Post by Nephele Valora on Jul 6, 2015 23:08:39 GMT -6
Max Size is 350 x 700
Nephele Valora
Likes: Mareep, Brawling, Weather, The idea of Flight, Tea, a Challenge, Nice people, Being Nice, Pokemon (Feral or Domestic), Philosophical Conversations, Nature, Stories.
Dislikes: Change, The Dark, Impractical designs, Laziness and Passivity, Portal Energy, Being a Burden, Staying in one place too long.
Backstory: Her parents had walked through the portal two years prior to her birth into the new world, leaving some of their family behind as they collected whatever possessions were available to them. As such, she only grew up hearing about the stories of Arceus, a great catastrophe that befell the people--tales of greed and wrong-doing to their previous home. It was a sense of displacement and awestruck gratitude that laced the stories to which she fell asleep and used as a lense of perspective that colored all she saw around the world. In this way, all her home was not their own and in order to make due, everyone had to contribute, to put something forth; it was the worst act, then, to live selfishly, and Nephele grew up accordingly, watched buildings rise, and her parents begin to branch out in order to help the colony; her parents, hardly of one mind, sought different pursuits; Nephele's father took to that of ranching Mareep--breeding them initially, while her mother took to researching the new land they lived on, sometimes Pokemon, other times the soil itself. It was this split living that Nephele grew up in, no pokemon to her name, but plenty of Mareep to acclimate herself to pokemon. Slowly, she began to adapt to the world around her, to the hard work of breeding Mareep to the mental chore of organizing data.
Nephele spent her days between two world, that of cultivating the world, and studying it, enabling her to learn to different ways to approach the world around her--hands on versus objective. Her aptitude, however, came kinesthetically; though she enjoyed her mother's attempts to teach her, Nephele's heart was in the soil itself, not in how she stared at it from afar. Though there was only so much she could touch on and learn from in her Father's Mareep Ranch, thus budding an interest for the world outside the town, the buildings now too tall, the people too cluttered, and the talk of a new settlement no longer 'a matter of debate'. From the community of Port City rose scouts, those who sought to chart out a space for the new city. Her mother was among the few selected to go with the cartographers, explorers and other such. Nephele, however, stayed back and only heard stories as the new settlement rose up. Nephele was intensely curious and spent more time with her mother once again to gain answers of the world outside this comparatively small city; but it was the questions Nephele's mother posed more than the answers she gave that drove Nephele's yearning to escape. They lived in a new world, and despite humanity's ingenuity, they could not rely on old skills to bring them the same results in the new world. All theories of that of an old world of which they were no longer a part, and there was a bliss in knowing there was something always to see. There was a world out there Nephele was not a part of, and it killed her.
In search of these sights, she forwent her mother's laboratory "schooling" and her father's ranching chores, venturing into the rims of the city and playing with the mercenary's children, talked to the husbands and wives of survivor types, merchants who grew on the territory's edge to learn more and more of the outside world. These was among the first few times she saw a hive, and she was only nine. Lives so easily threatened, she watched mercenaries work together, the merchants, the families; anyone who had a pokemon was fit to battle, and the hive was not so easily beat back, but subdued, and retreated accordingly. Nephele watched their recovery, watched them bounce back with ease. The inner city could not compare to this lifestyle fo these hardened people, and yet, she loved it. She was her parent's child; she loved a challenge.
Without her parent's permission and with their full knowing, at age twelve, she left home, gaining passage in a merchant's caravan to the new town, New Pallet. It was a budding kind of life, but one she didn't mind earning. It was here in the deeper reaches of Mi'aro that she began to make a life for herself, odd jobs here and there--errand-running for money, sleeping behind buildings, and watching the sun come up over the sleepy town. It was rough, but exactly what she wanted. She had not struggled, thought Nephele, like these people around her. Though her age did not help some other's want to coddle her, she grew away from this, demanded to work, grew a work ethic at this young age and a passion for her independence; together her will grew fiercer and fiercer (to many people's discontent and annoyance).
It was here that during her work, bring water from a nearby source during a summer, that a fire feral pokemon decided a few farmers had grown their crop too close to it's home, and set fire to the field. Rushing with a bucket of water in hand, she went near the field, it's blaze repelling her, the pokemon perhaps somewhere inside the field, enjoying the heat, but the family inside their homes crying out. A mercenaries tried to quell the spread of fire, another group effort, but with no pokemon, Nephele felt unable to do anything; she glanced at the bucket of water, felt the blaze's wrath upon her skin, and tore toward the house, pulling upon the door and dashed inside, looking for the voice that cried out. The structure rocked and teetered, for Nephele, it seemed, she swam in the undercurrent of an ocean of fire, the smoke stinging her nose and eyes. Diving deeper into the house in a bedroom, an old lady sat amidst the burning house, coughing. Nephele aided this lady, attempted to walk the elder to an exit, only to be met with the feral at the entrance. By reflex, it spouted flames at them, and Nephele tossed water at it, though this only eased the flames that rushed into her arms, lower neck and chest. The Feral was chased away then, and both Nephele and the elder were rescued from the house.
The burns took time to heal, a good while, but what apothecaries knew what they were doing. It was yet another thing she grew interested in, but it was not at the forefront of her mind. Instead, she thought of her burns as marks to a calling. She didn't have a pokemon, but she refused to be less than useless, a burden to those around her as she was now. Surviving on one's own was not the same as contributing, and she felt she had missed the point of her adventure in New Pallet. She looked at her palms and saw the force behind them, what kind of potential weapon she might be. It was then she knew what she wanted to truly dedicate her time to. In the fall that same year, when she was healed she began to train her body, to push her body, exercise and prepare for a fight. Indeed, others used weapons, but she did not want to rely on things that were not a part of her. Slowly, she grew more adept, and at the cost of some nerves for the battles that she picked with Ferals. At first, indeed, she was outclassed, and she had to rely on other's healing, but learned to take care of herself, heal and rest properly bit by bit. Then, she improved. She could take on Pokemon her size and smaller, sometimes slightly bigger, but they were more brawny, less quick. It was her speed and precision she honed, resourceful wit she cultivated, using the momentum of others against them; she was her own weapon, and at age 17, though in no way a master of her arts, decided to return to Port City.
It was a charming life, and she wondered how suited she was for it anymore; arriving and situating, the change of pace had its appeal, but the softness began to itch. This life, one of luxury and privilege, did not sit well with her when others struggled so. she felt needed elsewhere, not at the ranch, nor the confines of a lab, but in the unknown, the gripping unknown in the skies or undersea. Nephele learned what she could within Port City, of brawling techniques and apothecary skills, but lived on the edge of civilization from then, looking out into the unknown of Mi'aro, dreaming of flying in her skies, maybe even diving in the ocean and exploring there. Indeed, what if she made a settlement under the water, or one that floated in the sky? She smiled, her life hopefully not even halfway over yet, eyes so full of hope. Yes, she'd continue to push herself.
From ages 17-23 she spent much of her life preparing for a more survivalist lifestyle, diving into the wild, then coming back, learning more of how to heal and to fine tune her 'weapon'. Slowly, her time spent in the wild became more frequent as she traveled off the routes, on the fringes of the routes, attempting to make due with all she knew, and no pokemon to help her. Surely, though Nephele, she did not need a Pokemon to survive in this world? Her frequent injuries told her otherwise, but what was life without a challenge? Hesitantly, she wondered if it would be better not only for her but the others around her if she worked for the Ambassador. She was not exactly a civilian in terms of the way she earned her means, so... perhaps she contribute differently? she researched during the Spring of age twenty-three, watching others who worked under Oak, and the Ambassador do so as well, trudging freely, confidently into the breach. Aye, she was poor, but she only needed ever to get by. I suppose it's better to grow where we are weak; it seems only logical. With great reluctance, she put forth her name to become a mentee of one the Ambassador. Nephele thought her age would surely be a detriment to her, maybe her lack of staying in one place? Would it show caprice? Ah, but the fateful day came.
Although unable to recall exact details, Nephele remembers a joy washing over her, accepted and now a part of something, she felt, bigger, Nephele now better able to aid and provide. Her pokemon received, items of which she had only seen now laid into her hands, she began her adventure, an interesting change, for once when she would have to leave and come back... she could now leave and hardly come back at all. Spending most of her days outside civilization collecting raw materials for Merchants and Researchers alike, while attempting to tame this new wild life of hers, her life so set upon it's rigid course of exploration and discovery, Nephele welcomed anything that might shake her, for to lose one's balance is to learn how to reclaim it; loss sometimes is the best teacher.
Age: 23
Gender: female
Orientation: Demisexual, Pansexual
Profession: Survivor
Occupation: Explorer/Scavenger
Mentor: The Ambassador
Appearance: She stands at 5"4, weighing 137lbs. Altogether, she is undeniably feminine by the contours of her body, her blithe and seemingly small features--like her petal lips, and the sway of her gait, her air open and receiving, thoughtful. Her eyes, deep-set and ends lightly upturned, display a deep autumn gold that dulls to a light brown in the dark; Though her gaze can pierce some with how coldly she can move her gaze over others, there is also a softness to her plasmas as well, a quality where she can smile with only her eyes. Her lengthy hair only adds for her eyes to glow more brightly against her dark features; hip-length, wavy at the ends, and thick, her purple hair is usually tied upon her crown in an ivory-colored scrunchy in order to keep it from becoming hazardous and unmanageable, though she's learned not to mind.
Much of her body is usually covered in some level of dirt, her dark skin usually able hide this--her hair and clothes, not so much. It's not that she prefers to be unhygienic, only that a bath is hard to come by in her line of work. It's hard to be a flower out in the unknown of the world, is it not? Ah, but don't let this fool you, for feminine was never synonymous with the fragility of flowers; medium-boned, athletic and precise, her muscles were built for precision, a fact she hides under the baggy Mareep-wool garments into which she tucks herself. As lithe and deadly as a rapier one might say.
Though Nephele also hides burns under her clothing, her colar-bone area, chest, and forearms. What is not left up to the imagination are some scars upon her hands, elbow, and three narrow gashes--one across her bottom lip, and two, a bit more faded, upon her chin.
Everyday Clothes: Nephele boasts 3 layers of clothes: undergarments, a layer of thinly woven wool under-armor in the form of a black wrap shirt tied with a single piece of cloth and black"leggings", and her over-armor of mareep-wool--an orange wrap that she holds in place with another piece of cloth, both tucking into harem pants, a kind of style of pants where it grips the waist, becomes baggy around the thighs, and then grows tight again nearer the shins; Here, she wears her leather boots, one's she's custom fashioned (and paid a pretty penny for) in that they have extra belt buckles and have been thickened in terms of hide choice; these boots function more like combat boots and are nearly impossible to take off by am impatient person due to the five individual buckles on each boot.
Other than this, she wears "non-essentials" such as a scarf and leather gauntlets with thick cloth stitched on the inside that weaves between her fingers, exempting the thumb and forefinger's recess; Instead, the leather loops here, interlocking and bracing on a button on her palm. The leather guards her knuckles and up to her forearm, an inch below the elbow.
Formal Garbs: Nephele, when her clothes are washes, function as almost guard-esque in appearance, and then might therefore afford some formality, but as a Survivor only needing the essentials, such clothes are a waste of time and hardly worth the resources. Truly, what is it's purpose in a world rebuilding, when diplomacy is not needed and the common goal is so clear?--To Survive.
Pack: On her waist is a fanny pack turned to her back with four pouches attached on the sides of the belt of the fanny pack for organizational purposes. She also carries a leather draw-string with two extra compartments that she stretches from a shoulder to under the other arm--much like a messenger bag.
Personality:
Main face attributes: Benevolent | Driven | Cautious | Analytical | Adventurous
Secondary facets: Honest | Ambiverted | Quick-witted | Hopeful Misanthrope | Youthful
Weaknesses: Sometimes overly cautious causing a slowness of reaction and chance to 'freeze', She's afraid of the dark, generally does not rely on others as per some distrust, wants to appear reliable and strong to the detriment of any wounds she has or the danger of the situation, She can be crass when she's blunt though she usually means well (for what it's worth)
Nephele could be called many things, firm perhaps, crass at times, selfish even, but never, ever cruel. There is not a cruel cell in Nephele's body to the point where when she is tasked with being cruel for the sake of herself, it pains her, and physically weakens her; it simply is not a part of her persona, but instead being fair in terms of an open-mind, and following a code of ethics seeking the highest amount of contribution matched by the greatest amount of good one can do; benevolence? That word existed in a world where there was an evil to compare--and perhaps there still is. For now, it is simply Nephele's civic duty.
Nephele seeks fairness in all she does, actions that can aid others if need be and perform the greatest amount of good, not just for herself; she exhibits this quality in that she never asks someone (human or pokemon) to do a task she would not perform first--though one might also attribute this to how she seeks to know of things in her search for truth. Through this, She sees the potential and value in all things through her analytical eyes, accurately or inaccurately--though in her mind, nothing is without some amount of value; as such, it is not her habit to underestimate anything, and thus tends to do the exact opposite; in her overestimation of situations, she attempts to over prepare, to expect the worst, causing a rather cynical outlook, with estranged hope lingering about her; call her a hopeful misanthrope, if you will. This, does, also result in mild paranoia in the form of caution, which inhibits how quickly she would like to otherwise act.
She thinks of her feet, quick in spirit and quick-witted, though hardly lacking in patience. Her speed of mind and body are simply the mode at which she prefers to function, seeing every moment as an opportunity, when it comes down to the wire, and loathes wasting a second. Her patience is something entirely different, as it comes from her appreciation of different walks of life. Ambiverted with extroverted tendencies, people are a marvel to look at, be around, learn from, and more; people are an experience to her capable of great good and infectious evil and are thus a juxtaposition, hypocritical kind of existence that thrive in a world where consumption defines people, where people prefer ease rather than suffering; and who wouldn't for the latter? Because of this, Nephele is patient with others, tolerant even of how others chose to live, but is impassioned against laziness and passivity--leeching off others in particular.
Even as kindly as she can be, though, she is a fighter, a relentless opponent who plans for the long-term. Honor-bound and a lover of challenge, Nephele is glad-hearted in battle, never running away from a fight, but smart enough to know when she's been beat or is outclassed. Even so, Nephele cannot bring herself to live comfortably--a life of many potential complaintsJust a few paragraphs of your character's general behavior. If your character is meant to be Static be more specific, you can be more vague with Dynamic characters.
Career Goals: She wants to dedicate more time to learning how to tend to others, how to create salves and other such healing remedies (Apothocary), but if not, she'll settle for being a guide amongst the wilds (Guide).
Mentor: The Ambassador
Appearance: She stands at 5"4, weighing 137lbs. Altogether, she is undeniably feminine by the contours of her body, her blithe and seemingly small features--like her petal lips, and the sway of her gait, her air open and receiving, thoughtful. Her eyes, deep-set and ends lightly upturned, display a deep autumn gold that dulls to a light brown in the dark; Though her gaze can pierce some with how coldly she can move her gaze over others, there is also a softness to her plasmas as well, a quality where she can smile with only her eyes. Her lengthy hair only adds for her eyes to glow more brightly against her dark features; hip-length, wavy at the ends, and thick, her purple hair is usually tied upon her crown in an ivory-colored scrunchy in order to keep it from becoming hazardous and unmanageable, though she's learned not to mind.
Much of her body is usually covered in some level of dirt, her dark skin usually able hide this--her hair and clothes, not so much. It's not that she prefers to be unhygienic, only that a bath is hard to come by in her line of work. It's hard to be a flower out in the unknown of the world, is it not? Ah, but don't let this fool you, for feminine was never synonymous with the fragility of flowers; medium-boned, athletic and precise, her muscles were built for precision, a fact she hides under the baggy Mareep-wool garments into which she tucks herself. As lithe and deadly as a rapier one might say.
Though Nephele also hides burns under her clothing, her colar-bone area, chest, and forearms. What is not left up to the imagination are some scars upon her hands, elbow, and three narrow gashes--one across her bottom lip, and two, a bit more faded, upon her chin.
Everyday Clothes: Nephele boasts 3 layers of clothes: undergarments, a layer of thinly woven wool under-armor in the form of a black wrap shirt tied with a single piece of cloth and black"leggings", and her over-armor of mareep-wool--an orange wrap that she holds in place with another piece of cloth, both tucking into harem pants, a kind of style of pants where it grips the waist, becomes baggy around the thighs, and then grows tight again nearer the shins; Here, she wears her leather boots, one's she's custom fashioned (and paid a pretty penny for) in that they have extra belt buckles and have been thickened in terms of hide choice; these boots function more like combat boots and are nearly impossible to take off by am impatient person due to the five individual buckles on each boot.
Other than this, she wears "non-essentials" such as a scarf and leather gauntlets with thick cloth stitched on the inside that weaves between her fingers, exempting the thumb and forefinger's recess; Instead, the leather loops here, interlocking and bracing on a button on her palm. The leather guards her knuckles and up to her forearm, an inch below the elbow.
Formal Garbs: Nephele, when her clothes are washes, function as almost guard-esque in appearance, and then might therefore afford some formality, but as a Survivor only needing the essentials, such clothes are a waste of time and hardly worth the resources. Truly, what is it's purpose in a world rebuilding, when diplomacy is not needed and the common goal is so clear?--To Survive.
Pack: On her waist is a fanny pack turned to her back with four pouches attached on the sides of the belt of the fanny pack for organizational purposes. She also carries a leather draw-string with two extra compartments that she stretches from a shoulder to under the other arm--much like a messenger bag.
Personality:
Main face attributes: Benevolent | Driven | Cautious | Analytical | Adventurous
Secondary facets: Honest | Ambiverted | Quick-witted | Hopeful Misanthrope | Youthful
Weaknesses: Sometimes overly cautious causing a slowness of reaction and chance to 'freeze', She's afraid of the dark, generally does not rely on others as per some distrust, wants to appear reliable and strong to the detriment of any wounds she has or the danger of the situation, She can be crass when she's blunt though she usually means well (for what it's worth)
Nephele could be called many things, firm perhaps, crass at times, selfish even, but never, ever cruel. There is not a cruel cell in Nephele's body to the point where when she is tasked with being cruel for the sake of herself, it pains her, and physically weakens her; it simply is not a part of her persona, but instead being fair in terms of an open-mind, and following a code of ethics seeking the highest amount of contribution matched by the greatest amount of good one can do; benevolence? That word existed in a world where there was an evil to compare--and perhaps there still is. For now, it is simply Nephele's civic duty.
Nephele seeks fairness in all she does, actions that can aid others if need be and perform the greatest amount of good, not just for herself; she exhibits this quality in that she never asks someone (human or pokemon) to do a task she would not perform first--though one might also attribute this to how she seeks to know of things in her search for truth. Through this, She sees the potential and value in all things through her analytical eyes, accurately or inaccurately--though in her mind, nothing is without some amount of value; as such, it is not her habit to underestimate anything, and thus tends to do the exact opposite; in her overestimation of situations, she attempts to over prepare, to expect the worst, causing a rather cynical outlook, with estranged hope lingering about her; call her a hopeful misanthrope, if you will. This, does, also result in mild paranoia in the form of caution, which inhibits how quickly she would like to otherwise act.
She thinks of her feet, quick in spirit and quick-witted, though hardly lacking in patience. Her speed of mind and body are simply the mode at which she prefers to function, seeing every moment as an opportunity, when it comes down to the wire, and loathes wasting a second. Her patience is something entirely different, as it comes from her appreciation of different walks of life. Ambiverted with extroverted tendencies, people are a marvel to look at, be around, learn from, and more; people are an experience to her capable of great good and infectious evil and are thus a juxtaposition, hypocritical kind of existence that thrive in a world where consumption defines people, where people prefer ease rather than suffering; and who wouldn't for the latter? Because of this, Nephele is patient with others, tolerant even of how others chose to live, but is impassioned against laziness and passivity--leeching off others in particular.
Even as kindly as she can be, though, she is a fighter, a relentless opponent who plans for the long-term. Honor-bound and a lover of challenge, Nephele is glad-hearted in battle, never running away from a fight, but smart enough to know when she's been beat or is outclassed. Even so, Nephele cannot bring herself to live comfortably--a life of many potential complaintsJust a few paragraphs of your character's general behavior. If your character is meant to be Static be more specific, you can be more vague with Dynamic characters.
Career Goals: She wants to dedicate more time to learning how to tend to others, how to create salves and other such healing remedies (Apothocary), but if not, she'll settle for being a guide amongst the wilds (Guide).
Likes: Mareep, Brawling, Weather, The idea of Flight, Tea, a Challenge, Nice people, Being Nice, Pokemon (Feral or Domestic), Philosophical Conversations, Nature, Stories.
Dislikes: Change, The Dark, Impractical designs, Laziness and Passivity, Portal Energy, Being a Burden, Staying in one place too long.
Backstory: Her parents had walked through the portal two years prior to her birth into the new world, leaving some of their family behind as they collected whatever possessions were available to them. As such, she only grew up hearing about the stories of Arceus, a great catastrophe that befell the people--tales of greed and wrong-doing to their previous home. It was a sense of displacement and awestruck gratitude that laced the stories to which she fell asleep and used as a lense of perspective that colored all she saw around the world. In this way, all her home was not their own and in order to make due, everyone had to contribute, to put something forth; it was the worst act, then, to live selfishly, and Nephele grew up accordingly, watched buildings rise, and her parents begin to branch out in order to help the colony; her parents, hardly of one mind, sought different pursuits; Nephele's father took to that of ranching Mareep--breeding them initially, while her mother took to researching the new land they lived on, sometimes Pokemon, other times the soil itself. It was this split living that Nephele grew up in, no pokemon to her name, but plenty of Mareep to acclimate herself to pokemon. Slowly, she began to adapt to the world around her, to the hard work of breeding Mareep to the mental chore of organizing data.
Nephele spent her days between two world, that of cultivating the world, and studying it, enabling her to learn to different ways to approach the world around her--hands on versus objective. Her aptitude, however, came kinesthetically; though she enjoyed her mother's attempts to teach her, Nephele's heart was in the soil itself, not in how she stared at it from afar. Though there was only so much she could touch on and learn from in her Father's Mareep Ranch, thus budding an interest for the world outside the town, the buildings now too tall, the people too cluttered, and the talk of a new settlement no longer 'a matter of debate'. From the community of Port City rose scouts, those who sought to chart out a space for the new city. Her mother was among the few selected to go with the cartographers, explorers and other such. Nephele, however, stayed back and only heard stories as the new settlement rose up. Nephele was intensely curious and spent more time with her mother once again to gain answers of the world outside this comparatively small city; but it was the questions Nephele's mother posed more than the answers she gave that drove Nephele's yearning to escape. They lived in a new world, and despite humanity's ingenuity, they could not rely on old skills to bring them the same results in the new world. All theories of that of an old world of which they were no longer a part, and there was a bliss in knowing there was something always to see. There was a world out there Nephele was not a part of, and it killed her.
In search of these sights, she forwent her mother's laboratory "schooling" and her father's ranching chores, venturing into the rims of the city and playing with the mercenary's children, talked to the husbands and wives of survivor types, merchants who grew on the territory's edge to learn more and more of the outside world. These was among the first few times she saw a hive, and she was only nine. Lives so easily threatened, she watched mercenaries work together, the merchants, the families; anyone who had a pokemon was fit to battle, and the hive was not so easily beat back, but subdued, and retreated accordingly. Nephele watched their recovery, watched them bounce back with ease. The inner city could not compare to this lifestyle fo these hardened people, and yet, she loved it. She was her parent's child; she loved a challenge.
Without her parent's permission and with their full knowing, at age twelve, she left home, gaining passage in a merchant's caravan to the new town, New Pallet. It was a budding kind of life, but one she didn't mind earning. It was here in the deeper reaches of Mi'aro that she began to make a life for herself, odd jobs here and there--errand-running for money, sleeping behind buildings, and watching the sun come up over the sleepy town. It was rough, but exactly what she wanted. She had not struggled, thought Nephele, like these people around her. Though her age did not help some other's want to coddle her, she grew away from this, demanded to work, grew a work ethic at this young age and a passion for her independence; together her will grew fiercer and fiercer (to many people's discontent and annoyance).
It was here that during her work, bring water from a nearby source during a summer, that a fire feral pokemon decided a few farmers had grown their crop too close to it's home, and set fire to the field. Rushing with a bucket of water in hand, she went near the field, it's blaze repelling her, the pokemon perhaps somewhere inside the field, enjoying the heat, but the family inside their homes crying out. A mercenaries tried to quell the spread of fire, another group effort, but with no pokemon, Nephele felt unable to do anything; she glanced at the bucket of water, felt the blaze's wrath upon her skin, and tore toward the house, pulling upon the door and dashed inside, looking for the voice that cried out. The structure rocked and teetered, for Nephele, it seemed, she swam in the undercurrent of an ocean of fire, the smoke stinging her nose and eyes. Diving deeper into the house in a bedroom, an old lady sat amidst the burning house, coughing. Nephele aided this lady, attempted to walk the elder to an exit, only to be met with the feral at the entrance. By reflex, it spouted flames at them, and Nephele tossed water at it, though this only eased the flames that rushed into her arms, lower neck and chest. The Feral was chased away then, and both Nephele and the elder were rescued from the house.
The burns took time to heal, a good while, but what apothecaries knew what they were doing. It was yet another thing she grew interested in, but it was not at the forefront of her mind. Instead, she thought of her burns as marks to a calling. She didn't have a pokemon, but she refused to be less than useless, a burden to those around her as she was now. Surviving on one's own was not the same as contributing, and she felt she had missed the point of her adventure in New Pallet. She looked at her palms and saw the force behind them, what kind of potential weapon she might be. It was then she knew what she wanted to truly dedicate her time to. In the fall that same year, when she was healed she began to train her body, to push her body, exercise and prepare for a fight. Indeed, others used weapons, but she did not want to rely on things that were not a part of her. Slowly, she grew more adept, and at the cost of some nerves for the battles that she picked with Ferals. At first, indeed, she was outclassed, and she had to rely on other's healing, but learned to take care of herself, heal and rest properly bit by bit. Then, she improved. She could take on Pokemon her size and smaller, sometimes slightly bigger, but they were more brawny, less quick. It was her speed and precision she honed, resourceful wit she cultivated, using the momentum of others against them; she was her own weapon, and at age 17, though in no way a master of her arts, decided to return to Port City.
It was a charming life, and she wondered how suited she was for it anymore; arriving and situating, the change of pace had its appeal, but the softness began to itch. This life, one of luxury and privilege, did not sit well with her when others struggled so. she felt needed elsewhere, not at the ranch, nor the confines of a lab, but in the unknown, the gripping unknown in the skies or undersea. Nephele learned what she could within Port City, of brawling techniques and apothecary skills, but lived on the edge of civilization from then, looking out into the unknown of Mi'aro, dreaming of flying in her skies, maybe even diving in the ocean and exploring there. Indeed, what if she made a settlement under the water, or one that floated in the sky? She smiled, her life hopefully not even halfway over yet, eyes so full of hope. Yes, she'd continue to push herself.
From ages 17-23 she spent much of her life preparing for a more survivalist lifestyle, diving into the wild, then coming back, learning more of how to heal and to fine tune her 'weapon'. Slowly, her time spent in the wild became more frequent as she traveled off the routes, on the fringes of the routes, attempting to make due with all she knew, and no pokemon to help her. Surely, though Nephele, she did not need a Pokemon to survive in this world? Her frequent injuries told her otherwise, but what was life without a challenge? Hesitantly, she wondered if it would be better not only for her but the others around her if she worked for the Ambassador. She was not exactly a civilian in terms of the way she earned her means, so... perhaps she contribute differently? she researched during the Spring of age twenty-three, watching others who worked under Oak, and the Ambassador do so as well, trudging freely, confidently into the breach. Aye, she was poor, but she only needed ever to get by. I suppose it's better to grow where we are weak; it seems only logical. With great reluctance, she put forth her name to become a mentee of one the Ambassador. Nephele thought her age would surely be a detriment to her, maybe her lack of staying in one place? Would it show caprice? Ah, but the fateful day came.
Although unable to recall exact details, Nephele remembers a joy washing over her, accepted and now a part of something, she felt, bigger, Nephele now better able to aid and provide. Her pokemon received, items of which she had only seen now laid into her hands, she began her adventure, an interesting change, for once when she would have to leave and come back... she could now leave and hardly come back at all. Spending most of her days outside civilization collecting raw materials for Merchants and Researchers alike, while attempting to tame this new wild life of hers, her life so set upon it's rigid course of exploration and discovery, Nephele welcomed anything that might shake her, for to lose one's balance is to learn how to reclaim it; loss sometimes is the best teacher.
