Éna Lanthir

Inactive Member
Luperci I drown in them
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4th February 2016

Definitively dog, heralding back to lineages of afghan hounds, saluki, and other sighthound breeds amassing into a landrace mix that, by all appearances and function, is waifish and slender. Her long, lop ears are hidden predominantly beneath the long, dense waves of her hair that cascade clear down to the top of the gaunt joints of her hips. The slim muzzle of her face is more often than not obscured by those tresses, obscuring her long eyelashes and pallid blue eyes that droop subtly at the corners, giving her an almost perpetually forlorn or morose expressoin between her observant gaze and slight, knowing smile.

Her silken pelt is a neutral gradient of slate, cool gray to a sandy, pallid tawny. Éna’s muzzle and the tip of her sickle tail have splashes of minimal white, ticked and freckled with slate, and she has a splash of ivory along her sternum. Despite the roots that tie her towards the civility of Old Caledonia, Éna was never one to overly accessorize or dress, possessing very little by way of dress outside of simple Luperci made shifts and a single, well-loved, carved wooden pendant with a depiction of the goddess Nín.

Éna’s posture is most easily perceived as reserved and potentially shy or wilting.

5'8" (xxxcm) — xxxlbs (xxkg)
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Tuna (#32363F)
Salt Box (#68656E)
Martini (#ABA1A0)
Swiss Coffee (#DDD2CE)
Dawn Pink (#F7EFED)
Jungle Mist (#A6CBCC)
pious • diffident • mim • loyal

Demure, delicate, and uttery polite. A lifelong devotion to Caledonia’s faith has firmly molded Éna into a devout believer and something of an eternal optimist, despite tantamount adversities that arise. It could easily be argued that the seeming naivete has clouded her outlook on reality somewhat and given everything a rose-tint, given her inexplicable draw towards troubled individuals. Her taste in men has a penchant for being on the poorer side of things; Éna operates on the line that she believes she can fix flaws and that there is good in every individual, regardless of the sin.

She is patient. She is kind.

But she is, unfortunately, and without a doubt, a doormat.

That is not to say she is spineless, however; Éna is capable of manipulation, even if she does not realize it, by playing on others’ pity or her own disappointment in a failure to achieve a desired result, and instinctively seems to realize when these tactics will best suit her. She is surprisingly driven and goal-oriented, and understatedly bull-headed and patient, enduring and all too understanding of the world around her, even if the viewpoint is muddled.

She’s got an undeniable soft spot for children, and regards them as little beacons of hope, untainted by the world at large.

The fear of Gods was stricken into Éna’s heart from a formative age when they stole away her mother’s life in childbirth.

She learned of their existence quick, and early, and was baptized both literally and figuratively in the teachings of the clan of Lorn. Nín was not a patient or benevolent presence, and neither was Éna’s father who raised her beneath an exceptionally scrutinizing gaze to ensure her blossom into what he considered the ideal: Gods-fearing, prim, proper, and utterly cut down to size. The waterways were second nature to her from the moment she could swim. Expectations were an ever-present pressure well into adulthood, and even then, Éna was never quite spared of the concept of duty.

The hunger of faith, and the hand of her father, kept her obedient and well-mannered; but even that could not spare her the realities of war when it finally came.

With the aid of her father, Éna escaped ruination at the expense of his life, and was left scattered and stranded, adrift in the wilderness with little else to comfort her than her own religion until she took up with a band of fellow survivors where she could better recover, until setting out to find the rest of Caledonia, and what it has become.
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