tillyashton

[tillyashton]

The Basics ––– –

Name: Lythelle Bennington

Alias: None

Age: 45

Birthday: October 1st

Race: Kul Tiran

Gender: Female

Marital Status: Single

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: Black

Eyes: Jeweled Ivy

Height: 5′7"

Build: Slim

Distinguishing Marks: Her eyes, an enchanting shade of ivy, held depths as mysterious as the Drustvar pines.They seemed to shimmer with an inner light, a verdant glow that contrasted strikingly with the inky blackness of her hair. This raven-hued cascade framed her face, each strand a polished obsidian thread, reflecting the world in a myriad of dark, shimmering reflections.

Tattoos: None.

Piercings: Ears.

Common Accessories: The necklace was a constant, a skeletal framework of ancient silver that clung to her collarbone like a shadow. Its allure lay not in the metal, however, but in the living jewels that adorned it. Each stone was a chameleon, shifting and changing with the whim of its wearer. With each change of dress, the void erupted into a dazzling display, mirroring the hues and textures of her ensemble.

Personal Information––– –

Profession: Investor

Hobbies: Reading, Traveling

Languages: Common

Residence: Stormwind

Birthplace: Drustvar

Religion: None

Patron Deity: None

Fears: Losing control

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: Single / None.

Children: None.

Parents: Lord Malachi Bennington & Lady Leandra Bennington.

Siblings: Morwen Bennington (Older Brother, alive).

Other Relatives: None.

Pets: None.

Romance ––– -

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Preferred Emotional Role: submissive | dominant | switch

Love Language: Acts of Devotion

Relationship Tendencies: Prefers "pets", goveling, doting

Traits ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit: Ocassionally.

Drugs: Never.

Alcohol: Frequently.

RP Hooks ––– –

Heartsbane Coven:

Lythelle was more than just a beautiful face. There was an aura of mystery that clung to her like a shroud. Rumors whispered of her wealth, a fortune amassed with a speed and ease that defied explanation. Some said she was a pirate queen, others a smuggler, and still others a ruthless businesswoman. But none of these theories could fully explain the extent of her riches.

As her wealth grew, so too did the whispers. Darker tales began to circulate, painting Lythelle as something more sinister. It was said that she was a witch, a member of the infamous Heartsbane Coven. Tales of dark rituals and forbidden magic were whispered in hushed tones, and Lythelle’s emerald eyes took on a sinister glow in the minds of the superstitious.

Perhaps there was merit to their claims. Perhaps there wasn't.

[tillyashton]

This picrew and the last song I listened to ( I was obviously Rping as @westfall-faith )

Tagged by @nixalegos

Tagging: @torbeen @tyra-greydawn and others who want to do this!

Create your doll through the link and take a screen shot of the doll and your last listened to song.

[tillyashton]

Wayward Thicket, Drustvar

[tillyashton]

It's my 1 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

🥹🥹 Tilly has been such a great escape.

[tillyashton]

I'm sure most of my mutuals are already following, but if you're not GO FOLLOW THIS WONDERFUL RPer! He's super active on tumblr, he's a fantastic writer, enjoys threads, and puts forth lots of effort into his character as well as learning yours! ))

The First and Last of the Order of the Veiled Eye. Prince of the Wastes. Keeper of Forbidden Lore. Netherlord. The Dragon of Avarice. Breaker of the Black Harvest. Lord of Nothing. Here to help you, for a price.

[tillyashton]

For Tilly and @westfall-faith

Truthful Thursday

~Ask my character anything, they have to answer truthfully! ~Leave my character an honest confession from one of yours! ~Tell my character something on anon you’ve always wanted to say but cannot tell them to their face!

Anon is on!!

Don’t forget your ask/reblog karma: Send a question to whomever you reblog this from! Send a question to whomever sends you a question! Spread the love!

[tillyashton]

For Tilly or Faith!!

Reblog if you RP on Discord and it's okay for people to PM you for a plot.

[tillyashton]

[tillyashton]

💞

The salt spray stung Tilly's youthful face, a familiar bite that barely registered through the dull ache behind her brow. How many years had it been? Seven? Eight? How old was she now? Nineteen? Twenty? Birthdays blurred on the run, especially when you were framed for witchcraft and forced to flee Kul Tiras. She had just found her first grey hair in her mane of moonspun midnight.

Tilly clutched the handle of her old, mahogony wand with floured hands. She was working. So hard. Her eyes, the amber color that mirrored boiling caramel, scanned the desolate shoreline. He had been here before, in Stormwind. But how he got here was anyone's guess. Had it been a dream? Regardless, she was here for him, the enigmatic Nethermancer who haunted the ruins of Drustvar and the Lamb.

Their encounters were few, but each one had left her breathless. He spoke of shadows and whispers, of a power that thrummed beneath the world, a concept not far removed from the fire-and-brimstone magic she'd glimpsed back on Kul Tiras. He was a puzzle, a cryptic scholar who, perhaps, saw possibilities in her she couldn't even imagine. He challenged her, made her question everything she thought she knew.

Yet, for all his wisdom, he'd refused to teach her his arts. Frustration gnawed at her. Didn't she deserve a chance at real power? The power to clear her name, perhaps even return home someday. She wanted to impress him, to prove herself worthy.

Tilly squeezed her eyes shut, picturing the last time she'd seen him. That deep green that peered at her from his cowl, almost luminous eyes, his voice that echoed like whispers from the deep. He wasn't cruel, not exactly. There was a depth to him, a sadness that resonated with the hollowness in her own chest. Maybe it wasn't about brute force he saw in her, but something else entirely. Something she hadn't yet discovered. All she wanted was to impress him and capture his attention. To make him listen.

She had to impress him more. Impress him better.

@nixalegos

[tillyashton]

Send 💞 for a headcanon about the(potential or not)relationship between my muse and yours

Relationship doesn’t necessarily have to be romantic!

[tillyashton]

For Faith: "Feel like coming by the Shady Lady sometime and having a casual conversation? I think you'd get along with my boss, Lorenzo. We can scrounge up some ice for your face. Signed, N.E."

Grime clung stubbornly under Faith's fingernails, a permanent souvenir of her self-appointed role as Moonbrook's unofficial clean-up crew. Her fiery red hair, usually pulled back in a messy braid, hung loose around her shoulders, the aftermath of a particularly enthusiastic sweeping session.

A calloused fingertip brushed against something rough in a familiar gap between the tavern's wall planks. A note. The note itself was terse, but not unfriendly. It was scrawled in neat script that mocked her own. Literacy lessons ended abruptly for Faith at ten, when her parents died of illness and she was handed over to the Defias. Nevertheless, she percisted at sounding the thirty-one word note out... despite getting stuck on the word "Lorenzo."

Faith scowled, a familiar fire igniting in her gunmetal eyes. They didn't know her very well, these people who dangled promises or threats in cryptic messages. She wasn't some naive farm girl anymore and hadn't been one for the better part of twenty years.... But… ice. The throbbing in her lip seemed to pulse in agreement.

With a sigh, she grabbed a scrap of parchment left over from, who really knew when, and a chunk of charcoal from the hearth. The end of her education was evident in her handwriting. It was messy, spidery letters slanting at odd angles across the page; barely even the basics but the reply was clear. Fine. Shady Lady. When?

Folding the piece of parchment into a tight square, Fith shoved it back into the hole in the wall, a silent acceptance of the mysterious N.E.'s invitation. Maybe the ice was a lie, maybe Lorenzo was trouble, but one thing was certain. She was as curious as a kitten. ((thank you so much and I AM SO SORRY FAITH'S ASKS WERE TURNED OFF. I didn't even realize. Doh, dur! I turned them on! ))

[tillyashton]

Chocolate Madeleines

[tillyashton]

“Don’t work too hard,” The man says with a sigh, eyeing the Madame. “I will reveal myself in time but I will say that you deserve to rest. Azeroth has a way of making one feel like they need to do more than required to make a living.”

Tilly bustled through her bakery. Her hair, the color of a moonless night, was tied back in a practical braid. There was a smattering of flour on her apron and on the bridge of her tiny, perfectly sloped nose. Her honey-colored eyes, usually warm and inviting, flickered with a haunted intensity. She moved as if, should she stop, Azeroth -- or her past -- might come crashing down around her. Despite her frenetic energy, she was a tiny woman, barely reaching four-foot-ten and no heavier than a sack of flour. Yet, within her slight frame resided an alchemist's touch. She could conjure any sweet treat imaginable, from flaky croissants that shattered into buttery shards to impossibly light angel food cakes that seemed to defy gravity. A disembodied voice, a whisper like a passing shadow, brushed against her ear. She flinched. A flicker of jealousy ignited within her when the shadow spoke of rest. He, after all, could simply fade away, unseen and untroubled. She, on the other hand, could not. Azeroth was a harsh place, and survival demanded constant vigilance, constant work. "Never saw a sea stalk take a rest from growning just because the water was too full of brine" she finally said, her Kul Tiran lilt heavy.

(Thanks, anon!)

[tillyashton]

The Basics ––– –

Name: Kaylace Dorman

Alias: Faith Lewis

Age: 30

Birthday: December 26th, Year 10 (ADP)

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Marital Status: Single

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: Muted Copper

Eyes: Gunmetal Grey

Height: 5′4″

Build: Slim

Distinguishing Marks: Her most captivating feature danced across the bridge of her nose - a constellation of freckles, like a dusting of cinnamon scattered in a playful breeze. These tiny suns mirrored the warmth in her eyes, their color lost for a moment in the cascade of copper curls that framed her face. The hair, a riot of fiery tendrils, defied gravity in a way that both charmed and hinted at a wild spirit within. Even when her back was turned, the freckles and the unruly curls would give her away, a signature as unique and unforgettable as her smile.

Tattoos: Cogwheel brand on her right shoulder blade

Piercings: Ear lobes.

Common Accessories: A faded bandana that had once been crimson, a threadbare hat, and turquoise earrings that matched her studded belt.

Personal Information––– –

Profession: "Farmhand" / pick-pocket

Hobbies: Mending, Tailoring, Reading

Languages: Common

Residence: Westfall

Birthplace: Stormwind

Religion: None

Patron Deity: None

Fears: Being imprisoned

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: Single / None

Children: None

Parents: Lewis Dorman and Anetta Dorman (died from illness on the plains)

Siblings: None

Other Relatives: None

Pets: Asher, a grey mut she rescued. Penny, her reliable Chestnut mare.

Romance ––– -

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Preferred Emotional Role: submissive | dominant | switch

Love Language: Acts of Service

Relationship Tendencies: Heavy flirtation

Traits ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit: Frequently

Drugs: Never

Alcohol: Frequently

RP Hooks ––– –

Defias Brotherhood: She keeps a lookout for Defias brothers and sisters alike. Young or old, she's probably heard of you if you're in the Brotherhood.

[tillyashton]

Scenes from the Past

Rain lashed against the warped wood of the cabin, a relentless drumbeat that mirrored Tilly’s hammering heart. Outside, the wind howled like a banshee, tearing at the loose shutters. Inside, the flickering firelight cast grotesque shadows that danced on the log walls.

Tilly clutched a steaming mug of chamomile tea, its herbal bitterness a poor substitute for comfort. The rumors had been swirling in Drustvar for weeks – whispers about the Ashton homestead on the outskirts, about the shrunken hogs and the unnatural silence that clung to the place like a shroud. Some folks even dared to say "witch."

A sudden thump on the roof made Tilly jump. Her gaze darted nervously towards the small window overlooking the pig sty. There was nothing but a tangle of skeletal branches clawing at the night sky. But the memory of her earlier visit to the sty lingered – the vacant eyes of the shrunken pigs, their skin stretched taut over bony frames.

Taking a deep breath, Tilly tried to rationalize it away. Maybe it was just a disease. A particularly nasty one that stunted growth. But the whispers spoke of more. Of strange lights dancing in the night, of unnatural wails echoing across the fields.

A twig snapped outside, sending a fresh jolt of fear through Tilly. She strained to hear, her senses on high alert. Was it an animal? Or something… else?

Suddenly, a rasping came from her window frame. Tilly gasped, her grip tightening on the mug until her knuckles turned white. It creaked open a sliver, revealing the darkness beyond.

A singsong voice cooed from outside. "Miss Tilly? It's Evelyn."

Relief washed over her, so sudden and intense it almost made her dizzy. It was just Evelyn, her Evey, from down the road. She'd offered to check in on her after the rumors started swirling.

Tilly scrambled to the window, throwing it open. Evelyn stood there, her blush smeared from the weather. The lantern she carried swung like a pendulum from the crook in her elbow and cast a golden glow on her worried features. Rain dripped from her oilskin coat, soaking the ground below. 

"Evey! Thank goodness it's you. I thought…" Her voice trailed off. The weight of the night was catching up to her.

"Thought it was a banshee come for a visit, hm?" came another singsong chuckle, the sound surprisingly warm. "Heard all those silly rumors about your place. Nonsense, I say. Just a nasty case of hog flu going around."

She climbed inside, wiping her boots on the windowsill.  Even with her reassurance, the words felt hollow. But Evelyn's presence was a comfort, a shield against the encroaching darkness.

"Let’s light a candle and read by the firelight," she said, her voice warm and kind. "Seems like we both could use a bit of calming down tonight."

As Tilly set the lantern on her desk, she glanced back at the window. The wind still howled, but somehow, it sounded less menacing now. Maybe with Evelyn by her side, maybe with a glowing lantern, she could brave the storm – both the one outside and the one brewing within her own heart.

[tillyashton]

Happy National Pick Strawberries Day!

[tillyashton]

"Do you have a love interest, Miss Ashton?"

She was perfectly certain she was alone. It was her contentment in that fact that caused her shoulders to jerk forward as the silence around her was interrupted by a voice that sounded from just beside her. Or had it come from behind her?

She glanced round the room, her lashes fluttering in confusion as she blinked in hopes that some flickering shadow would be caught at her peripheral. When there was none, she sighed.

"And you want me to answer your question when you can't even show your face? That seems terribly unfair, I think."

The young magus closed her book and lofted her shoulders in a shrug. "But no. No, I have no love interest. My last love interest... I found him wandering out of a brothel in a drunken stupor, another maiden in-tow. I ended things with him after that. I suppose that I should have expected nothing less from a Stormwind dockhand."

(( Thanks, anon!! ))