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Citlali

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  • OOC Name: N A K I
  • Posts: 3 (Find All Posts)
  • Rank: Nonpartisan
  • Age & Season: 10 (Winter ❅)
  • Species Equine
  • Lineage:
  • Height: 16hh
  • Sex: Mare
  • Mate: None
  • Crystals: 25
  • Tag: @[Citlali]

Introduction

The Bastard daughter of The Broken King

Grandmother: Norah (deceased)
Grandfather: Naamah

Father: Zuriel (mia to her)
Mother: Ardis (deceased)

Paternal Half Siblings: Anael (mia), Etain (mia), Lucrezia (mia), Melitta (mia)
Maternal Half Siblings: Unknown

Nieces: Aeris (mia) Remus
Nephews: Marrok, Ruvik, Nazareth

Children: None



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OOC & Character(s)

Appearance

Cloaked in a skin that immediately gives her paternal influences away, Citlali wears the galaxy on her skin. With a dusty bay base and creme-colored stardust along her baroque frame, she is unique among many. Grey-white markings mar her facial features in curious patters, starting with elongated tick marks like her father but spreading into a badger-like pattern from muzzle to eye. Upon her left leg sits the same coloration, branching as it hits her shoulder in a tree-like pattern.

From a strong neck falls locks of copper-brown hair that is peppered with strands of white. Her tail is the same, and just as long. The wavy quality to it is only enhanced when wet. From this sprout sets of feathers starting from between her ears and stretching to just above the base of her neck. The same kind of pattern can be seen on her rump, at the base of her tail.

The most striking feature she possesses however is the almost pulsating red eyes in her skull. They stare out at the world from a thin veil of silky hair, and often are easily illuminated in the dark. These and the feathers were the only traits she retained from her missing mother.

Personality

Citlali has always had a heart for the down-trodden, the broken, and the forgotten. Being who she was gave her a perspective that many did not have, especially in her homeland. And while she lived with her tribe, she learned the value of nature and being respectful to it. Taking much away from her father's teachings as a girl, Lali rarely jumps to violence unless there is no other viable route to take. She prefers speaking and understanding and empathy over unnecessary bloodshed. Make no mistake, however, should you push her to that point she will not hesitate to cut you down with out mercy.

When it comes to family, she sees people she creates strong bonds with as 'family'. Since she hasn't seen any of her own in years, assuming they had all perished in the wave, Lali accepted her tribe as such. They assumed this role, as did many of her friends. Family to her did not have to be blood oriented.

She prefers the cool of autumn and the cold of winter over the wet springs and dry summers. Citlali assumes this is because of her birth, and how she'd overcome the elements at such a young age. Naturally she will seek out cooler places to reside, as even her tribe had lived in the foothills of a great mountain range.

One of her fears is that of loosing those she cares deeply for, as it took time to adjust to being alone. She struggles with a sense of abandonment, and at times will seem almost depressed while watching a newly-formed family. These moments are rare, as she's learned to hide them well.

Initially, Lali will often come off as stoic or uninterested. She tends to be stand-offish or unamused, but, don't let this discourage you. She carries a lot of baggage and has put up protective walls to protect her heart which is as fragile as glass. Lali will always harbor a soft spot for orphaned children and will go out of her way to help them if she can.

History

She'd been born to a King and he hadn't known. And her mother, well, the woman had perished not long after her birth, stranding the girl in vast untamed arctic wilderness. Citlali can remember these first few hours with pristine detail; how the cold had eaten away at her, the snow biting and sharp as knives. How she shivered in the bleak winds, and how it had rattled her bones to the point of aching uncontrollably. Lali had never felt so alone, or so afraid. But in the midst of the blizzard, she'd been found by a man who ushered her to the safety of a cavern. It was there, by dim firelight, that she slept peacefully under the thick fur of his cloak. And when morning came, he took her to the southern nations and adopted her as his own.

Citlali had gone from a street rat to a princess in a matter of hours.

His name was Zuriel, and though it would be years before she found out about his truth, part of Citlali had always known. Her young life was pretty simple, she was treated as most young fillies of such stature were. From learning the finer things of Ladyship to picking up a sword and fighting with her then younger brother Anael, Stormhold's strong walls had blocked out any and all worry about her birth, and for the most part Lali had almost forgotten her origins for a time. But all was not well, for despite her naive nature wickedness brewed in the greater lands of Cimoron.

Lali soon realized the world was full of cruel people who wanted nothing more than to destroy. It started when she spotted the flames west of them, watching as her father and his men vanished into the night to lend their hands. And while the issue had been dispatched quickly, Citlali would soon see the overturn of the monarchy with rapid succession. It boggled her mind, and with each new leader the place she'd come to call home crumbled. The girl watched as the weight of each decision weighed upon her adoptive father, It was upon her third birthday that Citlali couldn't stand living in the confines of Stormhold any longer, and with a heavy heart she left to live a more carefree life.

For a time she wandered, not listening much to the way of alliance gossip. Lali wanted to see the island for herself, untouched by the cruelties of fellow equines, and see nature in its rawest, purest form. She wasn't disappointed, for the wild-lands held wonders few had ever dared to see. Among her favorites had been the place where many an equine came to die--a massive grave yard marked my slow moving hills and grassy expanses. There was something oddly soothing, and sometimes she wondered if her mother's soul had been captured here. Lali would always make time to return to this place, despite her detestation.

She spent three long years on a journey of self discovery, and in the last year Citlali had come across vital information. By means of a woman who had known her mother--it came to be known that Citlali had been sired by Zuriel, and the man had once spent time looking to relocate her mother. It shocked her, but then again it didn't. Part of her had always seemed to know--for despite all odds their appearance was almost uncanny. She laughed at first, at her own foolish naive blindness thanking the woman before packing what little she had to return to the southern kingdom. Home, her home, to her father and her half siblings with the good news. Not once did Citlali consider what this reveal could and would do politically to her father.

When Citlali returned, Stormhold had been crowned the capitol and her father had ascended to the position of High King. She entered his throne room with a smile that spread from ear to ear, and he welcomed her back with arms wide. Excitedly she told him of what she had discovered, and Zuriel could only chuckle. And while he was accepting of this, when he spoke with his mate and other children, the house she'd thought was so warm became cold. Delilah, his mate, had cast out Citlali. Every glance she gave the young woman was full of resentment and hate--and all Citlali had ever done was exist. It was a stark change from her childhood. And while her surrogate 'mother' (which she was not allowed to call Delilah) had turned her love away, Anael still remained at her side. He saw her as no different, and the bond each shared seemed to only grow stronger. It was around this time that the Queen gave birth to twins, Etain and Lucrezia. Citlali was forbidden to see them at birth.

Seeing as she was unwelcome, Citlali spoke with her father and packed her things to leave. With a heavy heart, she vowed not to return to Stormhold to keep peace within the family. She could see her presence was a rift between her father and his mate, and Citlali would not want to be the cause of a split should the worst happen. She kissed her baby sister's heads goodbye, had a drink with her brother, hugged her father tight and left. And when Lali had made it halfway across their island home, the news that the Kingdom had been attacked struck her to the core. Rumors that the previous Queen had been a target, and that the New King's children had been harmed in the raid. The rumors morphed into different versions as she made her way back the south; from children it was child, and by child it was Etain--the one she'd seen her father bond with the most. Little Etain missing, the kingdom in shambles---and the rumors were right. From a hilltop, Citlali saw the smoke rising from her home; buildings were crushed and turned to ash, mothers and children cried in the streets. People with distraught faces picking up what little they had left. The sun, once so pale and friendly, was blackened out by the thick layer of dark clouds and fire-smoke. She couldn't tell you how long she stood there gawking at the site, for Lali had never seen such destruction. And what was it all for? To dominate one alliance over the other? Prospects as blind hate had never made sense to the mare.

With out hesitation she re-entered the city, helping those who needed it. When at last she'd made her way to the castle in the center of the city, she was met with a distraught Delilah. Anael had been comforting his mother, Lucrezia was likely tucked away in the castle safe from such horrors. But when Lali came to pass on her condolences, she was met with hostility. Anael's gaze was pained, but he said nothing to stop the bombardment of hate. She hung her head in a sigh, rising it again with a glare, and left after the Queen demanded she do so. Leave, or die. Leaving seemed like the best option.

This would be the last time she set foot in her home.

Citlali had made her way north, preparing to leave the island when she was ambushed by northern troops. A small party of border guards had taken her into custody, and it is here that Lali remained a 'political' hostage to one of the many herds in the north. They were, however, kind as much as they could be and treated her with respect. Something that Citlali had not expected from a herd affiliated with the very alliance that had just burned her home to ash. But, as she would come to see, not all those who lived in the north were as cruel as their monarch. In fact, many lived in fear--or defiance--of such inhumane ways. Citlali had begun to almost enjoy her time with her captors, for they had shown kindness where members of her family had not, and the herds leader, a mare cloaked in curious colors, had almost been like a mother to her. But as one might guess, peace didn't last for long in these lands.

Citlali had learned of this mares distaste for the Monarch only days before the attack began. A small island as they were, it seemed as if there was no escape for the brigade of fire that encompassed such a peaceful place. Again, Citlali's world was burned to ash and she could do nothing to stop it. While she had managed to escort the lead mare's children to safety, it would soon become clear that her role model would not be joining them. For her crimes, she was put to death, and the small island raised in hellish fire. What kind of ruler would turn on their own people? It was a question that she feared the answer to. When the blaze had settled, the sound of marching hit everyone's ears. By some miracle, word had been sent to her father in the south, and he had marched his men north to help any displaced by the fire. She watched in awe and pride, for though she'd lost one hero, another still lived. He stood with two new children at his side; colts, who bore the same pattern as he, and she smiled. Citlali didn't approach him, but quietly disappeared into the wilderness again.

She never strayed far, though. Citlali had returned to the South and remained in one of the smaller herds that surrounded Valhalla. The world around them seemed to have fallen to chaos, for a mass exodus of western herds had come to the south for asylum, and her half sister had been returned at the expense of violence. For a time, she took to caring for any of the weak or wounded who'd made the long trek from the west, but just as she thought perhaps things would get better, they crumbled for one final time. Stormhold had been rebuilt to its former glory, in fact, it was doing better than it had in years. So, naturally, it was only a matter of time.

Citlali remembers that day almost as clearly as she remembers that snowy night all those years ago. It was slow at first, the panic. A few men and women running through the streets of the small village with smoke on their clothes. Then more, and then a mob. They were running from something, someone. Crimson eyes then peered skywards, and saw the first few pillars of dark, black smoke rise above the trees and foothills. With her heart in her throat, she darted off in their direction, to Stormhold, only to find the place up in a blaze--a blaze caused by one of their own. From the fires of the castle emerged her half sister Etain, in all her heinous glory, dragging their father to the steps. He had been badly wounded, in fact, Citlali didn't know if he would last the night. As fast as her legs carried her, she came to her father's side fully expecting Etain to react, expecting a fight. The young female only laughed, and it was an unnerving laugh. Red stared into silver, and Citlali saw the brokenness within her.

She pleaded with Etain to call off the assault, but the newly dubbed Wolf Queen would have nothing of it. With the help of an old mutual friend, Citlali managed to get her father to safety, and began ushering hordes of panicked people out of harms way. The fires and embers had barely smothered themselves into nothing before a cataclysmic wave crashed into the island of Cimoron. Everything was gone in the blink of an eye, washed away like they were nothing---and that, dear readers, was the end of the story.

Or so she thought.

Citlali, water logged and sick from the cold, washed ashore in an unknown land. She was found by a few scouts, and brought back to their tribes stronghold. A leader by the name of Talyn saw to it that she recovered, and asked her about where she'd come from. He saw the burns on her skin, the tiredness in her eyes, and knew she'd seen destruction like no other. Citlali didn't speak at first, but eventually she gave the Chieftain enough info to satiate his curiosity. It would take weeks before Lali could stand again, for fever had zapped almost all her strength away. A cough had settled in her lungs, making it almost impossible to breath. And for days she agonized over minor wounds and the images of the wave, the destruction, and prayed to whatever would hear that her father had made it out alive. No one deserved to die in such a cruel manner. Not even...no, she stopped herself. Etain could die and Lali would have not wept.

Once she was able to stand, able to move about with little more than the occasional cough, Lali was introduced to many of the clansmen who called the stronghold home. They were simple people, hunter-gatherers from what Lali could surmise. A blacksmith on one end chipped away at metals, women and men beat hides on racks, some were preparing meals in another hut. It almost reminded her of the stories her father once told--about where he had been born, and what little he remembered of it. Tribal life was in her blood, he used to say,. To her surprise, Lali was quickly accepted by much of the populace after showing her prowess in fighting and scouting. The fact that she had basic knowledge of the herbs was also found useful, and within a matter of months Lali found her place in their society.

Citlali spent the greater part of her life with her newfound family, until being separated from her scouting party one dark night. It is here she finds herself wandering to the edge of the forests, only to be met with a long unending field. At the far end, she sees a tree taller than anything she's ever seen before, wondering if perhaps she had fallen unconscious in the cold as it had been winter. She does not remember her legs carrying her across the snow-laden field, but when she blinks, the woman was seated before a marvel unlike anything she'd witnessed before. Dare she enter?

Dare she see what lies beyond?

I suppose, dear reader, we shall have to wait and see.

Dormant

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Additional

Credits

Og ref: Allis Newer ref: Raygun Fullbody & Avi: Grindog Gincat (otherwise known as ness idk where their profile is anymore rip)