Zenia Rashmi
New
Roleplay posts: 7
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with pale blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Standing a hair above six feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and the long, shapely legs of a dancer. Her skin is smooth with a light, even tan and freckles in the summer, completely free of scars and blemishes and obviously well cared-for.
Her voice is a lilting soprano, calling to mind ethereal bells in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a mild accent with a hint of Celestial tinge, strongly implying a mixed lineage and partially extra-planar education.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling of her jewelry, and occasionally literal bells on her ankles, often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses.
Clothes and Equipment:
Zenia's clothes are usually light and airy, allowing freedom to move and to dance. When they aren't breezy and silky, they are sturdy and appropriate for hunting or travel in the wilds.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 20:29:41 GMT -8
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Post by Zenia Rashmi on Jul 31, 2017 11:54:01 GMT -8
Zenia laughed softly at Edmund Rashmi ’s response, finding the humor in it regardless of his intent. “Close enough, then. Long as they ain’t tearin’ through the house all night without no one lookin’ after ‘em. We get enough of that nonsense out of momma.” She waved her glass in Layla’s direction as she passed the blame for the apparent plague of mischief that followed the family around back to her mother. In truth, the strong resemblance shared by the women of the Rashmi family went a lot deeper than their blue eyes, black hair, and shared facial features. It was easy to assign responsibility or to call out the behavior of any of them, because they all participated enthusiastically. There were styles and degrees, of course, but it was more or less ubiquitous. And since she had become a mother herself, Zenia had decided it really probably was mostly her own mother’s fault. Looking back from the perspective of a woman trying to raise her own children, it had become clear that every accusation of Layla spoiling them and letting them run wild was not only entirely justified, they were mostly understatements. But the simple fact was that Layla adored children, and her endless patience for teaching them, playing with them, taking care of them, and generally being around them had been a godsend. If the price of being able to take a break, have a bath, eat a meal in peace, or even just get some sleep finally was letting Layla spoil the children, Zenia would call it a bargain every time.
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Layla Rashmi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 54
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with deep midnight blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Almost reaching five feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and generous curves obvious even strapped down beneath plate armor. Her skin is smooth and pale like a porcelain doll, though she pinkens in the sun and freckles in the summer.
Her voice is a smoky contralto, calling to mind whispers in the night in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a rough accent, strongly implying a lowborn lineage and street education. The glint of razors strapped to her boots reinforces the image, despite her pleasant smile.
Braided into her hair so that it hangs below and just behind her left ear, and held in place with a column of deep blue beads, is a long feather, coal black on the back and banded black-and-white on the underside.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling and clanking of her armor, spurs, and/or jewelry often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses. Beneath and behind, though not quite concealed by it, is the lingering smell of sweat, smoke, and blood.
Clothes and Equipment:
When out and about, Layla is most often seen in plate armor with a long, white, high-collared coat over it. Slung low on her left hip is a pair of massive hand-and-a-half swords, clearly a matching set, one with a guard and pommel in steel grey, the other trimmed in gold. On her right hip hangs a heavy steel warhammer.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:59:46 GMT -8
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Post by Layla Rashmi on Aug 3, 2017 10:27:03 GMT -8
Apparently, she had been listening more closely that it appeared, because Layla leaned over, picking up a cushion from one of the unoccupied chairs, and flung it at her daughters. “Hey! I don’t tear through the house all night with no one lookin’ after me!” She laughed and pulled -Deleted- close again, snuggling against the warrior with a wide smile. Layla had been accused of spoiling her children since almost before they could walk, and if she thought about it, she would admit that it was probably a fair statement. Most who knew her now would probably ascribe it to her faith. She was a priestess of joy, after all, and the laughter of children was almost a holy communion. Those that knew her better, though, understood that it was actually the other way around. She made no secret of the fact that she had come to the faith in pursuit of creating a good and happy life for her family. What better way to see to the happiness of her children than to try to make the world around them a place filled with laughter and smiles?
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Nisha Rashmi
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with pale blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Standing a hair above six feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and the long, shapely legs of a dancer. Her skin is smooth with a light, even tan and freckles in the summer, completely free of scars and blemishes and obviously well cared-for.
Her voice is a lilting soprano, calling to mind ethereal bells in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a mild accent with a hint of Celestial tinge, strongly implying a mixed lineage and partially extra-planar education.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling of her jewelry, and occasionally literal bells on her ankles, often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses.
Clothes and Equipment:
Nisha's clothes are usually light and airy, allowing freedom to move and to dance. When they aren't breezy and silky, they are sturdy and appropriate for hunting or travel in the wilds.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 23:19:45 GMT -8
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Post by Nisha Rashmi on Aug 4, 2017 1:29:25 GMT -8
Their brother had returned on silent feet, joining the happy group of females as they talked and laughed in the fading light. She listened as he and Zee discussed bed arrangements. Honestly it had seemed easier when the children had all slept in one giant tangle of arms, legs, and tail than trying to keep track of who went in which bed. They were cousins being raised as close as siblings, closer still than most siblings ever experienced.
It was all she had wanted for Night. Just because Nisha had decided to not carry or birth anymore children of her body, did not mean she was not surrounded by children of her blood. Between Zee and Edmund's youngun's, Night had more siblings than she could have ever dreamed of, while still oddly being an only child. Zee and Nisha had carried their first pregnancies together, wanted to experience even that together.
Of course, their paths diverged a bit when it became clear that Zee was carrying multiple babes within her womb. Then and her sister's subsequent pregnancies were the only time anyone could effectively tell them apart. Nisha loved the babies, but she was happy to have her sister back to herself. Yes, of course she shared her with their children, and even her husband, but when it came to her and what they were, Nisha and Zee were two halves of the same soul.
Momma birthed the two of them, and then they birthed the four girls. If it went on like that, the features of the Rashmi women would stretch out down the generations. Nisha thought that would be just lovely.
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Layla Rashmi
Committed
Roleplay posts: 54
Physical Description: An attractive woman, apparently in her middle thirties, with deep midnight blue eyes and thick, black hair that falls past her hips in a silken curtain. Almost reaching five feet tall, she has a strong, muscular frame and generous curves obvious even strapped down beneath plate armor. Her skin is smooth and pale like a porcelain doll, though she pinkens in the sun and freckles in the summer.
Her voice is a smoky contralto, calling to mind whispers in the night in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. She speaks with a rough accent, strongly implying a lowborn lineage and street education. The glint of razors strapped to her boots reinforces the image, despite her pleasant smile.
Braided into her hair so that it hangs below and just behind her left ear, and held in place with a column of deep blue beads, is a long feather, coal black on the back and banded black-and-white on the underside.
She walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only she can hear, the jingling and clanking of her armor, spurs, and/or jewelry often playing audible percussion accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on her: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses. Beneath and behind, though not quite concealed by it, is the lingering smell of sweat, smoke, and blood.
Clothes and Equipment:
When out and about, Layla is most often seen in plate armor with a long, white, high-collared coat over it. Slung low on her left hip is a pair of massive hand-and-a-half swords, clearly a matching set, one with a guard and pommel in steel grey, the other trimmed in gold. On her right hip hangs a heavy steel warhammer.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 19:59:46 GMT -8
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Post by Layla Rashmi on Aug 5, 2017 9:12:55 GMT -8
Layla glanced over at her children. The twins murmuring to each other now and then, probably in their secret, invented language that no one else could understand, even if they were close enough to hear, Edmund quietly sitting nearby, lending a peaceful strength to it all. She was proud of her children. Proud of who they had grow up to be. Proud that they had created for themselves good lives and families of their own. Her greatest fear as a mother had always been that she would pass on to them the worst parts of herself somehow. She did not see that in them, though. No matter how hard she looked, she saw in her children a combination of the best parts of herself and her wife. At that thought, her dark eyes welled up slightly with tears of mixed joy and sadness. The glance lingered until it properly could be called an inspection. Olina was most obviously present in Edmund Rashmi , of course. He had taken after her in so many ways. He had her dark skin, and deep, soulful eyes. Her tendency to sit, wordless and motionless, for long periods, so much so that the wild animals of the fields and forests treat him as a part of the terrain. And when he smiled, Layla could see her again there, too. The twins looked like Layla, of course, but she could see Olina in them as well. In their mannerisms and body language. The small motions of their hands as they spoke, the way they tilted their heads just so to listen. They had all inherited Olina’s love of the wild places. They had grown up deep in the wilds, and she had taught them all she knew of woodcraft, of forest and stream, of plant and herb and birds and beast and everything else. For all that they appeared perfectly civilized, Layla knew that any of her children could comfortably live on their own in the wilderness for as long as they cared to. And no matter which womb had borne them, all three were as much Olina’s children as her own. She sighed softly, then looked up to Circe again, giving her hand a gentle squeeze and pulling her down. She leaned over to whisper softly, so as not to disturb the children. “Things is quietin’ down now, darlin’. I think I hear a bed callin’ to me. Shall we wander upstairs an’ leave this lot to whatever they is plottin’?” Layla kissed Circe on the cheek as she rose from the chair, and assuming she met no resistance to the idea, lead her along into the house. (( Exit to Layla's Suite ))
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Edmund Rashmi
New
Roleplay posts: 5
Physical Description: An attractive man, apparently in his middle thirties, with deep brown eyes and a shaven head. Standing a few inches above six feet tall, he has a strong, muscular frame and the long limbs of a distance runner. His skin is smooth with a dark, clear complexion and freckles in the summer, completely free of scars and blemishes and obviously well cared-for.
His voice is a strong baritone, calling to mind the deep wilds in its pitch and timbre regardless of the volume. He speaks with a mild accent with a hint of Celestial tinge, strongly implying a mixed lineage and partially planar education.
He walks with a choreographed grace, as though every step were a dance to music only he can hear, the occasional soft whisper of clothes the only audible accompaniment.
Up close, one might notice the scent of the deep forest on him: leaves, rain, good soil, and wild roses.
Clothes and Equipment:
He usually dresses in fine robes of silk and linen when in civilized lands, often carrying books and ledgers. Out in the country, or the wilds, he dresses in sturdy, practical leathers, carrying both blade and bow as befits an experienced ranger.
Registered: Jul 18, 2017 20:56:12 GMT -8
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Post by Edmund Rashmi on Aug 10, 2017 18:31:36 GMT -8
Edmund smiled a little to himself as he watched his mother pull Circe away. The loss of Olina, her wife and his mother, had been terrible on her. It had, in a very real sense, broken Layla. They considered it one of the great love stories, how Layla and Olina had found each other and overcome the barriers people had put between them. They had been married in secret and run off to Arcadia together to raise the children, himself and his sisters.
But Layla’s “happily ever after” had only lasted eight years. Losing their mother was hard on the children, of course, but it hit Layla the hardest, by far. They were grown by the time she found Circe. At first, they weren’t sure about this elf woman that had become such a large part of their mother’s life. They were a close-knit family, and very, very protective of their mother. But over time, Circe had proven to be good for her and sincere in her desire to help.
Over the years, he had come to see Circe as a part of the family, even if she didn’t see herself that way. Regardless, it was a blessing to their family that they had found each other, and their relationship was still so strong.
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