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| Name: |
Lindarcia Suncrown
Daughter of Luthe'ral, 2nd-born Child
(Illigitmate) |
| Class: |
Mage |
| Status: |
Player Character |
| Professions: |
Miner and Jewelcrafter |
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Character History
Mana remnants, according to the books of Dalaran, result from rifts in the arcane fabric of our world. These tears allow the cold, translucent floes to pool and congeal into hard elementals. The oafish, tuber-like dwarves cringe at their presence, thinking them to be ghosts. Human superstitions often lead housewives to blame fairy tricks when it really was a remnant overturning pork pies and soiling hanging laundry.
But my father knew they formed beautiful crystals when drained of their energy. He shaped five of them into a star-shaped charm and sent it to me when I was a child. I had a jewelcrafter in Silvermoon polish it, set it, and now it hangs from my belt.
Two star rubies, sacred feather trinkets from Thunder Bluff, spinning toys and dolls, little silk pouches full of silver coins and pretty stones, fine ribbons, bolts of cloth.
These were the gifts my father sent me as a child; silently placed into my tiny hands by the shaking fingers of my mother, Mariae, who often wept when they arrived. The shadows under her emerald eyes would deepen for days as I awed over the rubies and trinkets, played with the dolls until their faces faded and their clothes went threadbare, saved the bolts of cloth until Mother's ashes kissed the spring forests and I had no family or home, nothing but the saved silver and these little subtleties.
Nothing but the memories of her thin, wavering voice and sallow face. My mother withered like flowers do in fall, when the sun abandons them. I heard the rumors. They whispered that she suffered from abstaining of the arcane, our most powerful blight that controls our very heartbeats. But Mother died from a quicker poison. Withdrawal from love's ensconcing addiction kills faster than any lack of magic.
Before Mariae died, she tried to tell me something. Her mind had tormented her since birth, but now she lay in ruins from its destruction. The madness kept her from finishing her sentence, and it would be countless years before I knew what she meant to say. The man who sent the Remnant charm, the toys and silver, the infrequent letters that burned before I ever read them ... Luthe'ral, a princely child of Suncrown.
His face appeared in the first vision of magecraft training. I remember the pale cheek, the dark hair and striking eyes. All Sin'dorei are beautiful, but my father's tender, honest expression and open, clean palms surpassed the Sunwell. I wept over the image for days.
I hadn't wept before. I have not since.
The Remnant charm is still tied upon my belt. I fancy, sometimes, that I can see his face within it, as well as the other shapes that appeared within my vision: Suncrown Sin'dorei in a glittering throng, surrounding the family cup, the family crest. A male elf in leather, strapping strong with wild eyes and black hair. A female form -- an elf of flaming hair with a signet symbol different than ours.
Ours. I say it as if we have always been family, as if this has always been my clan. Deep within my stomach, I sense the truth. They do not even know I exist. Tomorrow my elders will scrutinize me in shock, look at my frost wand, my simple robes and wonder whether I speak lies. The servants will whisper. All our people have good ground to be suspicious, but they'll see my face and lips and the shape of my hands and know the truth: I am my father's daughter, born in secret but known to him, perhaps even loved by him. And now that I have come into my own, tomorrow ... tomorrow! I will seek my true family. I am Suncrown, through and through, and it's equal surprise to me as to them.
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