acosmicwayfarer

[acosmicwayfarer]

A touch of 🌠 Sal Lore

The other day, I had a little thought about something Sal probably does during some idle downtime a.k.a while chilling or meditating, which is:

Faded floating. Little floats while in ghost mode.

Fading technically is accompanied by particle loss, which is to say an Ethereal can't be "faded out" for forever, they have a time limit before they start taking some serious damage, BUT... if they've accrued enough energy, I could see fading actually being therapeutic for an Ethereal like Sal who actually prefers to keep herself at "low battery" for a number of reasons. It's more of a relaxing way of releasing that energy than forcing it into a streetlamp or fireplace and watching the sparks fly or power surge for a moment! Unlike a standard spook, I imagine the "empty space" of an Ethereal would emanate a warmth instead of a cold in this respect as well; it's to say even for those who could not perceive Sal in a faded state visually, they may be able to feel that warmth, especially if she had been chillin' - er, warmin'? - there for a while.

So, think of this as a freaky alien ghost way of Sal recharging the introverted social battery; it's like a more in depth way of finding solitude. She quite enjoys solitude.

That said, I had an additional thought about how this is something she may have done even since she was very small and unable to fade - not even realizing she was an Ethereal yet!

It's not spoken of often, but Sal was born and raised coastal. She loves the skies and stars... and seas! She does actually enjoy water as well.~ So, even when she was but a wee Sal, I imagine she had instances in which she simply liked to float in the water the same way she likes to float in the air... and may very well still have nostalgic moments where she'll float in the water like she used to as a child, reflecting on thoughts of little baths, pools and thoughts of the sea. 🌊 🤍

[acosmicwayfarer]

Flutters daintily. Not skillfully, but daintily!

[acosmicwayfarer]

Just adding another scribby of the nest. Snuggly nest thread, part two. 🪺 💕

Taking a moment to post a super rough concept scribby of an idea @psychobind and I have been entertaining more recently, which is:

Wagnas' awoken/"butter-goddess" form having a nest of sorts! 🪺

Because the lore and headcanons behind this subject are so neato and I currently lack the brainpower to write them out, I will be returning later with an additional post speaking more on the matter. For now, enjoy rough scribble. 🎨🐌

[acosmicwayfarer]

'Tis New Year's Eve, a timeless tradition even he cannot claim ignorance of. In his time, the court would erupt in cheers, nobles drunkenly embracing one another in the parlor, laughter and revelry filling the air. He recalls it now, through his own memories and the countless lives he has absorbed, a thousand New Year’s kisses witnessed but never partaken in.

Perhaps it is the warmth of the single drink he's allowed himself, or perhaps it is the occasion, but this once, he feels compelled to indulge. As the countdown echoes around them, reaching two, he leans closer, hesitant yet intent. The clock strikes twelve, and his gaze finds hers... pleading, searching for a sign. Slowly, he leans in, a feather-light brush of lips, fleeting and questioning, gentle and patient, leaving her every chance to shy away, as he mostly expects she will.

🎆 🎇

In Aeden, the year was soon to pass at this specific hour, another to take its place - a cycle reaching its beginning and end. Among these rounds, there were some that felt to be but a blur or a blink of an eye, both bland and brilliant in their brevity. And so, in reflection, what kind had this one been?

A sentimental stare hung itself somewhere among the beyond before landing upon Wagnas. The wayfarer smiled warmly. Fleetingly, however, as she realized she was now caught in the wake of a closing distance. A seemingly particular means of it. He was... this was...

She could feel it. Something down to her very DNA that faltered; the tips of russet locks sparked, fading in part, their translucent, ethereal glow softly dancing like blades of grass met by an unfathomable breeze. It was as if her preternatural cells would wish to flee, but... in this proximate vicinity, she could only fall still.

Lips barely parting as if intending to speak, such words would remain unseen, only their intention to be carried across a single breath. She was not unlike a ghost upon him. She lingered, ensnared in this quiet limbo of hesitation.

Her gaze drew away... she herself almost did the same. Again. Alas, she remained. Until finally... with eyes closed, so too was the distance ever gently.

In ways entirely and delightfully unanticipated, this year spoke of a tale she hoped to turn the coming pages to. Its contents were beautifully curious.

[acosmicwayfarer]

I'm running late and I don't care. ✨ 🎄 🎷 (Also tossing this at the @saxualcontent page.)

[acosmicwayfarer]

-sees basically all the friendlies are also tired.- Yes. Good.

[acosmicwayfarer]

It's that time of year again...

There is a mysterious hot chocolate - with marshmallows, whipped cream, peppermint chips, cinnamon - whatever suits your fancy (and NOTHING missing - no scandalous sips have occurred! Looking at Dirk) sitting in a place of convenience, waiting for you.

Perhaps an Ethereal of the Sal variety delivered it to you personally. You may or may not have seen her drop it off; if you did bear witness, one could liken it to spotting Santa or seeing a shooting star - lucky you, if so! 🌠☕💕

[acosmicwayfarer]

The weariness that rose from unwonted actions melted away in part as he spoke... though, in its place, sorrow sprung anew. It was then that she realized that his origins were no longer with him, lost to disaster.

"I am sorry for your loss." When the opportunity was afforded, she spoke her mind. Though her eyes did not meet with him, they still felt to find their mark upon him somehow. A silence followed, one that felt to be carefully weighed and measured for what further words could be given.

Perhaps it was by design that he found himself here. His wasn't the first story of its kind for guests and natives alike of Aeden. It was to say his tales were not quite as spurious as others made them out to be. In fact, they were even relatable. In ways.

"If there is such a thing as fate, it is not always kind."

After taking another sip of her tea, her starlit gaze met with his once more. It was quick to stray, as was the nature of the beast, but it lingered long enough to exchange another brief, yet blissful beat that was a smile shared. Simple, but sweet. With her cup still placed thoughtfully within her grasp, she bowed her head before it in thought; its fragrant steam, though weakening, allowed another chance to fill her senses.

"However, true or false as it may be, there are winters that still find their spring," she continued, "and the spring blossoms of Aeden are quite lovely." The steady arc of her lips imbued her words with warmth.

Nothing was promised beyond the past and present, but the contingencies the future held were not all dour... and, be it for the very first time or once again another year, the thought alone of there being a possibility in which Wagnas could see the alas blancas and cerise magnolias in full bloom was a delight.

A snowy starter for @psychobind.~ 🌨️

A fascinating property that accompanied common forms of snowfall was a quiet nature; a natural sound proofing. It was, in fact, beyond notions of fiction and fantasy to know it for its quietude as it was very real.

Aeden was a robust place, full of life in nearly every corner, be it flora or fauna. A widely acclaimed synthetic paradise and a home away from home for many. The ambience was part of the experience; however, there was a tranquility that accompanied this snowy silence. It was as if the metropolis itself had been laid to rest. There was solace found in a more soundly - or soundlessly - sleeping city.

Plucking herself from the depths of her thoughts, she glanced over at Wagnas, who sat snugly upon a portion of the living room sofa with her. His gaze was locked upon the cold, quiet cityscape she pondered beyond the window. Taking note of the steam still drifting from atop the cup nestled within his grasp, she was reminded of her own, retrieving it from the coffee table. It was allowed a moment to rest before her; clutching it ever gently, she noted its reminiscent and serene aroma. A small sip was then taken. It was as soothing in taste as it was in fragrance.

Jasmine green tea was a favorite of hers - and it was no secret. Familiarity was interwoven into the essence of petals and tea leaves that comprised it, though, there was something that carried what felt to be a memory within its taste more precisely as well. She had partaken of this blend before, perhaps... long ago. A vague recollection, but a recollection nonetheless.

Reclining once more, she briefly contemplated the stretch of blanket that claimed her shoulder. It was given a soft tug, assessing whether or not it could be persuaded to allow her more of it... alas, it would seem there was only so much to be given. From here, anyway. Which was to say, there was an answer to the miniature dilemma of this missing manta, but...

With some hesitation and a signature brand of uncertainty, Sal contemplated said resolution. Her eyes scaled facets of the table, the floor - they darted about her with little aim, really, before she shifted mere inches to the right. Just a little. Just enough.

But it wasn't enough... the blanket would not yet yield the fuller extents of its comforts, oh no. How was there still not enough blanket? It was a big blanket!

The wayfarer moved again, another short measure to the right... Unintentionally brushing against Wagnas' leg with her tea-bearing hand in the process, it was retrieved in an instant - or as swiftly as a tea-bearing hand could be withdrawn. Not that it much mattered. For she now sat flush to him, shoulder to shoulder. At least the blanket finally gave way... somewhat.

An apology wasn't necessary and withheld by extension; nevertheless, it was written all over her face.

"Could almost be a painting." The view was offered commentary, her voice soft, despite addled nerves. "Does it snow back at home?"

[acosmicwayfarer]

— Sarah Williams

[acosmicwayfarer]

send  “mistletoe” + a character’s name for my muse to be caught under the mistletoe with them!

[acosmicwayfarer]

🌠 Sal

Profile

Full Name: Salaria Kriston

Aliases: Sal, Sally, Kriston, Angel

Sex: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Physical Age: 24-26 ᶜʸᶜˡⁱᶜᵃˡ

Actual Age: Old

Species: Human

Attributes: Ethereal

Height: 5'5"

Weight: 135lbs

Skin Tone: Ivory

Eye Color: Mint green

Hair Color: Russet brown

Overview

Ruminative, Curious, Altruistic —⠀Personality In Three Words

Having a vast array of tales to tell in her relatively short life time, Salaria (or Sal, as she prefers to be named) is known for being a wandering soul throughout the cosmos as we know it (and as we don't!) She has her work and obligations to attend as they provide the funding and means for her nomadic lifestyle, but even so, she isn't always easily found in one area for too long. If a piano crosses her path, she often stops to play it, sometimes singing along, having a rather deep connection to music that she doesn't always share with others.

Personality wise, she's a curious and thoughtful soul, often coming off as gentle, pensive and even "playfully bizarre." To those closer to her, they regard her as a maternal figure who can grow more protective of them, depending on the situation. She's very protective of her little "kitten cat" Chaku, in particular.

Brief History

Although her childhood had its share of mysteries, it was relatively normal by comparison to the later parts of her life. Both she and her older brother, Kenneth, were raised by a single parent - an adoptive Nyalan mother named Shyra - in a small coastal town. She was also close friends with another Ethereal child named Shilo. As children, Sal and Shilo were both left in the dark about what they were. This resulted in an accidental expression of their Etherealism on and off throughout their childhood. This later led to Shilo's disappearance, supposedly connected to the IGG. Trouble with the government didn't seem to end there either...

By her late teens, Sal's brother, Kenneth, tragically fell ill. One evening while staying with her brother at the hospital, a mysterious man appeared, requesting that Sal join him "for her own safety" and further more, "lest she share the fate of her friend." The prospect horrified her, however, she was left with little choice but to agree to it. Her compliance would soon lead to the introduction of Aexena, an anti-governmental organization. The Aexena aimed to keep her and her kind safe from the government that, little did Sal know, had begun hunting her down. Given the notion that she would have shared a similar fate to Shilo otherwise, Sal became invested in "what that meant" after being taken in. The aforementioned mysterious man, Amthyr, and fellow Ethereal, offered her the opportunity to assist them in their efforts to find him. Knowing what she could be capable of as an Ethereal, her participation was promising. Under the wing (all pun intended) of Amthyr, Sal was then taught how to utilize some of her Ethereal power. By her twenties, after many years of training, she had become one of Aexena's most dangerous personnel.

During her years in Aexena, she met many new faces that she still stays in touch with to this day. Post Aexena, her lifestyle was rather aimless until Dr. Quin, one of a few public faces that held a connection with the agency under lock and key, offered her a small job as an assistant at his lab, which later evolved into a place she could consider the closest thing to a home after having lost "home" time and time again.

It could be said the nature of her past feeds into her current lifestyle as a nomad. However, she continues to wander the cosmos to this day for many reasons beyond this as well. Some of these reasons may be unknown even to her!

Extras

Birthday: April 4th ᴱᵃʳᵗʰᵉⁿ ᶜᵃˡᵉⁿᵈᵃʳ

Orientation: Demisexual

Occupation: Lab Assistant

Past Occupations: Café Barista, Member of Aexena

Skills: Can sing, play piano and retains some advanced self defense combat skills

Hobbies: Writing, playing piano, dancing and stargazing

Favorite Colors: Whites, pastels and various shades of blue

Favorite Consumables: Sushi, most seafood, various teas and coconut ice cream

Fears: Herself, losing loved ones

Trivia

Raised by a Nyalan woman, Sal's name was derived from the Nyalan language. The name "Salaria" translates to "Star Angel." It can also be written as "Aria en se Salus," translating to "Angel of the Stars."

Also derived from the Nyalan language, Chaku's name translates to "Chance." Sal felt the name suited him, being particularly entranced by the language in her younger years and feeling the way they met was very much by pure chance.

Her middle name, Ileana, was given to her in her biological mother's respect as it was her name. It had also been Ileana's wish for her children "to get to know the world through the beauty of music," which Shyra also promised to teach, so Sal's musicality and middle name are living legacies of both her mothers, Ileana and Shyra.

She is a hilariously awful cook. To the point she seems to have this running curse of burning almost everything she tries to make. The "can burn cereal" type, if you will... though, cereal and other dishes that involve no heat are among the few that seem doable for her. This is one of a few references made to the whole burn/heat factor of her Etherealism.

References

[acosmicwayfarer]

A snowy starter for @psychobind.~ 🌨️

A fascinating property that accompanied common forms of snowfall was a quiet nature; a natural sound proofing. It was, in fact, beyond notions of fiction and fantasy to know it for its quietude as it was very real.

Aeden was a robust place, full of life in nearly every corner, be it flora or fauna. A widely acclaimed synthetic paradise and a home away from home for many. The ambience was part of the experience; however, there was a tranquility that accompanied this snowy silence. It was as if the metropolis itself had been laid to rest. There was solace found in a more soundly - or soundlessly - sleeping city.

Plucking herself from the depths of her thoughts, she glanced over at Wagnas, who sat snugly upon a portion of the living room sofa with her. His gaze was locked upon the cold, quiet cityscape she pondered beyond the window. Taking note of the steam still drifting from atop the cup nestled within his grasp, she was reminded of her own, retrieving it from the coffee table. It was allowed a moment to rest before her; clutching it ever gently, she noted its reminiscent and serene aroma. A small sip was then taken. It was as soothing in taste as it was in fragrance.

Jasmine green tea was a favorite of hers - and it was no secret. Familiarity was interwoven into the essence of petals and tea leaves that comprised it, though, there was something that carried what felt to be a memory within its taste more precisely as well. She had partaken of this blend before, perhaps... long ago. A vague recollection, but a recollection nonetheless.

Reclining once more, she briefly contemplated the stretch of blanket that claimed her shoulder. It was given a soft tug, assessing whether or not it could be persuaded to allow her more of it... alas, it would seem there was only so much to be given. From here, anyway. Which was to say, there was an answer to the miniature dilemma of this missing manta, but...

With some hesitation and a signature brand of uncertainty, Sal contemplated said resolution. Her eyes scaled facets of the table, the floor - they darted about her with little aim, really, before she shifted mere inches to the right. Just a little. Just enough.

But it wasn't enough... the blanket would not yet yield the fuller extents of its comforts, oh no. How was there still not enough blanket? It was a big blanket!

The wayfarer moved again, another short measure to the right... Unintentionally brushing against Wagnas' leg with her tea-bearing hand in the process, it was retrieved in an instant - or as swiftly as a tea-bearing hand could be withdrawn. Not that it much mattered. For she now sat flush to him, shoulder to shoulder. At least the blanket finally gave way... somewhat.

An apology wasn't necessary and withheld by extension; nevertheless, it was written all over her face.

"Could almost be a painting." The view was offered commentary, her voice soft, despite addled nerves. "Does it snow back at home?"

[acosmicwayfarer]

She takes a seat at the piano and begins playing something...

Atop the piano, Chaku and a tiny, fluttering friend study the captive wayfarer as her fingers dance across the keys, bobbing and swaying to the tune.

[acosmicwayfarer]

Filling the midnight void with a SaCharito chimiChaku scrib. 🤍

[acosmicwayfarer]

Or at least, in theory, what memories may remain...

She silently studied the man as he proceeded to introduce himself by name and aim once more. He had been severely inebriated that night, to be fair; though, even outside of what had more recently transpired, she did have to wonder if this was not their first (or second) meeting. Again.

In thought, perhaps her gaze lingered a moment more than intended before it and its starlight strayed to an empty space.

"Wagnas." She echoed his name, well versed in the method as a means of better memorizing such. The wayfarer was no stranger to appellations and did her best to keep them.

"You may call me Sal."

After giving a moniker of her own, she continued on, regarding this objective of his.

"That is quite the ambition. To save the world." Of which she marveled. Truly, it was. Laudable and daring to be open-ended. It was just as subjective of a phrase as any other... curious indeed. Tempered as her demeanor felt to be, her interest in the matter still proved evident. "I wonder how you would save it."

The thrill of the novelty before him soon lost its spark. In a literal sense just as well. It was a soft, but heavy shadow...

A warm prelude, almost met by words, remained without before the next movement; a somber realization. She listened carefully, marked by a continuous silence.

There was no denying his actions were tailed by consequences. The woes of yesterday were still being broadcasted, making the headlines: "an explosion on the northern bridge," three found dead, multiple injured. Face to face, she and Tsuniah had seen some of these victims, delivering them to safety along with Wagnas. It was the least they could do. They did have some influence on the matter, after all. Ever compelling was a guilty conscience. She would know.

Perhaps it wasn't their brightest moment, admittedly, allowing a foreign entity to enjoy a drink or... well, just a drink. It was no different than one of many for some bar patrons; his reaction to it was simply... underestimated. Drastically so!

But, harboring a murderer...

... He wouldn't be the first.

"We... are defined by more than our mistakes." Her words were slow to emerge, but chosen carefully. "That is the nature of life. For better and for worse."

In the absence of his vision, she studied the features of his newly-dispirited face.

There was a gentleness woven into her ethereal (and Ethereal) gaze, in turn.

"It is to say that, whether by intention or misfortune, so too does this circumstance not erase the smiles that we have shared. Nor the memories that remain."

Contentedly as the wayfarer could stand in this darkness herself, even so, she reached for the recently abandoned switch. With a soft click...

On.

A subtle curvature to her lips renewed itself; briefly, and with an undeniable shade of cordiality, he was regarded. Her eyes then tread past him, locking upon the contents which rested outside of a nearby window.

"You are free to leave, but know that you do not have to leave for that reason."

[acosmicwayfarer]

Imagine kabedon-ing a small moth. Or being kabedon-ed by a small moth (better.)

Anyway, that is all the content I have to offer today. Thank you.

[acosmicwayfarer]

chillin' with @acosmicwayfarer moth