May 1, 2020 5:09:59 GMT -6
Máel Bhéarach mac Lideadha also known as: MALEA LIDDY we all on a totem pole general info
appearance
With her sunken eyes, the leviathan regards the surface world with apathy, carrying after her a heavy hiker’s backpack and, on her, the smell of wet death. Externally, the woman is comprised of a long face and nose with a hard jawline and full lips; the rest of her lies obscured beneath robes and heavy bangs splayed over her eyes. Lying unseen: storytelling scars spanning centuries; veritable miles of stained bandages, blackened wounds, lichen-like patches of hypertrophic injury. But besides her meticulous, brooding carriage, she tends to laugh these traits off with a dark sense of amusement. Those red eyes portray a twisted sense of inner peace. In conversation, she would pass right through you. The kelpie today are lucky their image is freed of the CAILLEACH: a cross between a hippocamp and auroch, possessing a heavy mane and forelocks with curled, dark-tipped horns that scraped the sky; front hooves cloven and tail slick-black ebony, trailing like a loch of blood. Where did the Cailleach come from? Some swore it had no human form; it was a manifestation of hatred borne of the War. It was said even moisture in the surrounding air broiled and bubbled to gas around it. And it would stare down enemies of the True Divinity with those devil-red eyes, loathing them, and they could do nothing as those within the Cailleach’s range boiled, boiled alive. personality
Persisting on pure spite: Malea traipses the land looking less for self-purpose than for the thrill of indignantly pestering anyone in a position of authority; there’s something delightful about marring those who call themselves “soldiers.” She herself is hard to bother, too intent on survival to care how her image casts; outwardly non-communicative, persistently blunt, but if you ask, she’ll likely tell you, even if it’s too Doric to really make sense. While she subscribes to a code of honor entailing protection, she adopts a defeatist attitude. Reintegrating is “impossible” for her. The world now is so noise- and light-polluted, and the technology too advanced to stick. Combine that with a lingering suspicion that everything will go to hell anyway - that everyone who can’t state their allegiance is a threat - her cynicism can be overwhelming. But Malea isn’t always as stoic as she appears. She’s a laconic speaker, but possesses a dry wit with what words she provides. She’s more mellow than nice, but she can be a calming presence for those who take the present harshly, and usually prefers non-violence whenever a person seems capable of reason. abilities 🕈 Natural Malea hasn’t transformed in years; doing so would likely have a toil on her body and extend the thirty-second transition to about double the length. It isn’t missed. She doesn’t consider the Cailleach a part of herself, only an extension of feelings that have tempered with age. In this plodding temporality, she has learned to accept, with permanence, who she is, how she has only ever been and wanted to be “human.” With that said, the instinct arises when she’s fully submerged in freshwater or otherwise when her normal breathing stops working -- her gills will kick in along her neck and sides and she may experience a euphoria that can leave her catatonic for anywhere between two to twelve hours. Due to this meditate state, Malea can withstand longer times without water: seventy-two hours instead of twenty-four. She maintains a high susceptibility to airborne pollutants, including smoke, and has a terrible immune system overall, although she can withstand temperatures up to 120° C and as low as -20° C with minor discomfort on the lowest ends. 🕈 Supernatural
🕈 Acquired
backstory FAMILY Several descendants of the “Lideadha” bloodline A wife and soulmate, deceased ___ Sometimes a war-hero will rise to memory, but often only to the family they belong to. The remnants of the original War walk among the present; they are the memories, and to them, that is enough. You have acquired a taste for “tee-vee” dinners and have wrapped your head reluctantly around the concept of telephone poles. After wrestling with your “amnesia,” from the battered state of your body, you have determined it for the best. Now, the human-man re-arises from his cabin. He has a steaming, ceramic chalice sort in one hand. In his other is a sheathed katana blade, leaving a groove amongst fallen leaves as he heaves it across the floor of the forest. You can tell it’s a fraud. “Gold leaf. Useless blade.” “You came with this.” He is motioning frantically and exudes exhaustion. “I found this, then I found you. Can’t be a coincidence.” Sitting cross-legged with a chalice of your own, you don’t know what he expects you to tell him. He continues: “What do you remember… ‘doing’ at the bottom of that lake, Mal?” “...meditating.” “You were meditating… for four hundred years?” With no answers, he tosses the fake sword in the grass, stating miserably, “The closer we get to figuring this out, the less it makes sense.” As you stay silent; puzzling the man as he puzzles you. You’re both looking for that thirst for understanding in the other. Eventually, he succumbs to sit down beside you. You do find the man shares a name with a past disciple of Enki, a mage who incites uncomfortable familiarity in yourself. The man expects the same level of radiance. The way he looks at you, like he beached a whale and is struggling to determine the species. The circumstances of the death. As for the sword, it’s still lying in the yard. He passes onto you a bag, food, some shoes, a pair of dress clothes additionally. You share a final, silent understanding. And you have no concept of time; you have no way to bid goodbyes and you don’t want to lie to assure you’ll ever meet again. With a tough incline of your head, you nod, and slip away into the overgrowth. misc AFFILIATION rogue Currently moving through Lorsette at her own pace, she is entirely unfamiliar to everything but the fact that the TRS exist and that there’s a terrorist org around somewhere. She begrudged a gated neighborhood after mistaking their pool as freshwater -- there’s a record on her, vague if mildly incongruous with Lorsette’s low rate of “vagabonds.” Malea has yet to recognize what’s making that so… She isn’t immortal and is considered somewhere around middle-aged for a kelpie; she was a young, “brilliant” sergeant who, considering her race, wasn’t expected to enter the conflict at all. Of what she remembers, she fought for Akari. She came to in the current year frozen at the bottom of a lake after a several-hundred-year-old curse. The only other memorabilia from her past is a wakizashi sword she calls her "honor blade" that she makes a lot of dark jokes about. On her full name: the former, “Mael Bhearach” distinguishes a discipleship to a saint predating even her while “mac Lideadha” can be modernized to “Liddy.” “Malea” is her preferred name, a corruption of her original with its own meaning. She has a syndicate license, meaning she can open-carry, use powerful magic, and arrest suspected Assembly members… if you can ignore it’s several centuries outdated and she’s not even in the modern database, plus her “backup” is obviously not hers. Favorite food? Corn dogs. How do they even make them? Incredible. | roleplayer info ☆ NAME sable ☆ RP EXPERIENCE the whole ASS ☆ TIMEZONE EST ☆ OTHER CHARACTERS @asami @rawiya ☆ FACE CLAIM ACE ATTORNEY, simon blackquill ---------------------- THIS CHARACTER BELONGS TO... I THINK, SABLE? UHH... (WHAT'S MY LINE? OH!) DON'T STEAL IT...! THE... WHATEVER IT IS. |
MADE BY ★MEULK