Persephone

▮PROFILE

Name: Persephone Whispergrove
Age: ~2,300
Birthday: Unknown
Gender: Female (cis)
Sexuality: Lesbian
Height: 6'7"
Species: Kaldorei
Likes: Soft rain; Darkness; Comradery
Dislikes: Technology; Loud noises; Fire
Base Personality: Curt, and often offputting; Introverted when not heavily intoxicated; Intensely reserved
Skills: Master healer; Adept alchemist and herbalist; Experienced scout and assassin; Novice peddler

▮HUNTRESS

       They say pain eases with the passage of time. However, some wounds are never allowed that precious time to heal. They fester; bleeding out from the soul and snake like thorny brambles around tenderness, and cut deep within to snuff out hope before it can begin to rekindle. Such is the state of Persephone's heart, and the elf carries the marks of more than just a chip on her shoulder.

       Cold and rugged are possibly the first impressions of Persephone, and not entirely off the mark. Her mannerisms, oft uncouth, belie the airs of ancient nobility that accompanies a Kaldorei. The woman is far closer to the savage caricature of the wild elves, as painted by their enemies, and it is an imagine she happily cultivates. It is their fear that she craves; their blood she thirsts for; those that she hunts.

       There was a time when Persephone was happy, as is the truth of all broken people, studying the druidic arts beneath the great boughs of Nordrassil. Memories of afternoon laughter, laying peacefully in dappled sunlight, and the wholeness she felt when learning what it meant to be of The Grove. Persephone, though thinking fondly of these years, does not yearn for them.

       When the druid changed her hands from the soil to the claw was not a singular event, but the effect the accumulation of years tend to have on an immortal. Like waves eroding away a cliff side, the tender student of Nordrassil was stripped away piece by piece. In the hollow shell time carved of that girl now lives a beast, and that beast hungers.