Helene Deire'Tenir
"From the Ashes"
The royalty of the Pale Ash Tribe.
21 ⊥ Feminine ⊥ Pansexual ⊥ Consort
Pronunciations
Helene :: Hell - een
Deire :: Deer
Tenir :: Tehn-eer
Her middle and last name is a combination of her parents' last names. If you include her last name, it's meant to be said as Deiretenir. She pronounces it together with the 'ire' in Deire being a rolled, quick r. Those who are not native might not include the rolled r. On paper, her name is spelled Helene Deire Tenir.
Appearance
Helene's most attractive feature is debated when one looks at her. She is a beautiful woman, a jewel of the north. She bears pale blonde hair, fair and straight with the odd few voluminous waves. Her hair, soft to the touch, cascades down her shoulders and cuts off evenly just below her elbows. Her skin is a fair tone and porcelain, which adds to the pale beauty that she is. Helene has full, crepe pink lips framed in a constant, delicate frown-like appearance. When she smiles, dimples form on either side, and that gentle look that crosses her face makes your heart tug.
Blush pink gives her fair tone life as it dances across her softened cheekbones and onto her celestial nose. Thin, lightly arched brows, straight at the top with a faint arch near the ends sit just atop her eyes, a shade darker than her pale hair. Powder blue eyes with flicks of more monotone colors, give an almost icy-gray appearance. Helene has an oval-shaped face with soft curves that accentuate a surprisingly honed jawline that juts out a well-rounded chin.
Her pale lashes find themselves curling near the edges of her eyes, shooting out in every which way as they shade her deep-set eyes. Another healthy layer of lashes on the bottom lid pop out vibrantly against her skin whenever it’s blemished or flushed.
Her ears are often hidden by her hair, but if seen, they protrude out in proportion to her eyes. They're square and somewhat sticking out, giving her an even more youthful appearance if she were to reveal them more often by putting her hair up.
Her canines are on the sharper side, bearing a pair of pointed teeth on both the top and bottom row. The pointed teeth on the upper section have a slight gap between the next tooth that reveals itself whenever she lets out a hearty laugh.
Body Shape
A faint hourglass shape is driven out by her lanky body. Long legs with a proportioned torso accentuate her mild curving. Helene's chest is on the smaller side, yet not considered small, and is accompanied by broad shoulders that are adequately pulled back, which makes them appear smaller and more dainty. Her hands bear more color than the flesh on her collarbone and are soft to the touch, even though they are blemished with callouses on the fingers she uses to write with. Her nails are well-trimmed yet always protrude out just from the flesh by a few centimeters.
Helene is 5'8 and weighs in at around 120lbs.
Expression
Helene’s been trained to tame her expressions, but she isn’t the best at it. Her eyes reveal a lively, determined soul that would fight and claw their way to freedom when she’s being translucent. When she tries to put on a face, those soul-burning eyes dull to try and maintain a blank face. It’s hard to maintain a steady face, especially if she’s around people that rile feelings out of her. Whether those are feelings of disgust or lust, doesn’t matter. They equally protrude through the purse of her lips or the tug of a gentle smile.
Usually, the more formal she gets, the more she uses her hand as gestures. If she’s looking to rile someone- or a crowd up, she’ll fluently express bodily movements to capture their attention and harness emotion.
Posture
Helene carries herself like she’s constantly walking through a room of people who despise her. Her chin is pointed up and her head is slightly tilted to where it’s harder to see her glance down at those who murmur. Her gait is swift as if she needs to get somewhere at a given time. Her shoulders are reeled back as if she’s expecting them to be tugged forward by invisible strings at any moment. Her arms are collected in front of her stomach, fingers entwined in a neatly tied knot as if she’s expecting a dagger to plunge into her gut at any moment.
In a comforting, relaxed environment, she can be found with her arms hanging loosely by her side and her gait slowed to almost a meandering one. She’ll still carry herself with a specified regal air that demands attention, but the authoritative posture tends to die down the more relaxed and formal she becomes. Force of habit has honed her subconscious to always have a straight back, whether she’s sitting or standing.
Attire
Oh boy, does she look good lathered in pelts. Her traditional outfit consisted of a chestnut brown tunic adorned with straps and the look of abrasions, neatly fitted like a bodice, yet it was flexible to the point where it allowed upmost movement. Draped over this are mounds of canid pelts. Ones that consist of the lighter end of grayscale bear scattered bits of markings and unique tawny features. The most notable of these pelts is the stark-white fox pelt that slings on either side of her shoulder, heating the back of her neck with its body. The head of the fox rests on her right shoulder while the tail dangles loosely at her left. Her boots are shaped for traveling through rough terrain and enduring combat. They branch up her ankles, revealing tufts of fur just below her knee.
On the off chance that its warmer than usual, she’ll strip herself of her pelts to reveal the tunic, along with loose silky-white sleeves and tightly wound chocolate brown pants that cling and stretch to her knees and calves. Her tunic is usually adorned with trinkets of all sorts, royal steel or jewels, or rare feathers found by the best hunters. Jewels that consist of all colors of the spectrum adorn her pale neck and hang from her ears and wrists. Usually, these jewels range from whites to blues, to grays, and sometimes pale reds or greens, all to match her cold aesthetic.
Her hair is always pulled into a pale crown of braids that sit atop her head, flattened and pressing against her skull. Sometimes, she'll let her hair cascade down her back. If she were to feel more festive, she’d accompany this crown of hair with silk or jewels.
She was stripped of all this nostalgic attire when she entered the kingdom as it was far too hot for her to wear such things. Now, she's adorned in a loosely-body hugging silk dress, as red as the emperor's demonic eyes. The dress is a halter shape that cuts awfully low down her collarbone almost uncomfortable. Instead of pale jewels, she has a cuff-like neckband of gold that loosely clings to the upper portion of her neck. She takes it off as often as possible, as she doesn't like the heat that the gold attracts. She has a few gold earrings on the smaller side, along with some thinner necklaces and sturdy bracelets that she cant find the heart to put wear until a servant clips them on.
Although this is her usual attire, there are times she's dressed intricately differently. In a way, it keeps people on their toes.
Voice
Practiced words come from Helene's mouth like a song. Her voice is smooth and pure sounding, yet not innocently so. The octaves in her pitches are feminine but take a deeper tune than most female voices. Her voice rarely changes unless shaken. Those who know her well would be able to figure out her emotions like reading a book if they listen intently to her voice. They would know her struggle when the octaves in her voice deepen because she’s suppressing anger, or how her voice lightens when she’s on the verge of interrupting herself because she fears the words won’t be able to come out.
Aroma
Her scent is like a breath of the wild. Untamed plants and conifers claim her aroma as their own, with a faint leathery smell that she obtained thanks to wearing pelts for most of her life.
Personality
Her persona in the empire is drastically different from her usual self. She has convinced herself that to survive, she must come across as unbothered as she possibly can be. Otherwise, Helene knows that these people will eat a foreigner like her up like dessert. She tends to stay quiet, which helps sometimes. Many think her to be shy, but in all reality, she's focusing her energy on observing things. She's glancing up and down every corridor and building like it's the last thing she'll see while people whisper and mutter rumors about her in the background.
Pity the woman with a failed marriage. Her husband must hate her.
Perhaps the girl is infertile, she is a foreigner, after all.
Tarnished goods.
The emperor has lovers that are more cherished than her, poor woman.
Although Helene is aware of more vile rumors, she knows she must keep a composed appearance. She must not give in to the pressure that this foreign land weighs onto her shoulders. She must act as if those who whisper her name as if it's a plague don't exist. Feign ignorance. Be the trophy. Those words are repeated daily, even though she despises them, perhaps almost as much as she despises the emperor. The only lullaby that helps her sleep at night is one that she made on the night of her arrival to the empire. She named the lullaby "Thirty ways to kill an emperor." and sings it in her head as if its a chant that will one day come true.
Helene has come across as cold and distant to wandering eyes. She ignores people on purpose, though sometimes it's accidental, as she's lost in thought thinking about her home. Just like her father, she is a griever. One who holds onto what they've lost so tightly as if it'll come back to life if they just wait long enough. Though, unlike her father, Helene holds grudges. One against her father for agreeing to ally with the emperor, one for every politician involved in this scheme, and one, big, fat grudge against the man whom she calls her husband. These grudges will take her years to get over, as do most. Though, some grudges she fears will stick with her for life.
Speaking of fear, Helene is full of it. The wandering eye may not notice it at first, but if you stare long enough into those pale sets, you'll see them flutter with anxiety. She has never had her life so soullessly placed in the hands of another, so fear courses through her like salmon in a river. She's at the mercy of a foreign land. The emperor could decide to toss out his 'trophy' whenever he wishes, which terrifies her. She doesn't want to die. Not like that. Helene does know that if she gets an air of possible harm coming to her, she will go down kicking and clawing, and she'll make sure to take that bastard of a man down with her.
What manages to control Helene's fright is the thought of her people. The only reason why the emperor married her was to prevent a war between them. If he kills her, he gets the war. His men die. Not like he'd care, but Helene still likes to think of the satisfaction her ghost will get in the blood of his people spilled because of his decision. She knows she shouldn't think like that, but it is the only triumph that's in arm's reach. With the leverage of her people, Helene can get cocky at times. Not nearly as cocky as her mother was said to be, but enough to irk a few people if she deems them rude.
Her venomous words are said on a gentle tongue as if considered a compliment in another life. She knows just where to push someone's button to rile them up, and exactly how to snake her way out of it. She rarely does this, though, as she's smart enough to know that getting the people of the empire on her bad side isn't a good idea. Though sometimes emotions get the best of her and she can't help but be ill-tempered toward people.
She has a way of coping that mimicks her brother, and that's to put fear into anger. Unfortunately, unlike her brother, she is unable to exact her rage out on something- on someone. So fury dwells into frustration, and Helene is left fighting herself and those around her.
When it comes to her life prior to being shipped to the empire, Helene was considered an indulgent being full of life. She'd always be the first to laugh, and when she did, it was as gentle as rain pattering on the rooftops and as hearty as a drunkard. In fact, one might mistake Helene for being drunk sometimes. She gains a flush red blush across her face whenever a genuinely strong emotion comes across, which makes her look as though she spent her time in the taverns, drinking to her heart's desire. Which, wouldn't be too far from the truth. Helene may not like the taste, but she does like the buzz she gets whenever her brother would take her out to drink and party. He'd always get her drunk and stay mildly sober as to guide her back home when they were done. In a way, Helene was dependent on her siblings and those close to her like that.
While she feels the need to trust those who want to help her, Helene also gains that overbearingly protective mother bear sense over some people. It doesn't matter if they tower over her or could throw her across the room; if she deems that they need to be under her wing, she will take them under her wing and shelter them for as long as she needs to. Like nursing a bird whose wing was broken, then set it free once they've healed. Sometimes this nurturing can tend to get out of hand, as she puts the needs of others ahead of her own. Once she has to say goodbye, though, Helene has a bad habit of not being able to. She simply doesn't want to. The thought of departing from something that brings you joy seems stupid, doesn't it? Especially when they had relied on you. So why should she? Is it childish to think like that?
Helene knows how to relax, but if she sees a scenario that she can do something about, she won't sit idly by and just watch it happen. She wouldn't be able to stand herself if she knew that she did nothing when she could've done something. Anything. Despite this, Helene doesn't throw her life on the line carelessly. She's a strategic woman with a calculating mind. She'll think about the consequence of her actions and the possible gains before diving into something that she might regret getting into. She'll never do something that won't give her something in return. Her quick wit has saved her in many political cases, and the life-or-death situations she has come across in her lifetime. She relies on this wit to help her survive the empire.
Helene is an optimist, always forcing herself to see the brighter side. The glass is always half full to her. While she is an optimist, Helene isn't ignorantly so. She won't sugarcoat things just to make herself feel better, nor would she make anyone else feel safer. She will offer words of comfort, which, she has been told she's good at, but other than that, she won't stray from the truth. She will comfort and stand by your side, but when it comes down to it, her honesty can be the most painful part. If she wants to be, Helene can be benign. She mostly showed this sign around her younger sister, since her younger sister was the only one really deserving of it. Her brother was a jackass so she didn't spare him any honeyed words- and, well, her sister didn't need any.
Helene is a natural-born leader. She doesn't crave the spotlight nor the role, but she plays into it as smoothly as a beat on a chorus. She knows how to lead people to victory, how to command a platoon, and how to strategize battles, wars, outages, rations, and more. She was taught all of this growing up, hell, she had a passion for it which fueled her knowledge. Helene knows what she has to do to get things done, and after picking the best fruit from the tree, she sets her decision in stone. Once her mind is made, there's no going back. There's no reasoning. Helene is on a single track and that track is what she paved to victory. In this, you'll find that Helene is admirably determined yet horribly stubborn to the point where you want to pick her eyes out.
When it comes to the ruling side, Helene doesn't let things slide. No matter how small the crime is, she punishes it as such. If you're a lenient ruler, people will take advantage. Helene knows better than to be taken advantage of. She has a regal air that surrounds her constantly, yet it's not out of fear for what she might do to you. It's out of respect for her position. At least, that's what it was like back in the Pale Ash Tribe. She didn't rule with an iron fist, nor did she abuse authority and insert tyranny, she simply reprimanded those who needed to be taught a lesson. And she'd do it again and again because it's the only way to keep her tribe going smoothly. Speaking of smooth, Helene is a persuasive beast that uses people's underestimating tendencies to her advantage. She pulls them along on intricate strings and plucks people to her will, this makes her enticing and intriguing to some who notice.
Helene is an enjoyable person to be around if she lets you be around her. She's easy to coax into a laugh and will follow along with an almost eerie intent. She's blunt but not brutally so, and mainly points out honesty in the hoax of amusement or jokes. She likes to tease and poke sarcasm at those she holds close, finding humor in their witty remarks. Helene is far from a flirt, but she doesn't mind letting the occasional comment that could be taken as a flirt slip through. On the receiving end, Helene is a mess. She's easy to rise a flushed expression out of, especially when the words are flirtatious and obviously directed at her. She gains the same flushed appearance whenever she's fill to the brim with embarrassment or overpouring with anger- which is one of the rarer occasions. It's hard to get her angry to the point where she's yelling or even raising her voice, but it has happened before- and when it does, watch out. If she releases her anger, expect a few flying vases and possible knives coming your way. She won't lay her hands on you, but she will lay her hands on things that will land on you.
When it comes to any emotion that's blooming uncontrollably, Helene tends to stutter. She can't keep her mouth up to match with her head, and words spill out in tattered bits. She has a similar reaction when it comes to relaying news that's hard for her to talk about. Most of the time, she'll stop herself and recollect her sentence before continuing, but sometimes, time is of the essence and she just has to force whatever words she can. This usually makes her sound like she's drunk since the words come out slurred and jumbled together with a lack of enunciation.
Likes
Traveling. Crazy, I know. Coming from a nomadic tribe, Helene was never restricted of this activity. Don't mistake her sense of adventure for contempt, though. Helene refuses to settle down.
Hunting. Helene enjoys the adrenaline and thrill of a hunt, the precision, the skills, the time. Tracking is the key to a hunt, which is something Helene enjoys. Hunting doesn't require brute force and isn't all about making the animal drop dead. Given that her people traded furs, she was taught how to hunt an animal to the point where the wound wouldn't affect the pelt.
Snow. Everything about wintery seasons makes Helene's heart flutter. The snow, especially. Even as a grown woman, she still likes to play in it. To feel the cold, soft powder between her fingers as she balls it up and aims it at a poor, unknowing, soul. The blank scape that covets a land after a snowfall, or the powerful blizzards that can make even the most powerful of men fall.
Roughhousing. Helene would always wrestle with her siblings, it's how she survived their taunting. She carried this even into adulthood and has learned the perfect, mostly harmless way to keep someone in a headlock while securing their legs to prevent any mobility. It was something her brother taught her when she got her first girlfriend.
Banter. Helene is a strong communicator and an even stronger teaser. She loves to banter and always pulled it from the people in her tribe. She'll spark up conversations that always lead to laughter, a noise that particularly warms her heart.
The feeling of being sore. Now, before you go judging Helene, hear her out... alright she doesn't have an explanation for it.
Strenuous activities. Helene likes working her body past its limit, to the point where she feels as though her heart is going to give out and her lungs are on the verge of bursting.
Savory foods. Helene doesn't mind spices, sweets, or sour things, as long as they're savory.
Dislikes
Being cooped up. Helene is a nomad, she has never stayed in one place for a period of time. She was born and raised to travel and never truly settle down, the thought of settling down irks an anxiety of needing to get out.
Constriction. Who would've guessed? Helene's fairly claustrophobic and easily gets overwhelmed if she was unable to move freely. This also applies to mental situations as well. If someone's constantly trying to pressure her to do something and leave little leeway, they'll get an annoyed glare or the back of her hand across their face.
Sewing. Helene can't sew for the life of her. She's tried it many times, but every time she ended up poking a hole in her finger and cussing at the fabrics for getting tangled up. She doesn't have the precision nor patience in her fingers to intricately wind something together- well, at least something that looks good.
Heat, humidity, higher temperatures. Helene hates the feeling of being hot or clammy. A constant layer of sweat is something that has always been a dislike of hers. She wants to breathe in cool, refreshing air, or let her skin bathe in harsh, biting winds. She can't do that in the heat, her skin simply sizzles and burns too fast. Heat is associated with pain, bad skin, and sweat. Everything that Helene strays from.
Killing. Helene likes hunting and wrestling, yes, but anything that causes her to actually need to kill someone isn't something she'll ever enjoy doing. The feeling of warm blood coating your hands sickens Helene, but she manages to restrict retching until the deed is done. If she kills something from a distance, then she's alright with it. The more developed of a mind the creature has, the more hesitant Helene is to kill it.
Sharp, harsh smells. Anything too strong gives her a headache and makes her nasals want to shrivel up and die.
Cooking. Helene can roast meat above a fire, but if you ask her to cook anything else, you'll be met with a burnt platter of whatever had to endure her attempts.
Family
Erikson Tenir :: 48 :: Father
"The Pale Warrior"
Erikson won the nickname 'Pale Warrior' due to his skill on the battlefield, even when a blizzard challenged his wits. His skin is deathly pale to the point where one would think he's a walking corpse. The inky coloration under his eyes due to the constant lack of sleep doesn't help, either. Everything about this man screams pale. He's not so pale to the point where one would think he is albino, but he has been mistaken for it before. Erikson was known for his determination and consistency. Not once did he ever falter, not once did he show his enemy a sign of weakness, nor anger. He was always a fair and loyal man, and whenever he promised something, even if it seemed impossible, he'd see things through.
He held true to this when his wife fell. He held true to his reputation when he held the killer in his arms and cooed her to sleep, even though his enemy was weak and vulnerable in front of him, he did not think of destroying her. Instead, he cherished her. Helene often thinks of Erik, and it irks a sense of guilt. She knows she could never live up to her father's name, he was simply too perfect of a man. Too honed and carved into a loving parent. Helene can only hope that he passed on some of his mindset to her.
Saneif Deire :: 46 :: Mother
"The White Lioness"
Ane had her first child at the age of 19 after asking for Erikson's hand in marriage for multiple years. Ane was known for her skill at the hunt, and her unfathomable bravery on the front lines of battle. Whether or not she was beside her husband, Ane pushed through. Whenever someone challenged her authority, Ane haughtily dueled them. Even when a child kicked and turned inside of her. She was a cocky woman, flirtatious and irritable, but she was loved, not just by the family she created, but by the family she inherited when she married Erikson.
Ane always accepted death, welcomed it, even. She never showed an ounce of fear, and her bravery shined through like rays on a cloudy day when she made the choice to save Levey, even if it cost her everything she held dear. Everything that was precious to her, she let it go. All for the sake of her daughter. That, as told amongst the elders, was her most courageous feat. Helene could only wish to be as brave as Saneif one day.
Bellavida :: 27 :: Older Sister
"Winter's Bell"
Ella was blessed with beauty. People could see it even when she was fresh to the world. They say that being born in the dead of winter caused her skin to pale into a beautiful tone, and for her eyes to bear the same grey hue as the sky before a blizzard. When Ella was born, she was considered the pride and joy of the tribe. She still is. She was praised for being a child that never cried, a child that never threw a tantrum. She was sought after for her elegance and beauty. Her restraint and regal air. Men and women would throw themselves at her feet in a heartbeat if she asked them to.
Though Ella holds so much authority, she shows no emotion, unless she wants it to be showed. Helene grew up never knowing what her sister was thinking, and for that, she looked up to her.
Wynston :: 24 :: Older Brother
"Hell Ridden"
Helene's Mother said that Wynston was the most painful child she had to bear. He was twisted about in her, dwelling in her past due for days. When his family came out, he cried as if immediately regretting leaving his mother. His cries never seemed to stop. Even when he hit the age of a teen, Wynston still cried out. He'd break into cold sweats in the middle of the night and let out a bloodcurdling scream. Eventually, Wynston managed to control the fear of his night terrors and ball it up into a compacted rage. He thrust himself into battle at any given moment, not caring whether or not his neck was sliced in the process.
Wynston was born with the darkest eyes in the family. They were a strikingly deep blue that captured the hearts of many women. Helene often wondered how he was overall the darkest in the family, but she never really questioned it. Even though Wynston endured sleepless nights, he still managed to find time to mess with Helene and read her bedtime stories. His ability to control when he releases hell was always something Helene was in awe of.
Levey :: 18 :: Younger Sister
"Little Bird"
Levey is often referred to as the heart of the family. She's as sweet as spring and as warm as the summer winds. Her voice is a light, airy refreshment, and her innocently pure heart is like a breath of serenity. Her embrace is like being surrounded by the finest pelts, and it sends a tingling desire of wanting more up everyone she comes across. Levey always likes to cut her hair to where it hangs just past her chin and pull the rest behind her ear. She's the only one who can pull the look off. Her skin is darker than Helene's and her hair is the color of the sun when it sinks below the horizon. She's the golden child, by far.
But, Levey is also the most tender. She's too soft for her own good and always lets people in. Levey refuses to acknowledge that having a big heart can be exposed and used as a weakness. Helene and her siblings have caught Levey crying into a silk pillow too many times to count because Levey let another boy into her heart who ultimately ended up breaking it, even though she was warned. This led to about a village's worth of boys being anonymously interrogated and beaten on the side of a road. Helene always compared Levey's warmth with weakness, but now, looking back on it, Helene misses her sister's sunny smile and bright, baby blue eyes that stared past her cold exterior and into her heart.
History
Helene was born into a blooming family of four, which was soon added onto by the arrival of Levey, the youngest in the Deiretenir family. Unfortunately, during the birth, Helene's mother, Saneif Deire, had to choose between her life and the baby's. Seeing as Levey just reached the age of 18, you can predict what choice Saneif went with. Helene's father, Erikson Tenir, never got over his wife's death. No more heirs were born. Erikson mourned Saneif for a long time, and still does to this day. 18 years worth of never letting go of that woman- the woman who the tribe called "The White Lioness", the same woman who was undefeated in battle, whether man or animal, was taken down by her own spawn.
With having only known her mother for three years, Helene often asked stories about her. Her father always changed the subject, so she'd extract information from the elders. They told her all kinds of tales, so Helene made a habit of visiting them. She was the only child in the family who seemed like she actually wanted to know about her mother... and sometimes, Helene believed that she was the only one who remembered her. She knew those were foolish thoughts, but one tends to conspire when everyone leads you into believing nothing happened when Levey came into the world.
Helene spent most of her time on horseback- hell, she knew how to ride before she knew how to walk. Her mother made sure of that. Helene is a skilled rider and an even more skilled tracker. Her abilities range from within her tribe's traditions, and she knows she did well when she sees her father's eyes beam with pride. For roughly 20 years, Helene grew up in her wandering tribe. She saw sights that people could only dream of, ate foods that one couldn't fathom the taste of, and experienced songs and stories that one would expect to be carved into stone. Her life was adventurous and fun, albeit harsh at times, but the warmth of her people never failed her.
Helene enjoyed her life. She took advantage of her life. She took everything she had for granted. The stories. The laughter. The smiles. The hiss of wind that would crash against the caravan when the winter winds blew in. The fuzzy figure of her sibling waking her up at midnight to spar or go for a ride to a spot that they found out about. The feeling of wanting to strangle her brother when he'd tease her, only to end up chasing him through a maze of endless tents and caravans. All of that went away when the Emperor took over. When the Emperor took her.
Helene wasn't initially betrothed to him. She was told that either Bellavida or Levey was going to be his wife. Both were questionable. Ella was urged to not go through with the betrothal since she was the eldest and the heiress to their kingdom, and Levey was simply too fragile to leave with a man like that. A man they didn't even know about. Helene couldn't bear the thought of leaving her sisters to such a monster when she could do something about it.
So, she volunteered.
This was the biggest mistake Helene had ever made, though she's convinced that she'll never regret it.
She begged her father to not tell Levey about this arrangement. Helene knew that her little sister would never forgive herself; Helene knew that Levey would blame herself. She would rather let Levey live an ignorant life of bliss, thinking Helene was the first pick that would willingly go beside the emperor, rather than succumb to guilt at the truth. Bellavida, the eldest, knew better. To Helene's gratefulness, she understood. Wynston, her older brother, was enraged about the idea throughout the entire ordeal.
Alas, Helene was shipped around the mountain range that separated her kingdom from the empire as if she was simply livestock, adorned with spices and beauty, just to be torn apart at her arrival.
Now, Helene is a mere trophy in the empire. A once, lively, beautiful cub who had the potential to become the same lioness as her mother, was being stored away in a cage. Like some pathetic, flightless bird.
Affiliations
Tavarious Chernobog :: Emperor :: "I hope you fall in a pit"
Helene avoids this guy as much as possible. It's fairly hard to do when you're in his lands and have to attend meetings with him, though. Whenever the two do interact, it's not kindly. It's not an interaction that a normal couple would have, it's an interaction that's forced and equally neglected on both sides. Helene never took fondly to Tavarious, and is intent on it staying that way. Their interactions are often followed by retorts, which doesn't help.
She's positively aware of his possessiveness and overuse of the word 'wife' and 'trophy', and sometimes, she gets the urge to hang around men and women that would irk Tavarious the wrong way, just to get back at him. She's sly and careful in doing this so as to not leave room for the punishment of her acquaintances. Helene will do whatever she can to get on Tavarious' nerves, especially when he ignorantly thinks of her as a prize.
Abaddon :: Personal Guard :: "You're not so bad"
Abaddon was assigned to Helene to guard her when she first arrived, and boy, did he do a good job. Even the slightest remark regarding her, Helene would find Abaddon defending her as if they had known each other for years. Helene has only known Abaddon for 2 months but has warmed up more to him than practically anyone else in the damned place. She's very aware of his animalistic tendencies, yet she often finds herself forgetting such things whenever Abaddon is innocent and collected around her.
Helene has heard rumors of how uncontrolled Abaddon was and was particularly disturbed when Tavarious assigned him as a personal guard to her. At first, she thought Tavarious was trying to kill her by assigning Abadon to her, which, let's be honest he probably was, but Abaddon proved Helene wrong. While it may not bother him, people who call Abaddon her dog irks her, even if it's light banter, though she can't understand why.
Helene has found herself being more chatty around Abaddon, and has gotten to become a lot more relaxed in his company. With Abaddon at her beck and call, Helene feels a lot more powerful in hopeless situations, this gives her a false sense of security around Abaddon. While she still is collected and formal around the man, she has found herself communing and expressing herself more around him. Perhaps t's his constant presence wherever she is, the raw desire to be glued to her side, or the fact that he has pursued his duties with excellent care, perhaps it's all of it.
What Helene has noticed, is the smaller things that Abaddon does to better provide her with comfort. The first time they met, she tried to hide it, but the guy must've noticed her struggling to keep a fair face with his potent smell. Abaddon's scent got lighter, and lighter until it was tolerable and different. It's the small things that Abaddon does that makes Helene feel as though she can place a portion of trust into this man.
Vesper Briar-Rose Sterling :: Emperor's Lover :: "You genuinely like that guy?"
Hel tends to keep her distance from this man since she doesn't know how he'd react to his lover's... well, wife. She has run into him a few times and spotted him doing calming activities such as... reading... and sewing... and cooking. The few times she has observed Vesper, he was courteous and never faltered with his polite mannerisms. Hold up, how did this guy end up with someone like Tavarious? Willingly?
Helene is intrigued by him, but also cautious. She has the irk to avoid him, but always finds her eyes lingering on him. She is curious, but she has learned where curiosity gets her. While Helene wants to know his history, she also wants to keep her nose in her own business.
Neptune :: Emperor's Lover :: "Quote"
will dicuss
Nadia Chernobog-Amery :: Illegitimate Child :: "How could Tavarious make something so cute..."
Nadia reminds Helene of her younger sister, Levey, so she has grown fond of the girl. Even though they aren't related in the slightest, and Helene has a certain desire to push this little girl's father off of a balcony, Helene feels some sort of connection. Perhaps its just her grief of being so far from her family that makes her want to get close to this kid. Naturally, Helene has fallen into the bigger sister role.
After being stuck in the damn castle for two months, one finds their hobbies. One of those hobbies for Hel is trying to teach this tiny human etiquette while also giving her advice on how to be a menace to those who upset her. Helene would rather that Nadia take the title of a legitimate child and become the heir so that Helene doesn't have to have the burden of giving Tavarious an heir. Nadia is truly a savior, whether or not the two-year-old knows it.
Lilith Chernobog :: Emperor's Sister :: "I see where all the brains in the family went"
Helene admits it, she underestimated the woman when she met Tavarious. She expected Lilith to be much like Tavarious, which she guilts over now. Lilith is practically the opposite of her brother, which makes it easier for Helene to commune. They carry the same mindset, and Helene has the urge to befriend the woman. She has heard Lilith's songs before, which are one of the only things that provide Helene some form of comfort in the castle.
While Helene hasn't talked much with Lilith yet, there is that unspoken understanding of each other. One that doesn't need to be discussed, though they could definitely confide in each other about. Of course, this understanding revolves around being stuck with Tavarious.
Pm me if you have any ideas in mind for possible relationships with Helene, I'm open to ideas ;3
Mount
Balade
Helene's tribe is known for their drafty breeds that tower over most. They have to be bulky, strong, and preferably tall to endure more weight. So, one wouldn't have guessed that Helene's mount was 14.2hh. She adores her little stallion, even if he is getting on the older side. Helene has had this stallion since he was a colt, and has trained him herself for 17 years. Sure, she didn't actually train him until she was 11, but she likes the idea of a four-to-five-year-old starting a colt. Even though her mount is on the older end, he still pulls through just as easily as he would have a decade ago.
Technically, she named him Balade, Bala for short (pun intended). But she only uses those names when she's talking about him. When addressing Bala personally, she tends to use her own pet names, a popular one being "My Little Man".
Themesongs
Take A Hint (I had to)
Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys
Riverside - Agnes Obel
Babylon - Barns Courtney
Sharks - Imagine Dragons
Done with the songs ;)
Other
(c) yuchinko @ picrew.me
Helene's Fits
oh my gAWD? am I dONE? Dobby is freeee
Spring 
Night Weather: 
Flood Moon: 
