Misik'a Rahsi
— misika —
“if he actually talked, this would be a quote.”
- ᚖ -
a Miqo'te Keeper born and raised in the twisting forests of the Black Shroud. quiet, whimsical, and just the slightest bit unnerving. he seems to be keeping a close eye on everyone and everything.
| race | ▹ | miqo'te |
| clan | ▹ | keeper of the moon |
| age | ▹ | early twenties |
| nameday | ▹ | 8th sun, 3rd astral moon |
| patron | ▹ | menphina |
| height | ▹ | ~5 fulm 3 ilm |
general
Although relatively small for a Miqo'te his age, Misik'a has a tendency to hold himself with excellent posture -- a habit he picked up from being trained in music in his childhood -- and can therefore seem taller than he actually is. His hair is of medium length and is a light silvery-purple, cut short in the back and feathery in texture. His skin is a cool brown; dilute and moonwashed in a way characteristic of many Keepers. A mask covers the majority of his features, but behind it lie pale, narrow eyes, a thin scar crossing vertically over the right.
His ears and tail are almost comically large -- the former being long and wide, nearly bat-like, and the latter sweeping low and fanning out just above the ground. These features lend him a rather dramatic silhouette, though his overall presence and personal aura are ultimately rather underwhelming.
clothing
Misik'a doesn't know much in the ways of fashion and prefers a plainer style of dress, prioritizing comfort and practicality. He tends towards loose-fitting clothing in neutral or cool colors.
Regardless of weather, he often leaves his fingers uncovered, as he dislikes having his movement and sense of touch obstructed.
voice
Light, breathy, the slightest bit rough; he sounds like he doesn't talk much (and he doesn't). Quite emotionless in tone when he isn't singing, to the point where he'll sound disinterested and even sarcastic when he isn't trying to be.
habits
Although his posture is quite proper, Misik'a is extremely restless and fidgety and can often be seen fiddling with his own hands, if he isn't holding onto anything else to mess with.
Tends to stare.
Misik'a is surprisingly friendly -- or he means to be, but his frankly abysmal social skills leave most people feeling at least a little unsettled. Often content with just hearing what others have to say, he speaks very rarely; and when he does, he's quite sparing with his words. As a result, he tends to be almost offensively blunt. This, combined with a consistently expressionless face and a voice so deadpan one could hardly believe he sings with it, often gives the impression that he'd much rather be left to himself. An unfortunate consequence, as he's quite prone to boredom and loneliness.
| sightseeing / crowd watching | ▹ | he's experiencing the world for the first time. |
| being doted on | ▹ | Misik'a grew up lonely, and his personality doesn't exactly lend itself to receiving tons of interaction. positive attention is highly welcome. |
| shady people? | ▹ | they're interesting, and Misik'a is curious. |
| strict schedules | ▹ | growing up largely alone has its perks -- Misik'a is accustomed to doing whatever he wants, whenever he wants. the passage of time means very little to him. |
| fingered gloves | ▹ | they make his hands feel clunky, and it's weird to touch something and not feel its texture. archery and songweaving also feel more precise with no fabric to get in the way. |
| ambiguity | ▹ | manipulative behavior, dishonesty, beating around the bush. it's difficult enough for him to understand normal interactions, why are you making it harder? |
| alignment | ▹ | true neutral |
| faults | ▹ | tactless, naive, sticks his nose where it doesn't belong. |
| favorite foods | ▹ | homemade, hearty things. |
| favorite color | ▹ | they're all good, but there's something especially nice about white. |
childhood
Misik'a was born to a rather eccentric couple: his mother, stricken with insatiable wanderlust, had left her clan behind at a young age to pursue a life of adventuring; and his father, treasuring her above all else, fell in naturally beside her.
The decision to finally settle down and have a child was consciously made, but poorly thought out. Misik, having grown up in a large clan herself, greatly underestimated the responsibility and commitment of raising a child without the help of fellow clanswomen. She quickly found herself overwhelmed and out-of-sorts at the distressingly needy son Menphina had deigned to give her, and restless with the quiet, secluded pocket of the Shroud the couple had chosen to make their own. Although well-meaning, Misik proved to be rather untalented in parenting, often letting her frustration slip into her interactions with her young son. Misik'a was discouraged from asking for too much, clinging too much, or otherwise behaving in unseemly ways, however normal for a child they may have been. His father proved to be slightly better at handling him. Patient, indulgent, and a well of soothing calm, he allowed Misik'a to be a kid -- but being rather stoic himself, he did not go out of his way to engage or encourage it.
Eventually, the pull to be back on the road became irresistible. Each call to arms, every cry for help was a siren song to an adventurer whose greatest years had been spent being a hero to others. Sporadically throughout his childhood and at increasingly longer intervals, Misik'a was left in the care of an elderly miqo'te woman by the name of Fen, who his mother had befriended during her earlier years as an adventurer and developed a respect and fondness for. A highly skilled songstress, Fen spent much of their time together instructing Misik'a in the art of music. She became incredibly fond of him and gradually began thinking of him as her own, perhaps out of grievance of her third son, Fen'li, lost to her at an age close to Misik'a's own.
teenage
Once it became clear that Misik'a could begin taking care of himself (having learned hunting and foraging from his mother, who was oft restless for activity, and the more domestic tasks from his father, who had much more patience for the mundane), visits from his parents became fewer and further between, until it became uncertain that he would ever see them again.
Leaving home in search of them seemed out of the question. As an ex-Coeurlclaw, Fen was highly paranoid and mistrustful of anyone outside of their small circle -- Gridanians, adventurers, fellow miqo'te Keepers alike. Of all her lessons, this she emphasized the most: do not leave home, do not interact with anyone else. They will hate you for what you are. Despite his parents' prolonged ventures outside of home, or perhaps precisely because they never came home to remind him otherwise, Misik'a had no reason to question it.
The majority of these days were spent aimlessly and whimsically, with the distant hope that perhaps a well-maintained home, a carefully prepared meal, and a new, vigorously rehearsed song would make his parents proud to return and regale him with tales of their victories. Maybe they would even stay longer than a few suns (they never do, but it's nice to have a goal to work towards).
Visits to Fen's were periodic, in part to curb his own boredom, but to take care of the aging woman as well. In her old age, Fen had begun losing her eyesight -- and what she lost in vision, she seemed to gain in protectiveness bordering on possessiveness. Referring to Misik'a solely as Fen'li at this point, she became irritable (and, on poorer days, downright terrifying) if he so much as mentioned his missing parents, or behaved in any way that betrayed her memory of her dead son's personality.
Her company was not always pleasant, and it became increasingly difficult to interact with her in any way that wasn't through music. But she was all Misik'a knew, and all he had, so he learned to bury himself and what words he had left.
present
(this section is still kinda being worked out and is a bit messy/rushed. may change.)
Fen's eventual death was rather unremarkable, having passed in her sleep of old age. Upon realization, Misik'a was left feeling rather cold and numb in a quiet, creeping sort of shock -- for such an influential, looming presence in his life to pass with no event, of such calm, mundane causes, seemed entirely wrong, like it had never really happened. For a while, it almost seems like it didn't.
He doesn't know what to do, so he does what he knows. He looks after their secluded little home. He hunts, and prepares meals for two (sometimes still three). He takes naps in all his favorite places, plays old songs and sometimes new ones, and amuses himself watching the odd little voidsent occasionally seen weaving their way through the foliage this deep into the Twelveswood.
It's utterly unfulfilling and lonely in a way Misik'a can't bear, until an adventurer -- horrendously lost -- stumbles their way into the territory. None have ever come so close before.* He really shouldn't engage, and everything he knows screams at him to lay low and leave the stranger be, but really, what does he have left to lose?
He almost doesn't know what to give as his name, but is quietly elated to find the stranger is, in fact, perfectly pleased with Misik'a, just as he is.
He really shouldn't leave home, either, but it turns out breaking the rules is easy -- so long as there is the invitation to do so, and a companion to encourage the way forward.
* unbeknownst to Misik'a, Fen had actually been "protecting" the territory from outsiders up until her death, via manipulative and often malicious song magicks. There are murmurs throughout the Twelveswood of a powerful siren, or perhaps banshee, making her home in the darkest reaches of the wood.
- "When will this moron stop coding useless things?" — Me, at Myself
- "Quis ipsum suspendisse ultrices gravida dictum fusce ut. Magna sit amet purus gravida quis blandit turpis cursus." — someone
- "Ut aliquam purus sit amet luctus venenatis. Non tellus orci ac auctor." — someone else
- "Viverra orci sagittis eu volutpat. Nulla facilisi morbi tempus iaculis urna id. Quis risus sed vulputate odio ut enim blandit." — ugh
- "Enim sit amet venenatis urna cursus eget. At auctor urna nunc id cursus metus." — ughh
- "Nibh cras pulvinar mattis nunc sed." — ughhhh
- "he dies in the end" — lmao
- "I don’t know if I’d call it sneaking around... he gives me the same feeling as--..oh! Looking overhead and the stars seem to be following you. Wouldn’t you agree that if the stars were watching us, you’d feel safe somehow?... You look like you’re going to sneeze--" — Azuki Nhaara
callout post about killing plants
permanently in mage school
starmot
GOODEST BOY
idek
notes
- ▹ i'm too shy to actually rp, i just like making stuff pretty
- ▹ feel free to use and tweak the layout, just be sure to leave credit (you can find some nice decorative symbols here)
- ▹ character info last updated 04 december 2018
- ▹ layout last updated 15 october 2018
ingame
- ▹ balmung server, pst (utc -8)
links
- ▹ xiv tumblr
- ▹ public/art twitter
- ▹ blank layout code (old). i will be working on a flexible, hopefully easy to set up version for the current layout as well if there is interest.
| character template | Bancroft Gairn |
| layout | Misik'a Rahsi |
| art | Misik'a Rahsi (unless stated otherwise) |
