—A grave, and a halo—

Character

Name: Halogen

Aliases: “Brushbearer” (by a certain seer) ; “Blessed Maiden” (Archmage of the Highcourt) ; “Disgraced one”

Age: 20

Birthdate: 23rd of August, 1422

Species: Semi-ascended angel

Faction: The Stellar Order

Gender: Female

Preferences: None, but prefers smaller women who she could give headpats to

Education level: low. Can barely read or write, at all, and her abilities regarding an angel’s basic Stella skills are... sub-par.

Destined role: The next Master Architect (should she follow the vague prophecy)

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Behaviours

Voice: Dry, disinterested, rarely ever of higher pitching

Speech pattern:

• Neutral: Generally lacking warmth, speaks in a grumpy, distant manner that keep other people from trying to get to her closer. Speaks quite loudly and clear about what she has in mind, and also isn’t afraid to use slurs or degradatory terms (except some).
• Sad: Rarely shows it, but her words tends to be slower, more subtle signs like voice cracks and pauses are present.
• Stressed/nervous or pressured: Tries to keep herself eased at all moment, using sighs or habitual gestures to try and deflect or lessen the impact
• Happy: Smiles once in a blue moon, practically indistinguishable from her normal neutral self, save for her leniency and noticable lack of profanities

Quirks in speech: shorten words due to her accent, like: “Just” > “Jus’ ” or “Getting” > “Gettin’ “ ; also tends to merge a word with “it is”, like: “it is good” > “s’good.” or “it’s like that” > “s’like that” ; uses verbal sounds like “Tch” or “Pfft” and “Hmph” to express herself

Examples:

• Greetings: “Hey, mornin’. Slept well? Hope you didn’t.”
• Departing: “Bye. Won’t miss you.”
• Hobbies: “Believe it or not I used to go and train swordsmanship whatever. Used to.”
• Troubles: “S’like they can’t shut up about me being a blessed maiden. Hell’s with that, I dunno.”
• Favourite food: “Anythin’ with honey works, really.”
• Disliked food: “...why did you bring grapefruits?” (scoffs and rolls her eyes) “they suck asses, that’s why.”
• Expressing herself: “Yeah yeah, you came to earn a favor from the-“ (air-quoting) “blessed maiden. I’m here to tell you that you can fuck off, thanks.”

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Appearance

Build: A tall, young-esque girl, with full features and a relatively bottom-favored figure. She has vibrant skin, untouched by tanning (due to lazing in the Highcourt most of the time) and a slim pair of arms. Has average bust size (around C-cup).

Hair: Long, straight hair that drags down to around her buttocks, colored a very muted pinkish auburn. Her bangs are long, sometimes even covering her eyes , but they are trimmed due to the Order’s regulations.

Eyes: Hooded, sharp eyes with even sharper black lashes, with a pronounced underline makeup. Her irises are the same shade of her hair, matching perfectly.

Features: A sharp face but with gentle noses and soft lips (that tastes like honey). There’s also a scar under her neck, barely visible. It is in the shape of a long gash, a relic of her dumber, childish days. It could mysteriously glow a golden light. Also has a of of smaller scars on her knees, as if she sank them down sea urchins.

Clothes: A black skirt that is scandalously short, frilly around the edges. Also has a black corset to tie her waist up, and then finished with a white jabot shirt, short at around her upper arm and ends with also frilly shirts. She wears proper underwear, believe it or not, with a short pair of... shorts. A black choker is present, along with garter belts on her arms and left thigh. She also wears dark thigh-high socks and black boot-heels.

(the amount of skin shown elicits gasps and cries whenever she walks around in public)

Height: 5’11” (pretty tall)

Weight: 133.2lbs

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Personality:

First meeting Halogen, one would expect a more.. upbringing, delicate person. After all, the blessed maiden—one is supposed to bear perfect mannerism, learning various skills to be the next in line for a role so grand.

But she is far, far from that: rebellious, detached, and lack any and all modesty, down to even how she dresses. She uses profanities like if it was nothing major (it is), she never shy away from speaking the truth of mind, be it a pretentious-looking man or an immodest prostitue, even if she has no place to say anything in the first place. In the surface, she is quite a spoiled, petulant and grumpy child too old for how she acts.

Her thorny exterior is mostly because of her discontempt for the Highcourt’s grasp of control for her, annoying and restricting her freedom from within the walls. Sure, she had the food, but she didn’t have anyone to talk to—she was only given the role of a semi-angel instead of a full-fledged one due to her peasant past, and thus aren’t treated as equal. Everyone seems to be so far away from her grasp, none truly stepping up and try to befriend her as Halogen and not the maiden, thus fuelingbthe growth of even more thorns around her.

She just needed a friend, truly, but when ine acts like she does, it really is a hard game to play.

Goals and Motivations: Live a normal life, even if it means the falsification of the prophecy

Strength:

• While she lack in hospitality, she can provide adequate loyalty to those whom she trusts.
• She desire freedom for all else, which means the Order’s teachings won’t be an iron fish to control her, thus the mass.

Weaknesses:

• The same desire for freedom WILL be the reason she fall for Armata’s whispers or Fallen Dieties’ influence, should any of them be present.
• The thorns she weaved around her are harder to chip, as they are more or less a defense mechanism.
• The immodesty and lack of care in general towards what others sees her like might make her a rude person, even if she don’t really mean it.

Likes:

• Despite not having a preference for genders, she has a clear bias towards smaller women that are either too shy for their own good or too bratty for their own size.
• Honey, anything with honey automatically makes it good on her tongue.
• To be free from any shackles

Dislikes:

• Grapefruit. Not even diligent bees’ hard work could salvage them.
• The Order trying to control over her.
• Having to work she hates jobs)

Unique ability: She has a unique ability, essentially necromancy with Stella-based weavery allowing her to control and manipulate Remergences to do as she said, without a limit for how many she could control. She named it “Marche Mortis” (lit. death’s march)

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Background:

Born in a peasant’s family, Halogen wasn’t exactly... upbrought. She lived a life where salt taxes malnourished her family, where the windows in her homes were the hole that bled their hard-earned cash. Her mother and father had to word day and night to feed, and they themselves are too busy making it rich instead of catering for Halogen and her younger sibling... but could you blame them, really? But sometimes, they do come together to at least smile that a winter had passed without taking any of them away. She would play with her sister Enma, with worn teddy bears and makeshift garden toys... a simple life, really. Not too bad, neither too good.

She was young when it happened. Kontono, one of Armata’s Generals, descended her spear upon the land, for which purpose Halogen remembers not. All she knew was one moment, she saw her parents outside onnteh fields and working their asses off while her sister played, the other? Well, all that was left was restructured materials. Crops turned into gold, soil turned into silk, but the humans that were there?

There was nothing.

Younger Halogen knew nothing happened, she knows not of who Kontono is, she knows not of why it happened—she came outside to endless riches where dying plants should be, where her mother was supposed to be sprinkling, where her father was supposed to be mowing, where Enma was supposed to be playing. But there was not so much as a whisp of existence, their Threads dismantled violently on an atomic level, dying a painless death they never knew coming. She sank to her knees then, the gilded grass piercing her ankles and bleeding the white strands of the ground red as tears started to stream. She don’t even know the value of the field, countless coins, countless days worth of treasury... meaningless.

For what purpose does gemstones and preciousness is when there was no one to share with?

And that’s when she saw her—Stellae herself, descending downward, the eyes as beautiful as both the seas and the skies casting a pitiful gaze upon the younger child, bearing empathy to the unfortunate soul. Halogen still knows not of who this strange woman was.

“You are but an unfortunate soul, indeed.”

“...who are you?” Younger her had sniffled out with wide eyes.

She still remembered the white hair of the woman, the single blue strand onnher hair glowing distinctively whenever her mind pictured tge fated encounter, and the two words still sticking to her mind:

“Your friend.”

Stellae herself never appeared again. But she gained something—a stinging sensation behind her neck, a scar that bled briefly before reweaving and sealing, crowning her the next blessed maiden with an invisible laurel around her forehead, only visible to Archangels. Soon, seers around the world would also predicts of a blessed maiden with a humble upbringing, one granted the laurel by Stellae to be the next Master Architect.

And soon she would be found by the Order, taken in and be taught the things a blessed maiden should—teachings, peacheries, soon letting the girl turn into who she is today. It is also around these time that she learned how to conduct Stella-based weavery and Marche Mortis, but still limited in terms of other weavery basics like self-healing and concealment spells. She was looked down upon by her peers and only viewed as a vessel to enforce the Order’s control over Karelia, especially Amarylans... and she knows it. Why would the Order ask her, a Blessed Maiden, stage an attack of the Remergences so that angels could purge them in front of the people? It is a game of control.

That’s why, she turned rebellious. No more does she wear modest robes or hoods, but the things she like—black clothings befits a mourning tradition, skirts blasphemously short for someone so holy and thigh-highs that both conceal the scars on her ankles and highlighting the thighs of hers. It elicited gasps, cries, but she simply could not care less.

One day, during a wandering session that led her to a remote corner of the Highcourt, she stumbled upon something: a golden brush, with shimmering gilded hair and decors unlike anything she’d seen before. She had heard tales of Napolus’ lost tool, but she had always discarded it as fiction—so she picked it up...

...and it deemed her worthy. It deemed her the best candidate as a Brushbearer, and thus, merged with her own existence. Now, with the abilities to paint the universes as she wishes, Halogen... did nothing.

Not because she don’t want to, but because she can’t. Sure, the brush is one with her somewhere in her core, but she seem just unable to do as it was, subjected to holding it eternally without knowing what to do (she can only access the Brush’s powers by being a Master Architect)

And now, after having enough of the Order’s bullshit, she decided to be bold:

Stage her own death.

Thus, freedom.

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The prophecy:

The clearest version of the prophecy regarding Halogen is that “Once achieved true freedom, the blessed maiden shall ascend the throne to be the Architect that wanders the cosmos,” but the integrity of this prophecy can be challenged by...

..Armata, and his legion of Fallen Divines. Will fate allow this long, unfolding drama where both sides of the gods tries to grasp for the Brushbearer, when she merely wanted a friend who could understand?

SYSTEM NOTE

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