the Rift


[OPEN] Angels in Armor [Healers]

Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather
#1
Blessings of hours and harmonies: she coiled amongst the forest’s dew, the tundra’s wiles, the timeless expanse of pine, fir, long, nestled boughs to comfort, to soothe, to assuage and guard amongst the flanked infidels and demons of the world. Here, she could embody the nature of her purpose: to heal, to mend, to tear away the glimpses of wounds and lacerations, to embody the nature of forgiveness and all of its heady raptures and reveries. Her goals and aspirations were driven by the gifts of salvation and assurance, no matter how harsh the tide, how maddening the monster, how tremulous the trial, the patriots of ice and snow could be fortified, recovered, cured of their ailments. If a soldier came marked, battered, and bruised, they’d be treasured, blessed, then allowed to continue on their journey. If a weak and weary companion drifted amongst the cold, they’d be kept warm and granted haven, refuge, and seraphic sanctums. If combat hovered and clawed its way into their confines, they’d nurture, tend, and batter the wicked doldrums of ferocity and treachery with their own wily machinations and combative calculations. But the Time Mender was aware of her limitations, for all her persistence, for all her determination, for all of her stalwart pride and deliverance, she was one mere being, one cog in the wheel, one being beating harmonic threads into a haunted background. She couldn’t hold the entire mantle upon her shoulders (though willing, forever ready for sacrifice and selflessness, singing until her voice ran out, molding time through her body until it ceased altogether). But with the recognized scourges, the eager nurses and healers flickering and floating about the latest herd meeting, she was convinced they could muster enough power, enough prowess, enough potent puissance: deliverance, song, captivation, and relief, that their world wouldn’t feel the barbarous ruins of suffering. Might, dominion, strength and force laid between each of their bodies, castles, sovereigns, and empires, tracing over the fabric of the earth, laden out before them in herbs, in spices, in toxins, in indulgences, awaiting to be employed.

Yet, without education, without wisdom, without sagacity and instruction, they’d be left to rot, to wither, to ruin, to ignorance and ineptitude; and Lena would have none of these things. Through the trumpet of her mellifluous rhapsody, she called, beckoned, songbird chirps and unearthly sonnets, for those under her tutelage, ready to guide, eager to counsel, yearning to be captivated and learn herself, twisting the flesh of flora and fauna into their winsome reveries. How many more could be healed under their careful direction? How many more could be saved under their attentive protection? She waited along the edges of the timber, eternally full of hope, searching for those who longed to unite in benevolence, in generosity, in restoration and renewal.

[Meeting for healers/scourges/or whoever is interested in learning the art of mending, herbs, etc. We’ll be gathering herbs, or any plant life you’d like. You are not required to join, however, if you wish to move up ranks this would be an ideal time to get some instruction. Or hang out with nice folk. ;D]
her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love
LENA
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