Adventuring through twisted time.
Five feet tall with a sylphlike figure, Mothwick appears in her youthful twenties. Drawing her power from the moon; by night, her body glows with a soft blue moonlight aura, with porcelain skin, lavender eyes, and shimmering rose gold hair long, full and wavy, colored after the night-blooming water lilies in her mother's elm grove, where she was born. The sun withers her unearthly fair beauty away; by day, like a wilted brown flower, with warm beige skin, dark brown eyes, and sun-kissed copper-brown hair she can glamour to appear more dark, dull and limp so as to not draw attention to herself in the presence of humans. Among fae, she is fond of glamouring herself with pearl luster face markings and other bodily designs. At ease, her tone of voice is soft, sweet and bubbly, a lilting songbird with a slightly Scottish accent. Traditionally, she wears peasant dresses and skirts, mostly shades of brown, reserving white for formal settings, including her academic uniform of white robes.
Nature's Choice. Empathetic of plants and animals, Mothwick tries to extend the same courtesy of kindness to everyone, yet can be stuck up and callous to those whose lifestyles don't agree with her own. In protecting Nature, she is adamantly vegan, her fae body requiring very little to survive. A poor cook, given her raw diet of fruit and vegetables. She is very spiritual, valuing art, music and meditation, gifted with a lovely singing voice and skill at playing instruments.
Air Conditioner. Mothwick specializes in air, her birth element, by far the easiest and most powerful for her to wield. Gliding on air, she is exceptionally light of foot and a graceful dancer, without need for shoes as her feet barely touch the ground. She favors air for its ubiquity and inconspicuousness, an invisible tool for someone who would rather stay invisible. As a weapon, she can compress air into fine streams that can abrase or cut with enough force, though her powers do require the use of her hands to manipulate.
Exhausted Pigeon. Neither an early bird nor a night owl, Mothwick suffers from an erratic sleeping schedule, her spirit willing to be a morning person yet her body weak during the day, naturally geared for being nocturnal, rejuvenated by the moon, when her powers are strongest and thus more demanded of her at night. She can be very moody and lethargic with bouts of narcolepsy during the day, falling asleep anywhere and suddenly.
When Life Gives You Melons. Terribly dyslexic, Mothwick is practically illiterate, barely able to read and write in whatever fae language there is, let alone that of other species. She does, however, possess a photographic memory, along with decent art skills that serve her well as a cartographer and archivist, drawing and replicating maps and historical artifacts.
Mothwick was born in Fairbridge, a fae kingdom beneath the ice of Antarctica. Legends say their kind lived above with humans, when Antarctica was a green and temperate place, until war stripped the land barren and cold, and time broke the continent away, sending the fair-folk into hiding. Air and water became invaluable elements of protection, concealing their kingdom from human eyes. Icicle and crystal formations reflected pockets of natural light throughout the entire realm, allowing the fae to flourish underground, in a tropical paradise lit by a sky of a thousand rainbows.
A lowly commoner from the waterfall hamlet of Fallcoast, Mothwick was born under the light of the moon. An odd stroke of fate, for a fae who turned out such a sunny disposition and was quite the morning person. Named after the nocturnal moth, it was her parents' hope that she might always be drawn to the light, even the slightest flame of a candle wick, to see her through her darkest nights.
As a child, she was a tad dismayed about not looking more like her parents. No horns or hooves like her satyr father, or leafy hair and green skin like her dryad mother. Her parents assured her that such traits would develop with age as she became one with nature. Already the moon kissed her with its glow, born with shimmering pale skin, rose gold hair, and lavender eyes, the colors of the night-blooming water lilies in her mother's elm grove. While unearthly fair and glowing at night, the sun turned her into a wilted brown flower that could not be glamoured away, as ordinary as any human by day.
Her parents called her "Mossy" or "Little Wing". Her mother, Raingrass, taught her about plants, and preferred to stay close to home, tending to the elm grove she dwelled in. Her father, Figlark, was slightly more nomadic as a shepherd, and taught Mothwick how to spin and weave wool. He made a small income of selling fleece and cloth to merchants, and sometimes had to deal with other fae trying to steal his sheep. While Mothwick loved both of her parents, it was her father she loved best, accompanying him to the pasture to look after the sheep, and listening to him play the flute and lyre that would attract the songbirds to rest on his horns. Her mother had the more beautiful singing voice, and together they filled Mothwick's early years with song and dance, passing that rhythm onto her.
Her parents, both ancient and wholly infatuated with each other, had a number of children too old and too many for Mothwick to get to know of, but was able to have her pick of the lot that was still around. A few close siblings and friends made her childhood happy and carefree, frolicking with animals and playing with her budding powers. With channels reaching out to the sea, she even saw a few sirens on occasion, in Fallscoast. Just like the winged moth, her birth element took after air, like her father as well, who could form melodies on the wind and waltz on the breeze. Uplifting her skills, her parents desired to send her to school, to learn from the best teachers Fairbridge had to offer.
Reaching maturity, she journeyed to Mirrorvale, the capital city. Competition at the prestigious Mirrorvale Academy was fierce. If one didn't have wealth, they had talent. For Mothwick, it was more hard work than anything else, if determination was her talent, pushing herself day and night to shine her skills apart from those of finer breeding and nobler name. By the end of her trials, she had scraped by enough sponsorship to hold a spot for her at the academy, though the struggle for tuition and whims of her sponsors meant her place was far from secure. Coming from a meager, obscure family without a surname, she was given the honor of founding her own for the academy's registry. Mothwick Elmsong, after her mother's elm grove in Fallscoast. For without the support of her parents, she would have never dreamed of meeting the challenge at Mirrorvale Academy.
As an air adept, Mothwick holds a high responsibility of "keeping the roof up" over the kingdom of Fairbridge, working with other air and water faes to patch ice and cool the surface against the underground greenhouse temperatures. Aside from community service and training, she tours with the Mirrorvale Sylphs, a troupe and orchestra known for its graceful wind dancers. If not a feat of great power, then a sign of approval from the gods, was her elusive requirement in order to graduate the Academy. Mothwick has little hope for the latter, instead focusing on her own powers to one day journey to the surface and summon a storm, as other students have done, using the polar desert as a demolition site.
Welcome to the fae, Mothwick.
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