Within each of us is the strength of all of us.
Description: A rather small elf all around, Diuturna has a short and skinny frame. She makes up for it with her long dark hair, hair that falls down to the small of her back. Her eyes are a shining blue, eyes that contrast nicely with her raven hair and pale skin. Those same eyes oft dart around in her skull, observing everything and cataloging it for later.
Personality: An elf that values the peace and quiet that only solitude can grant, Diuturna opens up to only a select few. If she decides that you're worthy, then she'll drop the stony wall of sarcasm and indifference that she normally keeps about her to reveal another side of her. A side that laughs long and hard, always keeps her wits about her, and is always willing to grant help. If it's asked for, that is.
Background: Born underneath a bright sky to the Marindur family, Diuturna was a little rascal. She would go looking for trouble whenever she was bored, and she was almost always bored. She exhibited no particular talent for magic, seemingly barely attached to the Lifewell for her entire childhood. That all changed one fateful day. On her 51st birthday, she felt a surge of power running through her body, and she accidentally burned her party to the ground. She was horrified at what she had done, even though no one was seriously injured. It was this day when she truly transitioned from a rascal child to a stony adult. To ensure that nothing like that could ever happen again, she confined herself to a small island, leagues away from the mainland. Here she practiced the two things that brought her the most joy; artwork and honing her magic so that she would allow herself to return home. But after a few years on that rock, she started to enjoy the solitude. Even after she could have gone home, she decided to stay. Her only link back the mainland were the sailors who passed by her little island, sailors that she eagerly asked for news about the Aeran Kinship. But after awhile, the novelty of the exiled witch grew stale, and they just sailed on past her rock. All except one sailor, one who never stopped coming. Darien Reymar as he was known then never failed to visit her twice a year, always bringing with him news of the wider world.
When the Mortal Strife occurred, Diuturna finally felt the weight of her centuries pressing down on her. But after living alone on her island for so long, she was unable to bring herself to leave. She thought that she would survive, as she always has. The arrival of The Host was a rude awakening for her. When she heard that the Elves were going to break their pact and flee, she decided that now was the time. Leaving her rocky outcrop for the first time in over 500 years, was a challenge for her. She waited to leave for so long that she barely made it to the boats, climbing aboard at the last second. She lay upon the deck, watching the only home that she had ever known fade away into the distance. She was at peace, for the Old World was no more her home than the New World would become.