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- pointed ears as a result of her elven blood. They are normally covered beneath her hair and away from prying eyes.
She does not carry weapons on her, but in the sake of traveling far, she will occasionally bring a small knife to defend herself from any unwanted attacks or problems. Valeria is not trained in combat, and the knife she wields is with the utmost uncertainty.
It makes her easy prey to those who enjoy picking out the defenseless.
Valeria possesses an elf's greater speed, and can run with increasing urgency the more she pushes. Fast and light on her feet, the half-elf blood grants her the skill far beyond an average human. On top of that, her hearing is much more concentrated, allowing her a chance to overhear conversations from the next room, and occasionally whispered words.
Unfortunately, because she is half-elf, she does not possess the full advantages that would come with being full-blooded; and though that has never been a problem in her eyes, it has occasionally rewarded her a sneer or glare.
Valeria is capable of controlling water, but not very well due to inexperience with her own magical capabilities. Passed down to her by her father, a man she never knew, the art of her skill is lost to her. At its current stage she is able to move water from a source to a desired direction, and can even separate it to form a ball in her hands. Essentially hurling it as a semi-solid object, it cannot do much harm but can leave a victim quite soaked.
Streams can be created from any body of water be it a fountain, river, or pond, and can even be formed into shapes; mostly around the forms of animals. It cannot be used as a weapon whatsoever, and is merely that of entertainment for now. Perhaps, with some proper training, the water she flows between her hands can one day turn into a proper means of defense other than distraction.
She's an observant woman - dreadfully so. Nothing slips past her cunning eye, that opalescent stare watching all with careful consideration. With meticulous poise Valeria screens the world with a thoughtful mind, and keeps locked away behind spools of brain something incredibly quiet.
Behind a grinning face, the coy smile of joy, rests a motherly and protective personality. Loving all with her heart, and striving forwards with unburdened determination, she works effortlessly at clearing out the murmurs of disloyal unrest in order to make Sium safe for everyone. Whispering words of encouragement, and heresy against blasphemers. she's not an extremity when it comes to religion, but living in the city of Caersewiella - the headquarters of the Crux Fidelis - has seen her occasionally partake in hearings and sermons.
She appears a strong, proactive woman, but on the inside there is a great deal of instability. A turmoil of emotion stricken between inadequacy and guilt - part in fact she is to take on her mother's choice of trade, and the rest due to the idea she is living a borrowed life in a town that was never hers to belong in. With each nagging emotion that has begun to drag her down, another piece of the more optimistic and loving figure fractures; transforming into someone a little more withered and a lot more troubled.
But Valeria masks her traumatic past and conscious woes with a brave face and a pretty little smile. It's a delusion to the happiness she wants most as she crosses with broken motivation at her side, haunted by the ghosts of her childhood, and the fate life has granted her.
- skilled in sewing, and can make clothes from any fabric provided. Ask her for a design and she will happily provide.
- a lot of her skill came from her mother's guidance.
- as a somewhat professional seamstress, she generally sells the outfits she finishes, but has been known to gift some on special occasions. Friends and family tend to get the most benefit out of this.
- suffers from nightmares, frequently those depicting the horrors of what had befallen her birth village.
- she fears the Cultists with a burning passion. Valeria has never forgiven them for the terror they wrought in her past.
- Eldoret is not her real family name. It is her adopted father's namesake, and she took that on when he married her mother.
Valeria was born in the province of Zhyphire, a cold winter's night seeing her welcomed into the world, but only to one parent. Her father, a human who had married an elf, perished from illness weeks before her arrival - leaving her pointed-eared mother to care for their only child alone. Her childhood was relatively undisturbed, far-flung in a village surrounded by grassy knolls and a desolate valley.
She flourished under her mother's watchful eye as she slowly grew up - destined to follow in the steps of a lonely seamstress. The peace did not last, however, as fate tended to be, and like a cruel mistress it was stripped away from her at the tender age of six. One horrendous day unleashed a roaming band of Cultists - hellbent murderers adamant on pleasing their twisted, blackened god of darkness. They spread like a plague, a wave of depravity fixated on destruction and the violence that ran amok in their veins, and mercilessly washed over her home.
Her mother and a handful of others barely escaped with their lives among the carnage, using the cover of smoke to run off into the evening sun. They fled further through the province, never looking back; tormented by the cries of anguish of those left behind, unable to be spared. It was something Valeria never forgot, even when, after a few weeks of traveling between villages, they finally arrived in the city of Caersewiella; desperate for protection and sanctuary.
She resettled down in the town of white stone, her mother picking up her business of sewing as soon as they had secured a proper home, and a local shop to call their own. There was no more sleeping in inns or under the stars in an attempt to flee the troubles of their previous home. They did not have to worry about threats of cult members near the headquarters of Crux Fidelis, a stronghold of its own that would deter many. And while her adoring mother was able to place the past behind her, and start anew, Valeria was bent over the carnage she had seen. The ghosts never completely stopped haunting her nightmares.
Things eventually came to even out, and her life passed relatively uneventful for a couple years. It was a much more peaceful time, and Valeria started to branch out connections within the holy city. Though not many faces became close to her, there was one boy that stuck around; a childhood friend whom she kept up letters with, even when he was gone for months at a time to train under his father’s watchful eye. A son of Khan, and Valor-in-training, it was one of her only positive relationships as a young adolescent. His letters were a welcomed read, keeping her from feeling too unwelcomed in the city.
A sudden halt in her more easygoing life, however, stopped the peace dead in its tracks. And that came in the form of a noble; an elite of Caersewiella who started to court Valeria’s mother - an old man who had taken quite an interest in the elfish beauty of distant origins. Despite Valeria's adamant disclaimers for her mother to refuse the offer of marriage, the thirty-something woman wanted to give her daughter a better existence and accepted the abrupt proposal.
At fourteen years, Valeria was now the adopted daughter of a distinguished count.
The count had no children to his name. His only son had fallen in battle against Black Sun Cabal fiends, and though Valeria was now an adopted daughter, he took to distantly treating her like family. Nothing she did pleased him, and he’d rather ignore her then humor her attempts at polite conversation. To save her from being kicked out on the streets, her mother warmed his bedside every night, for she was all he had eyes for. For her daughter to succeed, sacrifices had to be prepared.
Despite the more well-off traipse, living with the count was not the greatest of years. He guarded her beautiful mother with jealousy, and kept her locked up like a bird in a gilded cage while Valeria was heavily ignored. She was frequently dispatched to the side with little attention, a half-blood living under the neglectful fist of a greedy count. Isolation quickly consumed her soul, and her mother could see the light in her daughter’s eyes growing dim. There had to be something better for Valeria, something much more profitable than a fake semblance of happiness. The lap of luxury was not turning out the best for the both of them.
Tiptoeing around the count in fear he would suddenly take interest in her, Valeria had little outlets to channel her distress. She continued to write letters to her childhood friend; penning in great detail the worse turns her life had taken in Caersewiella. And to keep her mind active, she’d play around in the manor’s courtyard fountain - practicing her hold over water, and the blooming amount of magic that ran through her veins. It was not a topic her mother was well versed in, and even with claiming Valeria’s abilities came from her father’s side, it was a diluted magic. It did not stop her from fooling around, however, much to her step-father’s annoyance, and she continued the rather mundane routine well into her late teens.
When she was around seventeen years of age, her mother finally hatched a decision to spare her daughter from the distress of living with the count. With a few months of unrelenting persuasion, the count considered his young wife’s words with care. They knew of Valeria’s letters, and of the name she addressed them to in black ink. The family title struck the count with some intrigue. A son of a well-known Valor, an heir to an extreme yet pious man he’d met in social gatherings on few occasions. Valeria’s step-father found an advantage in his partner’s words, and in his adopted daughter’s writings.
There would be some notoriety in relating to a holy family, wouldn’t there? Connection to an influential man, and furthermore, an influential family that could raise the count up to a better standing? If there was payoff in the end, there was no need to be against the idea. He’d become a richer noble, and, subsequently, get rid of the adopted daughter he had no love for.
The call was quick to come out. In the form of a note, directed to the patriarch of the Khan and marked in the count’s signature stamp, there was only the imploring question to tie together the two families by title. In the simplest terms: take the proposition or leave it. Valeria was not given a say in the matter for he dictated it all, even despite her protests. It was an uncomfortable thought, being offered up to potentially wed her childhood friend, and her mother’s explanations did little to soothe her nerves.
If it worked out in the count’s favor, Valeria would be wed the next spring to the scar-faced Valor-in-training.
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