Qileth Reluriun - Daughter of Autumn

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“Live in harmony with the natural world, allowing each living being the opportunity to serve out its natural purpose in life.”​ Birth Name: Qileth Reluriun Origin: The Unspoiled Woods (Wealdath), Elmanesse Grounds Age: 137 Years Race: Wood Elf Gender: Female Patron Deity: Rillifane Rallathil Favored Deities: The Seldarine / Silvanus Alignment: Neutral Good Class: Druid (Skinwalker) Profession: Priestess, Herbalist, Healer Languages: Elven / Druidic / Common Height: 5'4" Weight: ~125 lbs Build: Salubrious Hair: Auburn, Thick Eyes: Oak Green Skin: Tanned, Coppery Posture: Swagger, Sauntering Voice: Husky Contralto Theme Song: ¡Viva la Gloria! - Green Day​ ​ Appearance​ A woman of the wilds is she, whole of body and soul. Mostly whole, anyway; gold and amber jewelry litter her fingers, fill her ears, even form two hoops in her right nostril. Tiny scars nick her jawline and larger claw-shaped scars race down her back, all to slowly heal and be replaced by more. This lady of the woods still smiles. Topping that serene smile is a pair of eyes the color of oak leaves amidst summer. They have escaped the harsh reality of the wilderness, as has her subtly upturned nose. Somehow her hair has done the same, at least somewhat -- long and untethered, it writhes down her back with owl feathers woven into the strands. It remains a miracle, clean and well-maintained. Or perhaps not. Contrary to what some may believe about druids, this woman bathes. Often. It's evident in the cleanliness of her skin, the softness of her palms. She even wears charcoal as a simple eyeliner and to darken her eyelashes. Personality Ease and warmth radiates from her. As she hides away in the forest, she heals most who enter; her fellow elves, non-elves, all who mean no harm or ill will to herself or her people. However, like all of Rillifane's clergy, that ease is stripped into deadly ferocity when need be. The careless meet a similar fate. There is little patience in her heart for those who cast, speak, or act without regard for others. What the adventurer may survive, the common man will not; those who shrug this off are particularly loathsome. That is not to say she doesn't have her vices -- she is a wild child at heart. She thrills in social change for the betterment of others and in galivanting about.

Faith & Deities The priestess-druid is a woman of intense faith. It seeps into her every action. She had found her calling at a young age, younger than others due to following her elder sister's footsteps. She is familiar with the human gods, but lacks the first-hand experience with most of their followers. A deeply philosophical mind from her training lends her a curiosity, perhaps an unhealthy one, with these unfamiliar faiths. Rillifane (Patron)​ Qileth finds herself, like many clergy of the Leaflord, as an ambassador of the faith. To her, the world is cyclical in nature. She revels in autumn's transformative abilities and will be the first to preach new beginnings.​ Silvanus​ Of all cycles, this god's is one to be keenly aware of; the beautiful and ugly, the brutal and elegant. His clergy will likely be one of the first to help defend the wilds in the event of a threat.​ The Seldarine​ Every one of these gods is revered as much as the others, from Corellon's fatherly warmth to Shevarash's pronounced loss. Each one holds a purpose and each one is deserving of respect. To eschew a single one is to throw off the balance of the pantheon.​ Malar​ There are few deities which have the young Rillifanite wondering if some cycles must end. She will not forget Malar's followers in their hunts against elves, or her first skirmish among Rillifane's clergy. The Fey​ It's complicated. Rillifane often has a positive relationship with the sylvan entities of the wilds. The young priestess nonetheless doubts that the fey should be trifled with, Seelie or Unseelie. One is obviously preferable to her, however. Those bound to the Unseelie may find themselves met with disappointment.​

Credit to Winterflame for the format! I love that Qileth has a sister I can steal from both IC and OOC!

 

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Spring Will Come​

Her fingers trembled.

"Leave it," he warned.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "But I just prayed for spells. I can save if if I-" Her voice breaks and she cradles the fallen chickadee in her hands, still clinging onto life. Tears well up in her eyes.

His next words are slow and careful. "The best you can do is ease its pain. Its time has come to return to the earth, and . . . not everyone can be saved."

Those trembling fingers carefully caressed its bent feathers, smoothing out what they could while she held it close. Qileth's soul cried for defiance of her elder, yet ultimately . . . she didn't defy him. She mumbled a prayer in Sylvan, lips close to the bird's ear. Then she drew away.

No miracle came to invigor the old bird. Instead its breath grew ever shallower, its eyelids dropping, its small head losing strength in her palm. But the chickadee was eased, and something in her heart told her that.

Silence came. The far older druid waited a while before breaking it thusly: "Sometimes, Qileth . . . even if you have the power, doesn't mean you always should use it. Its time had come." His coppery eyes turn towards the forest canopies.

"Winter is the Frostmaiden's domain and a time of scarcity. We don't stop it, because then, spring won't come. The next generation won't come, with the baby animals that come with spring. Now is the time for that bird's offspring."

Maybe now wasn't the time for a lecture. His brows furrowed as his head turned back to her and he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. Charcoal ran with the tears and she sputtered, still holding the bird.

Silence returned. Daylight eking its way through the canopies shuddered with the rustling, changing leaves. They were tinged yellow and red. Some had holes from caterpillars born far too late and gods know whatever else that had eaten them. Some had already withered and fallen amongst the shrubbery. Some berries dropped from their bushes. One rolled by her foot.

Then, there it sounded. Chickadees were singing in the boughs. They rustled the leaves and broke the smallest of twigs with their tiny feet. It started with one. One became two, and two became three, and three became several.

It carried along the forest's wind.

 

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Updated formatting and added some additional information! Will continue to update formatting over the next couple days.