#maerin ulairi

[czernyss]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐜?

i was tagged by the lovely @zoyazenik to take this uquiz for my ocs!! this was really fun and helped me get to the core of my characters. i’m tagging: @arrthurpendragon , @babyroblns , @fragilestorm , @prosemoireia , @hiddenqveendom​ , and anyone else who wants to take this quiz!!

frankensteins monster ⚰️

this plight is the simplest of them all: you did not ask for this. you were never given a choice. no part of yourself feels human, just a collection of traits you've picked up from mirroring anyone you could, even the people you meet through a television screen. it's alienating to live that way- yet someone has called you the alienating one. maybe too many people to count. maybe they treated you so uncomfortably inhuman that it's all you can understand now, or you've dug yourself into such a deep hole in an attempt to keep safe that you can't remember a person living in the home of your body at all. being alive is confusing and painful and lonely and loud but living is all there is to being human- you're already there. just take air into your lungs and breathe. close your eyes and picture a beautiful sky. you made that. you painted that yourself.

the one who opened the door 🕯️

you turn the door handle. you call out, “who’s there?” and the crowd has the audacity to groan, to get frustrated with you. as if the gift of hindsight was something you had. how the hell were you supposed to know you were born into a horror movie? no one bothered to tell you. say, if instead this was an action film, or a fantasy, would they still be telling you how silly of a mistake it was to press further on your quest? they would’ve commended you for your bravery. you thought you were going to be saving a princess in a tower, not getting stabbed in the back by a killer in the shadows. how is that fair? it isn’t, and none of that was ever your fault. it is not wrong to believe things are good. your trust, your optimism, it shouldn’t ever be mistaken for ignorance or stupidity. we need more people who open doors. how else are any of us gonna move forward?

the ghost 🪦

it’s an odd thing, to feel so far from grounded and yet trapped. tethered, unable to escape. there’s more you have to do! so why can’t you move? i’m sure you have an answer to that, at the very least in the back of your mind. people love to say that ghosts hold grudges or haunt for revenge but they always get it wrong; you’re stuck because something or someone chained you down and left you there. you try and reach out to all those bright people who pass through your life, but it rarely feels like it does much more than knock a cup off the table, blow some papers into the air. i need you to trust me- they see it. they’re listening. they’ll keep looking for you and, eventually, they’ll be able to see you too.

the harbringer 🧨

the harbringers have been through fire. you’ve got the scars to show for it. some people say that harbringers are jaded- scary, even, to people who don’t understand that the harbringer has seen the edge of the world and survived it. but being the harbringer means you’re cursed to watch younger, brighter eyes fall for the same traps you did. trying to help isn’t enough for you; you know what they’re getting themselves into, and you want to protect them the way no one ever protected you, so why won’t they just listen? it’s frustrating. it’s terrifying. no one should have to live through what you did, and i hope you know that you can’t protect everyone but it’s damn noble of you to try. it’s not your job to save the world but i hope you know you’ve already made a difference to everyone who has taken your words to heart. 

[czernyss]

OH, DEATH | maerin úlairi 🗡

↳ description; ( coming soon )

Maerin Úlairi knows no peace. A child conceived in a mountain cave, she is motherless, fatherless, wrought from dark magic by the will of Mordor. She is a vessel for the deeds of the Shadowlands, the saving grace of the once fearsome Nazgûl. It’s the blood of the Nine that flows through her veins, and as destiny sees fit, she will live the rest of her years serving what evil still lives.

But where there is dark there is light, and where such evil stands, good rises to meet it. Maerin, ten-years-old and foreign to the very sun and sky, escapes the shade of the mountains. Nearly free from the shackles that bind her to the Wraiths, Maerin becomes a nomad, a wanderer. Running for her life, all the while trying to quell the rot festering under her skin, she knows there is only so long she can hide before fate grabs hold.

Now 17, the nights turn more grave, and everywhere she steps something strange seems to follow. These changes gain meaning when one night she wakes up screaming, insides burning, her vision showing one thing and one thing only. Maerin is a possessor of a powerful bond, a connection to an object that has been thought lost for ages. The One Ring. When that vision shows her the ring is still in Middle Earth, Maerin’s attempts to disappear turn to a mission. If she can find the ring which binds her to the Dark Lord and destroy it, then the darkness in her will fade, and she will at last be free. With one foot in the Wraith-world and the other in the light, the hope that her salvation could be near is the only thing keeping Maerin from losing herself.

When she feels a pull to the unsuspecting Moors of the Shire and land of the Free-folk, she hunts with new fervour for the Ring that has brought her so much pain.

It is there she (quite literally) runs into a group of young Hobbits, short and stout of heart,one in particular carrying a heavy burden. Having seen that Frodo Baggins wields the Ring, and is being sent on a mission to Rivendell by none other than Gandalf the Grey himself, Maerin swears fealty to Frodo, vowing to keep him safe and make sure the Ring stays out of Sauron’s clutches.

But as the journey grows more treacherous and evil more strong, Maerin’s life slips further and further into the dark. Demons in the night and rot spreading in the day, her destiny is like ashes, flaring in the wake of the smallest wind. Where fate intertwines with reality, Maerin Úlairi treads on the edge of a knife. Slip one way, and she will fall into the hands of her forebears. Or the other, to find a family, to find life where she has only known death, and become more than her own ruination.

tag list 🔗 : @samwilsonns​ , @kingsroad​ , @zoyazenik​ 

( dm to be added! )