colpeia

[colpeia]

Sungrass Oasis

{Rp between @beamgully and myself. Thank you for reading if you do!}

The arid sun beaming through the purple Tanari sky began to dip westward, just barely considering its retirement. Gadgetzan was somewhat quiet. Many of its denizens were likely enjoying dinner. Amidst a cluster of adobe buildings there was one with a desert-blush sheet serving as a door. It complemented the sunbaked hue of the clay it rested against. Artful script flitted above the small foyer entrance:

Sungrass Oasis -Tea Lounge-

The void elf that stepped into Gadgetzan may have been more of an odd sight had the importer not been a known personage among several traders. What did draw a few eyes was the glowing scythe carried on her person, indicating that she was something more dangerous than a simple ‘delivery girl’. Yet, with a blink of an eye the ethereal blade of the Black Harvest was dismissed to a pocket of the Void, returning Safrona to her shades of nuanced professionalism. Stranger things had happened in the little desert city, perhaps.

Her eye was caught by the shift of the sheet that seemed to beckon her to an entrance she’d never stepped inside before, the written word of ‘tea lounge’ murmured soundlessly between her lips in consideration. Her step inside was preluded by her curious smile, tucking away the black shard between her fingertips. Tea sounded more cleansing against the trinket’s corruption than her usual glass of bourbon.

Though a hole-in-the-wall, it was contemporary chic and polished. The floor was tiled in sleek black. Voguish artwork brought the white walls to life. Framed in thick, black frames, the paintings were as soothing as they were stylish. They depicted modern abstract, turquoise beaches, and desert blossoms. A few were pieces that might have been pretentious in another setting, but somehow felt innocently trendy here. Two of them were offset by equidistant sandstone bowls resting in tasteful square impressions on the wall. Sweeping glass sculptures ribboned with solid colors - some glittering in the light - added bold character to the lounge. Most of them were feet tall and stood on the floor.

On each chair was a pale yellow cushion. Filled with sand, sea glass, and shells, a candle resting in a glass bowl embellished every table, along with a daisy in a white vase. A handful of firebloom petals were strewn about them. Each table was large enough for two guests, with a pair of long, slender menus. At the far back was a bar (of sorts), near another curtain which supposedly led to outdoor seating. It offered several stools should anyone choose to be in company with the Sin'dorei woman behind it. She scribbled something down with a quill, a gnomish-styled calculator beside her hand.

One look at her sleek, leggy physique and one might already imagine her at an amateur marathon. Yet she had a breezy posture as if vacationing somewhere nice. Her clothes paralleled the establishment: contemporary chic with painted, manicured nails. A sand dollar rested below her slim neck, joined by two silver starfish on a sterling chain.

Her tawny skin was mottled thick with freckles. Coffee brown hair, streaked subtly with caramel highlights, draped either side of her thin face like a square curtain - save the asymmetrical chunk knifing a few inches above her collarbone. Her nose was sloped, and her wide, pale lips coated in gloss. Smoky lavender makeup embellished the golden lights of her eyes.

They were upturned, and cheerfully lean in shape. For now there were only two separate couples occupying the lounge as guests, far too engrossed with each other to notice anything outside of themselves. It was the apparent owner who looked up from her work at the scarlet-haired courier, and spread a sunflower smile. She had a neighborly and wizened kind of charisma. Even her breathy, sand-like voice conveyed warmth: “Welcome! Please, take a seat anywhere you’d like.”

The Courier took her study of what could have been considered a diamond in the rough of Gadgetzan as she walked, violet pupils glinting in low light approvingly of the little secret she’d stepped into. That arresting, otherworldly gaze eventually drifted to the desert flower that was the owner as she was greeted with warmth. She offered a practiced smile of her own, pulling away the burgundy hood that matched the long spirals of her gathered hair a little too well.

“I will. Quite the lovely place here,” she spoke, her silk voice pleasant, if not a touch unsettling with its residual echo of the Void. “Almost Ramhaken in appeal. I’m surprised I’ve never found it before, actually.” The scarlet importer took an elegant seat of a nearby barstool, a long leg flattered by the cut of her skirt as she’d cross one over the other. “Do you own this little gem in the sand?”

“Thank you!” the owner beamed. Her Muppet-esque friendliness was simple, but not patronizing. Pure, yet the opposite of naive. Her affable smile only broadened as the new guest drew back her hood and made herself comfortable. The tell-tale echo didn’t appear to inspire any hesitation in the server whatsoever. She reached under the bar to procure a menu, then offered it.

“Oh, we’re very new,” she explained. “We opened weeks ago. I’m Colpeia, by the way! Let me know if there’s anything that catches your eye.” She nodded at her question. “Yes, I do! Though I couldn’t have done it without the help of my tribe. A few continue to help as waiters, cooks, and business assistants.”

The void elf inclined her head slightly with her gratitude as she took the offered menu, swiveling readily in her barseat to face Colpeia directly. “Ah, that explains much of why we’ve not met. Safrona. Safrona Shadowsun, importer of many of a needful thing. Maybe business will get us better acquainted, yes?”

Mystery was weaved beneath her try at simplistic professionalism, lending to the idea that she had not always been this simple importer she wore. She was too practiced, an enigmatic charm pooled there to her merlot smile. The emerald eyes of a bronze scarab trinket glinting in her gathered hair, set apart from the scarlet and shadow she wore. It seemed she favored this scarab theme, another design dangling prettily from the lace at her throat.

“I’d say let’s see what I can help you with…but.. ” she opened the menu as her eyes flowed down the lists inside. A breath of a chuckle unraveled beneath her next words. “Maybe I should just be the customer today for a change.”

“Well it’s an honor to meet you, Safrona,” Colpeia dipped her head, with her own brand of flourished, Cheshire, yet plain charisma. “And sure! Actually, I know one way we may be able to help each other. My parents own a glass business called Beamgully Crystal. Maybe you’ve heard of it? It’s been around for a long time. Their wares range from windows and vials to extravagant art. Much of what you see in this shop was crafted by their hands. They have me acting as their personal courier at times, so I would be very surprised if they wouldn’t welcome a charming new courier like yourself.”

A brief fondness flashed across Colpeia’s features when she eyed the diplomatic woman’s scarab motif. It reminded her of a friend. Her smile grew. “I think that’s a great idea. We all need to treat ourselves sometime.” The elegant script on the menu displayed prices that - while not dirt cheap - were reasonable.

“You as a courier, when you have this fine place to run?” Safrona lifted her eyes from the menu to connect her gaze to Colpeia’s once more.  "Well, we can’t have that, lovely. All you need to do is give your parents my name, and I’ll come do my job. I can handle fragile glass well enough too with the travel, and fees can also be settled on before I come for pick up. My specialty’s actually connecting businesses and filling client bases, so maybe we’ll see both the Oasis and your parent’s glassware business growing, yes?“

Her eyes returned to the menu then and began to settle on a decision. "Mm…my inner wine importer is telling me you could use more alcohol for this menu, but let me slide away from that and take some of your Sweet Spice Tea. And…I’m tempted by Desert Dumplings, but I’ve….” she chuckled. “The meat choices are….different. What do you recommend to pair with the tea?”

Colpeia shrugged a shoulder. “It’s something I’ve done for many years,” she replied. Her dark brows lifted at the proposal. “What a generous offer! I’m certain they’ll be very happy to speak with you about it. Perhaps they can meet you at a neutral location that’s easy to get to?” She chuckled. “I have thought about it. I wanted to focus on tea, but some alcoholic options might be a good idea.”

An unsurprised, but somewhat amused glint couldn’t help but touch her eye as Safrona ruminated over her meat choice. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d heard similar remarks about Tanari cuisine. “Well there’s no arguing that,” Colpeia agreed. “Desert meat is unique. The sweet and spicy flavors of the tea may go well with something that’s subtle and light. So I would recommend the sandworm meat. Silithid is bold, and hyena is milder than lamb but more robust than beef.”

“Dalaran is the easiest for me to arrive to as far as neutral cities go. And seeing as much of my business brings me there, I’m there often enough for the odd appointment. They can simply place a reservation at the Ledgermaine Lounge with the barkeep and I’ll  meet them there and take care of the tab.”

Safrona nodded her acceptance on the suggestion, folding the menu to offer it up for the collecting. “Being a courier is…not a very satisfying lifepath to wander for the long run.  Take it from me,” the Void elf chuckled witheringly. “A good spring point for a while, but even I don’t see myself playing delivery girl forever.” Her violet gaze took its run down the dusky skinned Colpeia, tilting her head slightly as she did. “You look like you belong here in your little cafe. Not running around about out there making sure people receive their packages on time.”

“That’s great!” Colpeia smiled. “And so generous of you. I’ll tell them. I think they’ll be very happy to meet you.” She gathered the menu, stowing it somewhere underneath the bar.

She listened patiently. Her gaze on Safrona was deep and open. When the worldly courier finished speaking, Colpeia gave another sincere smile. “Delivering packages for my parents has been something I’ve done for a long time, but only as an occasional side-job when their schedules were very tight,” she reassured. “I’m actually a freelance mathematician. The cafe has become a side job for me, but one I hold dear in the short amount of time it’s existed.” Her pause was pensive, her golden eyes falling briefly to the floor.

“Our world still bleeds and everyone is tired.” Colpeia looked back up at her. “I built this lounge to offer respite, even if for a little while. We all have a role in a time of war. Some believe theirs is to fight in it. Others to heal wounds and keep their friends alive. I think people forget that we need ways to find solace in these times the most, not the least. We all need to be reminded what we fight and are alive for. So I guess for that reason, I absolutely agree with you, Safrona. For now my place is here.”

Colpeia’s reasonings had the world-worn courier closing her eyes briefly with a small, warmed smile. When she spoke again, another piece of the professional that tried to take over had taken a back seat, letting someone more genuine and perhaps even a little bitter through. “It’s true, isn’t it? We’re all a little predisposed to war like a bad habit. Consistently assigned our roles and thrown at one another for a battle cry in honor or glory of this or that. Told our lives won’t be the same if we do not fight for the little piece of land we were born to. Some become weapons. By the time they come home…do they even know how to live anymore? Or is normalcy stripped from us and replaced by the cycle of conditioned violence? As much as I can tell you that war is profit, most of the time its empty gold put right into a cycle, breeding more machines.”

The Courier shrugged as her eyes veered away with the same bitter smile. “I don’t think war will ever change. People will always have something to fight over, and something will always be trying to deaden Azeroth, because other forces decide our only real, true mercy is the idea of death, or some degree of unified mindlessness. And honestly there are days I wake up and can’t find a legitimate argument against that when we are faced with the same old rut, over and over…”

Her unearthly gaze floated back over to the golden-eyed Colpeia with a withering chuckle. “But…that is perhaps more the Void talking than I. And its quieter here, in many aspects. Finding a place like yours, people like you…? It does remind me that some things are still worth putting in the fight for. Living for. Strange that, the little things, yes? Little mortal things like the delight of an oasis in the middle of the desert. A family trying to make the best of things, apart from the call of nations of war. It’s important, keeping those little things running. The bakers must bake, the teachers must teach, the vintners must make their wine. The midwives must welcome new life, the pallbearers must put their dead to rest.”

Safrona rested her heart-shaped face in the cradle of her fingers, her eyes still alight on her hostess. “I may be a little outside of the cycle of it all, but I find some strange satisfaction in helping keep that quality and culture of life for others in its order more than anything, as a courier. So yes, very much agreed. And I need more people like you in my life, lovely girl.”

The air grew pleasantly cool as night fell outside the lounge. Colpeia briefly dipped behind the bar to obtain a clear kettle and cup. Placing them on the countertop, she released a folded pellet of herbs into the kettle’s basin, then aimed her curved fingers. A stream of cold water materialized from her palm to trickle inside. It stopped when it was full. Since then, her gaze was present and sincere, never drifting from Safrona’s thoughtful monologue. If anything, it deepened. Her manicured palm rested on the kettle’s underside while she used subtle magic to heat it.

Safrona’s last sentence softened Colpeia’s eyes. A smile warm enough to rival the sun from hours ago beamed back at her. “Thank you. I feel lucky to have met you too, Safrona. I think you’re doing something important. Couriers help keep the poetry of our world alive.” The smile dimmed. “I wish I had reason to disagree with many of the other things you’ve said. People don’t like to see themselves in their enemies. War is easier when you’re blind.”

A reflective glimpse landed on the back of a human Shafisian waiting a table. “My tribe has a saying for feeling stuck. ‘The mind wants to heal.’ A lot of people forget how to live normal lives after surviving hell. They don’t heal until they decide they’re ready. It’s a hard journey that often takes a lifetime, if they ever accept it.”

"Death can seem like an easy answer, but I’ve seen secondhand that it doesn’t give us peace. We can’t control wars or the mindlessness behind other people’s eyes. All we can do is create a mindfulness in ourselves. I think that helps when peace is hard to find.” Colpeia’s polished nails clinked as she removed her hand. Bubbles and steam now clung to the kettle walls, a vibrant flower blossoming in its pinkish water. Another server reappeared from behind a curtain. He balanced a platter of dumplings in his hand, which he served beside Safrona’s now steaming hot tea. Colpeia exchanged nods with him.

The teaflower blooming its gift of bounty for her was it’s own touch of magic Safrona had never gave her attention to before no matter how many teahouses she had visited and supplied before this one. Perhaps there was this small, simple meaning now in the generous courtesy of being served by Colpeia and her tribe that gave the moment its credence. It had been a time also, that

Safrona sat to let the steam and its delicate floral aroma caress her face from the teacup.  Little cleansing rituals seemed to fall aside her, a deeper bottle of sin the default to reach for by habit in the knowing of what she was. “It’s good,” she murmured with a smile after that first sip. The little things. “I think…I simply want to go back to knowing nothing tonight, lovely girl. Other than the fact that I need to come here again, and more often, yes?”

Colpeia smiled. Watching Safrona enjoy her tea gave her a certain warm pleasure. She dipped her head in a sincere bow, her hand raised in a cheshire-esque gesture. “We will always be happy to see you, Safrona. I certainly will.”

[colpeia]

Thanks @aranyaphoenix! <33

[colpeia]

The Shape of Colpeia’s Pain

You have chains, keeping you linked to something you’d rather leave behind. Maybe this is a bad family, traumatic event, toxic relationship… But something’s keeping you trapped there, and you don’t know how to escape it. You can turn the chain around, to help you instead of trap you… Can’t you?

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Tagging: @andijelly @aranyaphoenix @fuzzymigglet and anyone else interested!

[colpeia]

Colpeia’s Soulmark

The color you fit most is Blue!

Bold is true, italic is missing the mark.

Take the test here!

Seen as the most popular favorite color, and for a good reason, the blue soulcolor is admired by many, even if they aren’t conscious of it. Friendly, loyal, and always there when you need them, the blue soulcolor is a people pleaser with a heart of gold.

People with this soul color are charismatic in a small way, choosing to speak as much as they listen, and take a genuine interest in people. They look past beauty and see the hidden soul under the skin. Loyal to a fault, they often downplay other’s negative traits as “quirks” and choose to see the best in everyone. They often miss social cues and overstay their welcome without meaning to.

While they might not seem the type to some, the blue soulcolor is likely to fall into fits of depression and self loathing. This is because they have high expectations and hold themselves to strong moral conduct, and failing that moral conduct means failing other people. Even if it’s not their fault, they will choose to take the blame.

When gathering a group of friends, this color likes stability and harmony. They hold onto friendships from their childhood, even if their interests shift, and have a hard time letting people go. Changes in relationships scare them. They will be the first friend to show up at your house when you need them, whether they live a short distance or not.

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[colpeia]

Hey, thanks @aranyaphoenix! :D <33

[colpeia]

Sungrass Oasis

~ Music ~

The crisp ocean breeze felt revitalizing and abrupt in such sunbaked air. Beneath an otherwise lavender sky, peach colors streaked around the sun as it hid behind a glittering turquoise horizon. Salty sea turtles roamed the shore.

On a large wooden deck overlooking the beach, a pair of tawny blood elves squatted over the sides of opposite lounge chairs.

A pensive sigh escaped Colpeia as she gazed up. “Well, at least we’re no longer hated for what we’re not.”

The solemn nature of Roholly’s nod didn’t stop the characteristically peppy bounce of her ponytail. She said nothing.

“What are mother and father going to do?”

“They’re returning to the glass forge,” Roholly said. “It’s still there, thankfully, and undamaged. So they’re going to continue running Beamgully Crystal like before.” She hesitated, an uncomfortable thought tugging her lips. “I’m honestly not sure whether Eversong Woods is going to welcome them back with awkward guilt, or the same scowls that made them leave. You know how they are about their craft, though.”

“Passionate.”

“I mean, it’s just as well. Finding a suitable place in Dalaran never got easier. Not for them at least.”

“Are you’re staying, then?” Colpeia asked.

There was gratitude in Roholly’s smile. She glimpsed at her feet. “Mhmm. I’ve already settled in, so it’s like, why return to Silvermoon? Why return to a place that was so quick to cast us out? People I had worked with for years acted like they’d never known me... It hurt.” The echo of grief leaking into her voice dropped to bitter sarcasm, “Really, I’d love to see how they deal with telling patients they need a root canal. They were far too sour. The people I work with now are a lot nicer.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“What about you though? Enough clientele?”

Colpeia huffed a laugh, “They haven’t stopped. Though, most of them have been architects. Civilians want to rebuild and protect themselves. After Lordaeron and what happened in Teldrassil, I’m not surprised.” She stopped, her humble expression heralding a confession. “Actually, because of the extra money, there is something else I want to do.”

“What’s that?” Roholly blinked, bewildered. “And honestly, why? Why work any harder when you’ve already such a solid income?”

“When this war started I was already tired. I’ve rested. Now I see a lot of other people tired. Tired, injured, and very sad. I want to give them a place to rest.” Unthinkingly, she turned to the hills winding just behind and beyond the beach house. They resembled dried and knotted-up honeycombs. “A place with soft seats and hot tea. Maybe somewhere in Gadgetzan.”

“That sounds ambitious when you don’t have a tribe to help you,” Roholly joked.

Colpeia looked back at her and returned a knowing smile.

She sat on the bed, her room under the blue blanket of midnight. A silvery glow brushed every contour. The window behind her was open, revealing distant waves glittering under a nearly full moon. Their rhythmic whisper was a soothing but everyday nostalgia to her while a cool draft carried its hush inside. Colpeia’s long stare sank into the vanity mirror against the wall. She looked as dazed as she felt.

Her motivation wasn’t purely altruistic, and she knew it. This was a time of war. She was plagued by an addiction only battles could feed - not for bloodlust or power, but an insatiable redemption she didn’t need in the first place. It spiraled her into a desperate black hole of this-still-isn’t-good-enough-to-absolve-me. If she dedicated herself to soothing survivors, it meant she couldn’t go to wanton lengths rescuing people in danger.

The mathematician knew a negative feedback loop when she saw one. Colpeia was Tildalune’s curse, which made her feel guilty, which piled onto her continued self-blame, which was Tildalune’s curse. She projected her acquaintance’s death onto people in danger only to re-experience severe personal failure if they weren’t saved. This trigger was unavoidable in wartime.

It was fortunate her tribe offered so many methods of mind-healing; they were helping. It couldn’t stop there, however. Constant over-exposure didn’t help to desensitize her, but a change in environment might.

How does one stop a negative feedback loop? Replace the causing variable. After Tildalune’s death, she had fantasies of nurturing her back to health and providing comfort. What if Colpeia frequently did something that she would associate with this ‘fake memory’? She could soothe people who survived danger, instead of succeeding or failing as their white knight.

She could learn to stop. She could focus on how she’d grown to care about Tildalune instead of how she’d failed her.

Tildalune’s spirit could be free to move on. She promised.

A vague breath of a silhouette flashed the corner of her eye, and a honeyed voice beamed in her head:

It’s time. Run, my sweet desert gazelle. It’s waiting for you. You know I’ll be right behind you.

For the next week Colpeia was a montage of sending proposal letters, receiving terms, ordering equipment, and huddling over a floor plan.

In an eclipse-like flash, holding a crescent pendant, she vanished. Colpeia reappeared amidst the celestial themed tents and Silithus-esque crystals floating above the ground. Presenting her floor plan to a gradually swelling group, she delved into thorough detail - the aesthetic, the business plan, the modest building she’d be renting, the spirit of the lounge. The appraising eyes mulling over her words eventually exchanged amenable glances.

Several yards from the shore, a herd of camels sped majestically across the gold sand, their hooves kicking up clouds in their wake. Thick ribbons of cloth gracefully fluttered behind their human and elven riders. Gadgetzan drew nearer.

Slowing to a saunter through the dusty port town, the half-dozen Shafise approached the clay dome building Colpeia had described. Knicks of moderate wear greeted them.

The following month was a slew of repairs, painting, tiling, heaving furniture, positioning lights atop secured ladders, and repositioning ornaments. Regularly catered at the entrance were water and food fine enough to convey a grateful gesture. 

Sungrass Oasis was ready to open.

Colpeia sat over the bar scanning over a collection of slender menus. They catalogued an overwhelming list of loose-leaf and blooming flower teas. The rest were fanciful snacks: clamlette magnifique, clam chowder, goblin deviled clams, firebloom crab cakes, cactus fruit salad, Shafisian desert dumplings, hot roc wings, fried scorpid, and prickly pear sorbet. She wasn’t initially pleased about needing a supply of meat, until a goblin explained they always had these ingredients leftover after pest control and harbor maintenance. It was good they didn’t go to waste. This would also give the Shafise tribe the opportunity to showcase some of their traditional recipes along with blends.

Though a hole-in-the-wall, it was contemporary chic and polished, a message of modern class that she knew would hook the landlord’s interest. The floor was tiled in sleek black, and the walls painted white, brought to life by voguish artwork. Framed in thick, black frames, the paintings were as soothing as they were stylish. They depicted modern abstract, turquoise beaches, and desert blossoms. A few were pieces that might have been pretentious in another setting, but somehow felt innocently trendy here. Two of them were offset by equidistant sandstone bowls resting in tasteful square impressions on the wall. Sweeping glass sculptures ribboned with solid colors, some glittering in the light, added bold character. Most of them were feet tall and stood on the floor.

On each black chair was a plush, pale yellow cushion. Filled with sand, sea glass, and shells, a candle resting in a glass bowl embellished every table, along with a daisy in a white vase. A handful of firebloom petals were strewn about them. 

Outdoor seating overlooking the beach waited behind a thick curtain. It ironically had more space than inside. Fit for a posh vacation photograph, a pergola strung with lanterns hung over the display, with translucent lilac curtains draped to the sides. To keep customers warm in the chilly desert evenings, a gemstone fire pit sat in the middle. The area was lined with potted, flowering cacti and a low wicker-weave fence. In place of daises were 

One task remained before it opened: Reach out to old friends.

[colpeia]

[colpeia]

Rules: Share three pieces of music - popular songs, soundtracks, or other musical arrangements - that represent your muse. They can be an aesthetic, mood, or an event in your muse’s life. Explain, briefly. 

…*cough* Yeah, so uh, about that. I may or may not have an entire playlist for every character I own, painstakingly chosen over the course of many many hours while trying to find stuff unique to them, each one about 1:35:00ish. Because I’m a dork. A pretty big one. Oh, and they have…*mutters* 5mainsongs. 

So uh, yeah, get ready. (I’ll spare you and only do one.)

Colpeia Beamgully

The duduk and breathy female backup vocals are common themes. When I choose songs for her I try to convey a sense of simple but deep wisdom, warmth, graceful desert imagery, her prey-like perspective, her contemporary chic aesthetic, some illusion-y mystery, a huge emphasis on friendship, and her psychological struggles with self-forgiveness and paranoia.

Here are her 5 main ones:

Canvas: Imogen Heap For one thing it’s her voice claim. For another, the aesthetic is perfect. I also relate the lyrics to her difficulty with survivor’s guilt trauma, but genuine, patient attempt to move on from it. It starts pensive and becomes hopeful.

Rainbow Connection: Cover by Wheezy and Haylay Williams The lyrics sound like things Colpeia would actually say. The warmth and modern take match her, too. 

Mystic Duduk: Avi Adir I feel like this one does a good job illustrating a meditative, wise, guiding figure who herself is imperfect, troubled at times by her own flaws and anxieties.

One of Us: Ivan Torrent The panic and intensity are perfect, as are the breathy vocals, general aesthetic, and the sense of arcane mystery. It also has a lot of heart.

Death Came Early That Year: Two Steps From Hell This one really nails her feral fear in combat, and how she basically fights like a wild cornered buck. It’s clumsy, fast, desperate, fierce, and terrified. 

And if you’re feeling particularly insane, here’s the entire playlist:

Canvas: Imogen Heap Rainbow Connection: Wheezy and Haylay Williams Let Go: Frou Frou Sun Models: ODESZA Only Got One: Frou Frou Flicks: Frou Frou Find Me Tonight: CDeep Breathe In: Frou Frou Shh: Frou Frou Run For Your Life: The Fray African Sunset: Two Steps From Hell Mystic Duduk: Avi Adir Wake of Desolation: Two Steps From Hell Tanaris: Blizzard Entertainment Turin: Two Steps From Hell Fire Nation (Duduk Intro): Two Steps From Hell One of Us: Ivan Torrent Death Came Early That Year: Two Steps From Hell Flashes of Terror: Two Steps From Hell Exhumed: Two Steps From Hell What I See: Lacuna Coil Secrets of the Mind: Two Steps From Hell Ashes: Two Steps From Hell Fortress of Seduction: Two Steps From Hell Crossword Killer: Two Steps From Hell Guns and Oil: Two Steps From Hell Fateful Night: Two Steps From Hell Release My Heart: Ivan Torrent

;=; Don’tjudgeme.

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[colpeia]

GOLD

[colpeia]

"Welcome” Back

To elven members of the Shafise Tribe whom this concerns,

We have reviewed your case, sent on August 30th, regarding the nature of your banishment from Quel’thalas due to your apparent involvement with the Ren’dorei’s creation and subsequent void corruption. 

In a drowsy stupor, Colpeia shuffled to her vanity. She blinked at the mirror and stopped. A bucket of ice water couldn’t have awoken her faster. Knitting her forehead in disbelief, she rose an inquiring hand to her cheek, leaning over her neat assortment of makeup for a better look. The maroon undertone to her skin seemed... subtler? --as did the streaks in her hair, and the intensity of her eyes’ cyan glow. Her eyes clamped shut before blinking rapidly, unsure if it was a trick of the light.

The law of Silvermoon states that anyone practicing extensive shadow magic shall be banished. Though we are unfamiliar with the Tanari tribe from which you hail and its customs, we have analyzed the magic you use, including the worst cases. We confirm the evidence that while void magic is technically included in Shafise practices, it falls short of the illegal quantity made clear in section 32A, paragraph 3, and that this amount has also undergone intense, disciplined control methodologies for several thousand years without major incident.

In a drowsy stupor, Colpeia shuffled to her vanity. She neared the mirror and a jolt of astonishment froze her in place. Many seconds dragged past, before she found the nerve to bend so far forward her nose almost poked its cool surface. It wasn’t just her. The “void” colors were fading. She was beginning to resemble how she’d appeared before this all started. The change was temporary?!

You put forth four claims: 

A few elven members watched the experiment from several yards away, while most of the Shafise prepared to teleport them back to Tanaris the moment anything went awry - which they did. 

To prevent political misunderstanding by appearing in person, and given our restrictions on receiving letters via teleportation, a letter was dispatched to inform us of the infraction the Ren’dorei committed. It was intercepted by a caravan raid. (The perpetrators have since been in our custody.)

You did not absorb any of the void energies that the Ren’dorei had, and your appearances changed due to magics already in use.

All of your members, without exception, did not make treasonous agreements to join or assist the Alliance military and have maintained neutrality.

After thorough investigation via anonymous witnesses, divination, scrying, and arcane testing, your claims have been confirmed as true.

Colpeia approached her vanity with wary steps. Today, she could barely detect the colors that so recently saw her expelled from one of her homelands. The streaks in her coffee-brown hair had drained into a conveniently tasteful shade of caramel. Her eyes were returning to the hue they’d gradually been shifting toward since the Sunwell was rejuvenated, but in full completion this time: Gold.

We are pleased to inform you that following this assessment, we have determined that none of you have broken the law for which you were punished. You are welcome back to Quel’thalas and your banishment is pardoned, under a condition. Should any member of the Shafise tribe break this condition, the banishment will resume for the entirety of your people, and any dispute attempt will be ignored.

Although the measure of your questionable magic use falls under legal limits, the exposure you do have is enough to raise concern among the magistrate. You are to always maintain a distance between yourself and the Sunwell no shorter than 5 kilometers. The law regarding void magic use still applies to you as it does all of our citizens.

We have received several reports about your members experiencing a return to their original appearances before the experiment took place. This shall certainly help in re-integrating your elven members back into Sin’dorei society, and eliminate misunderstanding in future relations with your people.

Shorel’aran,

The Silvermoon Magistrate

Her stare bore into the letter’s perfect cursive. It took three weeks. Three weeks, and all superficial signs of false identity had evaporated. Then this letter arrived.

She was Sin’dorei again. 

Or perhaps, she never stopped being one? 

She wasn’t certain what she was during that tumultuous experience. It was already a baffling existential crisis, and now yet another layer of complexity had collapsed upon it. Two conflicting forces crashed in her head: The pained anger - yet detachment - of being rejected by her own people due to their misjudgment, and the kinship still tying her to them. Then there were the friends she had made, the ones who were considered Horde. What about the Kaldorei woman she saved during the burning of Teldrassil? Did rescuing civilians make her a traitor, or did it only serve to prove her neutrality?

The greatest stereotypical fear of an illusionist is to lose oneself to the deceptions they weave. Had she managed to realize this fear without it?

Colpeia shut her eyes in perturbed silence, deflating from a meditative sigh. Her mind cleared. Questions pushed unimpeded to the surface. The ones she deemed irrelevant drifted away, the others she grabbed, until a list of the unsolved formed in her mind’s eye. Patiently, one at a time, she delved through them to calculate options. Choose answers.

The most blatant question of all she solved last. It was as simple as it was hard to answer: 

What now?

Her eyes reopened. 

Now, I do what I have meant to do since this foolish war began.

[colpeia]

Colpeia’s New FC

Olivia Wilde was close, but it was complicated. Sometimes she looked like her and sometimes she didn’t. Now I’ve finally found a FC that matches Colpeia’s appearance a bit more: Felicia “Fo” Porter!

[colpeia]

The thick freckles powdering Colpeia’s cheeks vanish behind a humbled blush as she dips her head, thankful. Yet she grins, and flashes a joking wink. “Me too.”

@commander-dawnstriker  Hehehehee.

Thanks, @halenvar!

🌋 - Colpeia

“An old friend. Beautiful and mysterious, I pity the poor bastard who falls in love with her.”

[colpeia]

New Face Claim Search

So, call me a hipster bitch, but I usually have a weird aversion to what’s regularly done, and I’ve seen Colpeia’s FC used by others a few times now. I’m not saying that’s inherently bad! But, it is something I’d personally prefer to avoid, because that’s just how I am. To be honest it was hard to find a FC close enough to what I had in mind, and Olivia Wilde just happened to be the closest. So I’m open to looking elsewhere.

And I think it’s time for a change.

So, friends! I’d love for any suggestions! If you have some recommendations for face claims my ears are wide open.

Here’s how I imagine what her face looks like:

Dark skin, heavily freckled, and a lightly sloped but narrow-ish nose that’s a bit on the long side. I’m particularly open to FCs that are from the Middle-Eastern or Indian regions.

Somewhat thin shape to the head

High-ish cheekbones

Cheerfully slender and long eyes, almost half-moon shaped (Here’s a close example of what I mean from a beautiful painting I reblogged)

Dark hair, about chin-length

Wide, pale lips

A chic demeanor to her expression

One of these days I’ll have to draw her to really nail down what I mean, but hey, if you guys can think of anything I’d love to hear it!

Peace. <3

[colpeia]

Era Aesthetics for Colpeia

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋.

tired eyes. coffee stains on the table. listening to the bustle of the city. unmade beds. loose ponytails. sunlight seeping through the curtains. chapped lips. walking barefoot across the floorboards. dusty dictionaries. black and white reruns. huge sweaters. the ticking of the clock. hearing birds in the morning. fireplaces. falling asleep during class.

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.

freckles. the sun rising. watching the sea. taking shots of the city. historical museums. bright eyes. looking up at the clouds. walls covered in artworks. drawing in the middle of lessons. tracing your fingers on the sand. painting for hours. staying in uncrowded coffee-shops. worn paperbacks. messy braids. going to bed with your socks on.

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐐𝐔𝐄.

dark hair. a little sophisticated. always observing the world around you. intricate designs. high ceilings. extravagant musical pieces. dim lights. colorless photographs. fancy furniture. pale skin. hearing soft footfalls coming from outside the room. mischievous looks. bitten nails. candlelight dinners. dark shades of lipstick.

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋.

chandeliers. the clinking of a teacup. laced clothing. modern architecture. light hair. watching the view from the terrace. hidden birthmarks. drinking tea in the morning. wandering about in an empty building. botanical gardens. old films. ancient marble sculptures. expensive perfume. breakfasts in bed. reading about mythology.

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂.

compassion. short writings on scraps of paper. blushed cheeks. a bouquet of roses. reading collections of poetry late at night. loose hair. carpeted floors. attending operas. faint music playing in the background. staying under the covers until midday. the night sky. streetlights. picking flowers. dancing around in silk dresses. scented candles.

Tagged by: @echoesofthelight (Thank you! <33)

Tagging: @andijelly @aranyaphoenix @halenvar @commander-dawnstriker @fuzzymigglet 

[colpeia]

I’ll just leave this right here 😚

[colpeia]

St. Prunella is now live!

St. Prunella is St. Peter’s daughter. She was brought on as a fictional character judge a thousand years ago with the hope that she would someday earn a more important position. This never happened. No one even seems to remember that she exists. With no hope of promotion, this surly, jaded, secretary-esque demigoddess isn’t taking any shit. 

To kick us off with a musical bang, Mary Poppins (from the 1964 Disney film) is first to sit in St. Prunella’s office chair of judgment. Is the magical nanny as practically perfect as she claims? Prunella begs to differ.

Thank you all for being so supportive of my work during this exciting launch. If you get a kick out of funny reviews, you might appreciate this character review series - particularly as RPers!

If you had as much fun watching this as I did making it, feel free to throw a like or subscribe my way if you’d like to see more. As a brand new series, I’d be deeply appreciative of either.

Stay awesome. <333

[colpeia]

Phoenix Darkening

Aranya sat quietly on a gilded floor, looking out at the stars above Zandalar. She was calm, still, breathing evenly and slow, despite what she was about to do. The arcanist looked down at a beautiful crystal trinket with a crescent within it, a gift from Colpeia’s tribe after she had sent them aid in the wake of Sargeras stabbing his sword into the heart of Silithus and robbing the Tanari illusion-weavers of one of their most sacred places.

It was a gift that later came with wisdom and warnings spoken to her, as she requested training in an illusion so deep, that she could lose conscious control of herself and it would still remain in place until she deliberately willed it away. A disguise to let the Thalassian woman cross to the other side of the faction war, stay afloat of matters in the world, keep playing a hand that could matter in a world where Azerite now decided the fate of so many. An illusion as only the Shafise could craft to let her pass for ren’dorei amongst the Alliance.

“What you ask has its dangers, Ankaa,” the sultana had warned her, calling her by her Tanari-given name. An illusion that strong required both strength and surrender. She had to give herself to the power that she invited and allowed in, but also needed an anchor within herself to keep her being who she was. It was a process that could drive one mad, if they survived it.

Colpeia hadn’t left Aranya’s side for a single moment of the phoenix-mage’s training. It might’ve been that the lovely desert-elf felt she would never forgive herself if anything happened to Aranya and she wasn’t there to help her, save her, bring her back, do something. It was actually a comfort to have her there, to have her see and know what her friend could do, her limits.

Aranya closed her eyes to the Zandalari skies, it was time to get this over with.

She breathed slow and deep, following the breath with her mind as it came into her and left her. Then she went deeper, following the rhythm of her blood, focusing on a particular power that flowed through her, and there were many to choose from. The red mana Kazakus gave her, charging her, keeping her sharp. The Sunwell’s sparkling, arcane light, giving her life. The essence of Felo’dal, her phoenix familiar, pulled into herself so long ago when he sacrificed himself for her in the Firelands, and she couldn’t bear to have his existence so utterly ended. There were also lingering traces of magic and mana she had siphoned from prey.

Aranya chose one thing within her to be her anchor, and focused on it utterly; how it felt, where it came from, what it did in her veins with every breath and beat of her heart. Then she opened her mind, inviting in something else, something from beyond the definitions of reality, in which space and time were merely words that didn’t actually mean anything. The purest primordial form of existence, the thing from which reality itself somehow coalesced into being and could one day dissolve and return back to.

Her eyes immediately flew open, their colors no long a smoldering green, but a whirling chaos. Her mouth fell open in a silent gasp that didn’t come, the wind somehow taken out of her. She fell forward on her hands and knees, shaking uncontrollably. Her blood raced in a panicked rhythm, she wanted to push whatever felt like it was now re-weaving her bones and skin away, but she rolled over, collapsing onto her back, shutting her eyes tight as she somehow forced her mind back onto that one power within her that she had chosen to anchor herself through this, going inward and letting go of everything else.

When she finally stopped shuddering and felt she could finally breathe again, Aranya just remained lying on the floor for a moment, dizzy, re-orienting herself, pressing her cheek to the cool floor and appreciating the stability it gave. Eventually her breathing calmed, and she lifted her head, midnight blue tresses falling back from her moonslight-hued shoulder as Halenvar pulled her close and tight to him, almost crushing her against his massive chest.

Aranya loved his warmth and solidity, it was wonderful.

“I hate watching you go through that,” said Halenvar, his tone sounding strained.

“I’m sorry,” breathed Aranya, her voice now having an otherwordly echo.

The first time that the valarjar had ever witnessed what it was that his now-wife had to go through each time to maintain her latest choice of disguise, Colpeia had had to hold him back, almost having to resort magic to do so. “Don’t! If you interrupt now it could kill her!”  

Aranya’s husband loosed his grip on her to told her face in his strong hands, his blue green eyes holding the pale blue stars of hers. “Be careful,” he said, like always. “Come back to me soon.”

“I will,” promised Aranya, kissing him.

@beamgully @halenvar