Rosuto

Rosuto
RosutoLing.jpg
©2008 ~Getty
Motto: He who bends to himself a Joy, doth the Winged Life destroy;

But he who kisses Joy as it flies, lives in Eternity's sunrise.;

IC Information
Gender/Sexuality: Female/Lesbian
Species: Avariel (Winged Elf)
Place of Origin: Aerie of the Eagles, Faerun
Age/Birthdate: 74/7 Tarsakh 1294
(7th Apr 1934)
Height: 5'7", 170.2 cm
Weight: 59 lbs, 26.4 kg
Hair Color: Brown to Black
Eye Color: Dark Grey
Wing Color: Naturally Black
Varies Based on Dye
Romantic Status: Involved (Whisper)
Romantic Identification: Polyamorous
Current Residence: Unknown
Religion: Amanohara
Occupation: Tailor
OOC Information
Source: Original Character, Derived from Haibane Renmei and the Faerun Campaign Setting of DnD
Player: Aouru
Other Characters: Aouru
Tailory Symbol
TailorySymbol.jpg
©2007-2008 ~PianoRok

Rosuto is an Avariel who has recently moved to Yuriba from the Aerie of the Eagles, in Faerun, Toril.

Contents

General

Description

Rosuto’s eyes are nothing special for an Avariel, simply a dark grey in color, often seeming black in less than full light; her hair, however, runs in from light brown to shadowy black tendrils, constantly messy and ruffled until they stop at her chin. She looks to be athletic, though her skin is an almost translucent hue, and she seems to be slight of stature, with a thin physique. However, all of this likely extends from the two large projections on her back; enormous wings, feathered like a bird’s and, when extended, are each is nearly five and a half feet long in length, as tall as the girls own body and often in various colour gradients. Her ears are accented above by similar, but much smaller, feathered projections, but on closer inspection these seem to be her own feathers made into ornaments

Personality

Strange quirks abound in Rosuto’s personality, from her withdrawn nature laced with a raving desire to help anyone in need, to her constant abhorrence of mirrors which she will avoid at all costs. She carries herbs with her at all times, sometimes clutching at her chest and drinking from a container at her hip, or resorting to a small, black pipe she carries underneath her shirt. Her views are often strange, as if she sees the world from an objective stance, and yet she does not hesitate to throw herself into any subject with all the passion of a true believer. She will throw herself into fights, almost as if she desires to die, but once in the battle, she throws all her force into living. And, strangely enough, Rosuto seems to despise snow, stomping through it with quick, even steps whenever she sees it, unable to leave in untouched until its perfection has been marred. If nothing else, Rosuto is one paradox after another.

An artist in all but name and self recognition, Rosuto writes and composes music, song, and poem, yet carries them all in a book which she almost never opens for others, and the harp and flute on her back are only played in the silent solace of a forest or a private room at an inn. The only ‘art’ that Rosuto has any inclination to show in public is her talent as a tailor, which she has often used in the past when short on money.

The remenants of her sickness cause constant problems, including the fits she has irregularly and the chronic pain in her chest and wings that can only be assuaged by her dose of herbs, taken twice a day and melted into a tea, or mixed and set on fire in a small pipe, depending on Rosuto’s mood. As pertains to her wings and their odd coloring, Rosuto has recently come to terms with it and will even dye them exotic colors at times. If not planning on an alternative color, Rosuto will dye them a pure white in the morning; despite the loss of her sickness, she still dyes them out of habit.

Biography

Summary

Rosuto’s background is laced with pain and suffering, since about five years before her Ceremony to become an adult in the Aerie of the Snow Eagles, until only recently, when she arrived at Yuriba. At a young age her parents were murdered in a raid of one of the smaller Aeries surrounding the Icerim Mountains. Taken for fostering at the Aerie of Snow Eagles, Rosuto stayed there, safe and happy in the training of High Priestess Avalice till shortly after her thirty-fifth birthday, when the first signs of her illness began to show. Cursed with black wings, chronic pain and coughing, and numerous other small ailments, Rosuto became a mystery rather a student, the one incurable case in the Temple to the Winged Lady, Aerdrie Faenya. Slowly losing faith in her Goddess, and pushed by the Council of the Aerie of the Snow Eagles, Rosuto faced the choice of being a captive for all her life in the Temple or leaving the Aerie to search for a cure herself. Eventually, believing the Gods had cursed her for some past Sin, Rosuto discarded her old name, Akarui, strapped her rough, hewn, and cursed wings to her back, took the dye and herbs necessary to control her illness, and set out from Aerie, taking the name Rosuto upon herself in the spur of the moment, meaning Lost. Journeying from the Great Ice Lake, and heading constantly West, Rosuto arrived on the Sword Coast, still searching for anything to control her illness. Eventually hearing of the Kitsune, the mystical creatures of the Isle of Yuriba, Rosuto set a new destination, her first concrete one in a long time, and headed for Yuriba. Once there, Rosuto immediately headed for Underhill, where she was able to meet with a Kitsune who agreed to help her: for a price. After completely the Kitsune’s task, Rosuto was told the problem of her sickness spouted not from the Gods, but from her parents, specifically her mother. Rosuto learned she was not the offspring of two Avariels, as she thought, but of an Avariel and a Couatl, a snake like creature gifted with wings. Her disease, the Kitsune told her, sprouted from the mixing of these two bloods, which were not normally compatible; in return for Rosuto’s assistance, the Kitsune offered to make the bloods compatible, though this would only stop the disease from spreading, not abate it completely, for it would take some time for it to heal to a manageable level. Regardless, Rosuto accepted the offer, and spent the next few months recuperating. During this time, Rosuto made the choice to remain on Yuriba indefinitely, as there was no longer any place left for her in Toril.

Recently, she has become even more attached to the island through her acquaintances and friends, along with her plans for a clothing shop, and has begun looking into the worship of Amanohara as a replacement for Aerdrie Faenya.

Before Yuriba

OOC Notes
For most purposes, this information is basically unknown ICly, except for a few glimpses that may be gleaned through conversation with Rosuto. Everything after the 'Before Yuriba' portion, however, may be known to some, especially those of the Underhill population.


~1 year ago~

Rosuto’s head sunk slowly into her hands, the laughter of the children surrounding her and reverberating on her ears from the corners of the alley, a constant reminder, resounding again and again. The sound would bring those dreams tonight. The constant red stain on her vision, cured only by the herbs she had stored in her pack, threatened to be blurred by tears. She had cried too many times over this; far too many times. Was it not enough that the Gods punished her daily for her sin, without adding these moments of utter joy and exaltation to sit and mock her? Perhaps not, if her sin was great enough to turn white to the color of stained blood and to obscure even her vision of the world, taking away its colors and life. The Onset was still in her consciousness, fresh as the day it had occurred. Oh, the memories before It were still there, but they were only a cruel mockery of what could have been. A mockery not even sweetened by the vividness of the memories; even those were tinted crimson. She could remember them even in this moment, and the scarlet would melt in, taking over everything…


~59 years ago~

A young Akarui laughed as she ran across the main bridge of the Aerie of the Snow Eagles, connecting the living areas with those of the city and now serving a small race track for those orphans of the families recently lost in one of the smaller Aeries. The fight had been brutal; a savage parody of a true battle, and almost the entire Aerie had been wiped out before help could arrive. The children, though, had been locked in one of the mountain vaults, escaping both the battle itself and the sight of the aftermath, praise Aerdrie Faenya. Now they were being fostered here, at the Winged Lady’s temple, an escape from everything that had happened below. And much to the misfortune of High Priestess Avalice, they were to be schooled in the Arts and in Magic, not War. Fitting for them, perhaps, but as she watched the group of twelve race across the bridge, Avalice lamented on her lack of sleep. It seemed these young ones had the energy of a thousand Cooshee, not to mention the addition from whatever candy the townspeople happened to give them as they ran about.

Avalice sighed in relief as she finally caught up to them, the group breathing heavily on the other side of the bridge, Akarui having once again beaten out the entire squad by at least twenty feet, even without the use of wings. The girl had the stamina of a Great Eagle to go along with that energy of hers, and it nearly drove Avarice to abandon. But at least all the children got along well; even now, they had taken out sets of string and began a game of Cat’s Cradle, Akarui once again making a show out of it, like a true artist. She had a gift, raising the flute to her lips and the harp to her fingers for the first time and composing music of pure, unadulterated innocence. She took colors and swirled them on paper into an image more vivid than the real thing, and she had not even realized it yet. Destined to be a painter, or a musician, that Akarui…


~1 year ago~

The crimson overtook the memory again at that point, melting across the black space of her mind till it remained the only color in the expanse. The memory had not even been a full one before the crimson had come this time; Rosuto had had to piece most of it from what she remembered of the account of Priestess Avalice, who had supported her later. It got like that sometimes, though; the good memories got blurry and the bad ones sharpened, forcing Rosuto to remember what she could from the words of others. If she didn’t take the herbs soon…

The pain blossomed along her neck and chest, making Rosuto double over, her eyes blurring as the scarlet overtook her vision. She reached into her pack and reached her hand around blindly, finally grasping the herbs and ripping them out, the relief nearly instantaneous as they ran down her throat. The red receded slowly, and Rosuto slowly sat down, her back against the wall in near exhaustion. She had thought her fits had been receding too, and now she was running out of herbs again. The last time she was low, she was in Silverymoon, where the necessary combination of herbs was easy to find. Here, just north of Amn, she was not going be as lucky. At least she was not out of the bark necessary for the dye for her wings, yet.

Rosuto sighed, staring back down the alley at the children, her hand clutched to her chest as the dull numbness following the use of the herbs set in. They were still playing, running back and forth after a bright blue ball, though one was standing off to the side now, watching. From Rosuto’s position, the light caught the area just above the girl’s eyes, shadowing them in darkness. Rosuto could almost see the tortured, bleeding wings on her back, the evil dark color that seemed to absorb the light above, the invisible wall between her and the other Avariel…


~39 years ago~

The mirror in front of her had to be wrong. Enchanted, or something. Her wings were white. A pure, unchanging white! Where had this black come from? Akarui shivered, fingering her feather with short, worried strokes, tilting it back and forth in the light. No matter how bright the light though, those deep black areas would not seem to go away. In fact, since she had noticed them a month ago, they had spread. What if it continued? Was she sick? Would her entire wing change color? Silver glinted on the nightstand, a small redirection of light that caught her eye. Hands enclosed the handle; shadow-blotched, white silk floated to the floor, caught in the light of early morning. Akarui ran a light hand over her rough edged wing, dropping the scissors in sudden shock, the clatter nearly making her jump. Akarui grabbed her pack on the way out the door, fleeing the room and slamming the door behind her, hurrying down the hall to the main room of the temple.

High Priestess Avalice was already setting up the class when Akarui rushed in, drawing the eyes of the other eleven already standing around the altar. She hurriedly plastered a fake smile across her face, bowing and dropping her wings down across the sides of her body in a gesture of silent apology for being late. She was not that late of course, only a few minutes, and the High Priestess would hardly mind so long as she did her work for the day with no other problems. And she had a good reason, even if she couldn’t tell them. Hopefully, the High Priestess would just continue and…

“Hey, you have charcoal on you! Your wings are black!”

Akarui’s thoughts stopped suddenly, her entire body going rigid. As every head in the room turned to her, she begged the Gods that it was indeed charcoal, and nothing else. Why, oh why, did one of the others have to notice it? She was sure she had cut off every last black patch. There wasn’t anything there! But then why was the High Priestess crossing the floor to her? If there wasn’t anything there, she wouldn’t be coming closer! She needed to hide, to run, to flee to her room and lock the door in place. No one should see her like this. No one! But her body wouldn’t move, wouldn’t comply. And as the High Priestess reached out a hand, taking one feather between her fingers, Akarui’s body went rigid, her eyes shutting tight.

“It isn’t charcoal. What is this?”

Hell. It was her living hell. Akarui sunk to the floor, her legs sweeping out from under her, and her head dropping to her chest. This was it. They’d found out. They’d condemn her now, hate her. What was she going to do…


~1 year ago~

What was she going to do, indeed? She faced the same question now as back then; forty long years and she still faced the same questions over and over. Not a single ounce of progress in any direction except towards her death. What had she been doing these forty years? What had her wandering gave her? Rosuto bit back a laugh, shaking her head: it had given her next to nothing. She had not found a cure, or something to contain the sickness any better than the herbs the High Priestess had shown her as she started out. She had not found a better dye, not found a place to research this illness, not found another Avariel with it in any of the Aeries. She really didn’t have anything else to do, and her money was running low again. Rosuto couldn’t imagine working in this town, so that would mean she’d have to move on. Toward Waterdeep, or Baldur’s Gate. Even Neverwinter, perhaps, if she had to go that far north.

A soft sound made her start, her head turning to look down the alley toward where the ball had struck the side of the building, rolling to stop just a few feet from her. The children hung back, staring at her with wide eyed expressions, as if they feared her; well, perhaps they should. She was sin-cursed after all; she barely had a right to touch these children. But… maybe this was just another step toward her salvation. Maybe… Just maybe, Tyr would exact Justice on her here. She pushed herself off the ground, her chest giving a sharp tinge of resentment. Rosuto leaned heavily against the wall, taking a moment to gain her balance, and then moved toward the ball slowly, the red haze creeping up again. Now was not a good time. The haze was unlikely to listen to her though, and just as she reached for the ball, it hit her again, forcing her back into her memories. This had happened before, or something close to it…


~35 years ago~

They were going to become adults next year, and join in the Dance of the Swirling Winds. They would; the rest of her small group of artists and magicians. By order of the Lords of the Avariel, she herself would remain under watch of the physicians. They hadn’t even let her into the Lord’s chamber to speak on her own behalf; apart from the fact that she might be ‘dangerously contagious’, Akarui could hardly raise off her bed without the assistance of a priestess or the herbs the High Priestess was still trying to perfect. And those only really got rid of the cough, and the pain in her chest. Not… her wings. Akarui shivered, not daring to look over her shoulder at the pure white wings; it was a mockery. The dye only covered up the black; she had to re-dye them every morning or the dark color would show through again. As it always did.

Akarui slowly pushed herself out of the bed, standing up slowly and looking at the tea on the table, the High Priestesses’ new batch of herbs. They always tasted horrible, and never helped anyway. Walking towards the door, Akarui took a quick look outside, then snuck down the hall, deciding to end this once and for all. She was sick of being stuck in bed while everyone else made decisions about her; her only friend was the High Priestess Avalice, and Akarui suspected a bit of pity there. If they were going to lock her up, or banish her, or whatever else, she at least had the right to know.

No one was in the Temple courtyard, likely preparing for this year’s Dance of the Swirling Winds, so Akarui had a clear path to the Council’s chamber on the other side of the building, where they would be in session to discuss the matters for the Festival. She would ask them exactly what they planned for her, whether they wanted to see her or not. As she approached the door, she was relieved to see it seemed even the guards were off duty today; it would be easy to get in. She touched the doors, pressing them open slowly, then at the last moment, throwing herself to abandon and pushing hard on the doors, letting them fly open.

The entire Council of Lords, artists, warriors, priests, and magicians alike, looked up when she walked in, staring at her. Half covered their mouths immediately, and another quarter winced, as if her very presence would confer her disease on them. The High Priestess was there too… Akarui nearly lost her nerve as even Avalice winced at her entrance. It was pity, as she had thought.

The Head Councilman, who had been speaking to the High Priestess, stood, staring down at Akarui from across the room, “What is the meaning of this, Young Wing? You know you are not allowed in here.” He glared at her, but Akarui saw his hand twitch toward his face, and her nerve came back in that instant, along with her fury.

“I am tired of lying in a bed all day, while you determine my fate, without even consulting me! You have already decided I will not go through the Ceremony next year, even though it will be my fortieth year. I want to know exactly what you plan to do with me. And I want you to talk to me, not through someone else!” Akarui breathed heavily, even that small speech having cost her the little energy she had, and she put out a hand on the edge of the door, trying to stand tall against them even as her knees threatened to buckle beneath her.

The entire Council was silent for a long moment, then the High Priestess Avalice started to speak, just before the Head Councilman put out his hand, stopping her, “Very well, Akarui. We were planning to wait till the next year to announce this to you, but now will do as well as then. We will give you two choices: First, you may stay here, in the Temple, as a Priestess, and work while Avalice attempts to discover a cure for your illness, though she has… voiced an opinion… that the Gods, notably our Winged Lady Aerdrie Faenya, have given you this sickness for a reason. Second, your other option..,” he paused a moment, as if unsure, the looked Akarui straight in the eyes, speaking slowly, “You will enter the Ceremony, but you will leave the Aerie afterward, to find a cure on your own. We can not allow you to live among the others, when your illness may transfer to them. We do not know enough about this.”

Akarui’s arms dropped to her sides, staring at the Councilman in shock. They had given her a choice between Captivity, for she was a musician and artist not a priest, or Banishment. And the High Priestess had said this was the Gods doing; the Winged Lady’s doing. The Gods… had cursed her? That meant it was her own fault; that she had committed some Sin. But what? What had she done? Nothing. Nothing! Was she to be cursed forever for nothing? She opened her mouth to reply, ready to yell at the Council, at the Gods, but pain suddenly bloomed in her chest, the cough rising to her throat as she sunk to her knees, vaguely remembering the tea still sitting on her nightstand. The red overcame her vision, just as she saw the High Priestess rushing to her, calling for the others… and the Council hurriedly throwing their sleeves over their mouths. Of course.


~1 year ago~

Rosuto stumbled forward, barely catching herself against the wall on the other side of the alley. The ball dropped from her nerveless fingers, falling to the pavement; the children stared at her, backing up from the edge of the alley. It seemed her illness was dragging up old memories, taking away even the small respite offered her from a moment’s forgetfulness. Those eyes were no different from the Council’s; no different in their fear, and their pity. No one’s eyes ever were; the only change that existed was from the few who had seen her wings. And then disgust was the sole addition.

Rosuto pushed herself from the wall, turning away from the children toward the other end of the alley, walking unsteadily out back into the main streets and heading for the marketplace. She had to find more of the herbs before the Sickness set in again; the marketplace here was hardly large, but even some of the herbs were better than none. There would be people there too, music, and the smells of the market; the pieces of a normal life. Perhaps it would prevent her from any more sudden fits. At least it would take her away from those eyes.

The market was filled with creatures of every sort, all on their way north, toward Waterdeep. Same as Rosuto, though perhaps not searching for the same reasons; most would be on a business trip, or making an annual trip to the Temples of the Gods. Not searching for a cure that likely did not exist, just to be disappointed again. Rosuto sighed, shaking her head, and nearly missed the stand on the corner advertising herbs from all over Toril, if one took Toril to mean the immediate area around the small city. Regardless, Rosuto stopped at the stand, surveying the herbs. She was right; the stand only had about half of the necessary herbs for the tea, but it would have to do. Not that that was any surprise; when she had first heard the herbs necessary, she had never expected them to be easy to find. In fact, the High Priestess had warned her of this just before she had left…


~34 years ago~

Akarui stared down from the balcony, at the Ceremony below, the rest of her group lining up just below for their first flight as adults. She herself had asked to be exempt; flying before the town, her dyed wings screaming mockery, would be more than she could stand. Instead, she stood here, watching as the Ceremony continued and preparing for her own flight; unlike the rest, however, she would not return the next morning, a branch of a white elm in her hand. Akarui turned from the window, toward the darkened room behind her, the shadows cast across the room already making it seem deserted. No, she would not be returning at all.

Her nightstand stood empty before her except for the mirror, the herbs the High Priestess had given to her already stowed in her pack, along with the dye necessary for her wings. Avalice had told her the herbs necessary for her latest concoction, supposedly able to stave off the illness for a week. Akarui had tested them two days before; it had hardly lasted a till noon before she had had another fit, but at least they had lasted longer than anything before. Maybe if she stayed around a bit longer… but no, if she stayed any longer she would be confined to this Temple forever. Now there was just one last thing…

Akarui stood in front of the mirror, brushing a hand roughly over the feathers of her wing, a bright white from the recent dye. They had caused her trouble this entire time; they were a hassle at best, a curse at worst, and yet she couldn’t bear to have them removed. Every time she tried, she got no farther than the outer feathers before the knife dropped from her numb fingers. And they would be too conspicuous outside the Aerie. Akarui reached for the black, glass-like cloth in front of the night stand. They would have to be contained.

As soon as she was done, the cloth clipped to fit properly and her cloak thrown over her shoulders, Akarui picked the pack from her bag, taking a final look about the room. At least the halls would be empty for the Ceremony; she would not have to walk through the halls, eyes locked on her back the entire time, as if they could see straight through the dye. She would be spared that small embarrassment. Akarui opened the door, closing it softly behind her, the sound holding a finality that reverberated throughout the hallway.

Strangely, the sound was a… comfort. She would no longer be confined to this room, no longer confined to the pitying stares and strange glances that came her way each time she left her room. Her life would no longer be dictated by the Council, or the Goddess who had cursed her…

“Akarui! I was afraid I had missed you!” Akarui’s head rose with a start, staring down the hall at the High Priestess Avalice who, to Akarui’s surprise, was actually running towards her.

“Akarui… I want you to have this. It isn’t much, but you are at least entitled to it, after being my student for so long,” Avalice reached into her pack, pulling something out and placing it lightly in Akarui’s hand.

A Snow Eagle’s feather. The mark of a graduated Priestess, Mage, or Artist. But normally she would not have received this for another ten or twenty years at least, if not longer depending on her studies and her teacher. Akarui’s finger brushed the feather lightly, and then stuffed it in her pack as she bowed lightly to Avalice, bowing her head in silent thanks before brushing past her hurriedly, shaking her head to clear the tears. She would not walk away crying. She would not.

Akarui rushed out of the Temple, running as hard as she could, straight across the bridge and toward the Aerie’s east launch site, the one not being used for the ceremony. There were stairs nearby; she would be able to take those to get down, without her wings. She slowed as she reached the clearing, staring ahead in surprise at the man standing in the center; it was as if the High Councilman had been one step ahead of her.

“This is a sad day for all of us, child, despite what you think. Akarui…” he sighed, shaking his head, “No, even if you will be leaving us, you have become an adult and should be awarded a new name. You have a right to it.” Akarui stopped completely in surprise, yards from the Councilman. He was… allowing her to choose her name? As all the others had? She had a name ready but she had never thought…

“Rosuto. My name is Rosuto.” The words seemed foreign to her even as they escaped her mouth, freezing in the cold air around the Aerie; it was not the name she had in her mind, it was not the one she had chosen. She had not even thought of it before this moment, had not even heard the name before. But it… suited her. Rosuto. Lost.

The High Councilman stood still for a moment, then nodded, turning away from the stairs and Aka…Rosuto. It was customary, when leaving the Aerie for an extended time, that no one saw you leave. Final farewells were too hard. Rosuto shook her head, turning toward the steps and placing her foot on the first few hesitantly, then with growing impatience. It was a long way to the bottom.


~1 year ago~

It had not been as long to the bottom as she had thought; not long enough by half. Rosuto gathered the herbs from the stall, packing them into a small sack and heading toward the old woman at the end, already readying herself to receive the gold Rosuto had in her hand. No, the walk had been far too short, and it was far too short still; reaching the bottom always happened faster than you thought. Handing the bag to the woman, Rosuto shook her head, tossing the memories off of her mind. Reminiscing had a limit, especially for bad memories… even if the memory was still going on.

“Ye ‘ave quite a few herbs ‘ere, lass. Off ta make an offerin’ to a Kit’ne or some such thing?” Rosuto blinked, realizing the old woman had spoke, and looked toward her in confusion.

“Kitne? What are you talking about?”

“Not ‘Kitne’. Kits-ne. Sarvants of the Lady, Good, and such things. Darn good ones too; ‘eard they healed some incurable sickness or somethin’ or other. Some girl all the big priests up in Wa’erdeep said would die. ‘Ealed her right up, withou’ a worry otherwise. Heal the Mind and the Soul too, they say,” by this point the woman had finished looking through the herbs and made replied with the cost, which Rosuto delivered with a dazed expression. The Lady? She had never heard of this Goddess in any of her travels, from the Dragon Coast to the Sword Coast. Not even in the Silver Marches or Cormyr.

“Where can I find these… Kitsune?” Rosuto’s mouth felt dry as she licked her lips, staring at the woman.

“Eh? Oh, they’re suppo’ ta be set up on some big island out in the Sea o’ Swords. Ship’s been takin’ people out there for awhile now; I ‘eard one of the girls of a family ‘round here packed up and caught one in Wa’erdeep. Straight off to the island, they went. Yuriba, or somethin’ like that. Didn’t pay enough attention ta get anythin’ else, though some did say they was pretty pa’ticular bou’ who came on the island. Prefer females, they said. Ah, here ya are lass,” the woman handed her back her bag, which Rosuto clutched hard in her hand as she headed back into the crowd, bumping into people as she went, barely noticing that her path eventually took her to the northern edge of town. These… Kitsune… might be able to help her. Unlikely, but… at least she had a destination. And a hope, even if it was likely a futile one. It was more than she had had in a long time. Rosuto placed the herbs in her pack, making a mental note to gather more when she reached Waterdeep. Yuriba. If nothing else, it would be someplace new, and hopefully, far away from any Aeries. Rosuto shook her head, vowing not to get her hopes up any more, especially have such perpetual disappointment, even as she set a light foot down on the road; North, towards Waterdeep.

Meeting the Kitsune

~In Progress~

Recently

Though she has spent only a short while on the island, Rosuto has already become immersed in its culture, finding Yuriba to contain the freedom and joy she has always searched for. After her constant journeying, Rosuto has found Yuriba to be a place she can relax from the worries and prejudices of her world, for which she is profoundly grateful. Recently, she has come to spend a great amount of time in the presence of Ling Ra and Sabriel in anticipation of the opening of the tailory she and the phoenix girl have planned, The Huang's Wing. Despite knowing them both for only a short time, she considers them her close friends, though she may not always express it openly.

She has also taken to flying about the island, searching above the forests and mountains for hidden, peaceful areas, which she takes great pleasure in exploring and relaxing at. As always, she is still searching the island for new flowers, plants, and clays for her dyes and sewing, in which she takes great pride.

Relationships

~In Progress~

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