Pixie Ianthe Primrose
Legacy Name: Pixie Ianthe Primrose

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PersonalitySilken strands of warm honey-dipped words ooze in a soft, crisp and cooling lute of a wintry solstice. Alluring mystery canters genuine contours – oft ponderous and wonderment leave in question for a woman hardly ever sought. She intertwines her personality between a delicacy of etiquette and mannerism to a devilish, impish prime that seems almost unbelievable upon first sight. Manipulation swirls and pours from soft lips, in whispering words of sweet serenity. Truth or dare linger in a game of satisfaction as she ails for triumph, poised in deadly curiosity. Yet so painstakingly gentle with her way of words – it is almost deniably unbearable with hardly a sign of impatience and intolerance, she is quick with wit and steadily on her feet. Opinion slips from time to time, as she does have a voice should one question, she will certainly expose with bold justification in areas she is familiar with. She is sturdy with her words in curt, whimsy words and filled with the most unimaginable patience, like a determined mother with a fitful child. It comes to a surprise when one learns how utterly stubborn she can be.

All of this only unravels itself as she grows more comfortable and accustom to her surroundings. Upon the first approach, Pixie is known to expose a bashful personality. A sheepish bat of her lashes as she avoids imposing distance between herself and the social groups around her. She has a passion for the plant life surrounding her, as if being part of plant life herself. She is respectful of their places and hardly touches plants that are not meant to be harvested just yet or replace what she has harvested. While brilliant, and mindful of her own choice of verbal approach, Pixie is more than happy to lend a hand in aid but never one to seek it.

Appearance A young woman born as if crafted by the galaxies themselves, long, slender legs shield her natural small, and petite height. Her body is shaped, and constructed in lithe, feminine curvatures molding in vixen-like features. A voice with a tender, soothing lilt of a winds gentle kiss, speaks hardly above a musical soprano-luted whisper. She is lean and agile never built for fighting, but delving more into the botany or scouting – even hunting purposes.

Spindles and sinews casually weave with intricate form as if poured from the colors of ethereal makings of Luna's grace. A daunting ghost or luminous dreamland colors dress the naked canvas of the alien creature. Colors of an evening approach in silver blues and soft, plush lilacs paint in a tye-dye mesh. Silvery-white speckles fleck beneath soothing celestial eyes. In the shape of canine form; white, glowing branch-like antlers grow from eye level and snake carelessly around slender ears before spindling off as both protection and decorative noise. Silkworm threads grow and hand loosely in web-like formation, often confused as spiderwebs until touch breaks through the sensory to prove silk-worm work. These strands web through her antlers and then dress throughout her lithe, enviously slender bodice. These antlers disappear in her elven form, long hair matching the pastels of her coat. Silver-white blue roses grow just at the base of her right ear. Kindred petals hang loosely from silkworm strands and various places along her body with floral décor. Only in her canine shift do ethereal white stripes paint in a number of four in total ranging from largest to smallest down her dorsal before ending at the start of her abnormally long tail draping with exquisite, alluring gesture from behind.

Finally: A strange, unidentified jet-black tissue-like scarring starts just below her sternum and runs just beneath her ribs though it is constantly hidden away from the world, by a simple stroke of illusion-magic. A secret Pixie intends to hide, a mishap she intends to resolve all on her own...

At glance..Laughter from children could be heard from the little nook of the makeshift home she’d made for herself. It wasn’t perfect, but it kept a roof over her head. Architecture wasn’t exactly a skill she had, or that she’d ever considered learning, so she settled for what she was able since finding these ruins. “Another year,” a gentle sigh escaped her lips as they formed a small, sad smile. The sound of a match struck as the temporary flame had been used to light two unscented candles. They were displayed before a small painted, torn portrait of the little family. What remained of two identical brothers, herself and her father. It was as if the mother figure was purposefully ripped from the image. Beneath it, were a few odds and ends that may have little value elsewhere, yet they were meticulously placed.

The elven maiden knelt before the candles her hands clasped together in a prayer of sorts. Incomprehensible words whispered inaudibly from her lips. Just as she had ended there was wracking thump coming from her door. “Miss, miss!” Some of the children could be heard, in their frantic pleas. A patient sigh exhaled with a rise and fall of her shoulders as morning sunrise gaze carefully lifted to the disheveled portrait. “I pray you’ve found peace.” Turning to a stand, leaving the candles to burn for a little while longer.

Just as she opened the door two young – ah, I believe they are human? bleary-eyed and flushed. One of them grasping on to their arm as rivulets of blood wept from the hidden wound. A pastel brow rose with quiet inquiry and calmly would ask stepping out from the doorway; “Were you two playing by the debris again?” tears were rolling down their cheeks, and their faces flushed from their sobbing as the two began to confess their mishaps and the consequences that came with it only to then profusely apologize. “Hush now,” she hummed, lowering to their level. Warm smile brightened her elven features, sights glancing back between the brother and sister. “May I take a look?” she asked the young girl, her small hands latched to the bicep of her arm.

Reluctantly, the girl obliged, dropping her red-stained hand and exposing the decently sized gnash that tore into tender flesh. Pixie studied it quickly with a furrowing brow. “Goodness, you brave little girl.” innocently she giggled, hoping it would settle the child. “I’ll fix it up quickly, you know your mother isn’t too fond of me.” she mused humorlessly. “Oh, but we like you very much miss!” The boy chimed in. “Well, I enjoy your company too, but you both mustn't play near places you've been told not to.” she took the girls arm with a gentle touch. Magic collected a small goblet of water to wash and clean her arm. “This might feel a little odd, alright? Why don’t you tell me about some of the things you like?” A method of distraction to keep the girl from thinking about the pain.

In a sniffling huff the girl nodded; “I like flowers, a-and my big brother…" she started. The healer nodded though her focus settled into her healing magics as a soft white glow claimed the wound, tissue and muscle mending itself back together again. The girl seemed totally unphased as she babbled on. “There we are, good as new.” The elf sighed as she stood upright. The two were awestruck, as all that was left was a small scar where the wound had initially been. “Thank you so much miss!” In a twirl of her index, bloomed two brilliantly white daisies to give to the two of them. She’d need to send them off before the ricochet of her magic would bring her to her knees, if she wasn’t careful. Not to mention, there were some here, despite her efforts, were still not entirely fond of her being around these parts. “Off you go now, and be careful this time.”