Polyitsaux

I forgot about this master list LOl Valdamar (хүч / Khüch ) Dotharl!

Polyitsaux is probably Madam Mim and Maleficent merged into one gangly giraffe. "I hate sunshine! I hate horrible, wholesome sunshine! I hate it! I HATE IT!"

Polyitsaux captures the explosives in the net of her lacquer nails like a greedy child collecting cookies. Coins clatter onto the tabletop, enough for the Booms and earring, and likely a bit extra, she isn’t paying attention. Adjusting her umbrella, she says, “why thank you.” It occurs to her that bringing these explosive toys home to her brother is a terrible idea. Keeping them out of the secret stash of weapons he thinks she doesn’t know about is going to be the crime of the century in her household. She glances down to make sure the Auri woman isn’t standing on her dragging skirts.

(reading through everyone's descriptions was a lot of fun!) Valdamar Dotharl: The risk he took was calculated, but man, he is bad at math. Polyitsaux Seiren: Mistakes were made, but that 250,000 gil bottle of wine was not one of them.

She hears them before she sees them. Her slightly drooping ears abruptly twitch straight and taut as the Auri approach, silver hoop earrings dancing in the wake of her pricked attention. Pushing 7 feet in her heels, Polyitsaux none the less feels like a mouse bailed up by alley cats. It’s too early and she’s not drunk enough for this level of social interaction. Her slender chest strains to breathe within the confines of her corset. Poly has to crane her neck to look at the Auri woman, sunglasses creeping down the straight slope of her nose. She studies Mia with murky pink eyes shadowed by fake lashes and swamped by makeup. If she felt like a mouse before, now she feels like a dhalmel. “I like your hat,” she says to Mia, then adds in a conspiratorial murmur, “I collect hats,” then to Marisa she says, lofting the pearl earring she found, “I’ll take this and five of the ah – the –“ she shakes the earring at the wooden box of explosives, “booms.” She smiles with too much teeth.

Polyitsaux is familiar with the sensation of being stared at, but in her experience it is usually followed by the toss of a rock or insult. She stiffens, gleaming nails frozen over a tiny wind up music box. But when neither rock nor insult arrives and Schezar’s gaze only alights briefly on her, the tension melts from the slender span of her shoulders. It’s early morning, she’s only had one glass of wine to fortify herself and is suddenly overwhelmed by an iota of kindness given by a complete stranger. She begins to turn to Schezar, realizes she has no idea what to say to him, and immediately panics. She is saved the inevitable embarrassment by Marisa. “Nothing that Bibblebix's patented gobbietek Boomrocks™ can't handle though! 10 Gil each!" “That sounds dangerous,” she remarks wryly to Schezar, pitching her voice low. But the nervous titter that follows betrays her mounting anxiety as she waits for her turn with the young shopkeeper. The pearl earring caught between the net of her nails has no twin but she cannot bring herself to let it go. “Which is precisely why I must have one. Or ten.”

An immensely tall Elezen woman appears from behind Schezar like a spider on the wall, impossible to say how long she’s been there for. A moment, an hour. A year. Her reedy frame is encased in acres of sapphire blue silk, her torso held ramrod straight by a corset. Stiff fabric cascades from her narrow waist, looping and doubling back at impossible angles like choppy waves. A spill of inky black hair hangs straight as her spine and reaches well passed her shoulders. She is standing under an umbrella that matches her ridiculous dress and is peering intently from behind sunglasses at the little toy that betrayed Marisa. What can be seen of her face is thin and angular, with nothing to soften the edge of her jawline. She looks like she hasn’t felt the touch of the sun in twenty years. She lists closer. A twitch of her hip brings her dragging skirts forward, rudely brushing Etoile’s legs. “9 gil,” she marvels, as one bony hand equipped with unnecessarily long nails goes hunting through Marisa’s wares like a pale cave spider, “that’s a steal. An actual steal. I’d – seven hells, what is that – oh!” her voice gets abruptly shrill, hand pouncing on something. An earring. But does it have a twin? The hunt continues.

I LOVE THIS, more sneering cats!

I. Polyitsaux Seiren IC Name: Polyitsaux Seiren, born Pollie Seiren Race:Elezen Duskwight Age:40 Sex:Female Profession:Weaver & Astrologian Brief Description: Where her gaunt, narrow features work in her male twin’s favour, the same cannot be said for Polyitsaux. Everything about her is long and bony and sharp. Long, thin hands. Long, whipcord lean limbs and bee-sting breasts. Standing at 6’3 in bare feet and pushing 7’ in her stiletto heels, she enjoys being around people who are bigger than her. She tries to hide her albinism with heavy makeup and wigs. Every inch of her body, from just under her chin down to her toes and fingertips, is covered in astrology tattoos. She is a miserable creature under it all. She owns a clothing shop called the Wight Spider, but the vibrant silks and jewelry hanging like gleaming royal tack from the mannequins is but a façade. Behind the mask, if one knows to ask and comes with coin, is the panic room where she reads her cards. The doors get bolted for a reason. ‘…Weigh your every triumph with the knowledge that it comes at a price. Eventually, fate comes for its pound of flesh.’ I. Valdamar Dotharl IC Name: хүч / Khüch, meaning Force. But he goes by Valdamar to non-Xaela Race: Xaela, Dotharl Age: Early twenties Sex: Male Profession: Dotharl is LIFE (he works as S’kheler’s bodyguard) Brief Description: Looming at 7’1 with a meter and a half long tail that he has capped with sharp steel, a broad chest and biceps as big as S’kheler’s thigh, Valdamar looks absurd in just about any setting that isn’t the steppes. A flat, black regard sits in a lean and angular face that might have been handsome once but is now a roadmap of scars. He moves like a half-tamed coeurl subtly testing the strength of its tethers. Valdamar is told that when he was born, he arrived with a scowl. It remains a mystery to the tribe how a man who had been so boisterous and jolly in life could come back as such an intense and stone-faced little boy. And whilst Valdamar doesn’t dispute his soul, he defiantly refuses to have fun like his past self. Something happened to Valdamar on the steppes that, through an unfortunate chain of events, lead to his being held in the illegal fighting pits of Limosa. It’s from here that S’kheler rescued him. S’kheler tries to keep him on a short leash and out of the jail. His desire to return home has reached a feverish pitch for reasons he is uncomfortable explaining. OOC Tumblr with detailed bios and inspo! Poly: https://stayfastandlonely.tumblr.com/(links to bio and shop within) Valdamar: https://of-course-its-an-orange.tumblr.com/(shared with S’kheler) Linkshells: LEAF & OOC Dotharl Primary FC: PATH III. Other Info Contact info:Sometimes S’kheler and Valdamar go roaming through Ul’dah, so if you see us with the RP tag up, feel free to approach! Poly I’ve only done private scenes with so far, but the shop is up and running so she can be contacted through the tumblr or here if you want to visit. She outsources her jewelry from goldsmiths and the like, if you have a character that might be interested in that!