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Hold me at my end of days, and be my whippoorwill.

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  • glass_beddau@livejournal.com
[For the sake of clarity: this is the journal a fictional character uses to post in the RPG estdeus_innobis. My regular journal is torrain. And while I'm detail-minded enough to dig up a few details for realism's sake, please do not look upon IC postings as an authoritative source for the correct use of herbs.]

[I mean, I'm sure none of you would. I just felt I should say something.]

Glass Beddau (Whippoorwill)
Herbalist, sin-eater, and assistant at the apothecary.

The child of a herb witch and an unknown father, Glass was raised in one of many undistinguished hamlets. Growing up in a chilly farming community ekeing out a subsistence-level living, she and her mother (due to an understandable belief that one who could heal the body could also prepare it for its final rest) were called to prepare the dead for burial. When her mother died, Glass moved on, surviving on her skills--either selling them or using them to live off the land. Excolo is as suited as any place to grow herbs and gather water these days, and to Glass's strange eyes, it is where life and death are coming together and changing.

Strengths and weaknesses: Calm in the face of the unusual, excellent night vision, awareness of the dead, extensive knowledge of folklore relating to the dead and the uses of herbs.
Very shy, very curious, loves watching people but tends to stutter and make a clumsy fool of herself when actually dealing with them on a more personal level; not good with dealing with those who don't need her.

Dark hair, very dark and perhaps slightly unsettling eyes, and a somewhat wide mouth, with or without a dry smile. Glass is fairly dark and in her mid-late twenties (27 last April 30th, actually; she counts herself as 28 as of this spring). Thin build, but fairly tall (5'8"). Wore very flattering clothes for a while, since Dorian burnt everything else she owned, but she's currently drifting back to her habits of dressing in browns and greys while sitting next to walls and in corners so that she can watch people. Likes coffee, gossip about other people, and fiddling with twigs or grassblades while she's thinking.

Her pregnancy is showing, although with her going back to her older clothes and her habit of carrying herself in a physically unremarkable manner, it's still possible to miss. She also has the darker skin discolorations called the mask of pregnancy. And she always has the Rock of Ages, although she's currently wearing it on a cord around her neck.

Then, too, the natives are mortally afraid of the numerous whippoorwills which grow vocal on warm night. It is vowed that the birds are psychopomps lying in wait for the souls of the dying, and that they time their eerie cries in unison with the sufferer's struggling breath. If they can catch the fleeing soul when it leaves the body, they instantly flutter away chittering in daemoniac laughter; but if they fail, they subside gradually into a disappointed silence. - H.P. Lovecraft, "The Dunwich Horror"

A foreboding, tenebrific death rattle; the scent of a dying breath as it wafts into the marshland: Spanish moss, cedar, black pepper, oakmoss, juniper, bamboo reeds and cardamom.
The Whippoorwill scent was entirely pulled together by the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, and is theirs and theirs alone. I do wish they'd bring it back.

Images are mostly slightly retouched images of Kristen Stewart, who is also all herself's alone.


I update this a fair bit; feel free to browse around. Descriptions are IC-available knowledge to anyone in Excolo; memories and dreams a little less so.