Can freely be drawn, ask before writing! | Able to be depicted with others as long as you maintain her nature | Strict creator availability
.;Origin Prompts;.
Background
Forgiving | Gentle | Gullible
Lucia, once upon a time, had been a wonderous antique iron lantern. With pretty wrought detailings and slick glass walls and a sturdy but dainty form, she was beloved by many and remembered by few. She was decorum to most, something to hold and look at it. She lived a life with many, yes, and she was adored plenty, but to be loved was something she did not know nor understand properly. It was hard to come across someone who saw her as anything more than a pretty thing to put on a shelf - something to collect dust and point at and say 'I own a pretty antique.' She'd been that for so long, always put on some pedestal and told to look upon, only to wait there and rot away until that owner too passed and she was taken to the same shop, put back on the same shelf, and told to do it all over again.
But a frigid girl had found her, once upon a time. She held her kindly, took gentle care of her delicate wrought pieces and cleaned her glass and put the nicest of candles into her awaiting interior. She treated her sweetly, put her on a table and carted her around, told folk she was more than a cute antique and to her? To that girl? She was warmth. She was light and home and reprieve. To that frigid, frigid girl, she was enough.
But things don't stay well forever. A poor set of choices made by that frigid girl and her friends, a darkened night and some horrible nightmares, and those teens that made something out of nothing had left her to rot on a wooden stump. Bared to the winds so moss may grow into her and rust may capture her frame. She was abandoned. Forgotten. Never to be lit again, and left to rot in the memory of the woods she stood inside.
Or at least, she thought that was the case. But it seems a flock of crows, and a strange little friend, had other thoughts instead.
As an Esk, Lucia is in a strange time lock of sorts. She cannot remember much, at least not clearly, from her days before. She knows enough - she recognizes her past life and what it'd been filled with, knows she was created a long time ago, knows she was loved by that strange forgotten girl and was left to sit in the woods by her lonesome. She knows these facts, understands these core things, but the details is where she fades away. All her memories are typically displayed like unfinished paintings - the core details of people, animals, things finished and polished - if stylized - but the rest is fuzzy and sketched. She can't grasp it quite correctly, and as a result has to push for these things, whether internally or outwardly. She's curious, you see. Curious and quiet and odd. She's been born without proper knowledge of how everything works, created in a babe sense from something elder and rusted, and as a result she's got some odd footing with her existence. She doesn't quite understand all this strange world has to offer, nor what it fully means to be sentient, but she learns. And she learns from one source in particular:
Mirabella.
Lucia's entire existence, her entire being is focused around Mirabella and her wishes. She sits and waits for her creator's orders, looks eagerly to her for guidance, holds her words close to her chest like gifts from a god, and she thanks that tiny being for every morsel she's given. The iron being knows nothing but Mira and her teachings, knows nothing outside of what she's been taught and remembers, and she knows nothing outside of her simple purposes. Mirabella doesn't ask much from her, truly she doesn't, and all she asks for in return is loyalty and trust of all things. As if Lucia would never be able to give it. As if she could think of anything other than giving her utmost trust and loyalty to her creator. She granted her life, after all, gave her purpose and love and a home and what more could she do than bow at her altar and bring offerings of her very damned soul? How dare Mira think she deserves anything less than her utmost truth and being. Lucia believes her teachings wholly, believes in her wholly, and when she is not with her she is resting always. She is dedicating to remembering, to learning, to discovering, so that she may offer Mirabella better gifts and better loyalty for whatever she may beckon of her.
Unfortunately, what she beckons of her is typically cruelty.
Lucia has long since earned the title of 'The Iron Guardian,' though who she's the guardian of is often put into question depending on who you are. It's common knowledge she'd follow Mira to the edges of the world, perhaps even the universe, and as a result she isn't one to shy from Mira's orders of "cleaning up the boundary". She's careful, and though she herself cannot impact the trespassers heavily, she does act as a guardian more often than not. She'll circle the boundary, study it, look for newcomers, and then she'll go home for Mira to perch upon her antlers or she'll go to rest.
But Lucia, with all her loyalty and trust, is a bit of a liar.
You see, Lucia has always had this strange inner sense. Something from deep within that she cannot exactly explain, at least not entirely, and though she does not give it much thought she does know better than to mention it to Mirabella. Whenever she tries to, something stops her, and rather crudely at that. Shivers erupt down her spine, phantom memories of iron splitting and glass shattering, the feel of static beneath the skin - it's unpleasant, to say the least, and she doesn't know why. What she does know, however, is that this strange sixth sense of sorts tries to act as a warning bell. It does not approve of Mirabella. It does not approve of Mira's requests, of her presence, of HER in her entirety. Lucia doesn't listen to it. She doesn't listen when that strange pang bangs against the bars it's nestled behind deep inside her soul, she doesn't listen when it cowers and weeps under her creator's attention, and she doesn't listen when it whispers warnings and promises.
She did, however, listen when it told her not to hurt anybody.
And she doesn't know what to think of that.
Mirabella asks her to clear the area, to keep it safe - to keep her safe - and she does. She does entirely, but she does not use the same methods that Mira does. She guides things away where Mira would turn physical, she soothes where Mira would leave, and she keeps this all hidden. She doesn't know what Mirabella would do should she find out about Lucia's,,, disobedience,,, but she knows it likely would lead to nothing good. She doesn't even know why she doesn't listen - it is a simple task she's been given, to dispose of those unneeded, and yet unless they turn violent she doesn't either. She has no interest in violence. She... She has no interest in anything of the like really, but if Mira beckons it then she listens wholly.
Altogether, Lucia is a gentle soul who worships at her creator's feet. She's a good listener - a good tool - and though she does not entirely understand her new life and what comes with it, nor the things her creator wishes to do and asks of her, she listens best she can. She is, in a way, the calm to Mirabella's storm. She is a guardian, a perch, and with all her sweet demeanor she is a mighty presence that many still cower beneath due to sheer size alone. But she isn't cruel by any means. Perhaps one day someone may find her without Mirabella present. And perhaps on that day, someone may teach her that loyalty goes both ways.
Lucia, once upon a time, had been a wonderous antique iron lantern. With pretty wrought detailings and slick glass walls and a sturdy but dainty form, she was beloved by many and remembered by few. She was decorum to most, something to hold and look at it. She lived a life with many, yes, and she was adored plenty, but to be loved was something she did not know nor understand properly. It was hard to come across someone who saw her as anything more than a pretty thing to put on a shelf - something to collect dust and point at and say 'I own a pretty antique.' She'd been that for so long, always put on some pedestal and told to look upon, only to wait there and rot away until that owner too passed and she was taken to the same shop, put back on the same shelf, and told to do it all over again.
But a frigid girl had found her, once upon a time. She held her kindly, took gentle care of her delicate wrought pieces and cleaned her glass and put the nicest of candles into her awaiting interior. She treated her sweetly, put her on a table and carted her around, told folk she was more than a cute antique and to her? To that girl? She was warmth. She was light and home and reprieve. To that frigid, frigid girl, she was enough.
But things don't stay well forever. A poor set of choices made by that frigid girl and her friends, a darkened night and some horrible nightmares, and those teens that made something out of nothing had left her to rot on a wooden stump. Bared to the winds so moss may grow into her and rust may capture her frame. She was abandoned. Forgotten. Never to be lit again, and left to rot in the memory of the woods she stood inside.
Or at least, she thought that was the case. But it seems a flock of crows, and a strange little friend, had other thoughts instead.
As an Esk, Lucia is in a strange time lock of sorts. She cannot remember much, at least not clearly, from her days before. She knows enough - she recognizes her past life and what it'd been filled with, knows she was created a long time ago, knows she was loved by that strange forgotten girl and was left to sit in the woods by her lonesome. She knows these facts, understands these core things, but the details is where she fades away. All her memories are typically displayed like unfinished paintings - the core details of people, animals, things finished and polished - if stylized - but the rest is fuzzy and sketched. She can't grasp it quite correctly, and as a result has to push for these things, whether internally or outwardly. She's curious, you see. Curious and quiet and odd. She's been born without proper knowledge of how everything works, created in a babe sense from something elder and rusted, and as a result she's got some odd footing with her existence. She doesn't quite understand all this strange world has to offer, nor what it fully means to be sentient, but she learns. And she learns from one source in particular:
Mirabella.
Lucia's entire existence, her entire being is focused around Mirabella and her wishes. She sits and waits for her creator's orders, looks eagerly to her for guidance, holds her words close to her chest like gifts from a god, and she thanks that tiny being for every morsel she's given. The iron being knows nothing but Mira and her teachings, knows nothing outside of what she's been taught and remembers, and she knows nothing outside of her simple purposes. Mirabella doesn't ask much from her, truly she doesn't, and all she asks for in return is loyalty and trust of all things. As if Lucia would never be able to give it. As if she could think of anything other than giving her utmost trust and loyalty to her creator. She granted her life, after all, gave her purpose and love and a home and what more could she do than bow at her altar and bring offerings of her very damned soul? How dare Mira think she deserves anything less than her utmost truth and being. Lucia believes her teachings wholly, believes in her wholly, and when she is not with her she is resting always. She is dedicating to remembering, to learning, to discovering, so that she may offer Mirabella better gifts and better loyalty for whatever she may beckon of her.
Unfortunately, what she beckons of her is typically cruelty.
Lucia has long since earned the title of 'The Iron Guardian,' though who she's the guardian of is often put into question depending on who you are. It's common knowledge she'd follow Mira to the edges of the world, perhaps even the universe, and as a result she isn't one to shy from Mira's orders of "cleaning up the boundary". She's careful, and though she herself cannot impact the trespassers heavily, she does act as a guardian more often than not. She'll circle the boundary, study it, look for newcomers, and then she'll go home for Mira to perch upon her antlers or she'll go to rest.
But Lucia, with all her loyalty and trust, is a bit of a liar.
You see, Lucia has always had this strange inner sense. Something from deep within that she cannot exactly explain, at least not entirely, and though she does not give it much thought she does know better than to mention it to Mirabella. Whenever she tries to, something stops her, and rather crudely at that. Shivers erupt down her spine, phantom memories of iron splitting and glass shattering, the feel of static beneath the skin - it's unpleasant, to say the least, and she doesn't know why. What she does know, however, is that this strange sixth sense of sorts tries to act as a warning bell. It does not approve of Mirabella. It does not approve of Mira's requests, of her presence, of HER in her entirety. Lucia doesn't listen to it. She doesn't listen when that strange pang bangs against the bars it's nestled behind deep inside her soul, she doesn't listen when it cowers and weeps under her creator's attention, and she doesn't listen when it whispers warnings and promises.
She did, however, listen when it told her not to hurt anybody.
And she doesn't know what to think of that.
Mirabella asks her to clear the area, to keep it safe - to keep her safe - and she does. She does entirely, but she does not use the same methods that Mira does. She guides things away where Mira would turn physical, she soothes where Mira would leave, and she keeps this all hidden. She doesn't know what Mirabella would do should she find out about Lucia's,,, disobedience,,, but she knows it likely would lead to nothing good. She doesn't even know why she doesn't listen - it is a simple task she's been given, to dispose of those unneeded, and yet unless they turn violent she doesn't either. She has no interest in violence. She... She has no interest in anything of the like really, but if Mira beckons it then she listens wholly.
Altogether, Lucia is a gentle soul who worships at her creator's feet. She's a good listener - a good tool - and though she does not entirely understand her new life and what comes with it, nor the things her creator wishes to do and asks of her, she listens best she can. She is, in a way, the calm to Mirabella's storm. She is a guardian, a perch, and with all her sweet demeanor she is a mighty presence that many still cower beneath due to sheer size alone. But she isn't cruel by any means. Perhaps one day someone may find her without Mirabella present. And perhaps on that day, someone may teach her that loyalty goes both ways.
BoundaryThough an Abnormal, Lucia does not often leave the derelict campsite that makes up her boundary, nor the area that surrounds it. The campsite itself can honestly hardly qualify as one, it's more of an unruly mess made by entitled teens who believed that they had something big to prove. There isn't much actually making it up either - some duffel bags abandoned in the haze of fear, some sleeping bags, old electric lanterns long since turned dead, some broken bottles and a campfire long since burned into nothing but barely viable wood and a few stones.
It's a mess, essentially. But Lucia considers it part of her home nonetheless, and frequents it often when told to go be on her own. Typically she'll rest on the perch she was originally transformed on - an old wooden stump half rotted and poorly cut, with moss and fungus growing all over and leaf litter surrounding it. It's a small perch, but Lucia can typically be found covering it with her furry limbs and laying calming over it as opposed to actually perching on it. Due to her rather stationary way of resting, if one weren't paying attention they'd likely walk right past her. This is especially prevalent in the winter, when her coat turns long and her nature adornments grow to a widespread amount, leaving her heavy with furs and petals. Though her boundary is small, and she is decidedly not, she still considers it home just as much as the rest of the place it's near. |
Her Creator
Mirabella was Lucia's first ever point of proper communication, and as her creator, she's taken on a role that Lucia can only attribute to parental, if skewered. Mira is a rather vicious little thing, a being made up of coy smiles and easy words and soft edges ready to sharpen at the shortest moments notice. Lucia, in a sense, fears her. But she loves her even more, loves her wholly and so and is ready to worship at the foot of her altar for days in and days out. She takes pride in being something that Mirabella seems to be possessive over - like a shiny trinket hung from her haunt, only Lucia is something she genuinely created. Something she had cultivated and something that can be shown as actual proof to her accomplishments. Lucia wears that title proudly - being Mirabella's creation. Her sweetened child, who's all soft where Mira isn't, and who's all obedience to Mira's commands. They have a strange relationship, perhaps, to outsiders, but Lucia questions it not.
She does, however, not quite understand everything that is Mira yet. There's plenty of behaviors she simply cannot piece together, strange attitudes and odd words that absolutely mean something but that Lucia cannot make sense of. She worries about it. Worries about what it may mean, about if she's doing enough, if she is enough - but Mira is always gentle with her. She's only mean when Lucia messes up. She's asked for loyalty, obedience, and Lucia should know well enough to give it blindly. And she will. She,,, she will.
Mirabella was Lucia's first ever point of proper communication, and as her creator, she's taken on a role that Lucia can only attribute to parental, if skewered. Mira is a rather vicious little thing, a being made up of coy smiles and easy words and soft edges ready to sharpen at the shortest moments notice. Lucia, in a sense, fears her. But she loves her even more, loves her wholly and so and is ready to worship at the foot of her altar for days in and days out. She takes pride in being something that Mirabella seems to be possessive over - like a shiny trinket hung from her haunt, only Lucia is something she genuinely created. Something she had cultivated and something that can be shown as actual proof to her accomplishments. Lucia wears that title proudly - being Mirabella's creation. Her sweetened child, who's all soft where Mira isn't, and who's all obedience to Mira's commands. They have a strange relationship, perhaps, to outsiders, but Lucia questions it not.
She does, however, not quite understand everything that is Mira yet. There's plenty of behaviors she simply cannot piece together, strange attitudes and odd words that absolutely mean something but that Lucia cannot make sense of. She worries about it. Worries about what it may mean, about if she's doing enough, if she is enough - but Mira is always gentle with her. She's only mean when Lucia messes up. She's asked for loyalty, obedience, and Lucia should know well enough to give it blindly. And she will. She,,, she will.
A Visitor
Aeolus is a rather frequent visitor to the boundaries, but Lucia doesn't talk to him much. She prefers to watch instead, to wait and be readied should Mira need safekeeping. In the past, Aeolus' visits seemed to bring amusement out from Mira, but nowadays? Lucia can't even begin to articulate what it's doing. She seems to shrink when he arrives, grows avoidant for short periods, and Lucia is concerned. She doesn't know what to do. They question it sometimes, quietly asking their creator soft questions about whether or not she needs help, why exactly he keeps coming back, but Mira never answers. She never, never answers.
Aeolus is a rather frequent visitor to the boundaries, but Lucia doesn't talk to him much. She prefers to watch instead, to wait and be readied should Mira need safekeeping. In the past, Aeolus' visits seemed to bring amusement out from Mira, but nowadays? Lucia can't even begin to articulate what it's doing. She seems to shrink when he arrives, grows avoidant for short periods, and Lucia is concerned. She doesn't know what to do. They question it sometimes, quietly asking their creator soft questions about whether or not she needs help, why exactly he keeps coming back, but Mira never answers. She never, never answers.
A Crude Sibling
Lucia and Siren have never quite gotten along. They have their moments of enjoyed time, yes, but more often than not their relationship is a double edged sword. Siren is a prideful and malicious character, a perfect companion piece to Mira's sharp edges. But where Mira can show soft rounded spots for all of them, Siren very rarely returns the sentiment. His rounded edges and quiet talks are towards Mirabella, and near her alone, whilst Lucia is often left with the sharp jagged shards that leave her gasping on her own false air. Siren knows how to strike her, and he's good at it. There's been plenty of times where Lucia is left to think over his words, where she internalizes them too deeply and drives herself near to madness before she retreats to Mirabella with some vague questions and soft begs for appraisal and comfort.
More commonly though, Siren and Lucia are mere siblings that simply can't stand each other. It's a constant bickering match with them if Mira isn't around, and when it isn't going too far and the shards being tossed are not barbed with true venom, it's almost fun. There's a carefreeness to it, in the light bickering that still usually ends with them wanting to claw out each other's glass pieces and string them about for mother to gaze in awe, but they can be civil. They are siblings, even if not by creation standards, and they work together decently when they must. And though far and few between, there are times where the two share quiet moments of comfort free of the bitter remarks and awful gestures. Lucia may not understand Siren entirely, nor Mira's obsession with him, but she knows that at the end of the day he makes Mir happy, and they can understand each other on certain accounts. It isn't perfect, but,,, it'll have to do.
Lucia and Siren have never quite gotten along. They have their moments of enjoyed time, yes, but more often than not their relationship is a double edged sword. Siren is a prideful and malicious character, a perfect companion piece to Mira's sharp edges. But where Mira can show soft rounded spots for all of them, Siren very rarely returns the sentiment. His rounded edges and quiet talks are towards Mirabella, and near her alone, whilst Lucia is often left with the sharp jagged shards that leave her gasping on her own false air. Siren knows how to strike her, and he's good at it. There's been plenty of times where Lucia is left to think over his words, where she internalizes them too deeply and drives herself near to madness before she retreats to Mirabella with some vague questions and soft begs for appraisal and comfort.
More commonly though, Siren and Lucia are mere siblings that simply can't stand each other. It's a constant bickering match with them if Mira isn't around, and when it isn't going too far and the shards being tossed are not barbed with true venom, it's almost fun. There's a carefreeness to it, in the light bickering that still usually ends with them wanting to claw out each other's glass pieces and string them about for mother to gaze in awe, but they can be civil. They are siblings, even if not by creation standards, and they work together decently when they must. And though far and few between, there are times where the two share quiet moments of comfort free of the bitter remarks and awful gestures. Lucia may not understand Siren entirely, nor Mira's obsession with him, but she knows that at the end of the day he makes Mir happy, and they can understand each other on certain accounts. It isn't perfect, but,,, it'll have to do.
The Sweetened Babe
Lucia was just as surprised as many when Mira turned kind to a stranger. She's so used to watching her toy with them, so used to watching as their visitations are cut short with screams of terror as they turn back on their heels, weepy and tearful and choking on their own nightmares. She's so used to that, because that's the normal. That's what happens when strangers intrude on Mira's home, when they dare think they have the right to step into such a sacred land, when they believe with all their ego that they deserve her kindness and her audience.
And yet, Lucia watched as Mirabella's lightning stifled, her enchantment stilled, and as she,,, accepted. She'd jumped down to the lowest hanging branch she could find, had scooped up Peep into her talons and cradled her. Cooed over her, called her a 'sweet little Fledgling' and as she retreated higher to keep this stranger safe. And she's done so ever since.
In all honesty, Lucia doesn't mind Peep's presence. In fact, she actually enjoys it. Peep is a bundle of sunshine wrapped in the body of an Esk, a curious critter who could do no wrong and follows Mira or the others around like a baby duckling anytime she's there. She's a permanent fixture, and she's ever so kind - a breath of fresh air, really. There is no sharp edges to her - she's all melting honey and kind smiles and sweet babyish chirps. She's learning, slowly, and it's kind of like having a baby sister she thinks. It's certainly like having a babe to Mira, anyway.
She makes Mir happy, that's undeniable. And Lucia is entirely content with that - she'll devote the rest of her immortal life to guarding and caring for this sweet and childish little creature if it'll make Mira so warm. Plus, having Peep around isn't so bad. She thinks Peep likes her, actually. And isn't that just a thought?
Lucia was just as surprised as many when Mira turned kind to a stranger. She's so used to watching her toy with them, so used to watching as their visitations are cut short with screams of terror as they turn back on their heels, weepy and tearful and choking on their own nightmares. She's so used to that, because that's the normal. That's what happens when strangers intrude on Mira's home, when they dare think they have the right to step into such a sacred land, when they believe with all their ego that they deserve her kindness and her audience.
And yet, Lucia watched as Mirabella's lightning stifled, her enchantment stilled, and as she,,, accepted. She'd jumped down to the lowest hanging branch she could find, had scooped up Peep into her talons and cradled her. Cooed over her, called her a 'sweet little Fledgling' and as she retreated higher to keep this stranger safe. And she's done so ever since.
In all honesty, Lucia doesn't mind Peep's presence. In fact, she actually enjoys it. Peep is a bundle of sunshine wrapped in the body of an Esk, a curious critter who could do no wrong and follows Mira or the others around like a baby duckling anytime she's there. She's a permanent fixture, and she's ever so kind - a breath of fresh air, really. There is no sharp edges to her - she's all melting honey and kind smiles and sweet babyish chirps. She's learning, slowly, and it's kind of like having a baby sister she thinks. It's certainly like having a babe to Mira, anyway.
She makes Mir happy, that's undeniable. And Lucia is entirely content with that - she'll devote the rest of her immortal life to guarding and caring for this sweet and childish little creature if it'll make Mira so warm. Plus, having Peep around isn't so bad. She thinks Peep likes her, actually. And isn't that just a thought?
A Companion Lantern
Thesmophoria is a strange thing. A curious soul that Mirabella discovered and took into her arms with those talon tipped hands that always beckoned for new life. He is, in many was, exactly what Mira would enjoy, and Lucia recognizes that. She sees how they interact together, how Thes clings to Mira's side whenever he comes by and how he huddles in close whenever she even gives him so much as an adoring glance. He's clingy, Lucia has begun to notice, but then again so is she. To crave Mira's affections and attention is nothing if not understandable, and Lu herself is no stranger to craving those hypnotic coos and to near begging just to feel those tiny but deadly talons pressed kindly to her cheeks. She's not surprised that they get on well, and she can't say she minds Thes' presence either. He's a nice change of pace, and a lantern himself. Perhaps it's only fitting that he and Lucia get along similarly - kin recognizing kin.
But in recent times, Thes has begun to change, and Lucia doesn't know how to feel. He's avoidant. He stays gone for longer periods of time, and when he finally returns he seems almost dulled even when Mira is lavishing him with affection and telling him how much he was missed. And to make matters worse, he isn't looking at Lucia anymore. He's looking in her almost. That strange bundle of stifled things deep within her chest rattles against its cage whenever Thes is close these days, as if desperately wanting to reach out to him - as if wanting to become one with him instead of Mir.
He asked her a question the other day. 'Have you ever thought about leaving?' 'No, not really.' 'Is that because you don't want to, or because she won't let you?'
Lucia still doesn't know how to answer.
Thesmophoria is a strange thing. A curious soul that Mirabella discovered and took into her arms with those talon tipped hands that always beckoned for new life. He is, in many was, exactly what Mira would enjoy, and Lucia recognizes that. She sees how they interact together, how Thes clings to Mira's side whenever he comes by and how he huddles in close whenever she even gives him so much as an adoring glance. He's clingy, Lucia has begun to notice, but then again so is she. To crave Mira's affections and attention is nothing if not understandable, and Lu herself is no stranger to craving those hypnotic coos and to near begging just to feel those tiny but deadly talons pressed kindly to her cheeks. She's not surprised that they get on well, and she can't say she minds Thes' presence either. He's a nice change of pace, and a lantern himself. Perhaps it's only fitting that he and Lucia get along similarly - kin recognizing kin.
But in recent times, Thes has begun to change, and Lucia doesn't know how to feel. He's avoidant. He stays gone for longer periods of time, and when he finally returns he seems almost dulled even when Mira is lavishing him with affection and telling him how much he was missed. And to make matters worse, he isn't looking at Lucia anymore. He's looking in her almost. That strange bundle of stifled things deep within her chest rattles against its cage whenever Thes is close these days, as if desperately wanting to reach out to him - as if wanting to become one with him instead of Mir.
He asked her a question the other day. 'Have you ever thought about leaving?' 'No, not really.' 'Is that because you don't want to, or because she won't let you?'
Lucia still doesn't know how to answer.
Character Details and Notes
- Lucia's vibration or voice is soft and almost somber in manner. She borrows phrases from things she has learned or can recall, and as a result has a rather broken sense of speech that can come off as any variety of cryptic or quizzical. She doesn't mean for this, but it's hard to control with her lack of true articulation, and the fact she keeps to shortened phrases instead of drawn out ones. Her voice itself is kind though - soft all over and meek almost, with a tad hint of somber loneliness. It's reminiscent to the feel of forgetting something you cherished once for a long time, or when a butterfly can no longer take flight beneath the sunny sky, for its wings are too weak and its body too frail.
- Lucia is quite large, even when stationed on all fours. Here is an example of her next to her creator, Mirabella, when resting normally.
- Due to her anatomy, Lucia can often be seen standing up and even walking short distances on her hind legs. She can't do it for very long without support, but when she does she often mimics a Therizinosaurus or a pangolin in terms of posture.
- Lucia's antlers are entirely iron, and the shape of them is made up of various spirals and floating fragments to give an ornate look. While you can simplify them, you cannot entirely change their shape, as she doesn't carry the shape-shift mutation.
- Lucia also holds the 'winter coat' mutation. During colder months, her fur will grow incredibly long and shaggy, stretching out to almost the floor in length and covering most of her important indicators. It's rather fluffy fur, and curiously soft, but it's usually caked in dirt and moss and bluebells, with twigs sticking out here and there. Mira takes to "styling" it at times, carding twigs and flowers and bones throughout it and making kind and messy braids and knots.
- This iron soul is not a consistent visitor towards the Conservatory, and as a result she doesn't bother to make her own private wing. She only ever goes out of her way to visit should she have been told to by Mirabella, and when she does visit she's usually stuck close to that tiny creator's side. She does enjoy listening to 000 though, and she loves going into rooms filled with candles and soft lights. Despite not having a private wing, she can be consistently spotted within Mira's, and she tends to leave behind copious amounts of bluebells wherever her tail and furs may drag.
- As a creator, Lucia is rather unknowing, in a sense. She doesn't create for herself, rather on Mira's behalf in places she cannot reach, and she doesn't exactly understand the process of creation either in terms of performing it. She's not a mentor of any true kind, but she welcomes folk to visitor her if she's created them anytime they like, even if she's probably not the parent they were hoping for. She takes on a much more sisterly type of role, in a sense, or just a friendly acquaintance.
.;Badges;.
credits ; images from pexels, pixel lucia by Void-of-lillies