Smelling of freshly baked cookies and rich oil makeup, Mezolene Finch's physical loveliness is undeniable. Yet what makes her completely irresistible isn't simply her beauty, but rather how she wears it. With a forceful and honest bearing wielded with all the forthrightness of a mother, she can skewer the heart of anyone with a single word or gaze.
Often struck by the inner beauty of those around her, her own purity is all the brighter for it, blinding even those without astral senses in this dark realm with her unsullied view of the world. Open and outgoing, those eyes are the spark for her friendly demeanor.
Richly tanned, her soft skin is the hue of gold. Her beauty is unsettling in it's flawless grace, her slender nose, cresting eyebrows, and deep lavender eyes too finely fitted to be crafted by the hand of chance and breeding. An ivory and platinum device as intricate as it is thick wraps about her neck, ornately sculpted gold inlaid across the choker.
About her body is a petite burgundy satin vest, cunningly woven with strips of a pale white leather. The garment is left open, exposing her slickened flesh from the collar down to the sash at her navel. It fails to hide the swell of her breasts from prying eyes, though it offers some coverage for her small dark nipples.
Her golden hair rattles as she walks, an ornate weave of braids, beads, and bells decorating the thick length of cascading black. It extends down to her calves, and would likely trail on the ground behind her if not for the fact she wore the braided tail bound upwards at the back of her head.
A ragged shawl the shade of cream is wrapped around her legs in the fashion of a layered gypsy skirt, it obscures the peanut butter tinted leather pants that hug her legs like a lover. Her boots are of the same pale leather as her vest's highlights, and possess a number of straps and buckles up the length of her shin.
Locked around her forearms are the companion pieces to her collar, gauntleted manacles that radiate aero magic. Her arms are bare and smooth save for the ivory and gold gauntlets, though she often wears a pair of pale white leather gloves to protect her delicate fingers.
The Treasure of Adelaide, Mezolene Finch. The only daughter, she is the eldest of four siblings. The Finch family are vintners, crafters of the sacramental wines, but they are best known for the legends of their ancestors, who formed a paladial order that policed the kingdoms in the lawless dark ages. She is a credit to them, honest and giving, she has no skill nor interest in duplicity or those who practice it. Indeed, she is said to be incapable of telling a lie, though more likely she simply chooses not to.
But then she has always been a strange girl. Outgoing and friendly, she is often described as strangely empathic. It isn't any sort of mystical trickery or power of her birthright. Simply that she pays attention to people with a keen focus. Her senses are said to be particularly accute. In the legends her great grandfather was known to have such a talented tongue, not only was he an accomplished wine expert... it was said he could taste the memories of others from a bit of sweat or blood. But again, that's only a legend.
Regardless, her fighting skills are based largely upon the massive amounts of time she has spent perfecting her control of the four winds. It requires intense meditation upon the air around ones self. So much so that she can fight blind, relying upon the rush of air as her opponent moves. Her own agility is augmented by her aerial abilities, making her seem at times preternaturally nimble.
Largely defensive, her weapon of choice is the singing staff, an extendable metal rod that is hollowed and pierced with holes, giving it a haunting whistling sound as it moves through the air. Her fighting style is evasive, allowing her opponents to exhaust themselves striking at the air. Mezolene often tries to talk them down, but upon failing, with reluctance, she takes advantage of their exhaustion and complacency, going rapidly on the offensive. She is rarely known to require more than one strike to stop an opponent.
Possessing eidetic memory and a penchant for languages, she is an ideal student, grasping her lessons with an almost unsettling ease. There are few who can harbor any malice towards her, as she has a tendency to reach out to all she meets and make them friends. She achieves and achieves, yet never with any hint of arrogance. Indeed, she is always eager to help others whenever she can, going well out of her way to help those above and below her.
But even the most lovely flower is far from perfect. Mezolene hears the call of the wind and tastes the lives of others, but she admits to being envious of Nikkolas. Though she feels that she is honing her skills for good, they are still the tools of war. To mend wounds and banish sickness seems a truer course to her, yet... though she knows the herbs by heart, she simply lacks the knack for true miracles of the flesh.
And as she felt envy for him, so too did she feel pity for Jakalin. Something seethed in the core of that girl. It didn't take an empathic aeromancer to see the fire that smoldered in her heart. Mending the flesh came easy to Nikkolas, but no one Mezolene had met knew how to mend the soul.
Certainly, she tried. In a thousand small ways, and a dozen big ones, she made her love known. And she did love Jakalin, this was true. The white knuckles she constantly clenched, the dour expression she always had, the long braids Mezolene had seen fit to emulate by braiding her own golden hair. Like Nikkolas, Mezolene had spent much time watching Jakalin.
There was something to love in every person, if you looked hard enough, and Mezolene had in these two friends. These days would not last forever, she knew that. But she was happiest when they were together, Jakalin fuming and Nikkolas brooding. It seemed to her as if there was nothing that could ruin those glorious afternoons with the ones she loved doing what they did best.
Jakalin, never relenting. Nikkolas, never smiling. Mezolene would smile for the both of them, and offer up a basket of sweets. They still didn't smile, but they never turned away the cakes. Maybe she read too much into that.
But then... that was what she did. She was Mezolene Finch.