❝ Let us dance in the sun, wearing wildflowers in our hair. ❞

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Two beings of earthly spring met on a diverging road within a yellow wooded forest, and one choose to take the other down the path less traveled by.

Mistrust, misused, and played like a ringing bell, one who was once trustworthy now laid the shackles on her wrist and ankles with a smile that showed a love that was not free.

By her name, and only her name, despite it’s sweetness like that smile, had become poisonous upon request with her at its beck and call.

Years would pass as they remained, together but only her with unseen chains, when their daughter born on the first of spring, had brought with her a taste of rain.

Salty were the joyous tears both equally shed from father to mother to child. The trio with a mending circle reforming.

The world had changed around them. Magic used for entrapment used once again, a new layer of chains wrapped tightly round their wrists.

But unlike her previous ones who only bared the look of rust, the new ones, though just as strong, had a key to unlock.

So passing years she waited, whispering gentle words in her daughters ears, playing her role to the letter.

Mother, Wife, Hostess—-

Soon to be replaced by another during one yellow wooded morning, and an unknowingly kind human strolled through the door of her inn.

She went free with the man who had spent months of his life to stay happily trapped by her side by choice.

It was her choice to leave with him. Whispering in her daughters ears that maybe one day that she would soon follow her out into the world beyond the chains.

In the meantime, by her own word, she sealed the deal of ownership of her inn not to her husband, but to her daughter. Still young in her years but was quickly sprouting into a fine woman.

So much like her mother, but she choose to stay.  

└    ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━    ┘

ɴᴀᴍᴇ → Cethleann Eisner
ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇ → Flayn
ᴀɢᴇ → 369 (25)
ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀᴛᴇ → Spring 1st
ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ → Female
sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ → Pansexual

Maternal | Gregarious | Contented | Cunning | Observant | Patient

Admittedly, Flayn is one of the more welcoming faces of the town. Though how much of that is her seelie ways that are always seeking to own the names of others and keep them with her in her domain until they disappear? Her kindness may be genuine but often comes with a hefty price and very little of what she does is done without thought or something to gain. The world after all is a place that focus on what all you can acquire without losing out.

But that will take a backseat whenever children are involved. They are her Achilles heel in every sense as she will never bring harm to one, directly or indirectly. Adults however, are fair game, and exploited with a smile and sweet words. A fair trade since most who came to her door are almost always after something, whether it be her things or her hand, and some try to use the old ways to achieve it. And it is always easy for her to tell when someone has come for their own gain or to fulfill a genuine want to see her of all people.

There is a reason she has safe-guarded her true name all these years and it was solely because of the cautionary tale her mother told her. One that she would come to find out was how her parents met and became a couple. Out of fear, she will never share her name, only nicknames and things she would like to be called. Which may seem surprising given that she has an outgoing but calm personality, but she has long since grown acclimated to dancing through subjects like that with gentle words that never truly give away her stake in things. However small or impartial that stake may be, it is one she chooses not to say.

Likes→ Hydrangeas and Gardening . Herbal and Flowery teas . Cooking and Baking .

Dislikes→ Wasted food and Decay . Extreme temperatures and Bad weather . Destruction of life and Pointed lies .

She is incapable of lying, but can deceptively choose her words tell half-truths thanks to the double meanings of the way she has chosen to speak in very specific ways .

Never one to give her actual name, but say that others may call her by a nickname, only her father and mother know her full name. As names, especially true names, are very precious and powerful to her and other children of Ethereals of Spring . 

Often, she walks barefoot whenever possible, and specifically always on her toes with light steps that are hard to hear, but from the butterfly bell necklace, she wears there is a gentle jingle that follows her . 

Wears lots of layers of clothes but never seems to trip or get them dirty despite working with things that could be messy, such as flour or even tending to the soil in her garden outside the small inn she owns closer to the more wooded areas .

ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇs →
→ By far, she is best suited around the earth as she has a natural green thumb for all plant life thanks to the small bit of control she has over them. With that control she has long since learned to be able to read a plant to know what exactly it is and can do. At best, she can influence rather large feats of growth from even dying flowers, willing them to go as she wants within reason. Not exactly total control, since she can only sort of direct them, she is unable to truly move plant life as she pleases. But for her hobbies as a florist, decorator, and chef; being able to speed up a harvest and have a freshness most others wouldn’t be able to achieve without payment to one of her relatives is quite the bounty of itself.

→ Everything she cooks or grows will always be delicious and addictive if it’s edible, not entirely thanks to her skill or fresh ingredients, but solely from a subset of her presence leaking into her food from the amount of time she puts into making those meals and pastries. It is a staple of her business at the inn outside of her aesthetic scenery, while in high demand, it won’t become too addictive to other Ethereals unless they are particularly weak to food. Only humans become consumed with needing more, so much so that her inn could be labeled as a trap to them if they do not eat her food under the right circumstances. Such as, food eaten without payment.

→ The Ethereal Presence of Spring, much like it does to food, puts a Rose-colored lens unto the eyes of those who are in her presence. It will be hard to break them out of the calm and content demeanor, especially if they have eaten food from her hand without repayment of some kind being exchanged. Thus her company can be intoxicating and addicting with prolong exposure, but in small doses with distance between her and the people spending time with her, it can also be relaxing and uplifting. Beware though, springtime is when this power is most potent and could cause feelings of infatuation if not wary.

ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs →
→ She cannot go too far into town without fresh flowers to accompany here. Being away from flora, her garden, and nature itself for long periods of time makes her incredibly weak. Though she can somewhat get about this by wearing flower charms imbued with the essence of nature within her hair, it is only a temporary fix that will need to be recharged after her visits to town and can only work for a couple of hours per use.

→ Just like any flower, not having her time with suitable lighting and proper care, her pretty petals will wilt. Extreme temperatures and weather will cause her to weaken or even become ill despite being surrounded by nature. She is particularly weak against the cold, and becomes sluggish and disoriented within it. While hot temperatures will only make her grow faint but also be more likely to blister.

→ The changing of seasons fluctuates the strength of her powers. Winter, is by far her worst season, not only is her ability to impact the growth of plants in her care dimmed, but so is her presence as she is more lethargic in the colder months which makes cooking hard to do on her own unless the kitchen has been warmed and prepped a head of time. Spring is her strongest, but it’s to the point that her powers go beyond what she requires of them and makes her powers hard to control, especially her presence.
Summer is her favored season for harvesting with her earth based powers though her cooking and presence put her in a precarious position thanks to the weather and heat making it hard for her to participate directly in cooking or risk getting hurt. Fall on the other hand is her best season for cooking, since her powers are well rounded and balanced with the weather being in her favor as well, but it’s her busiest season since she will be preparing for winter but for the many comfort specials that will need to be made so she has a nest egg of money to fall back on to bribe relatives for fresh ingredients when she herself cannot go outside to garden.

→ With the power of her name in tow, even uttering it will give power over her to the one who uses it with a command. While not entirely unbreakable, it is hard to not follow the orders given to her once her name is called. Though not everyone knows that they need to be very specific with what they say, after all the fae do not take kindly to being trapped by their name.

ᴛʀɪᴠɪᴀ →
→ A child of an Ethereal of Spring, which was the basis for what would later be known to humankind as fae, fairies, and nymphs. Their aging is a tad slower than normal, and often they are much smaller in stature despite being pleasing to the eye to look at.

→ She has a large collection of poison and medicinal items grown straight from her garden since she has a wide variety of plants thanks to having no fear of planting things that are viewed as poisonous. Though it is in her own personal secret part of the greenhouse in her garden kept away from the public under lock and key.

→ Her inn was originally named Seelie Inn while her mother ran it. But since she took it over she rebranded it as The Branch and Tree Inn with the Dew Drop Cafe that has a lot of outdoor seating area you pass through while going into the inn.

❝ Knee-deep in my garden soil; seeds strewn in my hair. Sunshine streaming, flowers dreaming, bliss without a care. ❞

❝ The Little People must be Sacred to the Strong People. It is the protection of the small ones that give purpose to the big. ❞

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Bas lived as an Ethereal of Autumn change before the City in the Clouds was sealed off by the human witches. He got to see the world as it was when the Ethereals were free to bring life and change, and he was there when the little one was killed and the Ethereals began their assault on the humans. Bas got caught up in the anger and the fear and participated himself in the mass murder. He only killed one adult, male human before he realized the gravity of the mistake. He fled to the city, and when the witches sealed them all in he acquiesced peacefully.

Since then he has lived his life for the joy of the people in the city. He gives happiness whenever he can, and he protects any who seem weak or afraid. His eternal nature is conceptualized in the preparation between the Fall and the Winter, when the Harvest is to be brought in and those who are weakest to the cold, like the old and the young, are most vulnerable.

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ɴᴀᴍᴇ → Bas
ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇ → Papa Bee
ᴀɢᴇ → 728 seasons
ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀᴛᴇ → 24 Fall
ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ → Male
sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ → Heteronormative

. Strong . Gentle . Fatherly . Helpful . Hard Working . Patient .

Papa Bee is a strong, older Ethereal. He loves children and protecting the weak and the simple. He is motivated by kindness, gentleness, and goodwill. He knows that the Winter is when the weak die and the time needs to be prepared for, so he imbues the virtues of hard work and perseverance. He is also a fierce warrior, one who has learned to fight from necessity, and he always desires to be prepared to save those in need. His work involves encouraging and motivating others, as well protecting them from the evils of fear, helplessness, and self-loathing. He enjoys games and singing and always makes himself available to company.

Likes
. Children . Working with his hands . Friendliness .

Dislikes
. Selfishness . Bullies . Dishonesty .

Quirks
. Big Muscles . Always Laughing . Strokes his beard a lot .

ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇs →
→ Incredible Strength
→ Empathy and the ability to see the Soul of a individual
→ The ability to Blacksmith and work metal
ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs →
→ He cannot stand to see a child hurt, it breaks him
→ He feels guilty for every death
→ Too much sun makes him feel weak, he was made for the transition into Winter

ᴛʀɪᴠɪᴀ →
→ He likes to smoke a pipe and considers himself quite the connoisseur of tobaccos and weeds
→ He is partly responsible for the image and myth of Santa Claus
→ He's only had one natural born child and grandchild, both of whom died of exposure long before the sealing of the City.

❝ Warriors are not what you think of as Warriors. The warrior is not someone who fights, because no one has the right to take another life. The Warrior, for us, is one who sacrifices himself for the good of others. His task is to take care of the elderly, the defenseless, those who can not provide for themselves, and above all, the children the future of humanity ❞
- Sitting Bull

❝ Is anyone else hungry? ❞

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You could be more than this, you know. Arna thinks it in an older woman’s voice. Not hers, but like hers. She steps further up the thunderhead. Nears the top. The long climb will be worth it when she can look out across her clouds and see that they’re all more or less in place. Well-ordered maybe. Not perfectly. That’s too much of a pain to manage for a simple storm.

There’s little to see from on high but the gray. She looks over the front ranging out to either side. Not ruler straight, but neat edges aren’t her job. Hand-drawn straight. Back-of-the-napkin straight. Just like she drew it up. She smiles a little and finds the front of her cloud. Settles in to watch and wait. Things will follow their own course. No cleanup necessary.

Moments pass unmarked. The clouds come and go. The rains come and go. The wants, needs, and expectations of all the people below come and go. Not mine. No, not yours. Never yours. Your expectations are as eternal as the sun above.

Any colder and the sigh would have crystallized as soon as it passed her lips.

She eases back to her feet. It’s not far now to the edge of town, and she’s no more able to pass beyond the seals than any other ethereal. She descends the side of the cloud, swift and goat-like. It’s rare that she gets to ride weather so fierce and free, but there’s nothing for it now. The storm will carry on its course, travel beyond the boundary, and disperse.

She finds a more modest mount—a wisp, really—and tips it forward sharply to ride back to ground. She’ll have to slow eventually, but for now the scream of the wind ripping at her hair is just what she needs to hear.

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ɴᴀᴍᴇ → Arna Solheim
ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇ → Drifter
ᴀɢᴇ → 332 (Appears 24)
ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀᴛᴇ → Summer 12
ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ → Female
sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ → Bisexual

Patient ~ Distant ~ Frumpy ~ Caring ~ Simple ~ Hardy

Arna has a tendency to drift in place: always on the move but never headed anywhere. She does things in her own way and at her own pace, and her plans for the future rarely reach beyond the week ahead. She does her job, mostly, but tends to take others’ affairs as lightly as her own and has earned a reputation for unreliability as a result. She is at least good in a crisis thanks to that excessively even-keeled nature—able to take immediate and decisive action while others fuss and fret over the uncertainties. Flighty as she can be under fair skies, Arna never fails to see her friends through a storm.

~ʟɪᴋᴇs~
. Night breakfast at restaurants . Puzzles, games, and intrigue . Quilts, slippers, and cozy things .

~ᴅɪsʟɪᴋᴇs~
. Enclosed and especially locked spaces . Artificial noise and environments . Bugs and other creepy crawlies .

~ǫᴜɪʀᴋs~
. Takes naps anytime, anywhere . Never properly ends a conversation . Rarely pays a debt or keeps a promise .

~ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇs~
→ Arna has the power to gather and disperse clouds of all sizes, shapes, and types as necessary, but she prefers to use whatever drifts into town whenever possible.
→ Arna has the power to largely ignore gravity while she’s in contact with a cloud and can climb, ride, and even nap on them without any particular effort.
→ Arna can ride, drive, and herd clouds irrespective of the direction and intensity of the wind, though she’s usually happy to let it do most of the work.

~ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs~
→ She gets extremely agitated when she can't see the sky.
→ She’s far more vulnerable to loneliness than she likes to admit.
→ She doesn’t really understand lying and can’t detect it at all.

~ᴛʀɪᴠɪᴀ~
Arna is a gifted but rarely motivated athlete. She does not have a favorite genre of music. She’ll dance with anyone who asks. She keeps a blank facial expression for most interactions. Her voice is lower than you’d expect but comforting to hear. She’s a little on the shorter side. Kids and animals seem to adore her for some reason. She was raised mostly by her grandparents and doesn’t talk about her parents. She is absolutely, unbelievably, terrifyingly fearless while airborne.

❝ It's not that everything seems smaller from up there; it's that everything seems bigger from down here. ❞

Fire is hot, powerful, destructive. It does not think nor feel, only burns what is in it's path until snuffed out. Fire is warm, comforting, healing. It burns away the old and impure to make room for new life. Marali was born in flames and learned never to fear it's heat. Not only was it her protector, but also her strength.

Her father loves to tell her and her siblings stories about the world he used to travel freely through: the mountains he climbed, the oceans he sailed across, the caves he explored. There was no place to dangerous for him to go. He always has a big smile when telling the stories to her and her siblings, and the longing for freedom couldn't be missed in his eyes. Marali absorbed every detail, as if she could teleport to those amazing places if she concentrated hard enough.

Then there is her mother, the "Mountain Carver" of legend. She used to shape the very earth with her bare hands and watch as life grew on them. She also shares in great detail the mountains she formed and how different places could have a totally different environment from another.

Here these two travelers were, together, trapped by a curse to forever remain in Cerulia. They express bitterness towards humans for putting them in this predicament, but otherwise always seem happy to have each other and their four children. Marali couldn't be satisfied with that. She refused to remain complacent and wanted, more than anything, to explore the world her parents once roamed freely.

ɴᴀᴍᴇ → Marali Kachar

ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇ → Mar, Mara

ᴀɢᴇ → 242 (Appears ~24).

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀᴛᴇ → Summer 19

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ → Female

sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ → Pansexual