Faye Sauvagerlain

A Proem

“Nature's a fane where down each corridor
of living pillars, darkling whispers roll,
— a symbol-forest every pilgrim soul
must pierce, 'neath gazing eyes it knew before.”~ Correspondances by Charles Baudelaire
Translated by Lewis Piaget Shanks

Faye is a young Midlander woman, lithe in build and tan of complexion. She sports a shock of dusk-mauve hair, with the occasional lock dipped in sunset orange; only the keenest eyes might detect the mousy roots, usually kept at bay through regular administration of homemade dyes. Almond-shaped eyes, halfway betwixt honey and hazel in color, oft peer up from 'neath the brim of one of her many hats - a piece of clothing she seems to be especially fond of, given the vast collection of berets, bonnets, hoods and feathered chapeaus lovingly stored in her traveling cart.Once prone to wander Eorzea and go wherever the wind blew, the self-proclaimed Nightingale of Gridania has long since found her nest. She's now oft to be seen by the side of Odilon Sauvagerlain, previously her bitterest rival, currently - by a whim of fate - her flamboyant husband.A Gridanian through and through, Faye is known to respect life in its every facet; and though she fully understands that nature is oft a cruelest teacher, she nonetheless remains a pacifist at heart, wont to frown upon barbarity and bloodshed - in particular when she deems them reasonably avoidable.

Trivia

Hooks

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A Mirthful Verse

“At times in gardens where, oppressed,
I dragged my stubborn atony,
I felt gold sunlight rend my breast
As if in bitter raillery.”~ À Celle Qui Est Trop Gaie by Charles Baudelaire
Translated by Jacques LeClercq

Wont to introduce herself as Faye of the Oakensong, this maiden of two-and-twenty summers hails from Bentbranch Meadows, in the heart of the Black Shroud. Whereas most of her countrymen seldom leave the protection of the Twelveswood, Faye soon found herself inevitably and inextricably enamored with wanderlust - or so goes the tale she might nonchalantly toss at strangers over a mug of mead, recounting her humble origins and modest upbringing, the simplicity of her spring years and the hard-earned happiness that accompanied them.The hazel-eyed girl is the daughter of two Chocobo ranchers. As long as she could remember, her family had ever marched to the rhythm of their seasonal routine: they raised their Chocobos, cultivated their fields, harvested what little the Elementals allowed, fended off the occasional pest, every turn like the one before. Albeit the girl had no love for battle, still she took up her bow, alongside the rest of her kin, to help defend the ranch from beasts and bandits alike. Though her life knew little luxuries, 'twas nonetheless simple and serene, surrounded by the affection of her parents and her numerous siblings.It did not however take long, for her, to realize where her true vocation lay. She could discern melodies in the rustle of the wind among the boughs, in the cadence of a Chocobo's stride, in the pitter-patter of the rain upon the ranch's roof. The most ordinary sounds concealed a myriad of melodies, secret sequences of notes just begging to be captured; and her fingertips itched, chasing those delicious descants along the strings of her little lute, longing to replicate the hidden hymns whispering through the Twelveswood.

And then, of course, there were the adventurers.Something within the girl's breast stirred and soared whenever one of them chanced to visit: their tales - their songs - depicted exotic lands and breathtaking vistas, and then creatures of indescribable might and mystery, and then again grand deeds performed by heroes with hearts of iron and gold. The girl listened with wide eyes and bated breath. Her stare too oft locked on the horizon, she ravenously devoured every story, letting her mind take flight - far and further away from the reality of her rustic life, high above, adrift among inebriating fantasies. Thus did she quickly earn herself a reputation as an incorrigible daydreamer (as well as laziest farmgirl of the ranch, though that's a story for another day). At long last, the girl’s desire for adventure proved overwhelming: her best bird was saddled, her best lute selected, and off she went, among many tearful goodbyes…!

Or such is the story she likes to share when asked.And yet, more than a few Gridanians might perhaps recall a slightly different tale. There was once was a girl strikingly reminiscent of this so-called Nightingale, though with a different name altogether... And said girl was oft seen with a certain Keeper of the Moon. Whatever became of that gentle Miqo'te...?

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“Have you heard the Ballad of the Mindless Maiden, neighbor? Nay, I thought so. 'Tis not an interesting song, anyhow. Just a silly rhyme about a girl sharing her name with a certain plant of the Twelveswood... I speak of the fern, aye? An insignificant little thing, the fern, bereft of seeds or blooms. See, the slack-witted maiden was just as plain as fern, and yet she was arrogant, oh, ever so infuriatingly arrogant! Those who encountered her all agreed that the Mindless Maiden had but two redeeming qualities: a voice laden with verve and velvet, and the good fortune of having the most devoted friend, a Keeper of the Moon by the name of Malhya.""Now, Malhya and the Mindless Maiden were as different as day and night, and yet inseparable since childhood. Both were daughters of the proud Archers' Guild, and both soon became apprentices of the Godsbow, when he returned from his long journey to once again bless Gridania with his teachings.""But whereas Malhya's harmonies resounded earnest with her prayers for peace, the Mindless Maiden's songs - albeit just as pleasant to the untrained ear - rang hollow and discordant to the true listener. She coveted the gift of the Bards of eld, aye, but for reasons not just, nor judicious. Her mentor knew. The Twelveswood knew, as well. Only the Mindless Maiden, blinded by her pride, could not - would not - see the cold, bitter truth standing right in front of her.""Anyhow, Malhya and the Mindless Maiden trained together for many a season, practicing both shot and song. And at last, the day of their trial came..."

♬ A shadow-dance deft 'neath blossom and bough:
'twas Marigold Malhya, as dainty as a dream.
Limpid serenity was all her song sowed:
And the rose-crested Moogles with pride were agleam. ♬♬ Now came her companion, the Maiden most vain
Bland like a Fern and yet drunk with conceit:
The woodwardens frowned at her song inane,
Only Marigold Malhya as a true Bard was greet. ♬

♬ Seething with envy, the jealous Maid swore
To master a song as morn-dew sublime;
A paean of power never heeded a-fore,
Sure to entice wise woodwardens in time. ♬♬ With shadow-soft steps she stole through the night,
Under the moonlight she straddled a roan;
But Malhya, Bard Malhya, as brave as she's bright
Yet refused to let her fool friend go alone. ♬

♬ Travel'd the twain, and sennights rolled on
Till they met an adventurer, and his brow is sweat-crowned:
"Beware of the ruins as pale as pearl-dawn,
Beware of the faerie song that there fair resounds!" ♬♬ The most Mindless of Maids rejoiced at once,
At hand was her song, the finest of all!
To naught availed Bard Malhya's wise stance
Nor prudent plea to ignore the strange call. ♬

♬ The fool and the wise in darkness thus dove
What found they within, 'tis dread to reveal
For who should be bound in her pearl-pale alcove
If not Raidne Soul-Reaver, Siren of Song and Steel? ♬♬ What occurred afterward is the heart's blight and bane
For unwittingly was the steel siren so freed
And though 'twas a fool's hand to break her dark chain
'Tis the song of the wise we no longer shall heed... ♬

"Tragic, is it not? Nophica was not with them that day, or the Matron would have surely delivered Bard Malhya from her undeserved demise, and cast down the Mindless Maiden as punishment for her arrogance and idiocy.""Ah, what became of the she-devil in the antre, you wonder? That is a mystery to many, neighbor. Some say Raidne the Soul-Reaver still lives, and that her siren song yet lures unsuspecting hunters into the heart of the woods... All the way to the azure-glass lake she now calls her domain. Released from her ancient fetters, ever does she seek new prey to sate her voracious appetite, drowning and devouring every soul unwise enough to follow her maleficent music.""Aye, I should agree with you - the Mindless Maiden is to blame, of course. Had she not set out on her lunatic quest, Raidne would still be safely sealed; and Bard Malhya, Marigold of the Mirthful Glade, would still be alive. As well as many others.""Hate you the Mindless Maiden, then...? Ah, how to blame you, neighbor. How to blame you."

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Thank you for checking out my carrd! <3- EU timezone.- I don't mind dark/mature RP, but please make sure to poke me OOC and discuss things with me beforehand if your character is planning to maim Faye or subject her to long-term imprisonment. Communication is love!- I don't mind some VERY MINOR lore-bending when supported by theories and reasoning I deem solid enough. I have, however, little patience towards utter lore-breaking.- Not interested in RPing with WoLs, kitsune, dragons/Voidsent/fairies disguised as humans, non-canon races, people with close ties to the main characters of FFXIV (f.e. Y'shtola's best friends, Thancred's siblings, Haurchefant's wives).- English is not my mother language, so please be patient and bear with me if my emotes aren't always clear or 200% correct grammar-wise. Especially if I haven't had coffee yet.- Disclaimer: the bits of poetry scattered around it were written by Charles Baudelaire.- The Ballad of the Mindless Maiden is actually mine.- You still with me? Great! Have a wonderful day, and see you IG.
Ciao!

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