Summary: Silent as the rain which falls upon leaves, somber as the fog which follows it.
Owned by: White_Caribou
Game: Belurian Manor
Physical AppearanceAnteola is a stone-faced woman of sun-kissed skin and a head of brown hair loosely at her shoulders. Her hazel eyes are framed with bags and she often appears sickly, body cold to the touch. She stands around 5’10” with bony features. Both of her calloused palms have a dark branding on them. Cloaked in what appears to be a sad imitation of a clerical robe, hers is simply a white gown of thin linen draping her narrow frame with a hood. She carries a small burlap sack containing what appears to be a few delicate tools, sheets of parchment, and small bundles of plants. Her feet are bare and her veiny hands dirtied at the fingernails. Upon quick glance it would be easy to mistake her for a lost peasant woman or a priestess with an unexplainable coin count.
Personality and interestsHer demeanor is some mix of chilling and meek. She isn’t cruel by any means but is rather reserved, the result of greatly neglected social skills to the point of detachment from those around her. Being put on the spot can send her into a frenzied panic, undoing all of her orderly preparation. She is easily distracted, investigative, and jumpy. This recipe of paranoia and the frequent night terrors lead to her hallucinations and delusions. Her reactions to them vary. Onlookers might claim she is unhinged or deranged but nothing is certain in this manor, is it?
She has an obsession with the human form, and if she did not need to be clothed under public eye, she would much rather be naked, bare as she entered the world, bare as she would leave it. Her pack is a mystery, its contents she doesn’t quite know the meaning of yet. She can successfully read and write the common tongue and prefers larger vocabulary to compensate for her own small voice. Her existence could be considered tragically poetic or plain pitiful.
HistoryAt the moment her mind is a blank slate. There is no childhood, no adolescence or adulthood past one fateful night which has granted her a new sense of purpose--and bittersweet nightmares. She does not know why she has found herself at the manor, only that an unseen draw is pulling her in every direction. Truthfully, she could not recollect what had happened a few days prior. All that is known is the scent of black pepper and burnt cedarwood following her trail, and that she is called Anteola.
She is very selectively mute after the incident, vocal cords and throat being far too damaged for her voice to be any more than a raspy growl when she chooses to speak. That's assuming she wants to speak at all. She chooses the path of silence and communicates with writing or simple gestures.