Lacustrine Anastomosia

Lacustrine Anastomosia, Eladrin Cleric

Full Name: Lacustrine Calci-Anastomosia
Nicknames: Lac, Lady Lac, Trine
Race: Eladrin
Class: Cleric (Trickery)
Age: 252
Birthday: March 9
Sheet: https://ddb.ac/characters/12504517

Backstory: Lac used to study archaeology in a prestigious school in The Magic Circle, but during a dig that was supposed to be her final project prior to graduating with a master's degree, a devastating earthquake struck her worksite. Separated from her team due to questionable choices in leadership, the elf spent three months slowly being crushed by soil loose enough to allow for breathing, but heavy enough to prevent any viable movement that could lead to escape. In the end, she succumbed to hunger and perished. Thankfully, echoing aftershocks unearthed her body just enough to become partially visible from the surface--enough for a wandering priest looking to loot the dig site to notice the smell of wildflowers coming from where she was buried under. Discovering her faerie circle crowned corpse amidst the rubble, he retrieved her body and whatever was left of her items. Whether it was out of altruism or otherwise, the cleric reposed the remains and took a long journey back to his temple where she was revived and subsequently nursed back to health. Wracked with survivor's guilt and regret over her irresponsibility, Lac became an easy target to assimilate into the faith. She ended up blaming her willfulness to the chaos of the world and adopting the beliefs of trickery into her own escapist mindset. After years in the temple, living under teachings of Juvius and Degranil, she ventured out after her relationship with her savior ended, bored of the priest life and looking for newer things and people to keep her interest.

Sample Prose/Concepts:

• Describe your character as a cryptid.
  • • She stews in the spaces of solace you afford yourself, like sunlight through impossibly thick canopies or a breeze within an earthen tomb. Though she flits sourcelessly, she flits ceaselessly--at the edge of perception, of touch, but never quite there. Sometimes you swear you can hold her. Keep her still enough to see what lies beyond the golden gaze, beyond the trickle of her fingertips, beyond the haze of strings that weave around her in an endless tangle.
      
      But she is never still, and soon you realize...it is only grains of hot and cold sand that slips through your palms when you open your hands. She lingers, though, and you feel it so acutely within you that your vision dances with glee in the effort to search--to make sense of the chaos. Deep down you know it's a futile thing. Sense is a luxury you can't afford in the spiral, after all. So for now your eyes only pirouette. They go round and around, and up and down until they still in a bone chilling sobriety lended by a sliver of disgusting sanity. You wonder--wonder exactly when the water had risen to your knees, wonder how waters so still could meander through lands you're not sure you recognize. You wonder. You wander.
      
      And it is through the confusion that you find her again...and again and again
• What's your character's timeskip design? 
  • • Chaos begets chaos, and though the elf had once used the temperance of divine magic to abate her encroaching fey ancestry, the effort is moot now that centuries have passed. Her magic is stronger than before, ebbing, flowing and more importantly, intermingling within her blood. Outwardly, it manifests on her form in an evident display of her origins. It's odd, actually--how she takes after her mother more. The kiss of leaves on her cheeks give rise to a canopy that accompanies the jutting branches stemming from the base of her ear. Her hair no longer maintains the half-and-half tinge, the entirety instead blanketed by a muted envelope of her season's radiance. Entwined within the locks are wildflowers that flit from reality and not as the sunlight that spills from her gaze is cast all around. There is an ever present air about her reminiscent of something flighty and playful, something unable to be held yet tangibly there. Despite this, wisdom peeks from her expression. It is a gentle and piercing scrutiny that digs into your being.
• What are the core concepts you keep in mind while roleplaying your character?
  • • "My faith is my crutch. My magic is my stopper. It won't last but neither will I." 
    • "Let the chaos sway me, for it's already swept me in its currents before. Might as well give in to it fully." 
    • "There's no use reaching for something greater or trying to be more than what you are. In the end, the whims of the world will show no mercy no matter how far you've gone." 
    • [Summer] Destruction, impulse, scattered thoughts, the more explosive type of mania. Searing heat, the hot afternoon sun, droughts, petrichor, the warmth of the sun as both a blessing and a bane 
    • [Spring] Blooming meadows of wildflowers and weeds, pollen scattered in the air, verdant greenery and dewdrops on grass blades. Gentle thoughtfulness, temperance, indulgent appreciation, loving grace. 
    • [Fall] Earthy scents, bountiful harvests, cool breezes and golden orange hues. Temperance, calm contemplation, a coming chill, scrutiny and lethargy. 
    • [Winter] Crystal white blankets of snow, whipping cold breezes, slumbering states, hearths and the warmth despite the unforgiving cold. Frostbitten remarks, cynicism, malice, a calming chill, comfort drawn from the warmth of others.
• You meet a parallel universe version of your character, how are they different?
  • • The elf ventures further into the darkness of the ruin, the faint snickers of her telltale laugh echoing on the carved walls. Her companions' calls are inaudible behind her, left behind in a fit of her usual disappearances.  
      
      Trudging past the architecture, she marvels at the feat of ancient civilizations- at the grandness of their long gone cultures, at the simplicity of their nuances. Her steps still suddenly, the darkness of the cave giving way to a strange serenity that prompts her to close the light on her lantern. 
      
      As she plunges into the dark, she lets the sensation of blending into the inky void wash over her. The nothingness holds no weight, no responsibility. It promises ease that she can't afford. A resigned chuckle reverberates in the cavern, her mind wandering to things she can't do. 
      
      But her musings are cut short by a sudden jolt that comes from beneath. Her eyes widen. Reflexively, she undoes the latch of her lantern to allow its light to bleed back into the space. What she sees alarms her. Debris rains from above as the earth and stone around shake violently, cracks now marring the preserved ruin she had been studying for years. 
      
      Regret fills her when she thinks of the magic she had invoked earlier from her blood. That would have been mighty useful right about now.  
      
      The elf doesn't wait any longer, breaking out into a run towards where she had come from. However, she is no match for the might of nature, and not even a few feet from her original place, she feels a weight slam into her. The cave spins, a pain that belatedly registers spreading from her side.
      
      ...but then she sees blue? White?  Her body feels heavy, the fire of her nerves now only a dull ache. It takes a few moments, but the sight of the sky leaves her dumbfounded. Wasn't she just....? She shakes off the confusion, forcing herself to stand. Red soil rises with her movements, the laterite laced with grass and wildflowers that grow around her like a mini meadow.  
      
      The elf drags herself to her feet, trudging past the remnants of the mountain. Faintly, she wonders where the ruin is? But her priority to get to safety remains.  
      
      Days later, she finds herself lying on a straw pile atop a moving cart, the sway of the vehicle doing no favors to her spinning mind. The memories swim in the muddled soup yet evade her grasp. However, something bubbles to the surface... 
      
      And she sings. Her voice is by no means pleasant, and even the cart driver turns when they hear. Muttering some apologies, she sits up and wonders about the images that come to her. Ruins, a lake, a meadow, the nuances of a study she doesn't quite grasp. A tale of a map.  
      
      The legends told by buried artifacts. 
      
      She spreads the hymns across the land, eventually picking up a lute to accompany her tales. She feels a vague familiarity with the act, but behind it all, there is an unsettling weight that she is...missing something. Something that she had left behind... Her head swims. She dismisses the thought and continues on her journey
• As another year comes to a close, you find yourself reflecting on what you've lost, gained and learned. How do you feel?  And what is your new year's resolution?
  • • The elf is a little less apologetic as she regards the question, a grin on her features. "Heh, Y'think I keep track of what I lose, gain and learn? HAH. The world is a mess and I'm a mess within that mess- but let's see. I've lost a good chunk of my inventory to some lions, my life to a really stupid mistake, a few good friends..." As she speaks, the carefree demeanor is dulled, shoulders slumping with the thought. Still, she persists, trying to regain her earlier momentum. "But such is life! Burn a few bridges here and there, right? I've gained a lot too though. A place to call home, a growth in my magic and willing accomplice!" She snickers, but can't quite help the softer smile that comes. "As for lessons and all that, I guess the biggest one would be to not go off alone in dangerous places. Resolutions are for people who know where they're going. For me, I move with the whims of the world."

• Though icy air blows past the hall, the elf only shakes her head with the slightest of smiles. No staff today. Instead, she sweeps silver-gold gauntlet clad hands over the rectangular reliquary on her belt. The chill already present becomes more prevalent,  frost spreading on Stralia's form like growing cracks. It carries an uncanny sensation of cold that permeates beyond her skin. It is erratic and bone-deep, the magic mending her bones until finally, the building snow turns to a full flurry. It is then Lac releases her hold on the spell, and the druid finds the pain has numbed into a nothingness.
• Lips set into an easygoing smile, Lac exhales a light enough laugh at the remark. "A broad term, I know I know. But accurate, no? Or would y'rather something...more high brow? Arcane researches?" Though she jests, her gaze--a muted golden orange that accentuates the fey features that framing narrowed eyes--bleeds a faint discernment as it drifts to the sight of his tail. One brow raises in an unspoken query, but it remains unspoken as she turns her attention to his movements next. 
  
  "Hah, depends, huh? Well, I've got a few spells that need casting. As one does, y'know how it is." She begins casually, nodding in acknowledgement just as she slips through the threshold made by his form and the door. "But to do this, I need a few things. Most of them not usually found in the usual places of a snowy hovel like this." Before she proceeds further, she lingers and looks back to him, waiting for his lead.
• The morning rays that filter through the resplendent windows of the guild serve to accentuate the blooming grove that appears within its halls. Coupled with the scent of wildflowers lingering in the air, the sight almost lends the illusion of a spring meadow if not for how fleeting it is. Left in the display's wake is an elf, exactly the one responsible for the spell. With an indulgent stretch, she meanders through the guild towards the coffers. For a bit, she begins to count out the week's tax when a realization makes her stop. 
  
  "Wait...it's not tax day yet, isn't it?" She mutters to herself, a sigh of exasperation escaping her lips. Lamenting the wasted magic, she deigns it apt to plop into one of the place's many cushions, eyes trained on the ceiling above her.
• Lac looks on darkly, finally nodding in resignation. "FINE." She snaps, slamming her staff to the ground and letting the chaos of divinity intertwine with the encroaching fey ancestry. Last time she tried this she was in Winter to dampen the effects. Now as the blood of Summer flows in her veins and the pendant of the sun hanging from her neck glows a searing light, she grins and lets sunbeams rain on the fire.
  
  Night turns to day in a flash, Lac grinning widely as the whims of fate whisk her away. From half of her hair turning a pale yellow- the effect now encompasses her entirety.  "Now! Don't let me get hit hehehehe!" She repositions and winks