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Ilyana Sera Whyte "Ily" Female / 23 / Straight Born to peasant farmers in the Kingdom of Reyes, Ilyana grew up the normal life any poor child would, that was until an altercation revealed the powerful abilities that hid within her. She was soon chased outside the Kingdom at just the age of 6, barely clinging to life in the forests outside the Kingdom.
Personality Ilyana is not one to appear in the public eye anymore, hiding herself deep within the forests beyond to Kingdom to live in solitude. She is a loner and prefers life this way. No attention, no drama, just peace and quiet. Though she is a secluded person who can seem cold at first, she has a mother's soul. She cares deeply about those around her who treat her with respect, especially anything ill or injured. She gives her whole heart to treat them as best as she can, providing for them first before herself. Though she can seem like a very well organized person, it does take its toll. She is hard on herself, pushing herself to the limits to make sure things are finished before spending the time to relax. With this comes her fiery temper that can flare when others try and mess with her set schedule and ways, she cares deeply about the ways she has created to run things smoothly. Appearance Ilyana is a stunning woman, which can be quite a shock when people see what she is and how she lives. She does not care about her beauty, she says the mind and soul is more attractive than looks. Her long, thick, curls can almost always be found tied up with ribbon out of her face. Her tanned skin soft and subtly with the occasional scar from work and fights. The most predominant feature of Ilyana is the thick scar across her right arm from a nasty fight. Ilyana tends to stick to simple shirts and pants while she works, the occasional dress can be found but normally only if her other clothes are dirty. Always some sort of weapon can be found on her person, whether that be a small dagger, her bow and quiver or her sword. Qualities Good Qualities ~ Smart - Ilyana is a very smart woman, able to easily come up with solutions. She uses her mind before her moves. ~ Skilled - Ilyana has the ability to defend herself if time comes where it is needed. She tends to use her physical skills first before abilities. ~ Caring - Ilyana has a mother's soul, always wanting to care for those around her. Bad Qualities ~ Temper - Ilyana can get stressed easily in certain situations and her temper will flare, causing her to lash out. She never truly means it, but her words can hurt. ~ Emotions - Ilyana can easily be swayed when it comes to playing with her emotions and feelings. Likes and Dislikes Likes ~ Sword fighting and Archery ~ Cooking ~ Flying ~ Animals Dislikes ~ People ~ Whining ~ The Ocean Family Father Ezo Whyte Sorcerer Male / 60 Mother Mira Whyte Female / Deceased Lover None Abilities Ilyana is a powerful being, some would say a God, yet she has not seen her true power. Currently she has simple abilities such as moving small objects, healing very superficial wounds and communicating with animals she has bonds with. A new power she has found is creating a "Dream" realm. She can send herself or others into what feels like a new world, which is only in the mind yet it feels real physically. Ilyana's powers are much more than this, but she has not figured it out. Using her abilities does drain her physically, so she must be sparse. Other Ilyana has quite the special companion that is almost always by her side. During her travels one day she found a lone egg buried in ice, a dragons egg. She took it home to keep as a decoration, but the heat from her fireplace soon brought the creature to life. Now her and her companion Meleys live for each other. They have a mental bond that cannot be broken, the two inseparable. |
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Shiva Keswick Male | 25 |Heterosexual
Born into the royal family of the Kingdom of Reyes, Shiva grew up prosperous and doted on. He is the eldest of three children, making him the heir to the throne. He has lived his entire life within the walls of the palace, except for the occasional business trips and treaty meetings. Personality Shiva is for the most part good-natured and patient. He may have been spoiled and doted on from the moment he was born, but he still knows what it means to give respect and be respected. With that being said, he carries with him a confident and slightly arrogant air, often feeling as if he is to be treated with respect at all times, regardless of if he truly deserves it or not. He is very intellectual when it comes to general knowledge contained in books, studies, or kingdoms, but is blind to most common knowledge given to those outside the palace walls. He doesn't know how to survive on his own, always having had people to aid him in making decisions or making things for him. That being said, he is decently trained in weaponry, able to carry and wield a variety of them with some skill.
The prince is by nature a gentle soul, kind to any he meets upon first introduction unless provoked. He is intimidated easily by things he doesn't understand, often prompting him to become anxious and unpredictable in those situations. He is a man of plan and order, and when things go unaccording to those plans he becomes stressed. For the most part, Shiva prefers his solitude, often easily annoyed by servants constantly bothering him. He doesn't like to mess with his political duties, although he still takes them seriously. He likes to have his space and be unbothered, preferring to study on his own time and learn things. Likes -Reading/Studying -Solitude -The comfort of familiarty -Jewelry/Extravagant things -Having authority -Rain -Night | Stars | Moon -Archery -Animals Dislikes/Fears -Being disrespected
-Feeling angry -Being completely isolated/alone/stranded -Magic/Sorcery -Bright lights -Heat -Loud / Busy environments Appearance Shiva is fairly tall, standing around 6'3. He is well toned and healthy looking, having been properly fed and cared for his entire life. His skin is a little darker in color, but cool toned, decorated in soft, striped tattoos and lighter patterns of vitiligo. His hair is black, shimmering deep brown-purple in bright sunlight, falling around his face in waves that don't quite down to his shoulders. His face is slender and somewhat defined, yet still a carries with it a soft appearance. His eyes are a glittering deep mahogany in color. His hands are large yet gentle, most often covered by dark fingerless gloves. His clothing is often comfortable yet extravagant, and he always is adorned in various jewelry. Multiple earrings dangle from his ears, as well as his fingers being covered with an assortment of rings; often colored black, gold, or silver. His neck is always decorated in more than one necklace, most of them thin chains with pretty jewels. Strengths -Book smart | Intelligent
-Patient -Loyal Weaknesses -Arrogant | Spoiled
-No survival skills -Anxious Other/Family -Father: King Magnus Keswick
-Mother: Queen Reina Keswick -Brother: Silas Keswick -Sister: Rosalie Keswick |
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Edited at July 9, 2024 12:44 AM by ANTIDOTE
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It was quiet here. Too quiet. He didn't know much about the forests beyond the Kingdom, but he was smart enough to know that if the forest was silent...there was something wrong. Shiva reached down, gently patting the steed upon which he rode, trying to calm him. The white stallion's ears were pricked forward, flicking back as his tail swatted anxiously behind him. His front hooves alternated nervously on the ground. "We must pass through," The voice of one of his guards spoke softly. "Any alternate route now would delay us by days. We don't have that time." The prince glanced nervously at the rest of the men around him, unsure but trusting. There were enough of them here, surely five men was enough to deter whatever creatures lay within? "Alright," he said cautiously. "If we must." He didn't like how the horses were acting up, it was unusual and anxiety-inducing. He trusted their instincts, which only made him more nervous as he urged them forward. The forest was dark, evening having descended upon them. Every step the horses took seemed too loud, their hooves plodding through the underbrush, kicking up leaves and snapping sticks. Not even crickets could be heard chirping here. They continued for several miles, the woods much bigger and more expansive than he had imagined them to be. Even having studied maps as a child, he never could have pictured them to be so frightening and large. Suddenly, the sound of an arrow whizzing by his head alerted him. It flew past him, plunging through the chest of the guard behind him, the man toppling from his horse with a heavy thud. The horses reared, their frightened calls echoing loudly and bouncing off the trees. Shiva grasped desperately at the reigns of his steed, his legs tightening around him in an attempt to stay on. More arrows flew, striking each guard with a single and precise hit. Each man that fell did not move anymore, seemingly dead before hitting the ground. Frightened, confused, and dazed, the prince pushed his horse forward, sprinting through the trees in a desperate attempt to escape. "After him!" A voice yelled from behind, followed by the thundering sounds of more hooves. The horses from his guards....they'd been mounted. Ridden with panic, Shiva was silent, his heart hammering heavily within his chest. What could he do? Where could he go? How was he supposed to react? Would it be smart to call for help or would it only help his enemies locate him? Who are these people and what do they want with me?! He thought, his fingers tightening around the reigns. He'd never stepped foot within these trees before, and as far as he knew Reyes had no major enemies...Aside from those who wield magic... He couldn't help but think, suddenly feeling even more terrified. They should have never come here. He should have been more persistent. He should have told them to take the extra days of travel. It would have been much better than the fate they now suffered. I've led them to their death. He thought, tears pricking at his eyes. And I'm next. "Go boy, come on!" He urged his horse between panicked and labored breaths. Jarringly, he was suddenly flung forward, landing on the ground with a massive thud. The wind was knocked from him, and it was a miracle he was not crushed under the weight of his horse as it fell to the ground, a large and heavy arrow sticking out from it. Blood pooled around the ground, soaking the leaves. "No!" He screamed, his voice tattered and raw. Blinded by grief and shock, all survival instincts flew from him. He crawled quickly across the forest floor, scrambling to his fallen steed. His hands gripped into the coarse mane as he buried his face there, tears streaming from his eyes. This horse had been his for years, gifted to him as a colt and raised alongside him. Whatever spiritual tie they'd shared was now severed. Pain erupted through his side as an arrow made its way into his skin, causing a loud yell of agony to slip from his throat. He collapsed fully to the ground, his mind dazed and whirling. "Please," He begged blindly, unable to see in the darkness that surrounded him. "Please have mercy..." He felt a pair of hands grip his shirt, pulling him slightly up off the ground, only to feel the bitter bite of a punch across the jaw. Ears ringing, all sound left from him. He could feel the warmth of blood seeping from his side and dripping from his nose. What little vision he did have was now completely gone, his body falling loosely back onto the ground as his mind faded to black. |
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The evening had taken over the forest, the creatures inside retiring to slumber. The amber light of the sun that had once glistened across the shades of green was now replaced by whispers of moonlight, just enough to see a few feet in front of yourself. This night felt different than the rest, something was in the air washing over the land causing everything to go silent. A silence so loud it was almost deafening, being able to hear the heartbeat inside your chest. Anyone from the Kingdom knew this forest was cursed, its trees a home for creatures that hid from life. The forest was alive, calling out to those who could hear it, and one of those people was Ilyana.
Ilyana was outside her home grabbing firewood from the stack to warm the hearth inside. The forest whispered, the breeze rolling through the tall oak and pine, leaves fluttering across the ground. A chill ran across the back of Ilyana, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck as she turned to look deeper into the forest, a void of darkness beyond. Was a storm coming? That was a healthy explanation. She sighed and shook her head, turning to grab another piece of wood, the wind picking up harder, the trees groaning. She stopped again, looking once more, her brows furrowed on her forehead something wasn't right. The forest was normally quiet and peaceful, tonight distress was in the air.
Moments later the wind returned, carrying the sounds of horses squealing, men shouting, the pounding of hooves. She went still, frozen in her place as the wind warned her, her instincts clawing to get out. Instantly she dropped the wood from her hands, returning inside her home. Pushing some old fabric away she pulled a sheathed sword from the corner, strapping it to her waist as she ran out the door again. She ran, her feet pulling her slender form quickly as the wind showed her the way, the leaves rolling across the ground.
The sounds rang in her hand as she got closer and closer, her chest rising and falling rapidly as cold air filled her lungs. It was easy to find the commotion as she neared the main road, everything else around was silent. She urged herself, she needed to go faster, her calves burned with each step as she pushed and pushed. She knew this forest in and out, the road was not far now. Soon she emerged from the thick brush that lined the road, cloaked men on horses and on foot surrounding another man. The man on foot let out a harsh punch, anger burning through her chest as she watched this action.
“Hey!” She shouted, walking towards the cloaked men, her stride long, confident. “Leave him alone” She snapped, her slender fingers grasping the hilt of her sword. The men seemed to chuckle, as if she was a joke, which only caused the fire to grow. “Come on then, if you want a fight, you can fight me” she said, pulling the sword from its sheath, the metal singing as it was revealed. The men seemed to laugh even more, getting off their horses as they neared. Ilyana’s eyes were sharp as she watched their every movement, each step, each glance, each flick of a finger, knowing their movements gave advantage. The first man made his move, swinging his sword overhead at her, letting out a frustrated yell. Quickly she spun, plunging her sword around through his back, “Fool” She said, watching the man gasp and fall. That only enraged the others. Now two men came at her, one grabbing her arm, the other trying to kick at her leg. Her smaller figure caused her to easily slip around them, quickly kicking one man behind the knee. “You all are making this too easy,” She said with a chuckle.
These men were furious that a woman was outwitting them, their groans and yells deep as they tried to strike. One by one men would fall, they were not sharp thinking like Ilyana, you had to prepare for whatever move could happen. It was all going so well, she was winning, these men were idiots. That was until she turned to the final man. In seconds his gloved hand gripped her throat, her eyes widening as he growled, “You stupid wench”. Her fingers clawed at his arm, her eyes flickering to him and the man on the ground. “You think you can defeat us with your little sword? It’s a shame, you could have been useful with your looks”. Ilyana gasped for air, finally able to get a kick out to his torso. He growled as he dropped her, Ilyana’s back sharply hitting the ground below. The air rushed out of her chest, lightning shooting down her spine as she gasped once more for air.
The man quickly stood, towering over her as he dropped to his knees, going for her throat again. Ilyana felt a tinge, a spark right before the man had grabbed her again. She would be okay. As the man grasped her throat, she smiled, the man’s face contorted into confusion as he watched his victim smile, what was happening. The confusion only lasted a moment before the ground began to shake, the trees groaning and snapping in the distance. Boom…Boom…Boom…the tremors steady, hard, something was coming. As the man was distracted, looking over his shoulder at what that noise could be, Ilyana quickly pushed the man off, rolling away as she gained her breath.
“Meleys!” she was able to call out, her voice hoarse. A deep grumble emerged, so powerful it vibrated in your chest. The man stood, stumbling back as the cause of the tremors emerged from the shadows…a dragon. The black beast grumbled again, walking towards the enemy. Ilyana quickly got to her feet, going to the fallen man’s side as she quickly pulled him from the path of the dragon. Her eyes looked to him softly, “You’ll be okay” She whispered, turning to look at the enemy who was frozen in shock.
“Dracarys Meleys,” Ilayan said sharply, shielding the victim. The dragon grumbled deeply before looking to the enemy, within seconds fire erupting from the beast’s mouth. Ilyana glanced around, it seemed all were taken care of. Looking back to the man before her, she watched as he blacked out, mostly a mixture of fear and injury. She sighed softly, grasping at his shirt as she pulled him up. He was much larger than her but she managed decently, she couldn't just leave him here.
“Lenton Meleys” (Home Meleys) she spoke, directing the beast back home before any more showed up. Dragons were thought to be extinct, so if someone saw Meleys on the main road, that would be a whole different issue that Ilyana was too exhausted to even think about.
The journey home was long, hours long as she pulled the man to her cottage. She would tend to his wounds, otherwise he would be a dead man. Her arms burned as she pulled his body, but finally they made it. She pulled him inside and onto his bed, evaluating the plan of action. The arrow was deep in his side, but had not pierced any organs, he would have been dead already. This wound would call for her magic, it was the only way. “This is going to hurt” She said, unaware if he could hear her or not. She pulled the arrow from his side, tossing the scrap to the floor as blood started to trickle. She placed her hand on it as she began to whisper, her eyes closing. Her hand heated up as a small amount of light formed in her palm, slowly healing up the wound. With each passing second, the tan color of her skin faded, draining Ilyana of her energy. She stopped, catching her breath as she became lightheaded. She was able to heal it enough that he would not die, from here on out it would be a game of keeping infections away and letting it heal. Ilyana left his side and walked to the side room of her home, grabbing some bandages and salve to apply. Tonight would be a long night. |
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The sounds of fighting around him were muffled, muted and distant as he slipped in and out of consciousness on the forest floor. He could feel the clutching of hands on his shirt, heaving him up slightly off of the ground, but he made no attempt to fight against it. His body was weak, blood soaking through his shirt, and his head throbbing with muted pain. His ears were still ringing, making everything hard to hear or retain. Before he knew it, he fully slipped into darkness, his mind silencing everything out. ~~~~~~ His brain awoke, his body welcoming the feel of a soft bed beneath him. His eyes still lay shut, too weak and still not fully conscious. The soft sound of a women's voice rang quietly in his ears, followed by a sharp pain erupting from his side. The action of the arrow being removed awoke him, his eyes flinging open as a sound of pain slipped from his throat. He was weak and dazed, the images around him blurry. He didn't move as he felt the soft touch of a hand cover his wound. A slow, warm, burning sensation tingled his side, causing him to squeeze his eyes and grit his teeth. He layed his head back, his body arching slightly into her touch as the burning continued. His breathing slipped through his teeth, his chest rising and falling with quick labored breaths until the sensation ceased. The woman left his side, prompting him to reopen his eyes, his gaze following her movements silently. Taking a moment, he collected his thoughts and looked at his surroundings. His head throbbed in dull pain, and his entire body ached. He seemed to be within a cottage. It was homey, but nothing compared to what he was used to in the palace. He slowly pushed himself up into a seated position, his back against the headboard. Peering down at his side, he ran his fingers over the wound. Flinching at the touch he pulled his hand back, letting out a soft groan. He looked to the floor, spotting the arrow that had once been embedded in his flesh. Lifting his chin to study the woman who'd rescued him, a slow realization began to overtake him. She healed me. He thought. Without stitches, without tools. A slight sense of fear bubbled within his chest as he stared at her, wariness glimmering in his warm gaze. "Who are you?" He spoke softly, his voice coarse and weak, trembling slightly. His throat burned, stinging from the yelling he'd done and whatever blood and fluids had trickled down from his nose. "Why...why am..w-why..." He struggled to find the words, confused and beginning to feel the sense of dread and panic returning from before. Where was he? Who was this woman? Why had she saved him? Why had she brought him here? Did she have any inkling as to who he was? Why had he been ambushed? He lifted a hand, running it through his dark hair, taking a moments pause to breath and sort his thoughts. "You...you saved me," He started again, his voice low and quiet, yet hesitant. "Why? Who are you, where did you bring me?" He thought back to the attack, his thoughts whirling. "My men...my horse.." He trailed, a longing pain erupting within his chest. His friends, his guards, his steed...dead. He was alone. Alone with someone he didn't know, and someone who potentially could be a threat. He still had no clue as to how she'd healed him, his mind still of the thought that perhaps she'd simply used flame to cauterize the wound. The thought of magic tickled in the back of his mind, for he knew these woods to be cursed. However, he tried not to dwell on that fact, too afraid to know the truth. |
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Ilyana ignored the fact the man had pulled from his slumber, she needed to tend to the wound first, she would have time to explain everything afterwards. As she tended to him, she began to wonder who this man was, what importance did he have to those cloaked enemies? He had to be one of high standings, his clothes, armed men and even his horse screamed wealthy. Carefully she worked around his arched body and labored breaths, “It’s almost over” she said softly. Her voice was smooth, soothing, an Irish tone to it. Her words slipped like honey, almost as if a siren was speaking. Once the wound was closed enough, her frame slipped from the bed, leaving his side. Was she a ghost? How and why was this woman all alone out here in the forests. She stood just inside the other room, a small cloth that was tied up dividing them. She took a few vials, mixing the contents with her mortar and pestle as she made a salve. Rummaging through a wooden box she found bundles of homemade cloth bandages, she would need to make more soon. As she returned, she looked to the man who now sat upright in the bed. The light from the fire reflected off of her thick, brown curls, her sharp eyes looking at him. Panic contorted his features, which would be understandable with the events of the last hours. She stepped forward, placing the items on the table as he spoke, who was she? “Do not worry, I am not here to hurt you” she said softly. “My name is Ilyana” she added. She walked towards the handmade kitchen, grabbing a carved wooden cup and scooping some fresh water from the bucket. She turned to him, walking over and handing it to him. “It’s okay, just take a moment. You’ve been out for some time” she said softly as he stumbled over his words. He took a moment before he spoke again, in which she stayed quiet and calm, letting him grasp on to everything. “My name is Ilyana” she stated again. “I live here, I heard you nearby with your struggles and came to help. I brought you here because you were wounded, an arrow through your side. Close to your lungs but it did not hit, it is just deep.” She began to explain as she walked back to the table with supplies. She sighed softly as he began to talk about his men and horses, her eyes looking down respectively, “Your men and horses have perished unfortunately, they were gone when I got there. But the enemy is slain as well.” She explained. “You may leave whenever, but I do advise you to stay for a few days. Your wound is too great to be traveling alone, especially if more men like that are out there.” She explained as she pulled a stool to the bedside. “I am just going to wrap your wound, this salve will fight any infections and help it heal, it may sting a bit.” She said. Her touch was so careful, gentle as she applied the mixture. “Who are you? Clearly you are someone of importance if those men wanted you dead” she asked as her eyes stayed focused on the wound. |
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Shiva hesitantly took the cup from her hands, his eyes watching her a little warily. At first he hadn't processed the name she'd given him, his mind still wandering and dazed, but upon her repeat he nodded. He listened to everything she had to say, falling silent. He could feel the sting of tears pricking at his eyes upon confirmation of his loved one's deaths. He gently raised the wooden cup to his lips, drinking the water she'd offered him. At this point he truly had nothing else to do but trust her. He was in her space, and she had saved him, afterall. There were still many questions he had running through his mind. Why does she live in the middle of the dark forest? Does she live alone? How long as she been here? He tensed his jaw as she touched him again, applying the salve to his skin. He didn't jump this time, however. "My name is Shiva," He answered her question quietly, unsure how much information he was willing to divulge. What if she was someone who would also want him dead upon realizing who he was? But then again...maybe she could help him get home. If she'd slain his enemies... "Shiva Keswick, Prince of Reyes..." He eyed her carefully, searching her face for some kind of reaction. He still wasn't sure if he could trust her, but he really had no other choice. "My father is King Magnus. I'm...I will be taking his place soon." He paused, swallowing back the lump in his throat. "I'm supposed to take his place soon, anyway." He glanced away for a moment, wondering what on earth was going to happen in the following days. If he survived, anyway. He and his men had been on the way to another Kingdom to discuss a potential alliance. Without this meeting taking place...he feared they may take his absence as a threat and declare some kind of war. "I really need to be on my way as soon as I possibly can," He stated, growing anxious thinking about it. "My...my people...my parents...they all face certain danger if I can't make an alliance. I was supposed to arrive tomorrow morning." He gave a somewhat sheepish look in her direction. "They told me we needed to cross through the forest, for it was the fastest way there." He paused, his throat closing as his chest tightened. "They're dead now because of me. I just...let us come in." He found himself once again beginning to spiral, feeling immense guilt over the loss. He could have argued, he could have protested. They would have listened to him if he would have just spoken up! His lifelong companion lay dead in the grass, already an emptiness forming in his heart. That horse had meant everything to him. "How long until the wound is healed?" He questioned. Not that she would know the answer, but he was almost desperate. He couldn't let any more people die because of his actions. Although normally a patient person, Shiva was beginning to feel as if he didn't have the time to sit and wait around for his body. He needed to go. Now. "I can't stay here, I need to leave. I have to find some way to get there, I have to." He sat up a little more, wincing as pain flared through him. "The nobles are expecting me tomorrow, the King will be waiting. I can't let Reyes slip into war on my behalf." He began to panic, ridden with stress. "There's no men left behind to report what happened, no one will know. Not until they gather the courage to venture here and find the bodies left behind." If they're even still there. He thought. Who knows what vile creatures lay within these trees. So many men have lost their lives here, their bodies never to be found. How can I even hope to fix this?! "Please," He said, his tone becoming more insistant. "I'll...I'll take whatever you can give or offer, I'll pay you whatever sum you ask in exchange for it, but I simply cannot wait around." He forced himself to stand, biting back the sounds of discomfort he so desperately wanted to release. The young prince wasn't sure if she'd even finished wrapping his wounds, for he'd been too wrapped up in his own mind to notice. His legs were weak, causing him to reach out and grab whatever was closest to steady himself, in turn knocking over a few small items that sat upon a near shelf. He still had his belt strapped around his waist, which held various small daggers. His sword and bow had been left behind at the scene of the ambush, flung from him as he'd fallen from his steed. Not used to being within any other social setting other than the palace, Shiva was blind to the ways of anyone else. He was used to getting what he wanted or requested without a second thought or single protest. |
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Night Weather: 
Fog Moon: 
