Ismenia de'Rossi, the Idealist

Chancellor of the People's Resistance of Florestal & Council Member of the Half-Elf Cadre

I will never forget the first time I saw her.
The pounding of my heart in my ears drowned out the distant clop of horse hooves on the main street, the echo of the thunderstorm that would descend that night, the dull hum of the passerby. I tried to calm myself again and again but to no avail. My panic had nothing to do with her. No, I had not even met her yet. The reality of where I was and what I was about to do was sinking in and I was oddly grateful I could not afford breakfast or else I would be retching it up right now. Underneath the rusty street lamp on the corner of Aiven's Road and some unnamed street, I was waiting on my first john.
It took me days and many hard events to come to this point and I took no pride in it. The shame of my predicament weighed on me more than anything. Despite how poor we always were, I was never homeless like I was now. I could never count the bones in my spine as I could now. I had never been so utterly alone as I was now. Shame twisted my heart as people on this dirty back street leered at me; not in lust but in disdain. I knew my dress was filthy despite how I tried to clean it and my cheeks were sunken and hollow, as were my eyes. After a few hours of being mocked and spit at, I gave up on this corner. I was going to give up entirely, but I nearly swooned as I walked away, my head swimming and my gut aching.
I knew there was a tavern nearby. The sun was setting and if I bided my time, someone drunken enough to overlook my mewling and emaciated body might see just my red hair and fair skin. I was numb at this point, swimming through a blurry sea. I almost did not notice when someone finally approached me.
"What are you doing...?" her voice was soft but firm, snapping me from my haze. I stammered in surprise, unable to answer the question where the answer was so obvious. Even in my state, I was aware we both knew what I was doing on this corner, but in not as many words she wanted to know why. Apparently, I was just that pathetic looking. In her company, I saw a few other people standing back and watching this display. I felt like I was on a stage waiting to be laughed at... but the laughter never came. To my surprise, I felt her fingers brush my cheek.
I gasped in surprise, loathe to let anyone touch me, and stumbled back. She shushed me gently and suddenly made the oddest request.
"May I see your ears?"
I faltered as that was the last thing I expected and I felt a stone drop in my stomach. No one must find out again! I thought frantically, my panic refreshed. Hiking my skirts, I turned to run but her grip stopped me. The others that accompanied her responded as well and I suddenly knew I would never have escaped anyway. She was not very strong, but then again neither was I in my condition. I opened my mouth to plead and beg for my release. Gods knew I could not fight, let alone so many people. My words died in my throat as I saw her lift her own hair out of the way, revealing pointed half-breed ears that were just like mine.
"Sister." She said quietly in my own tongue of Elvish, slowly letting go of my arm. The shock of the moment made me want to bolt again, but something kept me rooted there. Feeling the others' eyes on me, my gaze darted over. A blond woman followed suit, giving me a little smile and revealing the same half-elven ears. It suddenly dawned on me that everyone immediately present bore the same sharp and delicate features as I. It is easy to get lost in the sea of faces in a city, especially in one as dense as Visentia.
"What's your name?" The question, uttered again in the Elvish tongue, was simple but it took me some effort to recall the right answer at the moment.
"V-Valyrie..." I managed, "Valyrie Tharaen." I finally swallowed, able to address the others. My heart language felt strange in my mouth... it had been so long since I had spoken it. "Who are you?"
She smiled softly at me. "I'm Ismenia. Ismenia de'Rossi." As her hand touched my shoulder, her touch was just as gentle as her voice. "Why don't we get to know each other over a meal, hmm? I've heard the taverns at this end of town aren't that bad."

● ● ●

We talked for hours on end and I met each of the others in her company. She regaled me with her account of the Cadre and what it now was and her intentions for what it would come to be in the future. There was something behind her eyes as she spoke. Determination, I believe it to be. I have seen it many times since then.
When the last call at the tavern came I thought we would part ways, but she extended her hand to me in an offer. Who was I to join such a cause? I felt wholly unworthy. Not of her, but what they were pursuing. And yet... something higher than myself called me. I found myself accepting, entering these strange creatures' company to become one of them.
I too became unseen and unappreciated, but somehow fundamental. I never said as much, but being in their presence filled me with an unquenchable desire to better myself. With a home where I was able to look beyond my own base needs for the first time in my life, I could see the mountainous vision Ismenia pursued. This vision was a fantasy on its best day, but she had a way of making us believe it could be a reality. Change must begin somewhere she reminded us when doubt began to creep in.
In every way, I knew how I made myself essential to the Cadre. I discovered skills I did not know I possessed as I observed her weave her magic with words and plans, subverting all of our expectations. I soon came to find that her magic could also be quite literal. She taught me in this too, introducing me to the birthright of our people that had long been forgotten to the swells of time.
Ismenia is another kind of creature to me. I have never met anyone so entirely secretive yet honest, cunning yet cautious, or compassionate yet ruthless. I endeavor to be her equal, even if such a pursuit is a lost cause.
From the back of the room, she weaves her tapestry while the rest of us feed her threads. When this revolution is said and done I yearn to see the work of art she has created. But even more so, I wish to help her start another piece with the new age.

Ethnicity

Igniting 'The Cadre', the Spark of a Revolution

Age

Not disclosed

Date of Birth

24th of Adern, ??? PGS

Gender

Female

Eyes

Dull gray, observant

Hair

Long, wavy, cool brown

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Fair, rosy

Height

5'9"

Weight

160 lbs