Character OTS


Andante & Iracebeth

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Esfir of Kiraan
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  • OOC Name: Flurry
  • Posts: 4 (Find All Posts)
  • Rank: Inactive
  • Age & Season: 2 (Autumn ☁)
  • Species Equine
  • Lineage:
  • Height: 16.2hh
  • Sex: Mare
  • Mate: None
  • Crystals: 0
  • Tag: @[Esfir]


• E S F I R •

"there will be a day when all of this makes sense." "but when will that be, mother?" "you will know when the time comes." "but i want to know now." "it would only confuse you, little one. you are not ready" "but i am." "you will never be ready."

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OOC & Character(s)


"he had seen dragon fire blazing bright."

Esfir is a unique breed of horse that has mostly the mixes of a Fresian, Marwari and a Curly, though Esfir didn’t inherit the curly coat, only the curly mane. This blend of horses was named Essers after their ancestor, a stallion called Essen. They possess furry bodies with longer hair along their coats. Most horses of the Esser breed range from 16 hh to 19 hh and grow up until their fourth birthday, though Esfir was a stunted mare and stopped growing when she reached one and a half, only making it to 16.2 hh. This particular status gave her the nicknames “weak wings” and “midget.”

What Esfir lacks in height, however, she makes up for in beauty. She is a true blue roan with dark points at her nose and hooves. The points along her legs are all uneven, the longest one begin on her left front leg and the shortest socks being on her hind legs. Her frame is decorated with frame overo, white splashed along her neck, under her belly and a small bit on her buttock. An irregular stripe runs down her nose from her ears to the tip. Her hooves are nearly the same colour as her points, if not a slight bit darker and well polished with a year or two of trudging through blankets of snow.

Esfir’s eyes are another interesting aspect of her, being a striking pastel green, yet they are nothing compared to the wings that sprout from her shoulders. Towering above her frame and extending much longer than the length of her body, they are a sight to behold. From the coverts of her wing, it is a pale blue that matches that of the lightest portion of her body, and fades out along her feathers into a darker blue, mimicking the points along her frame. At the very tips of the feathers, they quickly fade into a white as brilliant as freshly fallen snow. They mostly mirror the shape of a scissor tailed flycatcher’s wings.

However, her wings are not the most intriguing thing about her, even if they are the most eye catching. Instead of a normal horse tail of hairs or a lion tail with fur sprouting at the end, she possesses a large tail that mostly resembles a fox. It is nearly three feet longer than the length of her body. The fluff that lines it is softer than the finest fleece and warmer than most cloaks. From the base, it is as dark as the darkest point on her body and fades into a lovely white. Her mane is extremely curly and darker than the darkest point on her body, though never reaches back. From the overo splash on her neck, it becomes white in a large, curly stripe.

Another thing that sets her apart from those around her and contributes to her norse-like look are two fangs that poke out of her mouth, small and sharp yet long enough. She wears a cloak which buckles around her neck. It is the shade of a stormy sky and has swirls of leaves patterned onto it. The underside of it is soft with warm, light wool that rims the edges, as well. Underneath the buckle of the neck, she always keeps three fresh, white roses to reminds her of home. Buckles around her right wings are two belts of the same blue with the same wool. They were said to make her fly faster, she assumed aerodynamics. Around her front, right leg are two smaller, thicker belts with loops attached to them. The upper one has a bag that comes with it. In these loops she stores herbs and vials of some kind of liquid (may be antidote and poison for all we know). She keeps her money in the stachel above. Completing her outfit is the wicked weapon that hangs from her cloak, a thick chain linked crescent knife that curves into a deadly point, though she has never before had use for it.

Finally, atop her head rests two elegantly curved horns. They are a light blue, lighter than all her coat, and have magically enchanted blue fireflies that always seem to want to stay close to them. Without them, she wouldn’t be complete.

While Esfir's eyes may be described as simply pale green, they go beyond this simple phrase. They hold the aura of the fresh blossom of springtime, as if gazing into them would fill you with the preeminent warmth and gentleness of spring. However, they've seen winters harsher than the blurriest blizzard and death worse than genocide. They have hints of blue, reflecting the colour of the snow that surrounded her as a child. A small part of them is red, a clue to her past. They hold a thousand stories and show the depths of her soul, if only one takes the time to gaze into them.

Her companion is a barn owl by the name of Aishi, meaning ‘gift’ or ‘blessing.’ She is a pretty owl with mostly white features, if not for the golden rim around her face and the flecks of gold in her feathers.


"and a city turned to ash."

Esfir’s personality summed up in one sentence is reserved, yet not quiet; kind, yet not overwhelming; strange, yet not scary; and curious, but not intrusive. She enjoys discovering the wonders of the world, though she would never take it far enough to intrude into another's territory without an invitation.

To begin, she is the type of equine that doesn’t do a lot of talking unless the equine she is conversing with looks particularly interested in a conversation. She will give only basic information or do small talk with hardly any answer unless she is actually questioned. This is due to her upbringing; everyone always looked over her or walked passed her, acting if she was a part of the wall or the ground. She is used to being overlooked.

She is a kind mare, even if she doesn’t always look it. Her words are almost never angry, never bullying. She will sometimes tease her friends for the sake of something to say, but it is never harsh or sarcastic. Even though her history would suggest otherwise, there is a light in her eyes that burn with kindness.

She is sort of a strange individual, mysterious and reserved with a very unique form. Most may find her slightly weird at first glance, and due to her less talkative nature, they can find her a little wacky.

Her favourite thing to do is explore and adventure. From when she was a little filly, she always had a love of the unknown and to discover what others tend to look over. She enjoys finding strange things and learning interesting facts about the world. While in Kiraan, she learnt nearly everything she could of the flora in her land, finding the poisons and antidotes, herbs that could cure diseases and herbs that could give you strange illnesses. She found plants that were editable and those that were not; but she mostly learnt this because her abilities directly corresponded with the information she was uncovering. It filled her up with joy.


"he never forgave, and he never forgot."

Sometimes the thing you want to be, or what others want you to become, haunts you until the very day you die. You know its your fate, it's written in the stars, yet you do everything in your power to run away from it, to never conform to the thing you’re destined to be. It always snaps back, though, like a cord drawn too tight. And you eventually become what you were allotted to be, simply because you were trying too hard to change your future… and you failed.

Esfir was born in October; yet, fall was not a concept in the land where the young filly was born. There were two seasons, the cold season and the slightly-less-cold season. It snowed constantly, the flakes of the sky drifting either in slow, magical flurries, or in raging storms that turned everything in sight a pure, brilliant white. For most of her life, Esfir knew only two colours, black and white. She had lived in a black and white world, the sky always black and the ground always white. Sometimes they flipped, the sky would be white and the world she stood on black. Yet, rarely did this ever happen, only in the slightly-less-cold season.

From the day she was born, Esfir’s fate was written out for her. She was born in Kiraan, a land of cold. The horses there had adapted to the chill, their coats thick swatches of fur, and sometimes, feathers. They were warhorses, they enjoyed the thrill of battle and the adrenaline on the battlefield. When Esfir was born with wings, all they saw was the potential for greatness. She would be perfect for spying, and assassinating. Her light wings could drift unnoticed into enemy territory. They were quick and unnoticeable, she could take out numbers through stealth. Almost immediately after she began walking, two hours after birth, they wanted to begin training her.

At first, her wings were frail and feeble. The elders of Kiraan nicknamed her ‘weak wings’ and said she’d never make it. They’d give her a months time; if she wasn’t strong enough by then, she would be killed.

Esfir’s mother, a heartless mare called Pletta, had made it her goal that if her daughter wasn’t prepared in two weeks, she would kill her herself. Esfir never went a day without work; most days lasted seventeen hours. Everyday, the one week old filly was pushed beyond her limits, most times collapsing after a day and unable to stand until the next morning.

At times, Esfir would stand alone and watch the other foals. They would bound through the snow, their strong muscles and long legs clearing it by inches. With a sigh, she would lower her head and breath into the wind, her breath flowing away in a breeze. She would trudge through the snow, her belly scraping the top and chilling her to the bone. She wasn’t built for this.

One day, her mother woke her early in the morning. The sun never came out, only in the slightly-less-cold season. Esfir had grown used to the shift in stars to inform her it was the morning. “Get up,” her mother barked at her. “Today is your day.”

Following the giant mare that was her mother, Esfir found herself half flapping, half trudging through the snow after Pletta. They travelled many miles to a frozen lake in the centre of a valley, were the giant mare led her down a hill to a small gathering of old, yet strong, equines. Their cold, sharp eyes narrowed on her small body, judgement written clearly across their faces. One particularly large and frightening stallion stepped forward, the veins throughout his body exploding through his skin as he grit his teeth at Esfir. “Your task will be waiting for you in the centre of the lake. May Valhalla be with you.” He stepped back into the assembly of equines.

Trembling, Esfir knew this was her time. With shaking hooves, she stepped onto the solid water, her hooves echoing loudly as the ice groaned beneath her. Each step she took cautiously, though she knew the lake would never crack. As she ventured out, fog began to gather around her. Looking back over a feathered shoulder, she saw nothing but the pressing gray of the fog. A quiet, trembling yelp escaped her mouth, and she apprehensively continued onward. After a hundred steps or more, she came to a solitary figure standing alone on the glassy surface. His black form and large size intimidated the small filly, though she still stepped towards him. As she neared, she noticed he didn’t ever acknowledge her presence. With a start of surprise, her pale eyes trailed his face, noticing the strange, glassy mask that covered it and blocked his vision. When no sound escaped his lips, Esfir grew confused and anxious.

Then, something her mother said came back to her. “You were born to kill, just like the rest of us. There will come a day when you face a challenge unknown to you. Remember, do not hesitate. Your instinct will take over, your training will be of no use if that instinct is not there. Use it, become it. Do. Not. Hesitate.”

As Pletta’s voice faded out of Esfir’s head, her pale eyes gazed at the figure. She couldn’t imagine how lonely he felt, or how scared. He was out here, knowing his life was soon coming to a close. He couldn’t see, couldn’t talk, and probably couldn’t hear, either. Esfir took a step towards him. “Do. Not. Hesitate,” came her mother’s voice. The young filly repeated it. “I will not hesitate mother. I will not let you down.” It was small, it shook. She was scared.

Yet, with movements faster than the eye could catch, Esfir sprang away from him, flapping her small wings and the air under her swelled and a shard of ice thicker than her body came flying out of the lake and stabbed the stranger straight through the heart, the other side of it piercing through his shoulder blades and coming through his skin. It glinted wickedly with blood. Almost instantly, Esfir burst out crying. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated over five times, tears streaming down her face.

After that day, her mother cared less and less about her, and she would have time alone for hours on end, everyday. Often, she would scurry away from her mother’s home in search for adventures, travelling far away from Kiraan into the lands of the unknown. Her wings were far more developed than the day of her inauguration, and oftentimes she would climb high into mountain peaks and leap off the faces of cliffs for the fun of it. She trusted her wings with her life, more than what she could say for the inhabitants of Kiraan.

However, her adventures had left her lonely. She longed for a companion by her side and she fell into a pit of despair. Without any friends, siblings, or even parents to look after her, she often wandered the mountains and snow plains of her home utterly partnerless. When extremely alone, she would often play with her gift of plant and ice manipulation, growing a white rose through the snow and freezing it with thorns and flakes of frost. It would always become a beautiful monstrosity.

The elders of Kiraan didn’t have knowledge of her plant manipulation abilities. They had known since she was born she would have ice manipulation, for that was what her mother possessed, but they had neglected to assess the abilities of her father, a now criminal mastermind locked ten stories underground in solitary confinement. Thinking about her father’s fate, her brain was overwhelmed with her lonely state.

After two more weeks of solitary life, she came across a baby owl with a broken wing in the snow. It was nearly frozen solid, its heartbeat slowed to a sad pulse. As Esfir lifted it in her wings, she noticed very quickly it was a barn owl. She had never seen a barn owl this far north, though she knew the breeded in the very southern tip of Kiraan. It must’ve been blown off course in a flying lesson and its parents decided to abandon it. The feathers on its wings had almost all grown in; yet, some down still remained under the joint of its wing.

Esfir immediately knew it was her job to restore the owl back to full health. It took a long time, half due to the fact that it still needed a mother to look after it. She taught the owl how to fly and did everything she could to help it, but one day, she knew she had to let it go. She took it to a mountainside one day, nudging it with her hoof and she tried to get it to fly home. “Its okay, you can go now.” But, it wouldn’t leave, and after fruitless attempts to get it to go home, she knew it would never leave her. They had developed an inseparable bond. Esfir had decided to name her Aishi, meaning ‘gift’ or ‘blessing.’

Esfir was now a year and a month old by the time her mother began to pay more attention to her. She also noticed a shift in the attitudes of the horses around her; they seem more set on their activities, more solemn and closed off. This didn’t exactly bother Esfir, not until Pletta came to her one day. “You need to stop wandering off to explore. Our highest elder has declared war against Lipela of the Eastern Ranges and the battle will take place in nine months prior to now, unless the queen of Lipela signs a contract with Kiraan,” she paused and gave a cold, merciless laugh, “which will never happen. We will give you eight months to prepare before we send you, alone, don’t bring that blasted owl, to scout.” And with that, she turned and left.

It was a cold and blizzardy eight months. The winds whipped non-stop and blew over a few old buildings residing within the city. Esfir had grown accustomed to spending her time in trees where Aishi enjoyed to perch. One day, she lay in a giant snow willow she had grown herself on the edge of a mountain cliff. Though usually being dwarf willows, she had spent many days crafting it and growing it into a towering two hundred feet with thick, widespread branches that hung with brilliantly white leaves. It was nearly like a cove underneath the umbrella hangings, and on this particular day, Esfir lay on her belly, her front hooves crossed in front of her and her back hooves sprawled to the side, partially hanging off the giant branch. Her long, fluffy tail hung right off the edge and her wings were partially spread. Aishi sat in front of her. She sighed.

“They never ask my opinion of anything, Aishi. It's always do this, do that. I know I don’t have a place in society there, but at least my mother could recognise me, yeah?” Aishi gave a soft coo. Another sigh escaped Esfir’s velveted lips, and she placed her head elegantly upon the off-white bark of the tree. Her pale eyes watched as a bud erupted from between the cracks in the wood and out came a beauty white rose, thornless and with a uniquely blue-tinted green stem. Esfir picked it with her teeth, placed a hoof on the stem, and popped off the flower head. Gently, she placed the white flower atop Aishi’s head and grew a swirl of beautiful stems around the feathers to keep it in place. After it was complete, she gave a sad smile and lay her head back down upon the bark.

The time finally came when it was Esfir’s turn to leave. Hiding beyond the peaks, Aishi awaited their meeting so they could leave together. However, Pletta stopped her at the last second, a few things draped across her back. “I have something for you. It is traditional that the mothers of first-time warriors give them some kind of protective gear, be that armour or weapons. However, you are not a warrior nor will you be fighting anyone. I’ve gotten you a few things to keep you a bit warmer and to possibly aid you in your quest, for when you return, you will not be living with me anymore.” She turned her neck and pulled a small cloak off her back. It was storm blue with darker blue swirls and leaves along it, with gray wool lining the underside and edges of it. A part of it came off into a buckle, and with skillful movements, Pletta had draped it between Esfir’s wings and buckled it around her neck. Next, she pulled out two small belts, the same blue as the cloak, with the same fluff. With these, she said “extend your wing,” and buckled them around the mid-part of Esfir’s right wing. “These don’t look like much, but they will help you fly faster.” After that, she pulled out two smaller, thicker belts with loops and a stachel attached to one. They, also, were the same blue with the fluff. “For extra things,” she murmured as she wrapped them and buckled them around Esfir’s right leg. Finally, she slipped a large, chain-linked weapon off her back with a gleaming crescent hook. She pierced a part of the fluff along the cloak with it and pinched the circular ends together, attaching it to the cloak. “Your weapon. Now go, stop wasting time.”

“Mother, I’m confused. What is my mission?” “Spy, scout, assassinate. Do not return until a month has passed. Now leave, before I make you.” She took a threatening step forward, and without another word, Esfir turned and made for the door. She looked over her shoulder at Pletta, but the giant mare had already busied herself with something else. With a leap, she took flight and made towards the meeting place with Aishi.

After a day’s flight, she met the barn owl at the peak of a mountain, stopped to rest, then continued on her way.

It only took half a week to reach Lipela on quick wings, and as Esfir soared silently over the large city, covered by the clouds, she saw countless warriors preparing for battle a month in advance. They were crafting armour and making weapons, doing drills in perfect lines and sparring. In Esfir’s opinion, they seemed more civilised and artsy folk than warmongers like those in Kiraan. Aishi cooed in her ear, and Esfir smiled. “Wouldn’t it have been nice to grow up here.”

At one year and nine months old, Esfir was the youngest spy/assassin in Kiraan. There was only one other equine within the territory that had wings, and he was an elder, meaning he no longer fought. Instead, he overviewed the battle from above. Esfir sighed and she angled her wings and dived towards the cover of a mountain. Lipela was set in the valley of a large mountain range called the Lifellian Mounts. It was one of the largest ranges Esfir ever learnt about, and she wondered at the beauty that shrouded these peaks. As she looked over a small outcropping, she saw a bright filly picking winter fruits off a tree, a warming smile upon her face as she laughed and clutched the fruit in a telekinetic grasp. Then, she turned and bounced down the hill towards her father, who beamed at her and asked what she had found. A knife stabbed Esfir in the heart as she watched; was this the life she could’ve had if she hadn’t been born in Kiraan? She felt the cloak on her back, the only gift her mother had ever given her, and Aishi cooed gently beside her. “Lets go,” she said.

Esfir drifted once more over the citadel, examining the soldiers on complete silent wings as the wind whistled around her. If she could take out five or six, that would still help Kiraan’s army. It would be five or six less soldiers to worry about. If she could take out more, perfect.

She dived and swooped behind a large building, her keratin hooves clipping quietly upon cobblestone pavement. Gazing around the corner, she saw a small battalion of four soldiers practicing drills. However, as she watched, she saw one of them break rank and head down an alleyway, perhaps to inform another battalion of information. Quickly, Esfir galloped quietly around the bend and down the alleyway towards the lonely soldier. The warrior, not deaf, turned his head as he heard her coming, though he didn’t have any time to act. A vine slipped up his leg from underneath him and wound itself around his neck, choking him. As his vision went blurry and he fell to the ground, the vine still held on and it forever would. Esfir sighed and a singular tear dropped onto his body. “I’m so sorry, this isn’t what I want to do.”

However, within the next month, she poisoned, choked, stabbed, froze, and impaled her way through Lipela’s army. By the time the month was up, 250 soldiers had mysteriously went missing or died, leaving only two thirds of the army left to fight. Kiraan now had the upper hand.

But Esfir’s mind remained on the father and his daughter picking fruit. With mere days until the battle begun, she had taken to watching the villagers in their duties below her from the side of a cliff. Thinking back on it, the father had been wearing a crest upon his flank, a sign of his status in the army. She wondered if she had murdered him in cold blood, and her stomach twisted into a knot. Her pale eyes turned away from Lipela, landing upon Aishi. “I can’t do this anymore.”

When the battle begun, Esfir was suppose to be on Kiraan’s side of the territory, watching from above with the winged elder. However, she found herself standing in the front lines as the fighting began. It wasn’t long before she realised her mistake, her abilities were nothing against the super strengthened giants of Lipela. Quickly, she suffered a severe blow to the side of her head and went half running, half dizzily limping away from the battle.

In a desperate search to get away, she found a mysterious crack in the side of a mountain. Assuming it was a small cave, her thin frame allowed her to squeeze through, though just behind her, she heard the smash of metal against rock as a Lipelian soldier had tried to follow her without success. Esfir squeezed her wings close to her body, her lungs burning as she raced through the narrow crevice in the mountain, Aishi soaring above her. Yet, suddenly, her stomach churned and she felt as if she was falling.

Esfir stepped out of the crevice, and before her stood a tree larger than anything she had ever seen, bordered on both sides by towering mountain peaks. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw a shuttering, ghostly vision of the crack, then suddenly, it sealed itself just as Aishi flew through. Esfir had fallen through a dimensional crack in space and time and found herself at the foot of the Bifrost in Slidr Valley.

Aishi hooted at the tree before landing on Esfir’s extended wing. “I guess our adventure continues,” she whispered to the owl, brushing her nose against her disk face. It was move on or die here, and only one of those sounded tempting, and so, she went onwards.

esfir’s threadlog in historical order.

lumi kasovi



lumi kasovi || what esfir possesses is an extremely rare form of plant manipulation, once which covers all the plants she grows in a thin layer of permafrost. this manipulation came into her possession when an accident occured and she received a severe injury, combining her ability to manipulate ice and plants seperately.

neophyte || esfir may grow any plant species she can think of as long as it is under two feet. at this stage, the plants are covered in a thin and very spiky layer of ice that can sometimes draw blood.

moderate || by now, esfir can bend the plants she grows in any direction with simply a thought in her mind. sometimes, they dont listen to her, however, and do their own thing, becoming dangerous to all who stand in their field of reach. she can better grow herbs and other plants with less ice than before and with less energy wasted. the size of the plants she can grow has increased to three feet.

prodigy || almost no energy is needed to grow plants anymore. she has mastered being able to bend the plants she grows at her will. the size of the plants she can grow has increased to four feet.

maven || esfir can now grow plants as tall as she'd like them, though plants taller than six feet make her so exausted she usually cannot stand the next morning. she can shape plants to the visions in her mind, similar to how we shape hedges, including animals, but she is not able to move them and so they simply sit like faux coyotes.



scent || sweet rain and vanilla
sexuality || heterosexual
accent || light and british
moodboard || voice claim


ref credit to me || pixel credit to kittnboys || avatar credit to unsplash