Description
A woman of mixed heritage, Asinoia embodies all that is beautiful about
humans and the drow. The black skin of her dark-elf lineage has been
lightened to a pale ash gray by her human ancestry. Her body is stream-
lined, seamless and liquid she seems to flow from one movement to the
next. In her face lies elegance refined; the angles of her nose and of
her lips are all immaculately proportioned. Her eyes are almond-shaped,
one vivid, enchanting green, and the other blue as cold steel. She is
unmistakably female, with curves so prominent and sinful. Her hair
plays about her body, the red-black curls reaching well below her hips.
She wears about her neck a slightly melted silver locket, the secret
within forever obscured by the fire molded metal.
Role
The White Canvas
Added Tue Sep 7 18:24:40 2004 at level 6:
The room is warm and smoky. It is black save for the squares and rectangles
of color scattered on the walls. Asinoia feels oppressed by the heat. It
enters her mind, her soul, caressing and drawing out from her what has
always been. A voice whispers inside her head.
"All these paintings. You created them, but they are the work of a child.
I seek the work of a master, and that is what you must become."
The smoke before Asinoia shifts as though nodding, momentarily takes a
feminine shape, and dissipates.The room grows ever darker.
She awakens, surrounded by debris and a throbbing heat. Her mind is blank
save for one thought. The voice, the smoke. Asinoia knows to whom she
now belongs.
-This painting is not a very good one. It is quite probably the work of
a young child. In it is depicted a familial scene. A mother kneels next
to a gray-skinned little girl and places a silver locket around her neck.
The girl's face is lit with delight. The two figures are surrounded by
a pentagon, which you can only assume is the child's rendering of a house.
Outside it a tiny black figure lurks in the distance, the paper around him
stained crimson.-
The Tongue of Her Father
Added Sat Sep 18 23:53:21 2004 at level 20:
Asinoia wakes in her guild. It is quite some time after she was blessed
by her Lady The Muse. She ventures outside and meets a young drow who
greets Asinoia with a word in his native tongue. The word stirs something
in Asinoia's mind and she tells the drow to be proud, for he is a source
of inspiration. Asinoia gives him her aid in return for this until she is
informed that he robbed those Asinoia might perhaps call her allies, those
of the Chasm. She leaves him then and goes in pursuit of the idea he gave
her. Her feet quickly take her to the Celestial Lyceum where she finds an
incomplete dictionary of her father's native tongue. As she reads, her
thoughts turn once again to the young drow and she comments on how he may
have been an idiot but still was the source of inspiration for her. The
Muse answers this by saying Inspiration comes from many places which is
something Asinoia has quickly been learning. Asinoia studies the book
and finds it lacking words which are necessary for her idea. Unwilling to
throw the dictionary away without giving it some use, she chooses from it
a new surname, to replace the one she never had, or perhaps forgot. She
decides to call herself Asinoia Del Lil Mrimm, which means Asinoia of the
Inspiration in the Drowish tongue.
To Create and Heal and Learn
Added Thu Nov 25 18:42:37 2004 at level 28:
Asinoia once said to the Dark Muse that the majority of her works reflect
the terrors that lie unseen, the things that we fear but are not aware of
on a day-to-day basis. It is through her art that Asinoia seeks to help
those who view it become enlightened on the matters of darkness, and
Inspiration. Asinoia is all too aware of the great terrors that surround
our daily lives. If the populace is made aware of these things, then
they, too, have a chance to become Inspired.
Asinoia also said to Lady Eshval that, where she fails as a Healer, she
will grow as an artist. Asinoia does not waste spilled blood or ideas,
all these things make their way into her work at some point.
Actively does Asinoia seek to learn the ideals, opinions and other such
information that is held in the minds of her peers or colleagues. The
knowledge she amasses through conversation and study, she will use to
her, and her allies', advantage. With whom does Asinoia ally herself?
With no one who does not deserve it, of course, but she also seeks the
Chasm.
The First Sketch
Added Sat Sep 4 15:48:53 2004 at level 1:
She rises, as though her life has been a void, from these ashes around her.
A name she calls, one she does not recognize. It is feminine, perhaps her
own mother, or a sister. The house is destroyed, charred beyind recognition,
yet she is aware of its perfection even in this state. Passers-by stop and
look on with a mix of awe and horror as she emerges from the remains. Their
whispers reach her ears on the wind. Words like "couldn't have survived"
and "touched by the gods" swirl through her mind, urging consciousness and
strength to empower her. The ashes do not seem to touch her skin, for it
is gray already. She steps away from the house, faltering slightly as her
foot is sliced by broken glass. One of the women watching notices the men,
their mouths agape at the nude little phoenix before them, and she tears off
her shawl and rushes at the half-drow woman with it, in a mad hurry to cover
her, to stifle her raw beauty. The woman with the shawl probes her eyes and
asks, "Who is Asinoia?"
"I do not understand." The half-drow looks through the shawl woman, to
something beyond that no one could ever dream to see.
"You were screaming that name, poor poor girl." The shawl woman begins to
brush the ashes off of the young half-drow.
"I think that is my name." Asinoia focuses on the shawl woman's face, her
expression hardening into a scowl. "What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to help you, you poor thing." Shawl woman attempts to wrap the
shawl even more tightly around Asinoia. Her movements are abruptly stopped
as Asinoia punches her in the throat. The woman backs away wailing hoarsely
and the other passers-by surround her. More words reach Asinoia's ears from
a distance, this time they are akin to "whore" and "witch."
"Please," Asinoia calls out, "Do not try to help me. I am very capable of
helping myself."
Asinoia turns then, and begins to sift through what she believes to be her
old life. She recognizes everything and remembers nothing. The shawl
slides from her back in the breeze and she begins putting trinkets inside
it. An inscribed locket and a frame from which the painting has been burnt
are Asinoia's two favorite pieces. When she is finished, she picks up a
piece of charcoal and looks around frantically for something that has not
yet been tarnished by the fire. She finds a large hunk of plaster on the
ground, and crouches in front of it and begins to sketch the smouldering
house before her. When she is finished, the corners of her mouth turn up
slyly and she tosses the charcoal into the center of the rubble. She picks
up her new shawl and slings it over her shoulder as she walks away.
-You see before you a large piece of plaster which appears to be smudged
black and gray. Upon closer inspection the smudges reveal a sketch done by
an obviously masterful hand. The sketch is of a pile of rubble, the
remnants of what once must have been a large and beautiful home. The lines
are drawn with such precision and depth that, were this piece in color, you
would have difficulty discerning it from the real thing. At a glance there
is little else remarkable about the sketch...unless...something strange is
in the bottom left corner, the image of a woman, more bones than flesh,
reaches out from the sketch with a skeletal hand.
Old and Charred Paintings
Added Sun Sep 5 04:35:30 2004 at level 3:
The mother, a vibrant woman with many dreams, sets before Asinoia a yard
of fresh canvas. Asinoia runs her hand over it and utters sincere words of
thanks to her mother. The mother turns, happy to have done well for her
young daughter, and retreats to her room. In solitude, the mother is over-
whelmed by her thoughts. She makes no effort to control it, merely allows
the tears to slide silently down her cheeks. The detail of her memory is
as vivid as it ever was. She feels the chill of steel against her throat,
the way her wrist throbs, encircled by his grip. She closes her eyes and
it envelops her. His breath is in her ear, daring her to scream, to cry
for help. She would not give him the satisfaction. Defiance consumes her
yet she submits. Somehow, she finds herself in admiration of his strength,
being made helpless is a new sensation for her. She is vaguely aware of
the awkward way he tears at her clothes. Vaguely aware of a pressure
inside her... She snaps to attention. She stands at her window in her own
bedroom, alone, breathing heavily.
She undresses quietly, for the sun is setting, and puts on her nightgown.
The mother opens her door and bids Asinoia a good night. Asinoia looks
up from her canvas and nods quietly. The mother closes the door behind her
and lights a candle. She lies the candle on its side on the rug and climbs
into bed.
Asinoia is utterly engrossed in her work. She is meticulous about choosing
her colors. The do not touch her canvas unless they are flawless. The
brush in her hand flies about wildly, however, placing hues all over the
painting, making it a consummate thing. The scene molds into life before
her, all upon her whim, and she does not notice the flames licking her
stool, or the flames turning her paints to fuel.
The mother bites her lips inward to keep from crying out as the fire turns
her body into something unrecognizable.No longer will she remember, no
longer will she be burdened by the beauty of her daughter. Her daughter
the artist. Her daughter with the healing touch. Her daughter the
product of most horiffic rape. These last thoughts are burned away.
Asinoia finds herself unable to continue painting. Her eyes are watering
and she feels dizzy, heavy. The brush drops and is quickly engulfed by
flame. Asinoia falls to the floor as well, but her body remains untouched.