#p’tajha kett

[diarcaexe]

My turn! (slam dunks a Taj into the party because obviously doubling up on book users would go well for them)

D’arca Ovraen and P’tajha Kett have joined your party!

Starting Dungeon: “Ah. Do try not to do anything too reckless?”

Assisting: “As expected. Pray, do better next time.”

Being Assisted: “Althyk’s matted beard, that was close.”

Idle Dialogue: “Attune to anything terribly cursed recently, Tajha?” / “Ho, Red. Come take a look at these sigils.”

Witnessing Tajha KO’d: A long-suffering sigh.

Reviving Tajha from KO: “Morgan would never forgive me if I left you in the dirt. Come.”

Casting Consecration on Tajha: “Let’s pick up the pace.”

Finishing the Dungeon: “And that’s that. Send Morgan my regards.”

With a past relationship somewhat strained by poor stress management, D’arca will spend a large portion of the dungeon quietly sniping at P’Tajha. His attitude will somewhat soften if they are also paired with Morgan Olivey or Silaena Naellanar, whereupon he will conduct himself with a more professional air.

As a benefit to the player, D’arca is much less likely to lag behind the group while Tajha is in the party, preferring to complete the duty in the most efficient manner possible. If Tajha uses the limit break before he can he will refuse to tether to her for the remainder of the dungeon.

[rhotanored]

FFXIV WRITE #8 c l a m o r

prompt#8 - C L A M O R character(s) - P’tajha Kett, Brannon Bavol (Blues’ character) masterlist - [x] warnings - N/A

    Tajha clung to her seat aboard the deck of the Talechaser for dear life, springing back to her feet as soon as the deck leveled out. The flicker of flame from one of three manacutters off the starboard quarter gave her enough time to slap the main mast, channeling aether into the sigils that appeared beneath her palm. It erected a shimmering greenish-yellow shield just in time for the fire spell that would have otherwise engulfed the deck to wash harmlessly across its surface, though Taj’s brow creased with the effort of keeping the shield spell active.

    “I thought we agreed to run, Brannon?” She demanded of the blond half-Elezen at the helm.

    “Change of plans!” He called back, turning towards her just enough that she could see the nearly manic grin splitting his features. Rather than exasperation, Tajha merely felt a thrill run down her spine.

    “Keep them occupied,” he elaborated, nodding ahead to an island in the distance, clouds dark and purple, roiling with chaotic aether, “we’ll lose them in the Aery’s wake!”

    “You mad bastard,” Taj mutters under her breath, but she’s grinning nonetheless. Tearing the old, tattered tome from her side, a ruby carbuncle springs to life nearer the stern, and she removes her hand from the mast. The shield around the ship fades, and as soon as it does, the manacutters begin to close in, positively clamouring for her attention.

    “Ten gil says I sink them before we even reach the Aery,” she calls, miasmatic aether beginning to gather in a cloud above her tome as she extends it before her. The carbuncle, too, seems primed to attack, seething at the advancing ships.

    “I’ll take that bet!” Brannon replies, and Taj feels the ship speed up. Somehow, she manages to stand her ground, scoffing to herself--if he wasn’t going to play fair, neither was she.

[tsundozer]

||Char Info: Professor Gray

BASICS.

• full name – G’rha. 

• pronunciation – Goo-Raw

• nicknames/aliases – Rha, Gray, Lominsa Dan, Old Bastard, Professor

• height – 5’6″.

• age – 39

• zodiac – FUCK YOU HAVE A WHOLE STAR CHART. Sun: Virgo, Rising: Scorpio, Moon: Cancer. Mercury: Leo. Venus: Libra. Mars, Sagittarius. Jupiter, Libra. Saturn,  Sagittarius. Uranus, Aries. Neptune, Pisces. Pluto, Capricorn.

• patron deity – N/A.

• languages – SEVERAL dead languages, most notably Belah’dian and High Allagan. A Learner in Hingan, but it’s nowhere near passable. Enough to know what “poison” means, and enough to make a bad poem translation...with help....and still get it wrong.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

• hair – Blonde, and beginning to grey. 

• eye color – One green, one red.

• skin tone – Lightly tanned, pink undertones

• body type – Shorter, average weight, and a bit softer than he used to be--goodbye, abs.

• accent – Thick and drawly, rural.

• dominant hand – Left.

• posture – Highly variable, Gray has a lot of physical tells from shoulders slumped, head down, to pitched forward, ears up, rail thrashing, and everything in between.

• scars – Burns on his lower back/left, puncture marks on his thigh & stomach, various smaller remnants of cuts and lacerations around his forearm.

• tattoos – a "tattoo" of an eye with lines reaching outwards on the nape of his neck.

• most noticeable features – His left arm is missing, replaced by a magitek prosthetic. He used to almost never be seen without his tattered old hat and coat, though lately, he’s been without the former.

CHILDHOOD.

• place of birth – The Black Shroud.

• hometown – Heckin’ Woods, Man.

• birth weight/height – Underweight

• manner of birth – A premature BASTARD outside the nunh.

• first words – “Mama,” of course. 

• siblings – G’rhun, estranged. Later G’rajht, complicated but loving. 

• parents – Birth Mother: G’sihrna. Foster Parents in Sharlayan: G’ihlva, G’Hsir Nunh.

• parental involvement – G’sirhna oscillated between extremes, and would at one moment lavish Gray with praise, the next, berate and accost and blame him for the bulk of their woes, right until the day he ran away. G’hsir and G’ihlva were kind and loving parents, and he frequently worries he can never live up to what he wishes he could be for them. In many ways, he’s afraid of facing them, afraid of letting them down.

ADULT LIFE.

• occupation – Archaeologist & Museum-Owner. Troublemaker.

• current residence – A warm and inviting home in the Goblet, filled with the sounds of music at nearly all hours.

• close friends – Ruran Vas, who may as well be his brother as well (he counts two, G’rhun not being among them); Ser Wyra Nimh, P’tajha Kett, Emerald Sunrise, D’arca Ovraen (in spite of it all). HIS KIDS. HIS KIDS!!!

• Family – Siri Relanah, late wife. Rhiveya, firstborn (deceased). His Children: G’mokkri, K’velkha, Kouga, Svana is hardly a child but she counts in the family. All listed above. 

• relationship status – Surprising everyone ever, in a relationship with a xaela mercenary named Beset.

• financial status – Large revenue streams, but also large quantities of debt and costly payments on the museum tempering it out. A decent enough lifestyle, with the belt tightened from his, shall we say, aggressive spending regarding new technology and toys.

• vices – Impulsivity, poor spending habits, alcohol (he’s trying to avoid it), self-martyrdom.

SEX & ROMANCE.

• sexual orientation – Demisexual.

• romantic orientation – Heteromantic.

• preferred emotional role – submissive | dominant | switch |  unsure

• preferred sexual role – submissive  |  dominant  |  switch |  sex repulsed.

• libido – Moderate, but only when he’s taken really taken to a person.

• turn ons – Gray responds best to physical touch, and charged moments. Getting his adrenaline flowing is the quickest way to garner his interest. A man of frequent contradictions, the way then to maintain that interest is to respect his space. ...........Also he really likes people who can beat him up? And take one back?

• turn offs – Being insistent or aggressively forward, not respecting his boundaries, outward public displays that put him on the spot.

• love language – As far as giving, Gray’s primary means of conveying his affection is through poetry, and physical presence/proximity. He’ll leave little notes, or write poem after poem with a fervor, and happily abide them being close to him, placing small touches upon their hand, or side, to let them know he’s there. He’s present. While he’s quick to make emotionally charged statements (both good and bad), a better indicator of how he feels isn’t what he says, but what he does. He’ll also start searching you out for his sensation-seeking fix. 

As for receiving, Gray responds best to physical touch and general proximity, with little stress or pressure to be forced to engage when he isn’t ready. He also enjoys activities together, especially cooking, and. Thrill-seeking.

• relationship tendencies – In his youth, he had a tendency to pick up, wear out the shine, and drop something the moment it was no longer interesting, shiny, and new--at least until he’d met his wife. Now, after having loved and lost, he’s quick to push away potential partners unless they get close to him without him really realizing it. Once there, he’s prone to acts of self-sabotage until he gets it in his head that, they’re really there. Once you manage to secure his commitment, which is, tricky, the man is ride-or-die. He would, by his own words, pull down the stars from the night sky for you. Expect a frequent and unwavering, dedicated presence, though not always a vocal and engaged one.

MISCELLANEOUS.

• hobbies to pass the time – Tinkering with machinery, working on his latest research, poetry and guitar.

• mental illnesses – Gray has cPTSD and Bipolar I.

• physical illnesses – Nothing in particular, though he’s prone to oscillating between excessive sleeplessness and  oversleeping.

• left or right brained – Gray is absolutely right-brained.

• fears – Failure, being alone, being forgotten.

• self-confidence level – Highly contextual. He has a strong faith in his academic competency and technical prowess, but struggles with accepting that he’s a good father, a good person. He has a high regard for himself as an archaeologist and adventurer, but a poor self-concept as a man.

• vulnerabilities – His family being endangered, inability to let go, triggers for a downswing, aggressiveness, impulsivity-- “Jumps the gun” and reacts, strongly, to most things.

Tagged By: @locke-rinannis​  (ILU!!!)

Tagging: @wyranimh​ @gmokkri-rha​ @rhotanored​ @wyranimh​ @diarcaexe​ AND YOU!!!!!!

[rhotanored]

FFXIV WRITE#1 - c r u x

prompt#1 - C R U X character(s) - Renh Whittler, P’tajha Kett masterlist - [x] warnings - light gore/body horror

“I can’t ‘elp ye, Renh.”

    And there was the crux of the matter, the tension looming between him and the short, red-haired Miqo’te standing over him. Renh righted himself from his prone position on her examination table while P’tajha took a step back, adjusting her gloves tighter at her wrists. Renh was naked from the waist up, his peculiar scars on full display, where his flesh seemed caught halfway between healthy, dark pink scar-tissue and deeply mottled swaths of sickly purple flesh, barely a hair's breadth from gangrenous rot. Where they met, his skin was raised in angry weals of red and yellow bruising, as though trying to stave off infection.

    Tajha’s mismatched eyes flickered with green light as the remnants of her aethersight spell fell away. From an aetherial standpoint, it seemed Renh’s aether was in constant flux, caught in a state of rapid decay and equally rapid regeneration, both wreaking havoc on his physical health. For now, the regeneration was winning out, largely by thanks of the Coerthan chirurgeons who had worked tirelessly in tandem with several of Gridania’s own conjurers (drawn by news of the peculiarity of his symptoms) to stabilize it, along with the salves and potables to increase the efficacy of the rejuvenative aether already afflicting him--but it was not a state that she would wish on anyone.

    “This conjury’s already more advanced’n what I’m familiar wi’,” she continues, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had stretched between them following her gentle declaration.

    “I’m afraid if I tried t’meddle wi’ it, I’d only serve t’undo what good’s already been done. Now, th’salves an’ potions they got ye drinkin’, those I migh’ be able t’improve on, extend an’ amplify their effects so y’ain’t so uncomfortable.” Her ears flick towards the derisive scoff that passes his lips even before she’s done speaking, and one of her brows rises in response--though he can’t see it.

    “I know these weren’ th’answers ye were ‘opin’ fer--”

    “Th’bandages, Tajha. We’re done here.” He cuts her off, his own ears flattening against his head while his tail lashes across the examination table behind him. For a moment, she almost argues with him, but she can see the tension and anxiety coiled through his entire form; she was surprised he hadn’t already bolted.

    “Alrigh’, Renh. Jes’--put up wi’ me fer another tick ‘ere, aye?” She turns, setting to work uncapping the tin of salve he’d brought with him for her to examine. It was viscous and strongly scented, just thin enough to soak linen bandages that they could be applied almost like a plaster, adhering across the afflicted flesh. It was meticulous work, reapplying the bandages she’d removed earlier to examine him, and part of the reason her brain was already working at recalculations to improve the formula; ideally, she’d like to remove the necessity of bandages altogether. The salve as it was required long-term exposure to the afflicted skin, thereby requiring the soaking of bandages, and she’d like to get it down to a one-and-done daily application.

    Renh didn’t prompt her from her thoughts as she finished wrapping his torso and moved onto his arms. Tajha was certain he had too much on his mind to worry about what was on hers, and that suited her fine, for the moment. He’d waited this long to come to her, but that he had come to her at all was telling enough about how the affliction was affecting him. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to be in his skin, right now, and neither did she wish to.

    Finished with the bandages, Tajha crosses the room to where she’d deposited his shirts and overcoat earlier, and he fumbles himself off the examination table with a grunt. Withholding his clothing as he reaches vaguely in her direction, she frowns at him.

    “Ye’ll give me th’ingredient list, aye?”

    Impatiently, he snatches for the shirts, fingers brushing just barely against the fabric as he guesses at her position from the sound of her voice. The bandages across his eyes furrow slightly as his expression turns into a scowl, but she just waits for his answer.

    “...Fine, yes.” His fingers open and close expectantly, and Tajha hands over the clothing, which he hastily dons.

    “Keep th’tin, if y’gotta have a sample. I’ve more.” Renh brushes awkwardly past her, trying to find his way with a hand still on the edge of the examination table for guidance, and she obliges him by standing aside.

    “...Jes’ ‘cause I can’t ‘elp righ’ now don’t mean I can’t forever. I’ll do me research.” She touches his shoulder lightly, and he still flinches away, clawing back the curtain that separated the surgical suite from the rest of the clinic.

    “As y’say.” He mutters in response, sounding for all the world like he’d believe it when he sees it. She doesn’t press him any further as he makes his way towards the door, seeing himself out.

    “...Stubborn arse,” she sighs, shifting her gaze back towards the tin still sitting open on the counter, her lips pressing into a line.

    She had work to do.

[rhotanored]

Open RP Venue: Wayward Curiosities [Ward 9, Plot 2, Balmung]

[IC] 

A manor settled in the Mist district has been recently converted into an open library--mostly to divert suspicion in part due to the new resident’s rapid acquisition of innumerable collections from across Eorzea (and beyond).

A warning in the guestbook implores visitors new and old to take caution with the tomes as not all have been scrutinized for safety, and may yet bear questionable--at best, or dangerous at worst--enchantments. Those seeking more mundane means of entertainment (and are unwilling to risk their fingers) will find a suitable collection of all manner of fiction and non-fiction alike from all corners of the star.

The refurbished Allagan nodes scattered across the premises can and will aid visitors in locating tomes provided they have been previously archived. They will likewise assist in rudimentary translation (think google translate) or definition of common Eorzean, Doman, and Garlean, while other languages (Hannish, Xaelic, ancient/lost languages etc) may return varied results to hilarious effect (think babelfish translate).

The whole of the gardens, ground floor, and upper balcony level are accessible to the public. All doors leading further into the manor are locked and warded, causing an alarum to sound should they be tampered with unexpectedly. Likewise, an alarum will sound if archived books are attempted to be carried off the premises.

While the kitchen is unstaffed, it is kept well-stocked should someone in the midst of reading or research suddenly feel peckish; a sign within simply implores that the node at the front desk be informed if any ingredients are running low so that they might be replaced, and to clean one’s own dishes when finished. Tea and coffee of a wide variety of makes, flavours and regions are available in abundance. And because someone is going to ask: yes, there’s a powder room somewhere off screen (I ran out of housing slots!)

[Other Features]

Wayward Curiosities’s proprietor, P’tajha Kett, runs a small clinic out of the location, and while she primarily practices privately for friends and family, she will not turn away someone in need (though they may well owe her a favour for her services). On the other hand, of course, if injuries occur despite warnings at the fault of an unruly tome, she may well be on hand to clean up after any ‘accidents’.

A final note about the location is that while bizarre aetherial emissions are certain to be taken for granted given the manor’s extensive wards and the content of the tomes therein, there’s certainly quite a lot unaccounted for, to those with any aetherial sensitivities...

[OOC]

Wayward Curiosities is designed as an open garden & library that can be role-played in without oversight, and may also provide bookends (heh) to the start of new adventures for anyone on the receiving end of one of the multitudes of dangerous tomes held within. It is also designed to be a location for researchers attempting to avoid the scrutiny of more scrupulous libraries, as the proprietor herself in her wanton acquisition of all these books has hardly the time or inclination to poke her nose in the business of others.

Alarums do not sound on unarchived books, allowing characters to make off with tomes Taj hasn’t yet gotten around to documenting, and while the library certainly does contain dangerous tomes I ask that any devastating property damage or combat inside the library be discussed with me before hand for the sake of my own continuity. I may ask that you take anything combative or massively destructive outside for the sake of preserving the location!

Please contact me here or on P’tajha Kett in-game if you would like to have your character poking their nose where they don’t belong, or attempt to make off with an archived tome, or anything else that would otherwise set off the alarums, would like to have Taj around to perform clinic duties, or have any other questions at all!

Please keep in mind that this is also the Skydogges [Stray]’s FC house, and you may see us running or standing around OOC, or indeed RPing in and around the premises. Don’t let either event scare you off, but if we’re RPing and you’d like to join us, just poke one of us to see if it’s open first (either way, the venue is!)!

Cheers!

@crystalxivrp @mooglemeet

[rhotanored]

what monster protects you

{Cadejo} P’tajha Kett

There is no such thing as Black and White, Good and Evil, Yin and Yang. The world only knows the various greys in-between.

       Nearly every culture out there has some manifestation of the righteous and the treacherous. The cadejo is no different. Hailing from Central American folklore, the tales of the cadejo varies from country to country but they almost always come in two separate variations. The pure, helpful white dog, and the malevolent, evil black dog.

       The white dog helps to guide lost travelers out of the woods and is the only force which can kill or harm it's evil brethren.

       The black dog that which cannot be killed, prowls the streets at night, searching for its next victim. Once it chooses its prey, it stalks. Almost nothing can draw its attention from the hunt. Its raspy snarls and soft growls can be heard, usually a sign of the victim's impending doom. Your only chance of escaping its open maw is the intervention of the white cadejo.

       You have never been focused on the technicalities of life. Nor have you agreed with many people's boxed-minded views on the concept of good and evil. Nothing in this world is inherently good or evil. You choose to live your life in the grey. This does not make you a bad person. Your life is how you choose to live it and the choices you make along the way. You simply won't allow for moral conflicts to interfere with a logical train of thought. It is this perspective on life which has attracted the cadejo to you. Just be wary of your guardian, it is nearly impossible to tell which one it is until you see it and by then it's already too late.

link to the quiz here!

tagged by: @shroudkeeper​, @an-honest-waltz​ (thank you both!)

tagging: @wamoura​ (I might’ve just missed you doing this one) + ANYONE WHO SEES IT ♥ I’m behind the bandwagon again, feel free to tag me if you do! 

[rhotanored]

BLOG ROLL

P’tajha Kett Islin Arceneaux Beset Kagon A’mariss Renagh Renh Whittler Kazushige Asayama

[rhotanored]

Bound

It feels like free falling, when the shadows swallow her; like being submerged only it’s not wet, not cold, not anything but dark and empty. She can hear G'rha and the others discussing their options, her betrayal--he mentions Jia, and the rigid grin of what had felt so powerfully like triumph falls from her features, falters, the sound of their voices garbled and fading as she's sinking farther and farther into the black.

P'tajha Kett, you great fool. She thinks, as the silence becomes deafening, the darkness suffocating--but before it can become unbearable she's surfacing with a breathless gasp from the shallows of the Burnt Lizard Creek, upright and dry, save for now, where the lazy current tugs at her coat and her thighs and her boots stick fast in the muck. Instinct, then, crawls up her spine and guides her hands to wrench the ring from her finger, gets so far as to reel her arm back as though to hurl the cursed thing into the creek to be lost for another age--

Her fist doesn’t open; it tightens, and returns to her side. She was P’tajha Kett and she knew better that to put her faith in the whispers of a relic, the legacy of a despot--but she was Red, too. She was no museum curator, no timid mage, no hero bound by her morality or her fear. The ring was a tool, and what made it dangerous was its wielder; she would not be afraid of it--but oh, now, now there were those who could be afraid.

Her palm opens and her mismatched gaze turns down to take the ring in, now, glittering in the dark while the stars rose high above--long shadows slither around her, filling the mud-lined walls of the creek and casting the murky waters into the darkness of night. She removes her clawed gloves slowly, and deliberately slips the pale, strangely innocuous bone ring back onto her finger. The gem--if one could really call it that--glints dully in the rising starlight, and the ring warms easily against her skin; some of her fingers still bore the last remnant scarring where she’d been left to dig herself free from the Tomb of the Sun.

So she’d wear it, for now. As long as she could control it, no matter the will of the ring--it would be at her disposal, not the other way around. She’d be careful, of course. Take precautions, document the effects, monitor her own condition; and if indeed she could master it, that whispered promise of life and death may make all the difference, make any risk ...worthwhile.

First, however, she needed to get out of this mucky ravine.

@relic-xiv

[rhotanored]

Prompt#2 Hanged Man

FFXIV Write 2018 Prompt #2: Silenced Character: P’tajha “Red” Kett Rating: Mature Content Warnings: Gore, torture, implied slavery

In the week that Red had spent bound to the deck of the Crimson Chasm, she’d lost the ability to differentiate between the smell of Ketch’s rotting corpse (still lashed to the main mast), the open chum barrels lined nearby, and the stench of being left to stew in her own filth. Her mismatched eyes--the gold of which was still mostly swollen shut--never left the dark, blue-purple protrusion of Ketch’s tongue between his pale lips, though she’d shifted from the gorey holes the gulls had left of his eye sockets. The blackened flesh beneath his chin had now bloated out enough to cover the noose that had hanged him, and the rest of him was swiftly following suit; bulging and straining the ropes that held him up high. Too rough of seas or--Twelve forfend--a storm could next pop his decomposing flesh like a grisly balloon and leave the desk awash with his innards.

They’d make her clean it.

Red’s gaze lowered, finally, empty stomach turning over, but she hadn’t even the strength left to retch. She couldn’t remember what colour his eyes had been, now. That whittled away at the back of her mind, burrowing a slow hole that took the rest of her thoughts with it.

Her tongue, dry and leathery as it was, attempted to muster some moisture to grant her cracked lips some respite from the sun and the briny sea wind that had chapped them in the first place, but, as all she tasted was copper when it returned to her mouth, she knew she had nothing left to give. She tried flexing her hands, but they’d been bound in the same position to the barrel behind her that she wasn’t even sure they still worked; her legs, at least, she could shift but every movement was a careful adjustment to keep her flayed back from reopening against the rough planks and rusty steel rings of the barrel she was tied to.

Distantly, she thought perhaps the rotting smell was coming from her, that they’d leave her here, not only in her own piss and her own shit, but also with her back infected and eventually rotting, skin bloated and blackened like Ketch’s swollen tongue, crawling with those wriggling, white worms, left for the bilge rats and the gulls to silence her forever--

“Red,” a voice crooned the name he’d given her from behind, and she scrambled upright, hissing as the barrel dug into her open wounds.

“Still alive, but have you seen the error of your ways?” A meaty hand came down to grip her chin, turning her gaze towards its owner; Sanguine Whorl. His features were blurred but unmistakable. He smiled, then, revealing rows of yellowed teeth, and forced her face back in the direction of Ketch’s corpse.

“Do you understand, yet, how you’ve been led astray?” His voice got closer, and Red could feel his breath against her ear, even pinned back as it was amidst her greasy curls.

“Are you ready to serve me again, girl?” He whispered. His fingers squeezed her chin, waiting for any sign of an answer, and Ketch’s ragged sockets stared back at her, accusatory. She closed her good eye, no longer even attempting to resist the Roegadyn’s grip.

“...Aye.”

[rhotanored]

Attachment-Style Test: P’tajha Kett

Relaxed-Avoidant (Dismissive): Individuals in this quadrant often take a dim view of others, preferring to keep their distance and guard against invasions of their autonomy and privacy. Relaxed-Avoidant personalities tend to have a strong belief that others are too different from them for truly intimate relations to be worthwhile. They may have a spouse and family, and even be solidly anchored in a stable network of friends and acquaintances, but at the end of the day, they tend to avoid entering into relations where emotional interdependence and intimacy are required. Unlike individuals who fall in the On Edge-Avoidant quadrant, Dismissive personalities tend to be quite content keeping their deepest feelings and views to themselves, and they often have a deeply-held belief that the opinions of others are mildly irrelevant or even second-rate. Consequently, many Dismissive types are often quite good at dissimulating, that is, appearing to share their innermost thoughts, while in reality, they are simply appeasing others without ever letting them come close.

Independent and proud of it, these individuals can typically achieve remarkable feats of social manipulation and self-restraint, but on the downside, they may have trouble kicking bad habits (such as drinking or smoking) which they can enjoy in solitude and use to comfort themselves, independently of the company of others. They can frequently be unmotivated or lazy with regard to the duties that others expect of them, but on the other hand, they are often very original (since they are not hindered by concerns about having to conform to the expectations of the group). Finally, they also tend to be intelligent risk-takers, since they are at heart relaxed and cool under fire. Unabashedly ripped from: @shadedsecret

Tagging: @wamoura, @culinary-criminal, @silentlyjudgemental

[rhotanored]

Archetype Test

P’tajha Kett is... THE MASTER

traits: determined, obsessive, powerful, charismatic, confident, rash, challenging

the master is most commonly used to symbolize the antagonist, or the upper hand. while they aren’t inherently the bad guys, their determination and ability to plan ahead can be twisted into something akin to evil. while that is a strong possibility in literature, their charisma and confidence can be utilized to create a strong idea and even an idea for the good side. many masters were the catalysts of revolutions, sparking hope and motivation. masters are extremely rash in their decisions, no matter how meticulous their planning may be. they tend to follow their instincts, and it’s a good thing that they’re so quick on their feet, otherwise, many of the challenges they face might have become uglier than expected.

Tagged by: @whendawnshines

Tagging: Whoever hasn’t done it yet idek man

[rhotanored]

Get to Know: P’tajha Kett

Tagged by: @whendawnshines

Tagging: WHOEVER

➥ What is your character’s full name?: P’tajha Kett (a name given--birth name unknown) ➥ Do they have any brothers or sisters?: Unknown; if yes, assumed deceased

➥ What kind of eyes do they have?: Sharp, and usually calculating mismatched eyes of warm red and pale gold. ➥ What kind of hair do they have?: Deep red, now beginning to thread with the occasional white hair from stress or age, wild waves perpetually tamed into a long braid.

➥ What is their complexion like?: Brown, and near-permanently speckled with dark freckles and ruddy cheeks from wind and sun, faded only slightly from recent moons spent buried in research. ➥ What body type are they?: Typically athletic, now muted by a deceptive layer of pudge from a recent lack of real activity while she spent time cooped up and busy with research. ➥ What is listening to their voice like?: Warm, with a rasp like she’s always nearly hoarse, her words heavily accented (though not as heavily as some) by her growing up in Limsa Lominsa. ➥ What do they hate most about themselves?: That she ever submitted herself to another’s will--granted the sting has lessened with the acceptance that she was a child and her circumstances left her with few choices, that barb is tucked close to her heart. ➥ Do they have a favorite quote?:  With all the reading she does, she couldn’t pick a favourite. ➥ What sort of music do they enjoy?: Baudy Lominsan shanties and folk music, anything with string instruments, Bran’s singing voice. ➥ Have/would they ever cheat(ed) on a partner?: No. ➥ Have they been cheated on by a partner?: Not to her knowledge. ➥ Have they ever lost someone close to them?: Yes. Several. ➥ What is their favorite sound?: Waves crashing on a beach or lapping at the groaning hull of a ship, the distant rumble of thunder. ➥ Are they judgmental of others?: Yes and no. Everyone gets a few chances to prove their worth, but she has her limits. ➥ Have they ever been drunk?: Absolutely. Mostly on spiced rum. ➥ What are they like when they stay up all night?: Hyperfocused, likely muttering to herself to parse her thoughts. . ➥ Have they ever been arrested?: A couple of times. ➥ What evokes strong memories for them?: The scent of old, stagnant seawater, and dark, enclosed spaces. ➥ What do they do on rainy days?: Curl up with Brannon and/or a good book, an/or help him tinker with something on the airship, and/or help Arch taste test some of his pastries, an/or ask Nenia questions about herbal mixtures--aka anything that would keep her busy indoors, really. ➥ What religion are they?: She pays respect to the Twelve, though Llymlaen and Oschon receive most of her prayers when the mood strikes. ➥ What word or phrase do they overuse the most?: [skeptical eyebrow raise] ➥ What do they wear to bed?: Appropriate bedclothes for humid nights in the Mist, or nothing. ➥ Do they have any tattoos or piercings?: Her Miqo’te tattoos are more vibrant than they should be at her age--as though she received them later in life than she should have. They start at her cheeks, follow over her jaw and down her neck, where they form a more complex design over her back. Her ears are pierced in several places, though not always occupied. ➥ What type of clothing are they most comfortable in?: Anything, as long as she can move easily in it. ➥ What is their most disliked food?: Anything sour, like citrus fruits. ➥ Do they have any enemies?: Oh, yes. ➥ What does their writing look like?: Sharp, compact, precise, and extremely well-practiced. ➥ What disgusts them?: She’s viscerally disgusted by slavers and slavery, regardless of what form it takes.