Unknown, over 5000 years.Race:
Given inhuman natures and racial preferences, Ceanothus enjoys the taste of blood for both nourishment and sex. She also has a preference for retaining her smaller form through most acts. (For more extensive O&O, please refer to my own.)Powers/Abilities: Racial Talents:
- Size manipulation: The demi-fey are capable of changing their sizes from inches tall to something more Ďhumaní sized.
- Healing: In a limited scope, Ceanothus may heal moderate wounds.
- Glamour: Considered a specialty among the fae/sidhe, the demi-fey enjoy glamour of astounding proportions. Illusions of sight, smell, taste, hearing, and even touch are possible with little chance to dispel them without strong magic or proper precautions taken.
- Oath-bound: The fey never lie, and will not tolerate lies. This power is a double-edged sword, punishing the fae all the more severely. Called oath-breakers invite misfortune unless they make amends to the offended.
- Bloom: With the element of nature strong inside her, Ceanothus has minor power over plants to call their greenery or make them bloom.
ďBloomĒ Naginata Ė An enchanted weapon gifted by the now deceased King. Itís size will always directly correlate with Ceanís own, growing or decreasing with her size. Folded steel is knapped to elongated hilt fitted to her delicate grasp, polished to a high black sheen. Ornamentation is kept only to crossguard, shaped into golden wings and holding, just beneath, a shimmering orb of polished tanzanite.Skills:
- Proficient in blades, though her preference is for the Naginata alone.
In most instances, Cean prefers to remain in her Ďtrueí form at a mere 14 inches of height. When fully sized, she may stand up to five feet, six inches. Even without glamour, her hair gleams as if spun of rubies. Her eyes are a brilliant blue-gray, as if a piece of the sky where dawn met dusk was forever captures in her gaze. Milky flesh contains a pearlescent gleam, something otherworldly and enchanted. Preference of garb runs to silks diaphanous and gauzy, barely hiding her diminutive figure from curious eyes. It also allows for the spread of wings protruding from her backside. Above is a pale velvety gray, though beneath lies a profusion of colors in crimson with tracing of blue veins in distinctive patterns. Eye spots are pale lilac, smaller atop. In truth, it is difficult to make out the pattern of her wings, for though they have a butterfly appearance, they buzz more like a beeís in haste to keep her greater weight aloft when in flight. Along right calf is a tattoo of her namesake, dripping blooms of blues and lavenders amidst dark green of leaves.Personality:
Outwardly, the dainty fae embodies her race to perfection. Strikingly beautiful in appearance, giggling and flighty, perhaps a little petulant, she seems to do little more than flit about the castle and gardens. Her penchant for sweets is a well-known staple, and in fact a need considering the energy used in her smaller state. She thrives on touch, often seeking a hand or shoulder to perch on. Oft one might find her peddling her innocent charms to cadge a bit of sweets, nectar, or Ė if the desires of her kind grow too strong Ė a bit of blood.
Beneath of veneer of guise lies every bit of proof that she has lived longer and seen more than most of her contemporaries. Such sharpness hidden beneath aloof faÁade is why she was named the Queenís Bodyguard, and charged with her protection. Few had seen the fierceness that lurks beneath, the precision of her blows when the smile leaves berry ripeness of lips. History:
Once, millennia ago, courts of fae abounded through the lands. It was said that the demi-fey were the root of all magic, the predecessors and true holders of infinite power. They forged the kingdoms through the benevolence of the Goddess, and from there her powers fractured to inhabit others of the realm Ė the mighty werewolves, the stealthy cat sidhe, even the night dwellers. But, most especially, the favored magic wielders soon gifted with kingdoms in the world above the sithens.
Ceanothus cared little about the kingdoms forged and lost through blood and marriage. She cared, for many years, only about her own sithen. Her own underground kingdom and its queen, fair Nicevan, were her only world. ďBeyondĒ existed without consequence, save for the Wardings that happened at times when encroaching populace combined with and bloodshed, until the fey were forced to seal parts of their greater powers away in order to restore harmony and balance to the lands.
The last of these Wardings occurred some two thousand years ago.
What happened before these times is hardly discussed, considered rude by other fae who would rather forget what they had lost. It was at this time that Ceanothus took her chosen and final name, swayed heavily by the blossoms she favored. She had a particular fondness for the subtly scented flower, and among many of her brethren it was considered her signature bloom. Her choice was rewarded by the Goddess, resulting in the mark of namesake upon her leg.
The passage of years was felt within the sithen and without. With drastic drop of power and a sudden urge to sequester themselves, the demi-fey were largely forgotten in the world, until their portrayal was a mockery of its former self. They were things of fairy tales and legends, merry little people, or impish at best. Inside the walls of the sithen, Queen Nicevan sank to levels of depravity unseen. Her once golden court was painted red in the blood of the torture. The demi-fey grew to love the taste of blood and darker things, dispatched oft to stain their tiny mouths in a mass feeding. Even Ceanothus felt these darker urges and indulged frequently, though the voice of the Goddess sounded lesser in her ear. The blades she had learned for years in the great wars of yesteryear became greater companions, used for pleasure more than necessity.
The tales are numerous, indeed, but similar for many a year. When her people were a mere memory, tragedy struck her far from their aid. Foolishly alone and drunk on the nectars of plentiful spring, Ceanothus rolled within the pollens until she was lazed, content, heavy-lidded and still. Her indulgence took her far from the sithens, into the joyous wood of the White Kingdom. The territory was favored for its profusion of flowers.
So very foolish she was, especially when the brittle hands of a crone seized her, cackling delight. Before the tiny demi-fey could react, the croneís cold iron bracelet was wrapped around her. The pain was intense, immediately burning through her flesh with an intensity that made the little one scream for death. Final dredges of strength leant glamour to her cries, so that they resounded through the forest.
Luck alone saved her in the guise of White King Ė then a prince Ė who braved the crone for the sake of unknown. Ceanothus was stricken by his regal demeanor, his power, his fair face. If ever the creature could love, she chose her mate in that instance. He nursed her back to health, using his magic to extract the poison of iron from her blood to keep her safe. When recovered, she never quite felt like leaving the maleís side. Preferring her smaller side, the demi-fey never expressed her love. She showed it in smaller ways and countless services, begged for a taste of his body and blood and, when he grew to strapping manhood and found his queen, pledged her life to the Kingís love and livelihood.
The King was overjoyed by this arrangement, for his trust in Ceanothus was great. Knowing of her skill, he charged her to wait on his lady and guard her from harm, a duty she has taken in all seriousness since. His death was a devastation kept private in her tiny heart. Though Ceanothus languished, she devoted herself moreso to the safety to the well-being of Queen and Prince. If she had been there, his death would never have come to pass.
She truly believed that.