The Blur of the Woods

To those who lived in the village nearby, she could only be described as a green blur, sulking in the woods alone after not being wanted by a family, by someone. But that was far from true–except for the green blur part. Amalthea was a young girl, but not in human years, she was 102 years old. For someone that old, you would think she would have saggy rough skin, as if it were about to fall off the bone itself and sit at your feet with great despair and exhaustion from all those years of life. But that describes what a human would look like at that age, Amalthea isn’t human. Amalthea is a wood elf. 

With a long slender build, she stood at 5’6” while still appearing large to some humans. Her skin was flawless, almost glowing with the light hitting its warm olive tone and freckles splattered all over her arms and face. It glowed even brighter when she smiled, showing the kindness she’s held inside for years.Her sage green hair reaching her lower back, a mess from all the wrestling with wild creatures of the forests to gain their meat and fur for survival. Sticks and leaves stick out of the matted knots form along the ends, creating almost a pattern for its grip on the sticks. They do come in handy though when she needs to make a quick fire at night. They aren’t entirely useless. Bangs hang just above her luminescent hazel eyes that pierce through anyone who attempts conversation with her, holding the innocence and almost naivety personality she possesses. 

For someone who barely knows how to hold a conversation, she sure looks mature with all the furs she attached to her leather armor and outfits. Rabbit pelts with delicate strands furs and fox furs with bright orange furs that hold the hues of the reminiscing sun placed along the trims of her simplistic, leather made clothes that protect her against attacks from wild animals in the woods. When she walks into town to sell the fine umber furs and sticky tart berries she’s collected to the locals, many hide and cower in fear from her. Shaking as if a large roaring bear was standing before them, they trade gold coins for these pelts that are masked by the wretched scent of blood and death. They definitely need a wash. After her usual broken English “thank you” recitation, she leaves just as quickly as she came–in a green blur.

Returning to her life alone in the woods, away from the cold dark touch of reality, into the safety of the fantasy world she lives in. 

Amalthea is a strange girl, all alone in the woods. Her socialization may be horrid and her appearance my be terrifying, but she is the sweetest child inside, you just need to get to know her. She’s not quite animal, yet she’s not quite man, but she’s herself. Amalthea connects the outside world to civilization, creating a bridge that connects the world together. She loves the world, and soon enough, she hopes the world will love her. For now, she sits alone in the woods building a fire, preparing to go into a trance for the night, dreaming of the day she can finally live in the real world. 

Depth of the Soul

Concentrated, silent, calm. This is how Creed has acted for years, in the dark of their confinement, in their own world of seclusion. No one knows much about Creed, except for the fact that once they are disturbed during prayer or solitude, they move away. Not saying much, they just stand up, put their mystical light filled orb in their bag, give you a cold, dark glance, then leave. Never to be seen again. What is known about Creed though is very simple facts, such as age, height, and physical appearance, other than that, they are a total mystery. You may wonder why no one makes an attempt to get to know them, to follow them and become close. Why will no one make a point to get to know Creed’s legacy that they are creating? Because they are a Tiefling, a child who’s ancestors messed with the dark cruel magic of the demons purging the earth, and in turn, purging their descendants of the human look, making them look like a demon themselves. Creed is cursed with the bloodied hands their ancestors had, paying for their actions. 

Creed is rumored to only be 24 years old, already have been living on their own for years. No one knows about a possible family, friends, or acquaintances; we only know about them. They stand at about 5’3”, a short stubby being for their age, but we do know their bite is bigger than their bark. Their skin is very cool toned, being almost an icy blue and cold to the touch, matching the navy blue hair paired with it. Their hair is poorly cut, chopped up to shoulder length with the top layered hair pulled back into a small pony tail. All of it though is hidden by a sharp colored cloak, with a large hood covering their face. When you do catch a glimpse of their face though, you will be met with fiery, blood stained, red eyes, almost as if their ancestors mistakes are trapped behind them, pounding to be free to create more chaos. 

When you happen to stumble upon where they carry out their prayer and ritualistic actions, Creed will ignore you. Hands waving slowly around a light bound orb while singing into it with a high pitched, wispy voice. The tune is eerie, sending shivers down the spines of anyone who hears it. It is rumored that if you have heard it, you will be cursed your entire life. But, when they are not singing prayers into the orb, they are trying to seek answers of why their ancestors gave them this horrible life, the life of an outcast, a nomad. Crying out “Why?” to the orb in hopes of some sort of answers, but it’s usually to no prevail. If you interrupt them, they will simply look at you, pack up and leave. That’s the life of a Tiefling, to move away when you are unwanted, and that’s how Creed will forever remain. No legacy, no family, no home, nomadic till they find the answers they’ve spent their entire life searching for, and hoping to find someone that will take them with open arms.

Dialogue

Stumbled Upon

“Oh! Sorry! I not see you there!” stuttered Amalthea.

“Hm, of course you didn’t,” spat Creed, stabilizing her glowing orb.

“I thought singing was lovely,” Amalthea claimed while smiling, “is something you made up?” 

“No, it’s a prayer from my religion, now excuse me,” Creed stated quickly, brushing past Amalthea.

“Where you going?” Amalthea followed cautiously.

“Away from you,” joked Creed, finding this whole conversation slightly amusing.

“Well, if you trying to avoid me, you are walking for while!” 

“Oh, a shame, I’m walking for miles and miles and miles…”

“What?!” shouted Amalthea, mouth agape.

“Calm down, I was kidding,” cackled Creed, putting their hand on Amalthea, “but prepare yourself, it’ll be quite the trip.”

As they moved forward, Creed’s voice bellowed into the orb, a sacred prayer that was presumed to curse any human who would be unfortunate to hear it, 

“I know this dream of life is never ending, 

It goes around, and round, and round again…

You know the sun is rising while descending,

It goes around and round and never ends.”