Diary of a Madlass

[Sylvi Iramdottir]

'We all get lost, but we all come back.'

Name: Thalia Cirillo
Birthday: High Sun, 13th
Homeland: Aedenshyr, Great Port
Age: 21
Height: 5Ft 8
Weight: Heavy in comparison to her appearance, about 170 lbs, athletic, lean.
Hygiene: Inconsistent, at times she is impeccably clean and groomed. Usually smelling heavily of tobacco and an general earthy aroma. Other times her hair is let down and unkempt, tangled and dirty. She would be covered in dark stains most would assume to be blood or bile, from herself or something else one can only guess, at these times she would smell rather awful too. Much like a pool a festering blood might smell.
Posture: Inconsistent: At times she has proper posture, shoulders down and back. Other times she appears forlorn, distant and hunched.
Handedness: Right handed
Roleplay tools: Cigars, Hats

Personality description: Thalia is a spectrum at any given moment. At times she may seem impulsive and extremely erratic. Though reserved around strangers. She is often slow and calculating, often surprising others with insight. She is loyal to a fault, even if it is to her own detriment.

History: viewtopic.php?f=40&t=3182

Strengths:Relentless, Unpredictable
Weaknesses: Unpredictable, Unstable

Governing Virtues: Loyalty, Valor
Governing Throne: Chaos

[Sylvi Iramdottir]

~Thalia sits in her lone piece of furniture, adjusting to be comfortable on the cushioned chair. She sets an inkwell beside her and a few quills. She sets to writing, the apartment silent except for the occasional creak and groan of old building and the scritching of her quill upon the parchment.~

Any day might be the end for me. At least it always feels that way. It's been maybe a bit over a year since I walked through the gates into the Quarantine Zone. That small useless girl has grown alot, my hands are... almost ugly now. Larger, meatier, tougher- my palms and hands conditioned with callouses. When I arrived and first picked up a great hammer.. it must have been comedy to see it. I adapted, used the staff for a time. It was much easier, a long lever that could smash and thrust quickly. It's addicting, handling different weapons and feeling their weight, refining every swing. I really thought there would be more riches to be found in the ruins and corners of the province, yet somehow I have a sinking feeling that everything has been cleared out of the greater wealth before I even arrived. What riches remain must be in Tor.

Thinking of Tor makes me think of Koss, where must he have gone. People I care about keep dying on me. Bidukan, Lucien, Celdea... Now Koss is missing. These trials put out for me are difficult to navigate. Like the sea that night. I still see him at times. In a crowd, in a piece of art, worse yet he's in my dreams. He tells me I'll never be rid of him, he will find me. I'm walking into a maw, the rows of teeth above and below just ready to fall.

I just have to ignore him, I can do that. I have purpose. I know what I have to do. Just light the lantern in the dark and keep trodding. I'll come out the ass end of this monster one way or another.

[Sylvi Iramdottir]

Words that he always said clung to the edge of her memory, creeping to the surface at the strangest of times. "He who makes a beast out of himself, gets rid of the pain of being a man." She always wondered where he'd heard that, or perhaps read it. Surely he hadn't come up with such a line himself.

I wonder what I would be, what would it look like to abandon this shell of humanity? Would I be nothing more than the raving lunatics of the forest, crazed and drooling at the prospect of turning me into shit?

I can no longer bear this pain, this hatred turns the blood in my veins to acid. When I sleep it feels as if the empty bed is aflame. Love lost, it's like a pouring out of all color until nothing but pallid grey remains. If I can't have happiness then why should anyone else? Why do they deserve smiles while I waste away? I want to see them burn, I want to see them melt, I want to snort their fucking ashes like it was some good flinch.

I'm walking down a road which there is no return. Father remains with me, a guide I never asked for. I may as well accept those words dripping with venom, he's always right... in the end.