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| Qnaari in progress | |
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| Topic Started: Dec 27 2016, 01:17 AM (77 Views) | |
| Nuala | Dec 27 2016, 01:17 AM Post #1 |
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Name: Mak'ele Race: Qnaari Gender: Female Age: Undecided at this point, awaiting history completion Abilities: ![]() ![]() ![]() Appearance ![]() Clothing and Attire Her attire consists entirely of Phanaari-made, tanned beast hide. A long, asymmetrical skirt with a knotted sash, open across one leg to thigh level to allow mobility in battle. She also wears a cross-chest halter top. It doesn't seem that anyone has figured the best way to create footwear to accommodate wide, webbed toes, but no matter, it's easier to swim and grip the rocky shores where she lives without them anyway. Mak'ele carries a wooden handled spear with a hammered steel point, and a short steel blade with a jute wrapped hilt holstered at her right ankle. Personality Greeting, my name is Mak'ele, but my parents fondly call me "Maka". Wow, that sounds worse than I thought it would. "Hey everybody! My mommy and daddy love me!" Anyway, point is, I don't have many friends, except for Alika, my manta ray, of course, or much interaction at all with others of my kind. Right from the start everyone tended to avoid me; my unique features were met with overall apprehension from the community. So I spent a lot of time growing up entertaining myself. That means a lot of reading, exploring, and independent study. Probably better this way, I'm not sure I would have the relational skills required of a social butterfly, er, porpoise. Those that are predisposed to laziness, or those steered by their emotions, tend to clash with me on a fundamental level. They say I'm too demanding, too controlling, always driving myself and those around me to higher and higher standards, even to the point of physical and mental exhaustion. If you ask me, they're all just irrational and lazy. If everyone would just follow the rules, and learn all they can to improve themselves, the world would be a much better place. My greatest dream in life is for all sentient peace and transcendence, which, of course, can only be achieved through the accumulation of knowledge and the enforcement of structure and law. What I wouldn't give to journey beyond our reclusive island home, searching for new places, new ideas and old that have been lost to us. History A single, screeching cry rent the damp air the night Mak'ele was born. That cry was cut short though, as the midwife let out a gasp of her own, startling the child into silence. The midwife let out a small whimper of uncertainty as the child tilted her head in stoic curiosity, blinking up at her. "What-? What is it? Is my baby okay?" the mother pleaded, between gasps of air, trying to catch her breath from the exhausting labor. "Um, I don't... I'm.. not quite sure." Answered the midwife. She wrapped the child in a blanket and brought her around to the mother, carefully laying the bundle into her outstretched arms. The mother took a deep, steadying breath, and peered down into the folds of cloth at her newborn baby, not knowing what to expect. She seemed perfectly healthy. Little green fins protruding from the top and sides of her head, adorable, curling tentacles sprouting all around, all fingers accounted for, the diaphanous webbing between them a pale green color contrasting her sky blue skin. The mother glanced up at the midwife for a moment in confusion. Then the child cooed and opened her eyes, and the mother's own eyes went wide, looking quickly to her husband in shock. Her husbands bright green eyes peered back into her own, luminous and seeming to glow from within, and he took a couple steps forward and glanced down into her arms. Looking back up at him were the deepest, darkest, blackest eyes, the likes of which he had never seen among their kind. There was a complete lack of pupil, or perhaps they were ALL pupil, and no light emitted from them at all. On the contrary, her eyes seemed empty, wet voids in their sockets, devouring any brightness, save a tiny glint reflected off their glossy surface. The father closed his eyes for a moment in thought, and set his jaw before turning to the midwife. "Well, what's the problem? She seems perfectly healthy to me." He set a reassuring, webbed hand on his wife's shoulder and kept a steady gaze on the midwife, waiting for any contradiction or argument. The midwife seemed at a complete loss for words. Her chin trembled a bit before she responded, "Uh, I guess... she does. So, if you don't need anything else, I'll... just... be on my way." She was already slowly backing toward the cave-dwelling's entrance as she said this. The mother nodded firmly, taking courage from her husband's firm stance. "Yes, that'll be all. Thank you for your services ma'am. Safe river travels to you." The midwife turned and hurriedly left, anxious to be as far from the strange child as their mountainous island home would allow. *** Over the next several days, the new parents watched their odd child with equal parts apprehension and wonder. They had chosen for her name Mak'ele. A name that, broken into it's individual parts, translated directly into "Black Eyes". But as a full phrase, gave far more insight and depth of personality. A phrase meaning 'chilled', 'wearisome', or 'rare'. The name fit her in every way: Mak'ele was unendingly stoic in nature, never seeming too excited, nor grieved. Any discomfort only drew from her a scrunched face and grunts of frustration, but never a cry. Even before she could walk, she was a curious youngling, grasping at anything and everything within her reach and, rather than immediately stuffing it in her mouth, as most babes do, she would hold up to her face, her eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, seeming to study it. When she could no longer discern further detail from the object she would toss it away from her, never to bother it again. Her thirst for all things new seemed insatiable and exhausting. This continuing quest for knowledge only progressed with Mak'ele's ability to walk, and her parents were ceaselessly chasing her around some blind corner she was exploring, or even wandering into neighbor's cavern homes. At times, Mak'ele would stop what she was doing, freezing in place, staring off into nothingness for a moment before shaking her head, a dazed, confused look on her face, before diving once more into whatever project had fascinated her before the strange interruption. Other times her face would contort in an expression of pain, her eyes clenched shut, hands holding her head until whatever plagued her abated. These days, she was often withdrawn, uninterested in her usual activities. Her parents had taken her to a healer after witnessing several of these events, and, after a thorough exam, the healer reported that Mak'ele seemed perfectly healthy, aside from her Stygian eyes, and could not account for the episodes. They did not have to wait long for an answer though, as within a week Mak'ele was speaking, learning to read and write, and on the verge of starting her training. Mak'ele had gone for a swim through the river-roads with Alika, her bonded manta ray. An hour later, she came running back through the cavern with a net full of jangling seashells and baubles. Her mother came into the alcove that served as Mak'ele's bedroom to find her meticulously lining up her newfound treasures along a shelf. The seashells were separated by shapes, and colors. With a chuckle, the mother came across the room, scooping her little one up in her lap, and asked "What are you doing, Maka?" "I'm caggorizing them." "You mean categorizing, dear." "Yes, categorizing." Mak'ele stretched out her arm, pointing up at the shelf. "See! All the round purple ones are over there, and the white spikey ones are there. Those ones are called spiny jewel boxes, those ones are called slipper shells and..." She got up, scrambled across the bed and grabbed a pointed, spiral shell, all striped in brown and white bands, "and this one is called a nutmeg. It's your favorite, that's why Daddy gave one to you on your date!" The mother's mind drifted to the shell in her jewelry box in the other bedroom, where it had been for the last eight years since her husband had given it to her. "How do you know that, sweetie?" "I saw it!" "You... you mean you saw the seashell? In my jewelry box?" "No, Mommy. I saw Daddy give it to you. Right before he took you up to the top of that mountain, and the sun was setting. It was pretty!" The whole thing gave the mother a bit of a chill, admittedly, but before long she shrugged it off as coincidence. Mak'ele must have heard the story somewhere, either from herself, her husband, or even a family friend. Just two days later, however, another occurrence. The mother was out to get food for dinner, Maka and her father passed the time in their own ways. Her father sat in a chair in the corner, repairing tears in a fishing net, while Mak'ele lie on her stomach on the floor, playing with one of her many puzzle toys. Several interlocking pieces, carved from the bones of a smaller sea serpent slain by the Grand Admiral's forces, came together in the form of a many-pointed star, with only one way to unlock the pieces, and only one combination to reassemble them. This one in particular Maka had become quite adept at solving, but halfway through her construction, she stiffened, her eyes focused straight ahead toward the blank cave wall. "What is it, Maka?" her father asked, quickly setting aside his work. She was still for several more moments, before letting out a long breath, her whole body relaxing once more. Her brow furrowed in a look of confusion as she turned around to answer. "Father, I saw... you were riding through the waves, on patrol, I think. But, it wasn't your manta you were riding. She clearly had different markings than Maleko." The look of concern on her father's face changed to a somber one. "Ah, yes. It was a few years before you were born, little one. Myself and four others were just completing a patrol shift. It had been relatively uneventful; we only had to deal with a single leviathan. We had almost made it to shore when we were side-swept by the most massive sea serpent I'd ever seen, thirty feet long, and as wide across as I am tall. I was knocked off my manta, Hoku, and the undercurrent caused by the beast's tail pulled me away from her. As I was tumbled in the waves, trying to reorient myself, the serpent came back around, heading straight for me. My companions threw their spears, but were too far wide of it, fearing they would hit me. I turned and swam as fast as I could away from danger, but the monster was much faster. I could swear I felt a sharp needle-like tooth graze my foot, but just then, Hoku came in from the side, ramming into the serpents head, disorienting it enough that I could get to my friends. I was pulled onto another manta, as the men all turned back to attack the beast. They managed to take it down, but not before Hoku was mortally wounded. I tell you this, my child: it is a rare and special bond, that between one of our kind and the great manta rays. They are our guardians, our protectors, our constant companions. Hoku gave her life for me. It is a great sadness, to lose that. Of course, the bond Maleko and I have is strong, but we were not bonded at birth, it was not our fates. And not the easiest to create a new bond. Honestly, Maleko and I did not see eye to eye for quite some time. We had to learn each other, how to move together, how to see things as the other saw. Perhaps that has made us stronger in the end, who's to say?" Her father lapsed into pensive silence at this point, slowly sinking back into his chair before taking back to his net, a downward turn to his mouth still lingering. Edited by Nuala, Jan 5 2017, 04:30 AM.
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9:51 AM Jul 11