IP: 184.153.25.108
Posted on October 25, 2013 at 05:45:59 AM by euanthe
*Name: Euanthe *Biological sex: female *Appearance (include eye/skin/hair colour): Euanthe is 5'4" and about 115lbs. Her hair is a shade somewhere between blonde and light brunette, and falls in soft, natural curls and waves. It's almost always an unkempt mess. Her eyes are soft and round, a startling shade of light blue that adds an air of quiet uncertainty. Lastly, her skin is pale, not milky white, but pale in that 'i'll burn before i'll tan' sort of way. Age: 20s Personality: to be developed! History: uh oh she has amnesia, i guess maybe we'll find out later? *Your player name: Jenger sample/i really just don't want to lose the post i wrote?; She sat up with a gasp, brushing sand and bits of broken shells from the already fading indentations across her pale skin. Her eyes were wide and bright, a soft blue to match the wind-scrubbed sky, as she glanced about in an effort to recognize something. Anything. But the only thing she was rewarded with was the throb of a headache, and a feeling of being set adrift. With a groan she closed her eyes, placing her hand delicately over her forehead and leaning forward over her lap. She froze midway, pulling her left hand away and letting it fall limply in her lap. There, in simple faded black cursive, etched gracefully into the pale and perfect of the skin across her wrist, was a single word. Or a name, perhaps. Her name. "Euanthe." She whispered, the curious lilt of her voice swallowed by the sound of the waves as they rose and fell against the bright and white sediment. Her head throbbed again, and her hand rose once more, settling like a cool cloth against the too-warm skin of her forehead. She tried to think past her name, past the vast, pounding emptiness in her mind. But there was nothing there to find, no memories to ensnare, no fleeting thoughts to capture like fireflies in a jar. Just a name. Her hand left her forehead to work its way through the tangles of her not-quite blonde hair that fell in unkempt twists and curls past her shoulders. She could feel bits of debris caught there; shards of shell, tufts of grass or seaweed. After a moment of useless brushing, her hand fell back into her lap, and the soft curls slipped back into place over the, now stained, loose fitting white t-shirt she wore. With her hands clutched tightly in her lap, she shifted to look out across the ocean, admiring the swell of waves and the shriek and dive of the white and grey gulls. She couldn't make sense of anything. Not the shirt she wore which hung loosely over the hollow of her sunburned shoulders, or the faded blue-grey denim of the shorts that ended just above the halfway point up her thigh, not even her name felt right, or the quiet of her gentle voice. But the birds made sense, the ocean, the sky, the way the sand clung like scales against her skin. That, made sense. It wasn't until the sun settled further across the sky, reaching precariously for the horizon, that she realized she had no place to go for the night. She was in a strange place, under a vast sky she loved but did not know, with only the clothes on her back and a name curling across her wrist. On trembling legs she rose, pausing for just a moment to notice the strange way the sand felt beneath her feet and through her toes, before picking her way uncertainly down the beach. i'll sing of your mercy |
Replies:
- accepted - By Georgia October 25, 2013 at 02:32:10 PM
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