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FRANCESCA
WRAITH OF THE GARDEN
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"I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed,
and sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
Mad Girl's Love Song | Sylvia Plath
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BASIC INFORMATION
FRANCESCA
WRAITH OF THE GARDEN
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"I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed,
and sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
Mad Girl's Love Song | Sylvia Plath
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BASIC INFORMATION
FULL NAME, [Undisclosed for names have power…]
GIVEN NAME, 'Francesca' 'Hortensia' | Free Garden
RACE, [In life… Ithanian Ailor; In death … Ordial Shade]AGE, [Forgotten to time … Ageless]
GENDER, Femininity | She/They/It
OCCULT, Unbound Ordial-Corrupted Revenant
CORE CONCEPT
CONCEPT, Once a beauty of her time and well-off socialite, Francesca exists as a Spirit who was wronged and taken far too soon. She thrives off of simple joys and mischief, assisting those that return the favor. While known for violence and overall disliked or feared by the general population, the Ghoul is more fond of artistic craft and picking up niche hobbies as she has throughout the last century of death.
RELIGION, Religionless and dead. She has no need for Gods when her soul has been cursed to roam lifelike planes once more. She lives bound not by faith, but through contract to ▀▀▀▀.
APPEARANCE, While a ghoul, she retains her beauty, although with a much more eerie paleness to it now. Francesca
PROFICIENCY POINTS
STRENGTH, 0
CONSTITUTION, 2
Thick Hide
Iron Will
WISDOM, 0Iron Will
DEXTERITY, 7
Cutthroat Backstab
Cutthroat Dodge
Cutthroat Reversal
Cutthroat Tears
Sharp Reflexes
Smokescreen
Escape Artist
ORDIAL ARCANE, 5Cutthroat Dodge
Cutthroat Reversal
Cutthroat Tears
Sharp Reflexes
Smokescreen
Escape Artist
Magic Curse
Magic Warp
Magic Shove
Magic Revive
Magic Revenge
Shapeshift Pack (Free)
Mind Control Pack (Free)
FAITH, 0Magic Warp
Magic Shove
Magic Revive
Magic Revenge
Shapeshift Pack (Free)
Mind Control Pack (Free)
ABILITY INFORMATION
RACIALS
Unbound I | Magical Variant Shapeshift Pack
Unbound II | Must always use Sinistral Magic
Unbound III | Magical Variant Mindcontrol Pack, Immune to Persuasion Thralling
Unbound IV | Temporary Infestation of Mind.
Unbound V | Immune to Emotion or Conscience reading, Respawn after 1 hour of death.
LANGUAGESUnbound II | Must always use Sinistral Magic
Unbound III | Magical Variant Mindcontrol Pack, Immune to Persuasion Thralling
Unbound IV | Temporary Infestation of Mind.
Unbound V | Immune to Emotion or Conscience reading, Respawn after 1 hour of death.
Common | Fully Fluent
d'Ithanie | Fully Fluent
Anglian | Fully Fluent
Calem | Partially Fluent
Sulvaley | Partially Fluent
d'Ithanie | Fully Fluent
Anglian | Fully Fluent
Calem | Partially Fluent
Sulvaley | Partially Fluent
... DEATH ...
It was a humid August dusk when her eyes rolled open, unbothered by the murky water which stained her sight. Above her, the moon that rose into the sky wavered as her movements shifted the swamp. Fingers, tendril-like in the darkness, grasped for hold within the dark mud and eventually she dragged her head over the water, peering about with wonder. Where was she?Her feet found purchase on the silty floor of the riverbank and slowly the being stood, unsteady. Her gaze flickered around the darkening wood, finding no answer in the treeline. She turned around in a circle and then other, lost in the maze of nature and soon finding that her only path appeared to be the river itself. Seeing no other choice, she began down it; the water splashing around her ankles with each step.
The river was not empty, although she felt rather alone. There was a hum of insects, which ignored her; birds fluttered and chirped overhead, unstartled even as they watched down at the woman; a lazy-eyed snake laid half-buried within the rocks of the shoreline, soaking in the last bit of day's warmth. Still there were other things too that filled the river- items, which floated and bumped into the stones as they were dragged in the current.
Shimmery pieces of jewelry had been haphazardily thrown into the water, only broken clasps and beads which had come loose from a bracelet. There too was a feather, perhaps gone from a hair pin or hat, which glided down the river, too perfectly trimmed to be from one of the many birds that lived nearby.
She continued to splash along, finding solace in the company of the creatures that watched her from the darkness, determined to ignore the tugging emotion in her chest. Trying to avoid peering down to the water itself as she now not only pushed through water, but paper as well. It was water-logged, ruined. The writing had run and the ink had become more like runic swirls, reminding her of a line she once read in a book about how the Velheim people tattooed their skin.
The softness busying of the evening was broken by a crash of water. Birds squawked and fluttered, flying from the treeline into the sky and calling to each other for comfort.
Her hands fought for hold, trying to get free from the water once, having tripped and fallen into it. She didn't know yet what had caused her fall, feeling along the riverbank to find her answer has her head finally broke back over the surface. Her eyes burned, but not from the water itself, but rather emotion- the sting of tears that threatened to spill.
Fabric met her grasp and soon enough the creature braved to peer down beneath her and view the obstruction that had tumbled her. Her reflection in the water blinded her, unable to view beneath it at what was there, and as she blinked to clear her vision, it became startling clear that it was not a thing of which she had stumbled upon, but a who.
Francesca released her body with a screamed of fright, falling backwards again as she struggled to get away from herself. The birds had all flown off by now. She was alone with only herself. It was an August in 211AC, and the Spirit wept alone in the Ithanian river, with none close enough to hear.
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"Do we want the powerful unfrightening sister
who will make the pain go away
Mother's voice in the hallway
You've done it right the first time, darling
You will never need to do it again."
There Are No Honest Poems About Dead Women | Audre Lorde
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Art by Mari_bede
"Do we want the powerful unfrightening sister
who will make the pain go away
Mother's voice in the hallway
You've done it right the first time, darling
You will never need to do it again."
There Are No Honest Poems About Dead Women | Audre Lorde
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Art by Mari_bede
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