into followers and those loyal to her alone. She rules her city with an iron fist but has the intelligence to do it so most don't know that. Her social skills are astounding, something that helped her thrive as a countess. Able to play-act love, friendship, hatred, hurt, joy, any emotion even when she just feels contempt for the other party, perhaps her calling would've been better suited to the players. There are times when the mask cracks and Thenidiel slips, throwing tantrums and delighting in torture. Usually these are alone or with prisoners. Men have lost eyes for stealing in her city. That and tongues so they can't tell what happened.
Thenidiel desperately wants a dragon, but her lust for power keeps her in her position and she is furious at how one cannot have both. Sometimes she wonders if she shouldn't just steal a dragon, not understanding their ways. As it is, her eyes are open and she is ready should an opportunity arise.
What nobody knows is that her desire for power goes beyond even her city. There is nothing more, not even owning a dragon, that would please her more than becoming queen of the elves. For now she has put any plans to do so on hold, but her ambition and power-hungry mind will not stay still for long.
History:
Born to two loner elves in the middle of the forest. They had fled from the life of nobility and, when she was young, Thenidiel's parents tried to impress upon her that it was not fun being in charge of, well, anything other than one's own life. These stories seemed to back fire, however, and she quickly grew bored of life at the corner no and where and dreamed of a life beyond the little shack. It was thrown into her lap when she was sent to relatives in Nädindel as her parents, feeling strongly about the growing problem of humans, moved to attempt to keep the peace between races. That earned them their deaths and left a young Thenidiel in the hands of her relatives. They treated her well enough, were kind and thoughtful, but she resented it. They were silly, trying to tell her her parents died nobly when she knew well enough they were screaming for the executioner before their death. However it didn't kill her faith in diplomacy-they just weren't doing it right.
Her time at Ilirea was what made her want a dragon. She was intelligent and a quick learner, but had difficulty in social situations. To get by, she had to learn to pretend and she especially practiced with dragon riders who could read her better than any one else. By the time she graduated Thenidiel was well on her way to mastering the art of manipulation and deceit. For a time she returned to her relatives and continued to live with them.
At age one hundred she moved out, attempting to climb the latter to the position she wanted-countess. The current count was an annoying man, beard scruffy and eyes squinty. He was beautiful, like any other elf, but lacked the what made humans in awe of elves. He also earned her distaste when he allied the city with the humans, something Thenidiel felt strongly about. She, however, kept quiet about it, worming her way close to him as the battle began. Just as the battle neared its end, she had earned her place as his adviser. Still, he held firm until the last that the humans needed their help. When word reached the city that the war was almost over and they were close to loosing, he fell upon his sword in pertinence to bringing the city so low. At least, that's what was told. Thenidiel helped him do it, but none questioned the grieving friend and confidant of the count.
It was easy to become countess from there, many supporting her rule simply due to her proximity to the previous count. The city thought she was perfect for the role, having known everything the count was planning before his death and diplomatic enough to keep them alive and, if not loved by the other elven cities, not persecuted within their own walls. A little over ten years have passed since she ascended to countess, a sad little queen over a sad little world.
Face Claim: Will of the Abyss (Alyss), Pandora Hearts Thendiel ah Ferendir
Roleplaying Sample:
Today was not his day. It had started out normally enough-ham sandwich for breakfast, settled a dispute between a pokemorph and a cab driver, then went out to pay the two tabs he had acquired in the short time he had moved back. It had been his second dodge of a cab (those things seemed to want to kill him!) and the third time his shoes had been almost splashed when the shit had hit the fan.
Now, pressed up against a wall, hands raised in silent supplication for peace with a knife in his face and an ugly, snarling man holding with knife Jacob wondered why the world hated him. Clearing his throat, he tried to lean forward but retracted when the knife was shoved closer to his jugular. "This over-use of violence-are you sure you desire to, um, 'shank and gut' me?" The man snarled again, waving the knife as if it was some sort of toy and began to rant about... about something. Jacob began to tune him out, staring over the man's shoulder and up at the sky-today was truly a beautiful day. Yes, such a beautiful day was better not spent with such an annoying individual. An individual with a knife that he was waving in Jacob's face.
All he could really think was how annoying this man was becoming. So annoying. So loud. So rude. So mean. The edges of Jacob's sight was beginning to become tinged with darkness as the man continued to rattle on about how much pain Jacob would be in if he didn't give him his money. That was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all. Not that it was his fault. Every time he tried to open his mouth in an attempt to reason with the fool, he'd be cut off with a particularly energetic swish of the blade an inch from his nose.
Finally, he had had enough. With a snarl Jacob used his forearm to knock the hand holding the knife away, his other hand slamming the man's head into the opposite wall of the alleyway. The crunch of his skull slamming against brick made Jacob blink in surprise. He hadn't expected that to happen. Clearing his throat, he stepped back, watching with an upraised eyebrow as the would-be-mugger slid down the wall, eyes rolled up into the back of his head. "Wuss," he snorted, tugging his gloves farther back on his hands. The least the little bastard could do was put up a good fight for wasting a few minutes of Jacob's life.
Of course, it would be made worse by a woman walking by, her high heels clicking against the pavement making Jacob look up in embarrassment, eyes wide. Her eyes were also wide, darting from the crumpled figure to the sheepish Jacob, overly red lips tightened in a frightened 'o'. Swallowing thickly, Jacob took off away from her, heart seemingly where his brain should've been, pounding between his ears loud enough to drown out if she was following him or not.
The roadway from the alleyway to a convenient park provided the third cab to almost smash into Jacob, honking loudly as he darted out of the way and onto the safe, soft grass of a vaguely familiar playground and park. Slowing, Jacob twirled a little, watching the alley to see if the woman would follow him. She didn't and, chest heaving a little at the sudden burst of energy, he turned back to continue his walk through the park and, hopefully, to home.
Perhaps it was because he wasn't in his normal state of mind. Perhaps he just wasn't used to this particular park-Central Park was his normal haunt. Either way he found himself crashing into the back of a bench, flipping over and landing on his butt next to a pair of legs, back pressed painfully into the seat of the wooden devil. Blinking, he looked up, eyebrows raised high enough to disappear under the fringe of his bangs. Another blond sat on the bench, cuddling up to a pokemon. "Oh, hey there. Sorry 'bout that. Didn't mean to startle you. Just decided to show off. Totally why." He cleared his throat, trying to give his usual winsome smile.
Updated: -smacks forehead- I read that! Terribly sorry. Changed the history a bit to include that.
