girl raised in a thorn—bush;

wounded before she could walk.

Esmerie

Esmerie is a wisp of a figure; exuding a perpetual aloofness and dazed detachment. Sylph-like and fragile, her slender frame seems almost too delicate, with mole-dotted skin stretched over bone, betraying her poor health. Long, rich brown hair falls down her back in romantic curls and waves, with soft bangs that gently frame the witch's face. Deep, tired brown eyes, heavy-lidded and haunted, peer out from beneath glittered dark eyeshadow, speaking of countless sleepless nights and a burdened mind. A soft blush blooms across her cheeks, in contrast to the pallor of her complexion. The unmistakable, sweet scent lingers in the air around her— a perfume made of lavender and wildberries, of course.An Astrologian is never without her cards. With long, manicured fingers, she deftly shuffles the old, well-worn tarot deck, coaxing out their secrets as they pass through her hands. She stops suddenly, examining the esoteric illustration before her. Esmerie takes a slow drag from an elaborate quellazaire, cigarette smoke curling into the air as her gaze remains fixed and her brow furrowed. She is a woman who straddles the line between the seen and unseen, the known and the unknowable.

PHANTASMAGORIA — For as long as she can remember, Esmerie has been plagued by cryptic visions and dreams; Some revealing hidden secrets, others foretelling events that have yet to pass, often depicting terrible violence inflicted upon her. If she can decipher them with the help of her cards, they might offer her the wisdom to alter the course of fate. Whether a gift or a curse, it is a closely guarded secret. To those with an eye for it, she appears to be brimming with all manners of aether. It would seem impossible for one soul to carry, yet here she stands before you.THE BRUME — Esmerie's ill-begotten childhood was unfortunate, but not uncommon; A daughter to ordinary citizens of the city-state, her parents were unaware of the nature of her visions, deeming her a disturbed and unruly child. Her prophetic abilities frightened them, and after years of consultations with countless chirurgeons and the Church, who shuffled her from one caretaker to another, she was abandoned at the tender age of 9 in the Brume of Ishgard, lest her parents be marked as heretics. Now alone, the girl peddled tarot readings and "magic" trinkets on the frozen cobbled streets, relying on those selfsame visions, her quick wit and the mercy of others to survive.DIVINATRIX — Though many saw potential in the young woman, most exploited her for their own gain. Fortune shifted in her favor once, when she was taken in by an aging Astrologian who, though strict, was a meticulous mentor in the art. Under this guidance, Esmerie transformed into an exceptional weaver of magick. Now, she offers her services in fortune-telling and divination to those who seek them. What would you ask of one who can see beyond the veil?L'APPEL DU VIDE — Despite her haunting visage, Esmerie can be bewitchingly charming. She will use this to her advantage, especially when it can afford her luxury and coin. Those she deems particularly susceptible would fall prey to her seduction, hoping to spend the night with the woman, only to find themselves stripped of every last gil by morning. Nomadic and bohemian, she seldom remains in one place for long. Perhaps you have crossed paths with her in your travels.

It always begins with a dream.Esmerie opens her eyes, her vision blurred by a searing burst of color, wincing as the breath leaves her lips and rattles through her ribcage. Scintillating lights and hues weave in and out of sight, forming impossible patterns. They flutter around her in swirling motions, spin at her touch, and splinter into a kaleidoscope of prismatic dust. It's a dazzling sight to behold, and though she's been here countless times before, still she pauses to admire the dizzying beauty of it all.But the divinatrix knows better.Steadying herself on her feet, her steps feel weightless. There is no sensation save for a soft warmth emanating from her core, radiating outward through every ilm of her being. As she looks around, her surroundings seamlessly shift into a lush forest landscape. A gentle breeze rustles through the leaves of endless trees, carrying the faint sound of running water in the distance. Light cascades through intertwined canopies, illuminating the mossy floor in peaceful incandescence. Yet, even the serenity of this place cannot quell the growing pit of dread in her stomach.Like a prey animal stalked by its predator, Esmerie's eyes strained against the scenery, taking in every detail. She searched for an omen, a sign, something she's supposed to see. She needed to find it before it found her. Then she saw it; a shadow lurking at the corner of her sight, at the very edge of the forest. It's darkness expanded at an impossible pace, a soundless, overwhelming presence. Every fiber of her being sensed the unspeakable terror it harbored.There was nothing Esmerie could do but run.What could it possibly be? Usually, these harbingers presented themselves in a manner more indicative of their nature. But, this blackness was formless and shapeless; if she looked at it a second longer, she felt she would be lost to it too. Esmerie ran and ran until her lungs caught fire, the friction of her breath sparking a violent blaze in her throat, smoke choking her gasps for air. She ran as the forest blurred into a frenetic haze, as the encroaching void strangled every light and every color. Flames blistered her lips, blackened her skin, and burned her eyes until her fragile body could no longer carry itself, collapsing onto the barren floor.She propped herself up against a smoldering tree, the now hollow cavity of her chest heaving as the surrounding thicket burned from the fire she started. She squeezed her eyes shut, steeling herself as the suffocating shadow enveloped her, seeped into every crevice. She didn't want to watch herself being pulled apart, layer by agonizing layer, from skin to muscle to bone, until nothing remains but that awful, infinite black.It always begins with a dream, and it always ends in violence. In blood— her blood.Esmerie opens her eyes, her vision blurred as it adjusts to the soft light spilling through heavy velvet curtains. The bed beneath her is damp with cold sweat, and her cheeks burn from the salted trails of tears. She runs a trembling hand over her shoulders and neck, desperately soothing the skin that moments before was charred and cracked. Her shallow, ragged breaths break the silence and peace of her abode. Shivering, she reaches for the leather pouch of cards lying beside her.

"......."

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PLAYER — Hello! I am Vestelle (she/her), I play on Crystal & am located in the US (CST). Aside from XIV, I play a lot of other games, enjoy horror/occult media and am a digital artist. Thank you for taking the time to read!You're welcome to reach out if you're interested in putting together an interaction between our characters. I am very vigilant in maintaining a separation between IC and OOC. Because of this, and regardless of RP, I would prefer to chat and get to know you to see if we're a good fit. I am 21+ and expect any and all RP partners to be so as well.DISCLAIMER — Esmerie is an OC borne from many personal struggles, including mental health and trauma. As a result, these subjects require a nuanced approach. This doesn't mean she can't be fun or lighthearted, this just means that these darker themes are an inseparable part of who she is & how I intend to play her.THEMES — Gritty, Dark & Mature ✦ Trauma, Grief & Loss ✦ Horror ✦ Occult / Mysticism ✦ Violence ✦ Adventure ✦ Character Building ✦ Complicated Relationships / Toxic Romance ✦ Story Driven Plots