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Ilirith had her own set of chambers in the Matriarch's Quarter, not far from the private rooms of the Matriarch herself. That was for the latter's protection, though occasionally Ilirith wondered how much of that was keeping an ally close and how much keeping an eye on a potential threat. She, better than anyone, knew the Matriarch's mind, and knew that she trusted her in a way she trusted few beyond the more reliable of her own daughters… but Ankorineth's trust was never, ever quite total. That seemed to happen when one was in politics.
As she examined the daggers and darts and little bottles and other tools of her trade, Ilirith realized that 'in politics' applied even to herself, albeit in a much more physical application than was standard. Certainly there weren't many people she could trust - nor, indeed, would it be wise to do so.
It might have been considered sad that a girl would have been drafted to be a Matriarch's bodyguard, spy, and… informal enforcer. She'd been at the bloodier parts of the job for a bit over half a cycle as it was, and been in training for nearly a cycle before that, so she really hadn't had much of a childhood. But although Ilirith could not honestly have said that she enjoyed her job (though being able to sneak around at will was quite nice), she had to admit that her regrets about her life were muted. Most witches got burned or torn to shreds or hounded into exile, so she'd been lucky to survive, much less have a childhood; and her position meant she lived in relative comfort. Things weren't really that bad for her.
Anyway, she thought, there's no point in feeling sorry for myself. No one else is about to.
She put on the harness of stout cloth and soft leather to which all her pouches, pockets, and sheaths were attached, and began neatly packing her things into them, some with her forepaws, others gently sculling through the air into their places like carefree birds. She turned to her cloak, hesitated, then went to her mirror to look at herself.
Ilirith had always been, by takma standards, somewhat boyish-looking: rangy physique, narrow muzzle, weak tone to her facial markings. While she would never have been mistaken for a boy, she hadn't exactly been a paragon of femininity, which frankly she'd been fine with - it gave her that much more time to act when someone tried to identify what they were dealing with. And she still wasn't, but she was also still developing, and some parts of her seemed to be developing rather faster than others. She turned gently this way and that, noting that unless she were viewed exactly from the front, one hip or the other peeked out from behind a shoulder. At this rate, she thought sourly, she'd end up having to stand on her hind legs and sidle to get through doorways.
The Great Mother appeared to want her to carry babies. While Ilirith would not have actually minded doing so - someday - she felt that the Most Eminent might not have a grip on the realities of the situation, or at least needed to hand out some serious miracles to achieve her goals. Witches didn't get to have children. She'd already had some stern warnings about proper and restrained conduct around the opposite sex, not that most males would dare to approach her anyway.
She sighed, drew the gray cloak around her, and checked in the mirror again; between the covering and the padding of her figure by the harness and pouches underneath, the effect was much less noticeable. She turned and slunk out her door, mourning life's complications.
Basic info
- Common name: Ilirith
- RP status: RP character, played by Shyriath
Biographical data
- Full name: Ilirith, ward of Ankorineth
- Nicknames or aliases: The graycloak
- Date of birth: 81 Cloud 24:30
- Place of birth: Kuhel, Domain of Alvraan
Gender and sexuality
- Biological sex: Female
- Gender identity: Female
- Sexual orientation: Androphilic
Heritage and identification
- Race: Lowland mix
- Ethnic origin: Heartlander
- Current ethnic identification: Heartlander
- Native language: Midvallic Imperial
- Other languages spoken: Contemporary Imperial