|
Main information
Name: Aarisynta Nim'Tathar
Gender: Male
Race: Elven
Age: N/A (Appearance, about a 16 year old human)
Social Status/Job: Scribe
Appearance: Often appearing as sickly, or looking rather unwell, he has a thin, tapered face with a rather feminine jawline, not a square chin. Apparent illness, or merely seclusion, has made his face a little gaunt, for the trademark fine features of the elven race, high cheekbones protruding, with thin white skin stretched across them.
There is no colour in his cheeks, and his veins stand out bright and close to the papery-textured alabaster surface.
Inherited white-blonde hair has been tinted a dusty silver over the years of reclusive study, and through family imperfections; curling over ever so subtly at the nape of his neck. His eyes are not of the ordinary bright blue, or pale colours, but are a deep, almost crimson mahogany.
His frame is a slight one, slender but unmuscled for the most part. Standing at about 5'5", Aarisynta seems quite a fragile boy compared with his equals. His body has not been trained so much for combat, although he is physically fit to fight when he must. He has long limbs, despite his height, and upon occassion has known to outrun even fully matured
elders. Fingers are long and thin from years of painting and from times he spends in the libraries, poring over illuminations and calligraphy.
The ordinary attire of Aarisynta is chosen by him to cover his parchment-white skin up, collars that reach up to his chin, and long sleeves of velvet or silk. Colours are often the same, so that he blends well, such as soft dove-grey, and black.
He is occassionally seen with bandages, often over his hands or arms; more often than most scribes would sustain injury, although it is assumed that he gains these wounds in training himself.
Personality: Aarisynta is often percieved as aloof, because he is of one of the higher families, although in reality he is merely quiet and very reserved. He enjoys having company, although he believes himself to not be intriguing enough to keep it.
In general, the boy has adopted a peaceful life although not by choice. He would fight if he could do..
Instead, he tries to serve and help by scribing all that he can, translating texts and aiding in the research and writing of the ancient scripts.
He finds intrigue and beauty in some of the simplest things, such as flower blossoms, or running water; and since an early age has enjoyed to paint things that he finds to be beautiful to his vision.
His talents are recognised in the diplomatic side of council, and he is training so that he may help further.
Often, he longs to instead go out to battle with the others of his age, and resents himself for being "useless" in the respect of defending any he cares for, or fighting for any cause.
When meeting others, he tends to be friendly, albeit coming across as either shy, or cold; depending on the perception. He is sometimes regarded by some of the more combat-steered fighters as being a weakling among his equals, and has occassionally been taunted by the young fighters. This makes him rather uneasy around newer people, especially confident ones, and especially fighters.
History:
Aarisynta was always going to be another prized fighter, like his older brother and his brother before that; one of the best archers that Rivendell could show. Instead, he turned out as something of a disappointment...
His complicated birth brought only the passing to his mother who's heart stopped as his struggled for it's first beat.
His skin was deathly white, his hair the same; his crying never ceased as the healers attempted to save his mother, and staunch his own bleeding.
By something of miracle, the boy survived.
Throughout his childhood, there seemed to be something wrong with him. He had trouble learning how to walk at the beginning of his life, his skin was always a bright white, and a lot of the food he ate, he couldn't keep down, and he would get a lot of heavy bruising for no apparent reason.
His condition was first noticed around about his 4th birthday, when he cut his hand on his father's hunting knife accidentally. Upon just a bandaging, the wound continued to bleed, and bleed, unable to be staunched with the bandage alone. After his bandages had to be changed, and the wound was still bleeding, his older brother realised that something was very wrong with the young child.
Finally the bleeding was staunched, when Aarisynta was admitted to the healers from blood loss. From then on, he was confined and looked after closely for fear of anything of the same nature happening again.
Because of this, he has always grown up inside, away from the training and the weapons of melée. Watching all of the others around him growing up to train for battle made Aarisynta rather bitter toward himself. He hated his long thin limbs and his weakness.
It was this resentfulness that made the boy start to train himself in secret. He would take his brothers bow and arrows out of the civilisation, far away toward the trees where he could practise in silence.
Despite lacerating his fingers multiple times on the bow strings, from over-practising and exhaustion from pushing himself too hard, the boy managed to pick the skill up quickly, mastering a good aim, and mastering a steady arm; despite his physical flaws.
Nevertheless, he would never be allowed to go out into battle, when one, even misaimed, shot could kill him.
His running speed was discovered when an urgent message was to be sent to his brother out in the field, after his father collapsed. Since the elder brother was taking him up to the healers; the only one to deliver the message was Aarisynta.
Not being a confident rider, the boy merely ran; reaching his brother in half the time of any untrained runner, breathless but able to relay the message and run back almost in keeping speed with his brother's horse.
From that day onward, Aarisynta began to practise more frequently, although his secrecy was broken when his brother followed him; and his practises were shut down by his father on a basis of endangering his own safety.
So, once again, the boy became the recluse he had been beforehand; spending a good amount of his years studying reading, scribing, musics and fine art for some nice, safe professions.
He has now learnt to scribe in many tongues, has read many legends and lores, although painting has always been his favourite pasttime.
Extra Informations! ((random useless stuff it's fun to add...))
Favourite Food: Cherries
Favourite Colour: Blue-grey/Black
Weird fact/s about them:
- He enjoys human literature.
- He has very vivid dreams, although doesn't move at all in sleep.
- He blames himself for his mother's death.
Family: Father, two brothers.
Weapon: Best with a bow and arrow.
Magick: Has learnt some basic magick from his studying, although he doesn't use it in front of other people.
Favourite thing about themselves: His eyes, because they make him different in a way that isn't derogatory..
---
[font=Courier, monospace](( Ah, well I hope that my little scribing haemophilic elf-boy is appreciated. -grins-
If there are any requests for a RP, please just drop me a message. ^_^ ))[/font]
_________________
"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination" - Oscar Wilde
|
