"Do I... know you?"
"You do not."
"But... I'm sure we've met."
"Many a time."
"Wait - does that mean - "
"Shh. It's best if you jussst forget about all of this."
"Do I... know you?"
O Nhaama, divine
Beware your wayward daughter
For she seeks the Deep.
See how her blood runs;
Thick with the hues of midnight
See her as she falls.
From the old caves left
Where her kinsmen squat, miserable
She has cast her lot.
Darkness claims, untames
Tempers in starfire and ice
Beacon of your foe.
On the shores of LIFE
That sunless sea so few know
She HEARS, FEELS, and THINKS
O Azim, Burning Liar
Beware this child of Night
For she seeks the Truth.
See how her soul seethes;
Thick with raging passion's flame
Observe her holy ascent.
As dawn cusps the Steppe,
So does she make mockery
of all that came hence.
In amongst the dead
She has heard tell of your truths
And she defies their will.
Past the Steppe's holy gate,
That which all who roam must pass,
She flees for a DREAM.
O King of Rainbows
Beware this child of Night
For she seeks your Realm.
See as this mortal
Soul as glimmering mayflies
Challenges the lie.
As your attendants fly
and weave the dreams of children pure
See! She is amongst them.
The Dream Garden embraces
and in the shadows of flowers
has she seen, heard, thought.
Beyond mortal limits
That which only death may set free
She walks in MEMORY.
O Wyrm in Waiting
Beware this child of Night
For she seeks your Heart
See as her soul hones,
till it is sharper than blades,
Till all fall behind.
As you coil, nonexistent
and whisper the logic into hearts
See; she comes for you.
She has discerned you
from the background noise of death
and she will never yield.
Unto the far west shores,
where your whispers taint the Deep
She hunts for your LINE.
Gaze upon me, Outsider; and know that I am Lethe Uyagir, Heir of Memories.
Past me all thoughts flow, and in every dream I walk, culling corruption.
These people, my world; they are sacred, protected, and I shall not yield.
Ever has Greed plagued us, the root of evil at man's heart... my potent weapon.
For them, Her sacred; I shall remember their pain, so they may know peace.
We may never know each other all that clearly.
Really, will it matter when we drift apart?
For as long as we can feign another moment loving dearly,
I don't think I'll ever need to see into your heart.
So many pies, so little time - and Lethe wants a piece of every one. Be you the tortured soul running from the past or just the wandering spirit who craves something new, Lethe is practically chased by unlikely involvements and corrupts almost any scenario into a comedy... within reason. She tends to make more inappropriate jokes than others, but she knows when to hold her tongue.
“A͟ m͝o̸n͡st̕er͡… A͢ ͘mons̀t̨er…҉ A ҉mo̡ns̛t̀er̢… ̨S̨tay̕ ̧away͟…”
“҉Sh̶e̷’́ś ̴sc̸ar͏y…̵ The͞ ͏w͟ąy̵ ҉she’s ̵look̡i̛n̷g͘ ҉a̧t́ ͏m͟e i̶s s͠o͡ scar͜y͟…͞ ̢Stơp lo̸o̴kin̕g ̡a͢t͡ m̷e.”
“D͞o҉n’t c͠om̕e̵ any͝ c͘lo̸ser͢…!!̸”
Memories lost, and her face a catalyst toward suppressed misery; though people never know /why/ they know her face, they do know that whatever memories they had that was associated with her were so awful that they simply cannot recall them... in place, there is a soothing calm that permeates one's thoughts, blocking access to those critical truths.
Though I look away, I’ve seen it all before:
Another ugly truth lies behind these cold, brittle locks.
Dig even deeper; there must be something more:
A last hope at the bottom of the box?
In the deadest silence, one may sometimes hear whispers. Lethe is adept at hearing unspoken words, and picking up on vague sensualities that would escape other beings. In the deepest dreams, her face is found as fact. Mind your thoughts, for she hears all and forgets not.
Standing at a measly 5'2", she generally is on the taller side for Xaela - and the abominably short side of everyone else. Her face is shadowy and dark, though it doesn't seem to be paint or dust and seems to be her natural.
The Xaela otherwise is a slight, petite woman with deceptively lithe musculature and striking blue eyes like spotlights. Her scales are iridescent and glimmer like oil on a sunny day.
Lethe is often cursed with a gaze that seems utterly disinterested and distant, as if she were staring a thousand yalms away at any given time, and almost never actually looks at someone seemingly directly. When she does focus, her eyes are devious and calculating in equal measure, and glimmer with icy appraisal. Like a plaster mask, her grin often clings to her features, enabling her to face down even grave threats with apparent indifference, only to fade when her back is turned. In spite of this, it somehow retains some measure of emotional display - the smile can shift from sarcastic to sinister, to genuine, all without much more than a twitch of a lip.
The Auri moves deliberately and slowly - no snapping eyes, no sudden motions. It resembles the practiced stalk of trained predators, with her being completely statue-esque for long periods of time until suddenly springing into blinding action only to take up a new perch. In most of her motions - she moves with slow, ritualistic deliberateness, never showing effort or strain when she drinks from a cup or unfolds a bill. She almost never blinks, but when she does the motion is slow and deliberate, like a hunter pacifying a panicked animal, and sometimes she blinks out of sync.
Even when directly addressed, or in conversation with her, she takes a moment to respond to any given question, and never barks out an answer instantly - or seems to register it at all in the first moments. Her voice is full of trilled r's and hissed s's, and an odd, tinny chime underlines her voice, adding a musical quality to even spoken word.
|Name:||Khaallethe Goes by Lethe|
|Tribe:||Uyagir cave lizard|
|Class:||シャーマン|Shaman fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of aetherial entities|
|Subclass:||神職/神主|Kannushi/Shinshoku: 'Priestess' However, that said, most people don't know what this is and won't look it up, so for the sake of a very loose analogue a Dungeons and Dragons 5e Cleric is loosely analogous.|
|Race:||アウラ | Au Ra A.K.A. LIZZER GORL|
|Clan:||ゼラ | Xaela/Xera A.K.A. Slightly more murdery lizzer girl OR your average tiefling|
|Height:||Five fulms, two ilms (5'2", 157 cm) the tiny tiefling that could|
|Weight:||One hundred and fourteen ponze (114 lbs, 51.7kgs) she's 'lethe' if you know what I'm saying haha I'm hilarious|
|Hair:||Varies, Predominantly Black|
|Eyes:||Glowing White-Blue (Ananemisis RGB 6.8,13.9,25)|
|Age:||Early Thirties? Still voted #1 likeliest to be carded at any bar.|
|Nameday:||14th Sun of the 2nd Astral Moon March 14th. International river day! oooh.|
|Alignment:||Chaotic Good chaotic rocker queen|
|Patron:||Nophica, the Matron|
|Address(s):||Lavender Beds, Ward 2, Plot 51 (Faewood)|
Lethe carries an almost chilly aura, and is cool to the touch for most. Being near her can be distracting - not in the sense that she is eye-catching in any particular manner, but it's very common to forget why one was standing near her or their ulterior motives for approaching her after extended conversations.
Lethe seems to have no respect for tradition - save her own. She will happily discard any non-personal traditions, and actively encourage others to do so and to express themselves.
When not in traditional Au Ra garb (she seems to care little whether Xaela or Raen), she often seems obsessed with 'cool' clothes - which for her seems to be anything denim, fishnet shirts, and platform boots.
Despite the obnoxiously Xaela exterior, she seems more than acquainted with - and oddly amiable toward - the Raen, to the point where she could pass in most Hingan courts. If only habit alone were all that mattered.