You could rattle the stars. You could do anything, if only you dared.
Standing five-foot-eight-inches tall with a sylphlike build that offers only a modicum in the ways of feminine curves, Aeolin is physically diminutive in every sense of the word. Long, silvery hair falls to reach for the small of her back when kept loose but is most often pulled back and pinned up, with long forelocks left free to frame her heart shaped face. Large, almond shaped eyes the color of bright sapphires are set under delicately arched brows and look out at the world with a mix of sadnes, longing and cautious inquisitiveness. Her flawless skin is fair, her cheekbones high and her pert little nose slightly upturned. She has a small mouth with full, rosy lips that are usually shaped into an expression of demure uncertainty, which only adds to the natural air of ingenue innocence that always surrounds her. When out and about, she is almost always dressed in a pristine white hooded cloak that somehow manages to stay completely free of any smudges or discoloration.
(Scent: A desert wind alight with myrrh and golden amber, cardamom and honey, bourbon vanilla and cacao.)
Shy, timid and with a complete lack of confidence and self-esteem, Aeolin is far from what most people think of when they hear the word 'Thalerith'. She doesn't talk much, and when she does she is soft spoken and careful in her choice of words. She is painfully aware and deeply ashamed of her own shortcomings, and it has made its mark on the young elf. She is almost incapable of accepting compliments and praise and will sometimes inadvertently ignore kind words due to her own inability to think herself worthy of such. She is a kind and compassionate soul who likes nothing more than to help others, and she can be easily swayed when someone does show what she perceives as genuine interest in her. She is fiercely loyal to her family and kinship and will do anything to help them, but feels more comfortable around animals than other elves. Those who succeed in making her open up will discover a passionate, curious and charming young woman hiding beneath the cloak of ever-present sadness.
Aeolin was born in the latter years of The Mortal Strife, while the elves and their allies were still reeling against the onslaught of The Host and the decision to leave Larandor was yet to be made. The Children of Hope they called them, the children born during this time, but there was nothing about the infant girl that inspired such lofty ideals. Diminutive, frail and quick to tears, she was none of the things that her parents had hoped for in a child. None of the things a Thalerith is supposed to be. With her pale skin, bright blue eyes and silvery hair, she didn't even look the part. She seemed to be almost chronically sick, her body unable to repel even the lightest of contagions, diseases and infections, leaving her constantly struggling simply to stay alive. But they loved her anyway. Against the odds, she survived the voyage to Aarandor and the storm that swallowed up three quarters of the fleet carrying her kin to The New World. Her parents had hoped that the return of immortality would see their youngest improve in health and stamina, but sadly it was not to be so. They prayed to the gods, but their prayers went seemingly unanswered. They had various healers examine her and attempt to assuage whatever it was that ailed her, but it had minimal effect and never lasted. She ate as she should most of the time and was as physically active as she had energy for, but there was no sign of improvement in strength nor vigor. It seemed like the gods simply meant for her to know hardship from the very first moment she drew breath.
It wasn't an easy childhood. Nasherat was an unforgiving place, and the desert and cave-systems that surround it even more so. As she grew up, she proved to have a clever mind and a quick wit, but it was not enough to make up for her lack of strength, speed and endurance. She was always a quiet and slightly shy girl, but she tried to participate in the rough play and physical competitions along with the other young elves of her Kinship when she had the strength, determined to prove that she could be strong and tough as well as intelligent and creative. It would always end the same way; with humiliating defeat, and often times with injuries that it would take her long periods of time to recover from. During these times she would collect, study and grow the various cacti, fungi and other flora that grew in or around Nasherat, as well as the many different smaller animals, such as desert foxes, wildcats, small lizards and hares. Sometimes, she even managed to convince some of the elves going out on patrols, hunts or as scouting parties to collect and bring back things and animals for her. She had always felt a strong connection to the land and the things that lived there, and was fascinated by how these seemingly fragile creatures and plants could not only survive, but thrive in the harsh environment. She also began studying the Lifewell and the forces that binds all life together, secretly hoping that it might one day help her mend, or at least understand, what it was that was wrong with her.
As the years passed and she continued to stumble and fall in her attempts to prove that she could earn her keep and not be a burden to her kinship, something changed. Many of those of the other young elves that she considered friends started to go easy on her during their physical contests. They would pull their punches, push a little softer and run just a little slower. It was humiliating, even if it was done out of some form of kindness. And she still finished last every time despite this. She wasn't even enough of a challenge for them to have to make an effort to beat her. But the worst thing was the way they started to look at her, her friends and elders both. Even her parents and siblings. Not with disdain or mockery or indifference or anger. It was something much worse than all of those things combined; pity. Loving, caring pity perhaps, at least for the most part, but pity non the less. It cut deeper than any blade ever could and saw the young girl increasingly discouraged and depressed. Maybe they had always looked at her like that and went easier on her than on each other, and she just only now started to notice? She wasn't sure. Maybe it was all just in her mind, her own pent up frustration and shame being projected outward to make it seem like everyone else saw her as she saw herself. As a failure. As an embarrassment. As someone not worthy of calling herself a Thalerith. It probably was, at least to some degree, but for her it felt all too real. She did her best to suppress and hide it though, not wanting to show further weakness or burden her family and kinship more than she already felt she did.
She isolated herself more and more from her kin, spending more time with her plants and animals and less time with other elves, becoming all but a shadow among her own. She studied, tended to her fungi gardens, cared for and trained her animal companions, delved into her fondness for cooking and, when she had the strength for it, would go on shorter excursions into the caves or out into the scorching desert looking for new specimens to study and injured wildlife to bring home and nurture back to health. She would never stray too far, though, always mindful of never going further out than she would be able to make it back home again, and she would always go alone. Always alone. Shortly after coming of age, she started to develop an obsession with trying to harness and 'mix' the traits that made the animals and plants fit for life in the harsh climate, extracting or duplicating traits from one plant or animal and imparting them onto another, or onto inanimate objects. She has been delving deeper into her research regarding this in the latter years, although she has kept this part of her studies to herself.