@OfHopeAndHeart

Iliana Jane

 

Age: Semi-immortal [Minor Guardian]
Alignment: Good
Personality: Annoyingly optimistic, loyal to a fault, incredibly hopeful, and especially protective of her children
Occupation: Schoolteacher. Minor guardian of springtime
Home Region: The Metro
Powers/Abilities/Skills: Partly responsible for the coming of spring. Can shift into various animals. Detects lies. Grants hope

Other Associated Regions: Zephyr. The Lykos Caves

 

 

Mythical creatures are often immortal, and many think their eternal life is more of a punishment than a reward. To be a werewolf is to live in a special sort of hell, then. Because werewolves are not immortal. We can be felled by silver bullet, arrow, or blade. We can be entrapped and skinned by those who hunt us. And we can be taken away from our packs and made to live life alone. 

Iliana remembers these words, even now, though she remembers not who said them. Perhaps it'd been her mother, as the sun had begun to set. Or perhaps it'd been her grandmother, as the night gave away to dawn. She's unsure, now, can't think of which woman told her. Her memories of her old life are fuzzy at best, sounds distorted and faces blurred as though they existed only in a dream. And much like a dream, she remembers only bits and pieces of what took place.

That's the thing about werewolves. Whereas a number of mythical creatures are bestowed immortality, the wolves were gifted with a different fate. Iliana knows, now, that the real curse is not in their wolfish other halves' presence and desires. The real curse is not in the wolves themselves, but in the wicked hand fate dealt their kind. For when a werewolf dies, they are to be reborn. Though they never take the same form twice, they never quite forget just what they did in their past lives.

So Iliana remembers her life as Anita. She can never really stop, as new memories wash over her like waves. Even now, as a minor guardian of hope and springtime, she remembers her days in the Enchanted Forest. Remembers her whirlwind romance and the child that became of it. Remembers hearing rumors of her love's death, remembers moving onward as the seasons changed. She'd hoped, then, hoped that all would be well. And now, she influences the seasons. Now, she gives others hope. 

For as a minor guardian, Iliana has the power to kiss life into cold winters. She sees to it that flowers grow where ice and snow froze the ground before. For she has been tasked with helping spring along, and does whatever the Guardian of Seasons asks of her. Just as important as these tasks, though, is giving mortals and mythical creatures hope. And hope, she’s learned, is some of the most powerful magic of all.

But even with all this newfound responsibility, she remembers her pack. She remembers her family. Most of all, though, she remembers her children. And she thinks that the worst part of being reborn is not in the remembering. It is in being forgotten by those she remembers.

It is in watching her children walk the earth thinking that they are alone, orphaned and unloved.

Still, she hopes. Hopes that they will one day remember her, that they will find her in this new land. She takes a long sip of her iced tea, thinking long and hard. Yes, she still has hope. Hope that they will remember her, that they will return to her. Hope that they will remember each other, too, and someday become a family to each other once more. Hope that they will find love everywhere they look, and hope that they will come to understand that they are never alone.

She hopes for forgiveness, too, as she watches a summer storm roll in across the river. Because she hadn't come to them as she should have, hadn't thought to explain herself. They hadn't been ready, then. And she doesn't know that they are, now. Soon, though. All things in good times, she supposes, as she curls up in her porch swing to watch the rain fall.