She was captured betwixt the divergent shorelines of torment and affection – her father, a militant leader and stalwart practitioner of melee with a barbed tongue, and her mother, the only source of light to dissuade the abysmal degradation of his influence. The shield of her maternal comfort was not always provided, however; for with her own mental illness, which woefully caused her to stray with no conscious recollection, she was left to the combative and abusive devices of her father. He wore her, quite literally, ragged with his ideals of training; always fervently pushing her beyond her limits, and perpetually dissatisfied with her efforts. He was never satiated – he was never a man whose breast swelled of pride, or bared a smile so exuberantly gratified that it creased the aging, slouching corners of his eyes. If it were not for the uplifting sentiments of her mother, she might have well on believed she were nothing; an inadequate, valueless girl, constantly reminded that she was unsatisfactory. The verbal abuse only increased with the admittance that she could perceive colors beyond the normal spectrum, though effortlessly, her mother never wavered in her defense. Unfortunately, no matter the vehemence in which she was safeguarded, she could not escape his tyranny.

It escalated to the point, where, even with her dissociative bouts, her mother whisked her away, absconding the herd. It seemed as if for the first time in her life, Reizend knew what true happiness was, even finding she enjoyed her supplemental tutelage of self-defense. Her days were occupied with joyous exploration, and devoted, maternal affection – but her serenity was not to last. She was naïve to presume that her bouts of amnesic fugue could never pose any real danger; though as a child, one never ponders upon the suddenness in which tragedy may strike; the effortlessness in which death may strip away the breath of a beloved. It was three weeks after her drowning that she began to see her, her vision pouring out her image in vivid roseate. Her wispy, floret-colored form led her to a misplaced ornament; a leathery necklace, a resonant, citrine glass sun tethered by its strap. She's worn it ever since, convinced in her bereft naivety that it keeps her mother somehow trussed to the corporeal plane.

Three years went by, much like the agonizing, leisurely extraction of a thorn buried in the flesh. It was by happenstance that she managed to stumble upon her father again, though the circumstances were not the anticipatory mistreatment to which she was inherently conditioned. He was endeavoring to rescue someone; someone he called daughter, someone who he emphatically cried out to run. Even in the throes of turmoil and mystification, there was no denying their similarities – there was no denying that now; she was bound to another by familial binds. She had a sister; she had Seele. Even as she fled, she followed with a veil of secrecy, sealing herself in the anonymity of shadow, so that she may satisfy the voracity of her curiosity. She was unaware just how long she had pursued her, though it was extensive enough that visions of their father began to haunt her. Just as he had in mortality, he was a nuisance to her self-esteem, choosing inopportune times of hardship to manifest so that she knew just how displeasing he found her. How she disgusted him, how she was piteously weak.

The seasons lingered on, persuaded by time; and though not entirely mindful of just how long she had gone without seeing her, Reizend once more aspired to seek out her newfound kin. Though she yearned for some minuscule facet of connection between them, she reserved herself to concealment, reticently contented to observe her from a distance, compelled in her choice to remain hidden for fear of burdening her. Even without knowing her, she cared – even if it was obligatory, simply because of their genealogical union, she earnestly, irrevocably cared. She cherished her existence, and even with the hesitation she felt, she realized that she wished, more than anything, to be a part of her life. Misfortune enjoyed her, nevertheless; it delighted in the calamity it could bring, and how easily it could dismantle the fragility of her hopes. Even when she obtained the smallest aspect of gladness, she was evermore burdened to self-destruct. Only two days had passed, and as she gathered the remaining vestiges of her resolve, prepared to wholeheartedly dive into what she assumed would be a memorable, tear-filled reunion, she found herself mistakenly ambushed.

It was a horrendous error on both parts – Reizend, simply acting out of her purest, inborn instinct, and her (Liebling, someone dear to her sister), acting purely out of protection, out of love. It was only a matter of seconds, though the sensation haunts her skin; the warmth of her body as it crumpled against the shaft of her whittled horn, blood erupting from the wound to saturate her face. Her lifeless body pooled to the ground, and she was left mentally and physically anguished. In a matter of moments, it seemed eons had meandered by her as she stood there; though she hardly had time to process what had just happened, as unexpectedly her sister began to return, a herculean draft cohered to her side. The bile in her throat effervesced as it threatened to spill from her mouth, consumed with instant regret. She panicked, and she ran. Her transgressions could not escape her, however, and ironically did she end up entangled in the untimely fate of that draft himself. Somehow, she had convinced him to take the blame in the demise of that guiltless mare, naively convinced that his immensity would be enough to ward off the indignation of her swarthy sister.

But it was another horrific miscalculation —

And she slaughtered him as though he were nothing but a bug beneath the heel of her stiletto.

Three weeks later, and she is joined by two more hapless souls; souls that she herself, had damned. More than ever, does she try to atone for her sins – and after obtaining healing magic, she has resolved herself to be a light against the darkness of the world. Sadly, her burdens will not be so easily deterred.

Citrine, glass sun amulet; glows different colors when she heals.

Agrona — indigo.
Amara — ivory.
Circuta — dull teal.
Confutatis — dark, dull orange.
Eris — silver.
Jasper — dark, murky yellow.
Midas — gold.
Seele — deep, dark orange-red.
Vadim — amaranth.

♢ strike denotes deceased. Living plants — dependent on time of day.
Dead plants — bronze.
Hoofbeats — dependent on terrain.
Thunder — eggplant.
Water — kaleidoscope.
Birds — species dependent.