Nighean
Profile
Basic Information
Name:
Nighean
Nickname(s):
Iona Ailisa Moroughnil
[True Name, Secret]
Age:
98
Birth Date:
15th Gifts, 8196 [Vipera]
Height:
5 ft 6 in [168~ cm]
Gender:
Female
Race:
Dark Elf
Class:
Healer
Occupation:
Apprentice Everything
Deposed Noble [Secret]
Guild(s):
Tìr Torclann
Enhancement(s):
Dark Blossoming
Likes
attentive audiences, accordion music (shhh), bright night time, hiking, lace making
Dislikes
hard candies, dark night time, humid weather, general casualness, fast conversations, 'common' gossip
Personality
+ Gentle, Intrinsically Hopeful, Patient
o Cautious, Self-critical
- Ridiculously Closed Off, Easily Spooked, Generally Errs on Doubt
With a gentle heart now hidden far away, Iona wears a very different coat these last few years. Though she was never much of a social butterfly before, she's gradually become a proper recluse. She is always holding something back, even if it was clear to benefit everyone, she will merely purse her lips and avert her eyes to the consequence than pip up. She shrivels under pressure and eeks away from standing up for even her most unwavering thoughts. Not out of shyness, rather, a fear of misguiding someone. In her eyes, this heart of hers that sways so quickly to doubt and panic... is exactly why she should never say anything. So she doesn't. She'd rather no opinion than deal with any fall out from one.
While Iona's voice can be easily talked over, her true feelings and decisions are obstinately unbending. No matter how far away she tries to place herself, or how afraid she is of what may come, there is a deep part of her that desires to reach out to others and give them the strength she could never muster. She may not say the words you want to hear, but she will offer a hand and an ear so that you're not alone. As averse to common gossip as she is, truly her deepest wish is to know others have gone above and beyond what they believed. It is from witnessing this that she finds her own strength to peek out from the high walls she's built for herself.
✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:*
In wake of recent disasters, she has silently resigned to her feelings of despair for the future. While the events, of course, have nothing to do with her, she can't help but feel that she really was every bit the bad omen she thought she was. She goes through routines, and not much else.
History
[ Youth ]
The soft ticking of clocks, and the scratching of a pen to parchment was Iona's-- Bhan-baran heiress to (respectable enough) scribes-- most memorable company. A book-keeping father who clung to his family's mines and a mother who always seemed to take the brunt of every obstacle her family faced... Her brother Lylas would come to the scene later to test the nerve of family and servants alike when raised-- a living typhoon if there ever were one, especially before he took to the stories. She lived otherwise quietly, keeping out of people's way, content.
[ Etched Forever ]
The memory itself is hazy, but the feelings are vivid, terrifying and unrelenting. She arrived to a church, meaning to pick up where her mother left off on a manuscript copy, something came up with regard to her father's small library. A servant was there with her..? Maybe? Probably. She was done cleaning one of her mom's magic quills during a break and a child runs up, a long ill-kept wound along their arm re-opened. "Heal it, heal it please." Perhaps she looked like one of the proper healers here? Heard of her family? Well, in the tizzy of the childs contagious bawling and her own panic, she did try to heal it herself. It didn't work. Somehow... somehow... she made it worse. Much worse. Why. She knew she couldn't heal, but she still tried. She didn't mean to. She shouldn't have.
She just had muted ringing in her ears, but the child was howling and ran. Clergy-folk came rushing, shouting. She was met with anything but understanding, words descended into righteous fury, receiving a verbal lashing from one in particular that she can still recall word by word. What did you REALLY cast? She was torn to pieces by the time someone arrived on scene to talk down the confrontation. Muuuuch later she found out it was staged by a noble family (can't prove), believed to be part of the mana crystal mine mess (yay), the church was (supposedly) unaware, and the child(?)... fine? Damage done, gossip roiling, she receded to obscurity for years.
Unfortunately this was a time when a lot of things were going on in short succession. Grandfather's age rearing it's head, mother digging around for a Trustworthy home physician for him, instability making them let go of staff, father falling head-over-heels into a vicious property dispute, and brother gallivanting off to ever more dangerous ventures... She didn't do much since.
[ Recent Memory ]
She really didn't. All the way up to Reluir's assault on Iadlain in Fire 8292 she stayed holed up at the manor, and barely knew about anything outside. Even then, she only left her room because her parents went off to help the war effort... and her brother snuck off after them, leaving her with their grandfather. She's not really sure how the two of them got through that, especially with the war cleaving the Merilindes medicine away, but they did. Terrible and frightening as it was, it also played a crucial first step to her going outside again, beginning with grocery runs to proper walks. Rhishart did more moving than he probably should've, but this was utterly unfair to go at alone.
Balla occupied, then after the first few weeks of Rains 8293 letters arrived... her family was... not coming home. They needed to stay and provide healing efforts (and work Lylas who refused to come back, that sneak--). She collected them, cried for them, even her brothers as intensely angry as she was at him. She held on, and so did grandad. Just bring them back safe Atros, please.
Her brothers birthday passed during late-Seeds and she was awaiting letters from her family a particularly warm morning in the Month of Flowers. They were coming home soon. Finally... Then she found out through a hysteria filled grapevine, Balla was hit with Adabrene. Did they leave in time? Mother and father came home safely after a gripping few days of paranoia... short one Lylas. Who would arrive much later--- but bound to bed for nearly a week, Atros in all His mercy, narrowly let him escape the Adabrene too. The euphoria of her family making it through this without serious casualty-- she thanks Him. When this all blows over, she'll be properly mad, but right now. She was glad for the first time in years.
A lull with Saint Beitris' Feast was a much needed distraction, Lylas found someone (Bel) willing to make home visits. The calm ended abruptly as a shadow colossus (Mr Spooks?) rose and once again, she faced chaos. Except for her brother (of course) the rest of her family was home, bunkering down with them she kept the household together until the worst subsided. With it's passing, she begins to truly fear the monarchy's choices...
The colossus falls, and with it all the mana crystal mines collapse too, her father is devastated less for the profit more for... all that work and family damage to keep the mine... and now, what did he have to show for it? Angry miners? In the Month of Gifts, Iona finds out her brother had pestered the royal guard (or er... a retired member) into taking her under wing. At first she went because she felt she Had To... then...
She wasn't the most memorable person probably-- wasn't around much, didn't talk much, wasn't very good but it started to mean a lot to see these squires hopping around in their enduring energy-- especially once her grandfather passed on the new year. They were starting to build up again-- finally-- for real now-- then... well. Welcome back, Mr. Spooktros. Thanks for the rebellion, princess.
After being shortly incarcerated for her connection to nobility, freed by Atros' second coming, she was finally taken in by a shambly rag-tag team of survivors out of pity. Every eye would count. She's still hanging in there. A day at a time.
Current Story
[ Beginning of the End ]
As miniscule as a man on the horizon...
Bitten by the wind, eaten by the cold– Nighean’s motley band dwindles from ten to a lean four in the brutal months. It is at Father Atros’ door that they are turned away.
The Tir Torclann found them. Waylaid by the very storm that would have spelled their doom. After one final march, with all that they had, they would finally be safe in the arms of the very people that helped take everything from her.
[ Sin and Sacrifice ]
Enormous titans and shadowy wisps soaring high above, remnants of ghosts cross the land, then vanish to great hands of void.
She saw the sky rend and tear, bleed and froth, and then rain the very stars above until it transformed anew.
Nighean was no braver than she was before, no stronger or wiser. Fear was like an old friend seen only when it shook her hands.
The world has changed without Reluir and she found herself praying evermore than before…
Additional Info
🐱 Peripheral ??? It’s too soon to tell… She’s not even good at her actual class.
🐱 Blossoming Mottled Dark-indigo and Black Mucosa, Mottled Dark Indigo Nails, Dark Indigo Sclera, Normal Teeth
🐱 Design Detail Has scars that run up and down her arms and face, she has two faded ring scars on the middle and pointer finger of her right hand. She’s still a little Too Thin despite effort to recover. A large Atros halo is tattooed to her back. Her hair is on the frizzy side now (no hair care here… just a comb and prayer to god). She picks at her nails so they’re rather ugly.
🐱 Magic Has an unusually high rate of failure with spells, both healing and standard magic. Iona can get to the point of channeling, but somewhere along the way she loses control. She has never told her family (or anyone) that she can't tell any of the different ether types apart. She can channel, she can mix, but at the very moment that she casts them she just has no idea how to handle it, and never figured it out. She's likened it to the exorcists' burden, and it's need to be expelled, but only in nature, she never actually learned such techniques.
🐱 Tidbits
Typically has a very steady hand, and has a natural knack for things that ask for high levels of dexterity. However, she is rarely able to show it off as her hands shake under observation.
Was always devote to Atros, like the rest of the family, but turned to prayer at home a few years ago. On her back is a large tattoo of the Atros halo, something that, to her, was a symbol of being watched over. With War of Ancients, she feels anxious over it, on one hand she is being called, on the other, she feels something is wrong. With Atros becoming silent, she’s gotten all the more fearful. Replacing the dry heather she had, she’s woven one made of thread to last longer.
Being raised a noble has given her a certain level of formality with her actions and unless she knows someone very well, she dislikes being interacted with casually and has a habit of keeping a 'minimum' distance between herself and others. Due to the revolution, she has become increasingly wary of others, especially if they're from a humble background. Relan prejudices persist very strongly with her and while she may not vocalize it, it is very obvious.
She resents hearing any gossip (good, bad and everything between), but will gladly sit for hours listening to first hand experiences no matter how boastful.
Only really fluent in Canan, but knows enough common to carry small conversation (though still on the poor side). Showed interest in Iadllic Canan with visits from the Merilindes some years ago, however this interest was curbed when Reluir and Iadlain went to war. Only knows a handful of words in Iadllic Canan.
Has excellent elocution when speaking publicly, but requires a pre-written prompt of some sort to capitalize on it for any crowds, else she freezes up. Though she no longer tells stories anymore, she is nonetheless thankful for the skill that they imparted to her.
Scars from a tussle with some thorny bushes shortly after Atros rose again and didn't get it healed up right away.
🐱 [ Family Heirloom ] Five silver rings once adorned with mana crystals. Originally part of a ten piece set, the last half were once with her brother. Two rings were damaged during one of her greater magic accidents a few years ago. The two ring-like scars around her middle and pointer finger on her right hand are from the same accident.
As of Unravelling, the entire set returned to her care. One half empty of it's ancient gems, while the other harbored mere shells of their glory. They have since been retired and returned as (now useless) heirlooms.
As of Playing Gods, the set, along with the rest of her family's belongings were lost to the sea.
Relations
The Bound Band
From a fair 10 to a lean 4, they are what's left of the people that helped her survive Reluir's harsh cold... and help bridge her to the people in the Tìr Torclann.
Conall/M/Thunder (major) Fire+Light (baby) Wizard
A woodcutters son, and unofficial leader for having the best working knowledge of the wilderness. Surprisingly nerdy fella with the feeling of someone whose ego got knocked down a notch or ten.
Niamh/F/Warrior
Family's carpentry business went under with Atros' first summoning. Conall covered her in fire aspect tattooes to make her look more intimidating to bandits. Cool-headed, but usually stressed.
Oilbheris/M/Shaman
Former sheppard and once hopeful to become a pastor. Struggled quite a bit to keep everyone alive and healthy. Has been about as gloomy as Nighean despite once fiercely trying to boost morale.
The Squires
[ Bearchan (Meri), Cormag&Ridir Sen (Muff), Viennya (Akia), Ridir Meidh (Dusty), a (retired) Ridir (Lint) ]
Some rambunctious kids that started to mean a lot to her when she needed them most. Reluir's future felt very bright in their hands.
She always knew she wasn't cut out for it, they all probably did-- the squires were half her age and thrice as strong. Yet, even though she felt miles behind, and surely embaressed the Ridir investing in her... she couldn't give them up.
It took a while to realize what Lylas' off the wall ridirhood scheme was about.
Against everything, she hopes they're out there somewhere. Doing well.
The Moroughnil [Heiress, Bhana-Baran, Extinct]
Nighean shrugs dismissively-- never heard of them.
------
Iona cared for all of them as an heir would, but it was an intense source of constant dread for her. She failed horrendously to live up to what she was supposed to be and recent years only further drove in she was not meant to succeed. She misses them terribly and it makes her feel twisted to admit, but she does feel quite a bit lighter not having to carry that title anymore.
Lylas Moroughnil
Nighean has no known siblings.
------
Iona considers herself a fairly patient person, but with a brother like this... No one brings out the best and worst in you quite like a sibling. Probably the only person she isn't afraid of going toe-to-toe with in vocal combat. Between her self exile and Lylas' increasingly risky antics, the last decade has not so quietly strained their relationship.
Has not seen or heard from him since months ago.