Firelady - Fawnling bid - WON

Featuring Nevaeh
Late Summer, Year 756 of the New Age
Silverthorne, Silverwood


Ahmehgahd pencils pens scanners color printing and painting all shoved into one thing *explodes*
Note to self, never ever ever do front-anythings ever again. ever. died.
Seven hours or so with all that drawing, inking, coloring, printing painting bluh XD though that isn't exact because I wasn't keeping the exact time


TO BE EDITED - to be prettier and have a better personality or something - But it's 2 AM and I just want to sleep so XD deal with it... please?



She is the first one from week three

Her fully digital colored version can be found here (and if you want to see how she looked like as only lines, then here she is - though my scanner makes these white lines sometimes so bluh XD)


Name: Nevaeh
Gender: Doe
Age: 8
Height: 10.3 Hands
Type: Medium Light
Color: Silver Bay Dun Roan Fawn
Ee/Aa/nD/nCr/fwsfws/nRx
Use: in Western Isles!
Herd Preference: Silverthorne
Proposed Position: Aspiring Firebringer (Silverthorne)
Personality:
Nevaeh is a creature of grace and carries herself as such- but years of being under the watchful gaze of a overprotective patriarch and a demanding dam has made her grow much meeker in walk. She walked as though on eggshells throughout her young life, and despite her recently discovered confidence, she still moves as though the ground might crack out from underneath her.
She dislikes getting dirty, and rather ironically is a teeny bit concerned over the appearance of her dusky-colored coat. Despite being impervious to fire like all Silverthorne members, she still takes great enjoyment over spending time in water, be it bathing her coat or just relaxing. This means that she takes great enjoyment in hanging near the banks of Skylake.
She spends quite a fair amount of her free time sleeping, especially in the warm light of the sun- always armed with a prayer to Grian.
Nevaeh was raised to be demure and shy, but once she was half-grown, she became the fawnling she is today- bold, confident, and determined. Though she might seem quiet or “weak” at first glance, others best beware- she won’t take no for an answer. She is helpful to a fault, and will gladly insert herself into a problem if she feels like she is needed. She tends to be very defensive and protective over other fawnlings, from fawns to elders to soldiers. It all depends on who she has chosen as the one who needs her aid.
Her heart is large, and this means that she will protect someone at the cost of her own health or happiness.
If she has set you as the injurer of another fawnling, then she will not let that injury you have committed go- until you prove yourself worthy.
Because of her rather committal attitude towards helping others, Nevaeh does not always respect the boundaries between herd member, rogue, and rival herds. She does not care where a fawnling is from, only their actions. This means that her relationship with some border guards can be a bit tense.
When this doe applies herself, she applies herself wholeheartedly. She determinedly studied the casting of Fire Magic, and is currently trying to work through to become advanced one day in the future. She loves the beauty and wild spirit of fire, and seems to draw strength from watching her cast flames flicker.
Nevaeh is not dependant on her religion like some Fawnlings, but she does send her prayers when they feel due. She favors the demigod Aeveen secretly, and inwardly, as a trainee, she desperately wished that she would have some sort of sign or contact from the demigod who brought fire.
Nevaeh, while being devoted to her practicing and being fairly good at taking criticism, can be sensitive when a comment is made towards her abilities by a non-trainer. She enjoys praise, but dislikes flattery, and secretly she stows away every hurtful comment directed at her, and sometimes when the bouts of loneliness hit her, she can dwell on these a bit too long.
History

From birth, Nevaeh’s course was plotted for her, shaped carefully by a sire who could care less about her but had to have things his way, and a dam who only turned her way when she desired something. The little roan doe never spoke out of place though, and was always demure towards either parent, being pushed and prodded along their course. She never let the harsh words against her gangly form or stumbling falls. She learned to walk with grace and cautiousness, her steps ever mincing and gentle. She was a silent, frosted little shadow, always in the background, waiting for her moment to step onto the stage, at her father’s command.
Her sire had very precise plans for her, all hinged around his own desires and goals. He hoped that by offering a perfectly behaved filly to the King when she came of age, he would greatly increase his chances of becoming a General, and thereby coming into the line of choosing the King, as well as possibly becoming a King himself later on. Nevaeh’s mother was no help- she wanted only to become a General’s favorite mate, or perhaps a Queen one day.
Nevaeh never complained, remaining as complacent as always- she didn’t have any goals for herself, so why should she complain? She was rather emotionless for those first few years, going through life as though she was a dreamer- not lucid, moving with clockwork precise movements. Her only flashes of joy or sorrow came from her quiet times spent alone on the shores of Skylake, in her own little “cove” of sorts, where she played with some tiny pebbles of glass created by years of practicing firebringers on those shores. Though she had no idea what a firebringer was, that early exposure to their work, even if the creations were unintentional, would influence her later on.

She was two when her family trekked to the Ash Plains for the first time, the sire taking along his top mate and their daughter, needing to keep them both under his watchful gaze as he went to practice and train on the plains. Nevaeh missed the lake and foliage of home, but the smoky charred land fascinated her. She even allowed her perfect coat to get mussed by the soot and dirt, and would return home to angry screeches about her appearance. The King might spot her, they said- even though she was years away from being of age.

She spent more time on her own now, sneaking away from her lazing dam when her father practiced and patrolled. She knew the stories of the great fire, but some days she still did not believe that there could be such a thing as this “fire”- she had never seen it cast. Was there really so vicious a creature that it could devour an entire landscape? From horizon to horizon, there was nothing but a gray carcass of a land beneath a bright blue sky. She let her mind wander on this questions during her treks, and sometimes at night when she was due for her “beauty rest.”

They were returned to the forest of the eastern part of Silverthorne when the storm struck, the lightning-bolt storms that came in the dry of summer without the gracing cloak of rain. In the chaos of wind and crashing thunder, the family was separated, and Nevaeh found herself alone as the smell of smoke, reminiscent of the Ash Plains, except far stronger, rolled over her. The forest, old and dead and dry unlike the beautiful Silverwood to the north, was like kindling for the hungry bolts that struck true with their flashing fire-blades. The fire roared to life, eating up the jagged trunks of long-passed forest sentinels.

She did not understand what fire was, and she had no clue that she was immune to the hunger of the flames. But she was also rooted in spot by the flickering beauty of roaring flame rushing at her, hooves dug deep into the crackling dead leaves under hoof. She did not even have the thought of prayer. A finger of fire stretched towards her, seemingly ready to scorch her hide like the trunks around her. But while the fire licked her coat, and she closed her eyes against the intense flashes of color, she was not harmed, and stood amongst the burning inferno.
At that moment, inside the heart of the wildfire, she was born.

After walking through the charred ground that had been cleared by the forest fire, which had been set out by a fresh shower of cooling rain, she rediscovered her parents, with new eyes on them. Her mother lay dead on the ground, having been frightened to run over a steep bank, breaking her neck in the fall. At least, that’s what her father insisted. But the roan doe never forgot the muted red flakes of color on his hooves. She would never know what happened during that fire with her parents, but she knew her place now. She looked at her father, told him simply that “I am through helping you. I want to live within the fire now.”

She journeyed back to Silverwood alone, avoiding her father’s gaze from that moment forward.
Shortly after returning she journeyed south, through the woods and vale, and the young doe found herself accompanied by an elderly buck and his once-mates. The quartet of Fawnlings traveled south together, so that the doe did not have to make her way alone quite yet.

Upon arriving at the Southernmost tip of the Western Isles, at the crown of Ironbark Peak, she was met with a wondrous discovery- other Fawnlings like her, trained in the art of manipulating the most beautiful creature that was Fire. She quickly fell in love with training, and threw herself into it, completely devoted to the pursuit of this incredible power and art. Her veins ran hot with the joy that came with finding one’s passion, and while she made many mistakes throughout her training, she never gave up or felt despair.

After reaching the middle of her training, she returned to the center of Silverthorne territory, in between the Silver Vale and Silverwood, wanting to go back to the shores of Skylake and try her hoof at creating the tiny glass pebbles that rested on its shore. She waits and practices, ready to help others, many of her past habits sticking with her. And she never forgets what it was like in the middle of the flame.



Fight Stats
Speed: 4
Stamina: 2
Strength: 1
Experience: 1
Magic: 11 points for Medium Level Magic



Breed group hereeee:
Art by me!