Sarn's Foxy Fursona

[Deleted]

Name: Sarinon Brightfeather
Forum Nickname: Sarn
Species: Feberi (without wings)
Age: 23
Height: 6'

Appearance: Sarinon's fair colouring, coupled with her Feberi features and tall stature, make her stand out from the crowd. Her hair, silvery white, reaches past her shoulders and rests midway down her back, falling forward to frame her round face. Her pale, almost translucent skin compliments her hair nicely and serves to enhance the brightness of her eyes.

Shifting from the softest shade of pink, to the brightest of blues and deep purple, Sarinon's irises, though almost totally blind from birth, are always changing their colour. Another strange feature is the shifting nature of her eyes themselves as her gaze jumps from one thing to another without ceasing, even when her eyes are closed.

Though not 'pretty', Sarinon's soft features and strange eyes give her a mildly ethereal quality similar to that of her twin brother. Her petite build and pale complexion give Sarinon the appearance of frailty, but she is by no means fragile. Her thin arms and legs are not strong, but they are tough and the Feberi can move very swiftly. She is able to sprint faster than most humans, though not for long periods of time.

Her movements are slow and precise and because of her lack of sight, she is cautious, always hesitant to move. She can be very graceful, but is more often slightly clumsy, although she is nimble and dexterous.

Personality: Sarinon is a firm pacifist. She is soft spoken and gentle, Sarinon has a sense of stillness about her that seems to calm those she is with. Often unwilling to assume such roles, she is not beyond stepping out into a task she is unfamiliar with or uncomfortable in conducting. She is firm in her beliefs and moral views but does her best to respect the differing opinions of others.

She has a well of emotional strength upon which she can draw in hard times, though she does have her own need of support. Sarinon allows precious few people to see her as anything but calm.

She often doubts herself and her abilities and finds it difficult to comprehend that other people could love her. She strives to make people happy, wishing only to heal their pain and even goes to the lengths of sacrificing her own happiness, though she draws the line at serious physical harm.

A rarely seen side of Sarinon is her ferocity. Normally it would take a lot to make her angry, her capacity to forgive and accept others gives her patience, but on occasion, she has been known to set aside her pacifist ways and lash out at someone with her full fury. Being deeply empathetic and sympathetic, this means that she often knows exactly the right place to target in order to break her opponent, though this side of her personality has only ever been seen once. Sarinon is very aware of her ability to cut people down and so is careful with her words.

She has a great love of music and her ears are attuned to melodies so much so that she can extract individual notes from a tune. She is proficient in several instruments and loves to sing quietly, though she is very nervous of her ability and reveals it to few people.

Clothing: Sarinon wears a long purple dress of gentle velvet with golden stitching and a cream shirt underneith.

Magical Capabilities: Sarinon's lack of sight gave her the ability to communicate telepathically with those around her. She can cause ideas, emotions and even mental images to appear in the mind of anyone she chooses and she uses this, in conjunction with her empathy, to comfort people. It also has its advantages in difficult situations or when Sarinon does not wish to be overheard talking.

First telepathic contact requires that she be touching the person being contacted, though once she has become familiar with the unique minds of those she communicates with, Sarinon's ability is not limited by geographical distance. She can identify the minds of those she has touched before and communicate with them no matter how far they are from her.

Her connection with the Star Dance is different to that held by her brother. By all rights she is a Feberi enchanter as he is and she hears the Dance itself much more clearly than Sariphe does, however, the only use she can gain from it is to use her speech or song to calm the souls of others around her.

It is also important to note that Sarinon is greatly affected by the melodies of Feberi enchantments in any form. She goes into what might be called a daydream and becomes much less aware, though not oblivious, of the world around her.

Transformations: Sarinon can change her form to that of a red and silver fox with her bright purple eyes. The transformation requires effort and concentration, but once completed, Sarinon can stay as a fox indefinately. It also requires the same effort to return to her Feberi form. She uses this skill only rarely when in danger.

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[Deleted]

History

Prologue
Spreading his pure white wings, Wolven glided down from Scarp, leveling out when he reached the canopy of the Avondell and enjoying the feel of the wind as it rushed past his thin body. He dropped his wings slightly to brush them against the topmost leaves of the trees and smiled as they whipped past, dislodging a number of his pale feathers.

Coming closer to the planes, Wolven swooped down, landing gently on the forest floor. He breathed in the scent of damp earth and folded his wings gently behind him, Taking care to tread lightly, the Feberi followed a forest trail, enjoying the peace and tranquility it offered and wondered where he should sleep for the night.

Six days he had been following the Avondell from the Fortress Ranges down the Fairwash River and further west to the borderlands. Each morning he would rise with the sun and soar effortlessly south over the forest, and each evening, he would make his bed in a quiet glade and sleep wrapped in his wings, listening to the birdsong as he drifted into the realm of slumber.

It had been a quiet time. Wolven had not spoken an audible word sine he had left the northern glades at Beltide where he had said his farewells to his family and friends. They had all flown back north again to celebrate the dawning of spring and the renewal of the world, thundering upon thousands of pairs of wings back to Taliem, the mountain home of the Feberi.

None of them had understood his reasons for not wanting to return, they had all protested, some had even grown angry and his father had turned his back, lifting off the ground without even saying goodbye. Wolven himself could not explain his compulsion to go south. All he knew was that it felt right and it gave him time to reflect.

He had traveled the first few days with the Rushvine Clan who invited him to walk with them, since they were following the trail of food south. He had not spoken to them, and after the second night with them, they parted ways.

He had traveled at a leisurely pace, taking his time and enjoying himself as much as possible, but the duress to move ever southward still lay upon his heart, and so he continued flying and walking. Now, though, he stood in the southernmost region of the Avondell and watched the sun, blazing even in death, fade behind the trees.

Wolven hummed gently, entwining his song with that of the trees, and decided he would watch the sunset from the tree line. He walked the last few paces to where the forest gave way to the Forbidden Valley and then the Seagrass planes, turning his eyes westward. There he stood and watched the death of the sun and the Feberi let his own voice die along with it, standing in silent reverence of the world and all its beauty.

It was only when the glorious sunset had given way to the bright stars of the firmament that Wolven turned his gaze to the valley itself. His gaze followed the line of the river as it emerged from the forest further north and ran parallel with the border before spilling out onto the planes and curving to the southwest. It dawned upon him that he was the first Feberi in millennia to look upon the land that had once been swarming with Feberi. He bowed his head, closing his eyes and breathing a silent prayer of praise to the Star Gods and when he looked up again, it was to meet the eyes of a human.

She was a woman, slender and pale with hair the colour of golden thread. She stood on the near bank of the river staring directly at the Feberi, though she was too far away to see her expression, even with his enhanced enchanter vision. Wolven froze, unsure what he should do. He had been taught to fear and loathe humans like nothing else, he, like all other Feberi children, had been taught about the Wars of the Axe and how the humans drove them from their homeland.

But this young woman did not look dangerous, nor had she made any move, either to fight or flee, but had simply watched him, and he, her. The woman looked down at the bundle in her arms, placed it gently on the ground and took a tentative step toward the trees. Then, returning her gaze to him, she took another until she was walking slowly and gracefully, aiming directly for Wolven.

His ears ringing, his heart pounding, the Feberi considered fleeing into the forest or calling out a challenge to the advancing woman, but before he could make up his mind, she had already stopped only a few paces away from him. He couldn’t help but notice that her smile lit up her face in the same way that the stars lit the winter snow in the mountains. Her long golden hair lifted slightly in the evening breeze and her light blue eyes watched him closely.

They stood in silence for a long time, each watching the other in open curiosity, all thought of fleeing gone. She stepped forward again, stepping softly over the ground and moved behind him. Wolven turned his head, keeping the rest of his body still and watched her as she reached out her slender fingers, gently touching the gleaming feathers of his wings. Still keeping his silence, Wolven extended his wing for her and smiled as she caressed his soft feathers, her eyes wide with wonder.

“I…” he hesitated, fearing to break the placid silence, but the woman continued to smile at him, “I am Wolven.” He inclined his head slightly to her and turned his wings outward in the traditional Feberi gesture of respect. She bowed her head in return before looking up again to meet his gaze.

“My name is Asiya.”

***

Nine Months Later

Asiya sat on a large, flat rock, her arms wrapped around herself. She had been sitting by the Fairwash for what seemed like hours when she finally heard the soft rustling sound which heralded the arrival of the man she had been waiting for. Wolven dropped from the sky and touched down a few paces away from where she sat. He folded his wings neatly and smiled at her with such love and warmth.

The young woman slipped from her perch, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders to stave off the biting winter night. No sooner had Wolven taken her hand than she found she could not contain herself any longer. Her body trembled as she opened her mouth to speak, but the tears came before the words, halting them so that Asiya stood, weeping helplessly.

Wolven’s smile faded instantly and he stepped forward, wrapping her in his arms and wings and cradling her head against his shoulder, stroking her back and soothing her while she cried salty tears into his white down.

“Shush,” he whispered, holding her close, “I’m here, Tyinar.”

“I… I didn’t think you would come,” she gulped, the sound muffled by Wolven’s wings. He continued to hold her until she pulled away slightly. He let go of her only reluctantly, raising a hand to brush the tears from her pale cheek.

“I am sorry, I would have been here sooner, but a band of humans stalked the edge of the forest. I did not want to risk flying. But tell me, what is the matter?” He rubbed her shoulder gently, helping her to the tree line where they could be sheltered from the wind. Asiya let his arm direct her, walking meekly, even allowing him to guide her to a seat on a fallen log. There, he crouched before her, his wings splayed out on the ground behind him, and held her hands in his. The Feberi waited patiently while she wiped her face clean and steadied her breathing.

“What will I do?”

Wolven’s face fell. He knew exactly what she was referring to.

“What will he think? What will he do to me? Gods, what will he do to you!”

“I don’t care what he does to me, let us focus on you-“ Wolven had hardly begun his statement when Asiya gave him a look of deep remorse, interrupting him with a harsh tone. “I care,” she cried angrily, “I care what happens to you. Soon, my father will return and he will notice. I cannot stay hidden forever. And what happens when the time comes?”

Wolven reached a hand up to brush her golden hair back from her face, but Asiya pushed him away and stood with some difficulty, turning her back on him and pacing away. She paused, looked up at the canopy and then turned around to face him again. He was still couched in front of the log, his head bowed low in what appeared to be shame. She felt a pang of pity for him and stepped closer, placing her hand on his hair, silvery-white like his wings.

“Gods, Wolven, what have we done to ourselves?” She laughed bitterly, a sound which cut at Wolven’s heart. He looked up to see her standing before him. Even through her thick layers of clothing, he could see her swollen stomach.

“The whole village knows. All of them. No one has said anything, but I hear them whisper and they cease when they see me. I hid myself for as long as I could-“ She paused and Wolven’s broken voice spoke

“I’m so sorry. What have I done to you?”

Asiya’s eyes began to water again but she held the tears back. It was not like her to give in to such weakness, but the way the Feberi had spoken was almost unbearable. She stepped over to him, placed her hands on his shoulders and lifted him up. He stood obediently and let her stroke his cheek.

“You have given me a wonderful gift. Two wonderful gifts. Do not feel so bad. We will get through.” For the first time since she had found herself pregnant, Asiya did not doubt her own assertion. She found the strength to smile for him and he smiled back at her.

“Come away with me.”

She looked closely at him, scrutinizing his face, wanting to make certain that he was serious. She looked down slightly, her brow furrowing as Wolven waited anxiously for her answer.

“I can’t… I…”

Wolven took hold of her shoulders gently and leaned down to kiss her. “What have you got to lose? There is nothing left there for you. All that awaits you is suffering at the hands of your father. Come with me and we can stay in the forest until you can travel. I could take you to Taliem with me where, if it pleases you, I would be honoured to wed you before the Talon.”

Asiya needed no further persuasion. She looked deeply into Wolven’s eyes and smiled. “Yes.” The two of them grinned at each other, all trace of worry forgotten for this one moment of joy shared between them. It was only when Wolven broke the silence that their worldly worries returned to them.

“We should leave as soon as possible; get deep inside the forest…” He was about to turn away when Asiya took his hand gently and stroked it. “I can’t,” she said quietly.

“But… you just said-“

“I know, and I will come with you… My uncle’s sword… I have to go back for it.”

“Asiya,”

“No! I will not leave it in the hands of my father. Dain’s memorial deserves to be carried by those who love him, not the one who caused his death.”

Wolven saw Asiya’s resolve and sighed deeply. He knew she would not leave without such retrieving the prized possession of the only family who had ever loved her. He kissed her cheek gently and murmured, “I will go.” He saw her open her mouth to protest but he pressed his hand to her stomach and she paused before nodding. Taking her cloak, she swung it around Wolven’s shoulders in a vain attempt to hide his huge gleaming wings.

“No matter what happens, stay in the forest, stay hidden. I will be back and then we will begin anew.” He smiled for her, then pulled up the hood and turned to walk toward the edge of the forest. Asiya gulped slightly, holding back her fear as she watched the tips of Wolven’s huge wings protrude from the bottom of the cloak and drag on the ground as he went.

Wolven went quickly, following the river until it curved away and he emerged from the valley onto the Seagrass plains. Once in the open, he tugged the cloak tighter against the chill winter air and continued pacing towards the dark shadows on the horizon which was Sevyn.

There were no visible lights when he arrived, sneaking around the corners of the low mudbrick houses, but he had the light of the moon and of the stars. He sang a few notes of an enchantment, a ward of protection, and then proceeded to walk the path he usually watched Asiya tread, along the side of a garden, through a field where wintered cattle lowed gently, and over the fence to the manor-like house.

He shrugged the cloak back slightly and stepped out onto the rough path that led to the door, hoping that no one would see him. He touched his hand to the rough wooden door and pushed gently, flinching as the hinges groaned loudly into the still night. Stepping as quietly as he could, Wolven made his way swiftly into the house and glanced around the room. He instantly spotted the sword hanging on the wall.

***

Asiya sat just inside the tree line, her arms wrapped around her swollen belly, fingers splayed. She felt once more, the rippling pain she had experienced several times, each growing more intense than the last. She gasped for breath as the pain wracked her abdomen.

Praying that Wolven would come quickly, praying that it was not time, that it was a false alarm, Asiya let the pain subside and then clawed her way to her feet, shaking slightly. She stumbled to the edge of the forest, growing stronger once more, and looked out onto the valley and surrounding plains. She could see Sevyn in the distance and…

Thank the Stars in heaven! she breathed as she spotted a cloaked figure emerging from one of the valley’s many twisting paths. She let go of the tree she was using for support and stumbled out to him, glad beyond measure that he had returned safe. But he was not alone.

She froze as she saw the second figure emerge from the same path. The figure stopped, having spotted Asiya coming from the forest, the newcomer raised his head and threw back his hood, staring in disgust at his daughter.

“Father!” Asiaya exclaimed in horror. The man’s eyes moved from Asiya’s to her belly and then to Wolven, who had spun around at Asiya’s cry.

A long, slender blade glinted as it caught the moonlight, an angry glint appeared in the man’s eye, loathing etched into every line of his crinkled face. He advanced slowly toward Wolven whose face filled with fear as he fumbled for his bow with one hand, the other still clutched around the sword of Asiya’s uncle. Seeing his fear, her father charged the Feberi, slashing furiously at his chest. Wolven dodged swiftly and gave up on his bow, instead drawing the sword he still clutched.

“You foul… you disgusting… What daughter of mine are you that you take up with a friend of the Forbidden?” spat the man who was Asiya’s father as he cut and slashed at Wolven. The Feberi could do nothing but step and jump out of the way, unwilling to strike his lady’s father, even to save his own life.

Asiya, watched in horror, her hands clutched tightly to her stomach. Her lip was bleeding where she had bitten down on it, her whole body shaking in rage and indignation. She charged forward to where Wolven was slowly being backed up against a tumble of boulders and faced her father.

Wolven tripped on the tip of his wing as he saw Asiya move between them, her back slumped by the weight of her pregnancy. He stumbled and struggled to regain his footing, ready to shove Asiya out of harm’s way when an angry yell from her father sounded. The tip of a bloodied blade, glistening bright red, burst from her back.

Already the wound had stained her white dress, already the blood gushed copiously. Wolven cried out in misery and swept Asiya into his arms. Tossing the cloak away, he spread his wings and lifted off the ground, carrying his lady, blade and all, high above the trees. A furious scream from below clawed at Wolven’s heart and he struggled to stay airborne as the grief took over.

Asiya spluttered, gasping as her lungs slowly filled with blood. Her hands convulsed and her eyes grew hazy with thick, salty tears as she looked upon the stricken face of her love. Wolven flew, barely aware of anything else except his woman, fighting for her life. He needed help, he could not heal her; his heart was breaking even as her eyes closed to the world.

Instinct told him where to go and Wolven landed in the forest, not caring that the dense trees tore at his wings as he did so. There, only a few paces away, an Avon woman watched him. He stumbled forward, his ruined wings dragging behind him, and fell to his knees before her, Asiya clutched to his chest. Looking up at her with a tear-stained face, he whispered softly, brokenly.

“Please… Please help her.”

The woman called for aid and tore strips of cloth from her tunic to stem the bleeding. Two men came from the camp nearby; men Wolven vaguely registered were from the Rushvine Clan whom he had walked with on his journey to the plains. They lifted Asiya from his grasp and carried her inside a tent where Lyi, a Bane and healer, worked to save the woman.

Wolven paced outside the tent for hours, making small noises of grief and agitation, refusing all food, water and comfort. When Lyi emerged, her face told him more than her words could. He fell to the ground, his face turned skyward and wept loudly, shaking with the intensity of his grief. Lyi touched his shoulder gently and whispered what words of comfort she could, letting him empty his eyes of the tears.

“Wolven,” she said softly, “you have not lost all this day.”

Lyi held the tent flap open as Wolven entered, stooping to pass under the low lintel. Lying in the half-light, Asiya’s pale silver-white body was cleansed of all traces of her wound. Her blood stained dress had been replaced by a thin woolen tunic and her belly was flat. A woman stepped forward from the edges of the tent, a baby cradled in each of her arms.

Wolven looked back to Lyi, who stood just outside the tent. She nodded at him slightly and he turned back to the women, lifting his arms to her. She stepped forward and placed the two bundles into his arms before bowing in respect and leaving. Wolven knelt by Asiya’s body, his children clutched in his arms, and could not hold back his tears any longer.

“A girl and a boy, Tyinar. Beautiful baby twins, my love.”

He bent his white head and kissed Asiya one last time.

Star Dance

Coming soon...

[Lizzie]

o.o

Sarn, if PFA is your child, then I'm your grandchild.

o.o

[Nova]

I just looked at this now, and I realized that I'm your grandpa, dad and brother. XDDDD;;;;

That's the tabloids for ya x3