Flefleur "Fleur" Fleurette

About

Abilities & Competencies

Flefleur Fleurette , or just "Fleur" if you want to be quick about it, is a down-to-earth Plainsfolk who's not afraid to get their hands dirty. They wander Eorzea, often taking jobs as a bodyguard, mercenary, courier, or entertainer. These jobs help fund their need for the materia, ingredients, and aether-infused trinkets necessary to study the arcane and perform various rituals, as they are a practitioner of Red Magic (they insist they're not a Red Mage, and are just a practitioner of both White and Black Magic separately... but take that with a grain of salt). They don't seek unlimited power, nor do they have delusions of grandeur -- they don't summon voidsent, and in fact spend a lot of time trying to take down rogue mages that threaten the commonfolk! They have earned the moniker "The Witch-Hunter" for their prowess at hunting down cults, voidsent, and practitioners of the dark arts.What certainly sets them apart from other Lalafellin is their looks -- they're about an entire fulm taller than most of their kin, and their body is a tad more lithe and a little less squat and stout. Rather than the typical pear-shape of other lalafell, they have the curves and defined features typically seen on tallfolk -- and this has caused some to whisper and gossip about possible bastard heritage. Mayhaps one of their parents was a Hyur or Elezen, making them struggle to truly fit in with their kin. Some have posited the term "halfling", but others brush it off as a preposterous-sounding word!But don't let their appearance fool you. Whether they're clad in full plate and wielding a zweihander that's longer than they are tall, or dressed in a black gown while waving a staff to weave intricate arcane incantations... well, that dark and dangerous aura is just the surface. Underneath it all, they are kind, humble, caring, and curious. Sure, they may put on a scary face to strike fear into the enemy, but when they kick back at the local tavern, they're more than willing to offer a smile, a drink, and a song!

History

(Note: I am the type that refuses to believe the canon MSQ timeline happens over the course of only a year or so. I feel like 5 years (from ARR to EW) makes way more sense. Sorry Yoshi, but one year makes no damn sense!)

The foggy glass of the bedroom window is further stained by the creeping rime, and any outsiders would only see the glow of lantern-light. And with the blizzard outside, the howls of screams within the room would be overtaken by the howl of sharp, biting cold.Lady Adelaide Beauregard lets out a sharp yelp, and moments later, the midwife retrieves a child. Gasps and pants fill the room, accompanied by the wail of a newborn. But what would've been a moment of joy and pride quickly turns to suspicion.This is a noble manor in Ishgard, and this child is not an Elezen.The lord of the manor, Montaigne, is not present, busy with work out in Coerthas. This will buy them some time, they hope, to cover up the infidelity. Lord Montaigne was not a loving man, interested more in his business dealings than in providing for his wife, sons, and manor staff. It was no wonder that Adelaide then took care of the day-to-day around the house, some saying that perhaps she was the real head of the household. And when traveling merchants from La Noscea wanted passage into Ishgard to sell their exotic goods (let in begrudgingly, despite their crude manners, as the nobles are always wanting for trinkets)...Well, it is not surprise that Adelaide, the fine young woman she was, caught the eye of the rugged sailors and charismatic merchants.When she was noticeably with child a few months after, there were a few murmurings of infidelity, but only among the manor staff, who knew that Lord Montaigne rarely ever took a true interest in his wife. On the outside, however, all seemed well enough, and he was glad to hear another child was on the way to take up the family name... even if he couldn't quite remember being there for the conception.But now, the ruse was up. A half Lalafellin, half Elezen child, held in her arms, wailing. She had invited some of the merchants to her house that fateful day, hoping to strike a deal for some spices that would be the talk of the town. And those dealings turned... intimate. Wine and charisma have their ways, of course.She and the midwife knew that this would not stand. As uncaring as Lord Montaigne could be, he would be ruined by this infidelity, his business dealings would crumble, and he would be ruined. She loved her two sons, and this child was, in her heart, no different. She wished there was a way that she could keep them, but she couldn't. The child could not stay, lest everything fall apart.She kissed them on the forehead, and their wails and cries turned to babbles and coos."Fleurette", she said, with a faint and pained smile.That night, the midwife whisked the child away, bundled up in robes and cloaks and blankets, trudging through the thick snow on the street, stumbling blindly in the biting, whipping wind, before finding a cart bound out of the gates for a supply run to Camp Dragonhead. She kept the child silent, huddled in the back of the cart, hoping to the Twelve that she wouldn't be spotted. Shortly before arriving, she hopped off and continued further south, into the Shroud.With a stolen basket and plenty of blankets, the child was placed into a gently flowing stream. Tucked next to them, a small paper:"Fleurette. Please take care of me."Dawn rose, and the child bobbed their way down the stream. Some miracle, then, that they were not capsized or sniffed out by predators. A lost flower, set adrift.After some time, the basket wound its way into Thanalan, where the river's shores painted a scant bit of green among the dust and rock. It was then that they were found. A group of nomadic merchants, watering their beasts of burden, noticed the basket immediately, and fished it out.With no parents to be seen, and no clues save for a name and a plea, they took mercy. The Highlanders and Dunesfolk within the caravan were largely outcasts already, so the pity that they took on Fleur was no strange act. To offer the child some semblance of belonging, their name was given a Lalafellin flair -- Flelfeur, though keeping their "true" name as a surname.It was already obvious as a babe that Fleur was no true Lalafell, and this only became more obvious as they grew older. They were taller, stronger, and faster than their peers, and perhaps they felt it necessary to be that way to prove themself. It wasn't all that necessary, in truth -- the caravan accepted Fleur as one of their own -- but Fleur still knew they were different and felt an urge to ensure they had a purpose.Life among the nomads teaches you many things, very quickly. How to determine the next day's weather based on cloud patterns, how to find the best path through the scrubland, how to find the best herbs, what trinkets to keep, what trinkets to sell. Fleur had a good mind for numbers, and helped keep the record books -- already an astounding feat, given that a good number among the nomads couldn't read nor write. Woe betide any other merchants that tried to bamboozle these travelers, for it wouldn't take long for Fleur to catch the discrepancies, find the false coins, or realize the terms of the deals were not in their favor.And so as the caravan prospered, Fleur found more ways to take in extra money. Dance, knife juggling, music, all perfect ways to catch one's attention. Little flickers of magic, to astound small children ... and thus draw their parents over, thus netting more potential customers. Fleur's voracious appetite for books continued, and they started to teach themself magic -- simple thaumaturgy and pseudo-conjury, though not enough to be useful... for now.In their teen years, these traveling nomads came across an equally interesting traveler: a man who purported to know how to weave both white and black magic in equal measure. Fleur was suspicious -- having scoured any tomes they could purchase on their travels, they knew such a thing would be incredibly difficult, and that both magics were nearly lost to time after the War of the Magi. But they were amazed to see the man prove it, weaving simple but effective spells of air, fire, thunder, and earth, blasting away practice dummies with a flash, and providing some succor with healing as well.Fleur demanded to learn these tricks, and although the man was, at first, loathe to spill his secrets, he finally relented and traveled with the caravan for a few years. Fleur knew that White and Black magic could be dangerous, as drawing too much aether from the surroundings could kill the user and turn the land around them into inert dust. But the methods they learned, of using one's inner strength and natural aether, was safer, and while certainly less powerful, it was still a binding of two styles that one could hardly deny was useful.The man never said it was Red Magic, always painting it as a perfect combination of White and Black, and as smart as Fleur was, they believed it, and began to style themself as a practitioner of both forms. A weapon was used as a focus, rather than a traditional staff, and while Fleur did have a staff, they wanted something to strike with as well. Throwing knives were out, though Fleur was quite practiced with those. In the end, they took a somewhat... unorthodox choice. Among the stashed weapons in the caravan, a greatsword, almost as tall as they were. At first, the man was concerned that such a brutish weapon lacked the ability to properly weave energy like a nimble rapier, but Fleur proved him wrong when they managed to cleave a target dummy in twain... along with a blast of ice that sent a chill through the air. A fast learner, it would seem!The man enjoyed the company of the caravan, and his displays of magic drew in crowds, who would then buy the caravan's goods, and he'd get a cut for being such good advertisement. Fleur trained alongside, becoming adept with staves, knives, and greatswords alike, and their role as a bookkeeper strayed more and more towards bodyguard.When the Calamity came... well, it is an understatement to say that everything changed.Stray meteors, falling from Dalamud, ravaged the land, and many in Fleur's caravan were wounded or killed. The strange man, Fleur's mentor, was gravely wounded. Before his life slipped away, shaking and bloody, he handed Fleur a stone. It glowed faintly in their palm, and his hand gave one final squeeze before slumping to the ground.Fleur had heard of soulstones before, but never had the chance to see one in person, let alone be gifted one. As they held it, they already felt their power surging, and they rushed to the aid of the others, healing who they could. They saved some, but not all.Hearing that this was the result of cruel magics, a last-ditch resort from the Garlean Empire to crush Eorzea once and for all, Fleur was disgusted. They knew the dangers of magic, of knowing one's limits lest it overtake and kill you. They knew how thaumaturges and conjurers were careful with their magic, and only those with twisted visions of power would stoop to ancient, forbidden power.They decided to forge their own path, now. They became an adventurer, hunting for old ruins, dusty libraries, and forgotten temples, finding any information they could on aether, magic, and old lost forms of casting. They do not wish to destroy it, so much as catalogue it -- the saying of "those who forget history are doomed to repeat it" rings quite true. Studying and researching magic is their way of ensuring the horrors of the past will never rear its head in the future. And, with their skill in combat, they are not shy from hunting down those that would turn magic into a horrifying display of destruction. Many cultists, void-summoners, and other practitioners of the darker arts have tasted Fleur's steel and spell, and hunting voidsent for a living is lucrative as well.So here, then, is Fleurette. The lost flower of Ishgard, the wanderer of Thanalan, the hunter of Voidsent, and the protector of magic.

Hooks

Some simple RP hooks include...

Hello! Welcome to my Carrd!List of all of my characters can be found here.I have autism and ADHD, so do be patient with me if we talk. I might miss cues or fail to pick up on reading between the lines. And I do apologize if I take a long time between responses in RP -- I sometimes will write up entire paragraphs only to go "Ah, no, my character wouldn't say that" and rewrite the whole dang thing. Trust me, I do my absolute best to provide good responses both in casual conversation and in RP.I am in Mountain Time (MST) though my hours can be funky.I am not up-to-date on every little bit of lore in the game. I may get things wrong. Though, my character is already an anomaly in terms of lore, so a little bit of bending the rules isn't something I'll bat an eye at. Still, if I get some stupidly basic part of the game's lore wrong, lemme know.As of the time of writing this, I am only partway through Dawntrail. Please avoid spoilers if possible.I do not mind M/ERP but it should be discussed beforehand. It is very rare that I will jump into something mature with a stranger.And please keep in mind: just because I'm sharing this doesn't mean it gives the go-ahead to immediately start discussing sexual stuff with me. I'm sex-positive, but I'm also, y'know, a real life person behind the screen. Try not to be weird. Compliments and lightly flirtatious comments about my character are fine though, and I find them quite flattering.

This character, as well as the player behind the keyboard, is over the age of 21. They are an adult, not a child. They should be treated as such. Yes, Lalafell have a chibi-like appearance, and although Fleur has been edited to look less chibi-like and more like a "traditional" fantasy halfling, this does not mean you have the right to treat them like little uwu babies. Creepy comments or /tells will be, at best, ignored, or at worst, get you instantly blocked. Any of the following will not be tolerated:

This is not a definitive list, but should be kept in mind. It's totally fine if you want to send a /tell saying "oh wow your character is so cute!" or something. In fact, I enjoy the compliments! But if you start saying stuff like "awww what an adorable smol baby I just wanna squish her lil cheeks :3" or "lol who left their child around, I'm gonna kick them", please know that I am actively approaching your house with a metal baseball bat and no remorse.