Profile

BASICS;;

Name: Caoimhe
Age: 17
Birthdate: November 3, 622 (Scorpio)
Class: Dark Mage
Weapons: Dark magic (preferred), elemental magic
Country: Kilia
Family: Mother (Raicheal); father (Treasach); twin sister (Sibeal)
Blood type: A


HISTORY;;

Caoimhe was so close with her hours-older sister Sibeal that, growing up, her parents often made jests about how they were a single soul split into two bodies. Life in Doolin was usually simple and straightforward and quiet, and left the two girls with plenty of opportunity to spend all their time with one another. Hand-in-hand, they walked down the misty roads, played in the grove near their home, climbed trees together. They attended their magic lessons together, and Sibeal was the light to Caoimhe’s shadow there just as she was everywhere else.

But life in Doolin occasionally became very, very messy.

There were attacks on the village, now and then, caused by the pale wanderers that drifted around the city like the mist itself. Caoimhe clung to Sibeal, and Sibeal to her, and there was always a body left behind, savaged by the creatures. Don’t go out at night, their parents told them, and don’t ask questions. Caoimhe obeyed -- but Sibeal did not. Sibeal was always too curious, too daring, compared to her straight-laced sister. She would dart out for only moments at night -- to run next door, or down the street. Never far, she said, and it never was, but it terrified Caoimhe’s parents. And, of course, Caoimhe found their fear contagious. Her parents scolded Sibeal, but Caoimhe only pleaded with her sister to please, please stay in at night from now on, because what if the wanderers came for her?

But Sibeal was always too wild to be tamed, and she would not yield to Caoimhe’s pleas. And then, one night, when she darted out the door, she never came back.

Caoimhe was heartbroken to wake the next morning and find her sister, her support and guiding light and dearest friend, spirited away. She fought to find an explanation, demanded one from her parents -- but it was no good. To them, it was as though Sibeal had never existed, as though Caoimhe had always been an only child, and when she kicked at the walls, they would not yield. She might receive a regretful look, a sorrowful frown, but that was all, and then it was as though Sibeal was a figment of her imagination again. Her parents spoke of Caoimhe as though she was addled, speaking of an imaginary friend, and not the sister she had loved dearly all her life. And, for a while, she began to wonder if she had gone mad.

Coinin, Caoimhe’s cousin, was the one who reassured her that she was no such thing. He was receptive to her memories of Sibeal, to her desperate reaching out for anyone who would listen and share her pain, and he promised her that it wasn’t imagined. It was real. Sibeal had existed, and for no reason that either of them could think of, she had vanished into the night.

Where Sibeal had been sweet and sunny, Caoimhe had always been the sharper, smarter of the twins, and she and Coinin pieced together the mystery together. The villagers went missing -- they could each recall several names from throughout the years that had just gone away and never been mentioned again. But when anyone asked, there was no answer to what had become of them. Like Sibeal, they had never existed, and asking after them would do no good. And, with dawning horror, together she and Coinin realized the truth about the connection between the vanishing villagers and the wraiths that haunted the city after nightfall. And together they realized why none of the adults would admit to how many of their number had vanished into the forest, and why they pretended Sibeal was just a fragment of Caoimhe’s fantasies -- they were afraid that they would be spirited away into the forest with the rest.

Coinin began referring to them as the Hunter’s Circle, even when it was only him and Caoimhe. And, to his credit, soon it became more of a circle, and less of a partnership. Coinin had a way with the other three members of the circle -- Caoimhe herself, Saoirse, and Iseult -- and was a natural leader, headstrong and commanding. He was the one who directed their activities, and though Caoimhe gratefully followed his lead, she also found herself challenging him at turns. Her sister was among the pale walkers, now, and she had every right to call Coinin out when he began making plans well out of his depth. She tempered his plans and dreams, throwing in doses of hard reality where he imagined there would be no obstacles.

But she juggled that with research, and with carefully recorded knowledge. She watched the way the adults went about their business, listened when they thought she was busy with work, and began to piece together the rest of the mystery -- that the callings had been going on for possibly as long as the village itself had existed, that Doolin’s numbers were dwindling quicker than anyone would admit to, that one family or another wished to leave the village but was too afraid of being called the moment they tried. She funnelled back all she heard to the Circle, adding in her own observations, and the others reacted accordingly. Saoirse snuck and stole and spied; Iseult came up with ideas and suggestions to the source of what caused the callings, and Coinin planned and coordinated and led all of them in all of it. And, for a while, everything seemed fine.

Then Saoirse’s father was called.

The Hunter’s Circle began to fall apart in quick order. Saoirse fled Doolin altogether, Iseult crumpled, Coinin languished, and Caoimhe threw herself wholeheartedly into her studies and devoted following of Lady Danu. Months passed, dotted with more attacks and more callings, and the Hunter’s Circle seemed like it would be a thing of the past in no time.

But Coinin remained determined, and, thinking of Sibeal, so did Caoimhe. It didn’t matter if Ferdiad had turned down assistance to the village. Danu had not, and Danu would expect them to solve the problem themselves.

And Caoimhe had promised herself that they would.


PERSONALITY;;

Though Sibeal was always the untameable twin of the two of them before her calling, losing her transformed Caoimhe’s quiet obedience into headstrong stubbornness that would yield to no one. She butts heads with near everyone she encounters -- the adults of the village, her parents, and especially Coinin. Though she’s grown headstrong since losing her sister, the change hasn’t doused Caoimhe’s sharp wits, and she often fights with Coinin as a result of his grand ideals, bringing him back down to earth.

Protective ever since losing Sibeal, Caoimhe transformed into somewhat of a shield for the other members of the Circle, rebuffing adults when they offered muttered criticism. She argued with them, made it clear that their opinion of the Circle meant less than nothing to her and to the others -- even though that was not true for some. She shielded the others from the criticism in turn, taking it on herself when she could and never relaying the scolding she received. She was especially protective of Iseult, the most sensitive of their circle -- Saoirse would rebuff anyone who tried to scold her, and Coinin was too headstrong to even entertain the thought of listening, but Iseult had always been the most fragile of all of them.

Direct and often short-spoken, Caoimhe rarely wastes words. She is often less tactful than she ought to be as a result, but sees it as a strength rather than a weakness, if only because tact would get her nowhere with Coinin. She does tend toward a bit of black humor and sarcasm at times, as a weary defense mechanism against the rest of the world.

Caoimhe still aches deeply with the loss of her sister and misses her most every day. Most days, her pain is easy to set aside. Other days, it wells up and washes over Caoimhe like a high tide, and she has no choice but to try and stand strong even as it overpowers her. But even on the days when going on without Sibeal is easy, Caoimhe never forgets her.


APPEARANCE;;

A slight wisp of a girl, Caoimhe looks right at home in Doolin, amid the pine trees and the mist. She is pale-skinned and bone-thin, short and slender, with long silver hair. She has bright green eyes to compare with the muted colors of the rest of her, and usually is swathed in heavy clothing or cloaks when she goes about the village. She has a very soft alto voice but tends to speak in commanding tones, which is enough to make up for her quiet bearing.