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 Posted: Fri Apr 15, 2005 11:59 pm
Welcome to Breena's Dairy  For more information about her, click the cert above.
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Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 6:51 pm
I. Contents
II. The Legend Unfolds
III. About Breena
IV. About Naita
V. The Manor
VI. Photo Album
VII. Friends and Foes
VIII. Possessions
IX. Gifts
X. Significant events
The following people have my permission to post here:
Quote: Cheshire or Xaria, as shop officials. Other guardians. Those wishing to either drop off gifts or have a playdate with Breena.
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Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 7:02 pm
Memories of a murdered babe.
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Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 7:04 pm
  Name: Breena Siri.
Gender: Female.
Age: Child, 5-7.
Race: Legend.
Residence: The Manor. A refurbished nursery near Riife's room.
Eyes: Deep purple, nigh on black.
Hair: Black as night, dropping in pools of soft curls.
Features: Deathly palor, skin that never warms.
Personality: Selfish to the point that she borders on what many would call 'pure evil,' Breena feels that the pleasure of others is an insult to herself. Thus, she takes pleasure in the misery of others, and cares for none outside what use they may have for her.
Though she is, technically, capable of caring for others, according to her decisions before the council, she chooses not to take this route, and her childish delights are the pain of others, both physically and otherwise.
Her mind is well formed, and intelligence was a gift blessed to her early on. She is fully capable of testing others, and of disguising her true intent.
A skilled actress, she can charm those who have no particular gift for insight. Only those able to see through her glimmering facade will see the true Breena, and thus know to stay clear of any of her tests.
Beyond that which she can control, Breena is a force of change. Her presence often marks changes in another's life, be it a haircut or a death. This she cannot harness any power over, nor, the majority of the time, see happening, for the changes do not often directly involve her.
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Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 7:04 pm
  Name: Lady Naita Elouin Siri
Age: Early to mid twenties.
Gender: Female
Height: 5"3
Weight: A lady never tells.
Compounded history: After rejecting the advances of the king, Lady Siri was sent by her parents to live in the family's country manor, along with her half-sister, Linaia, who was in love with a peasant she spent all her time with.
Though jealous of her sister's true love, she often fears that she did the wrong thing, and should have accepted the King's lecherous passes.
Personality: Though prone to jealousy and a tad proud, Lady Naita is caring to those whom she loves, and quick to defend them from threat.
She is a great believer that all should be fair and impartial, and tries to stick to this principal.
She has a tendency to take on responsibility, often before the thought of a consequence occurs. It is this trait that has led her to take on three wards, Ceiba, Eydis and Breena, as well as associate herself with a seamstress to now go by the name Naita.
Perhaps this same instinct led her to continue to support Linaia and Aelus after inheriting the Siri fortune.
With the impending birth of her sister's twin children, life for Lady Naita Siri is due to be turned upside down. Just how will she cope?
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Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 7:05 pm
Within are two wings, the East and West. The Easy is largely left to Linaia, or was before she ran off to be married, while the West is where Naita and her young charges sleep, and spend most of the day.
The frontal rooms, such as the formal dining room are a sort of neutral ground.
The other inhabitants of the manor are:
 Linaia- Naita's elder half sister.
 Aelus- though not technically an inhabitant, he visits too often not to warrant a mention.
Riife- The butler, one who spoils Breena and has been able to avoid her malice to a large degree.
Elsa- Naita's maid, first true victim of Breena's malevolence.
The house staff.
 Eydis- Naita's first ward, a child born of a book, inexplicably enough. Eydis is Breena's prime victim, and there is a silent war being waged between the pair.
 Ceiba- Though not as easily tortured as Eydis, for the simple fact that she is bigger than Breena, Ceiba's shy nature proves great amusement for the little Legend, as Ceiba is uncomfortable very often.
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Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 7:08 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 7:09 pm
"Friends."
Waya was the first Legend to meet with Breena's penchant for another's pain. She intends to train "the Puppy" to endure much more.
Prana, much like Waya, appealed to Breena for her apparently trusting nature. If nothing else, she could prove an easy way to hurt Guinevere.
Demare intrigues Breena, for he has an air that could prove useful to her.
Foes.
Though not a fan of people in general, Breena hated Guinevere more than any, bar Eydis, upon their first meeting. I do not foresee a bright future here.
The Undecided.
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Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 7:15 pm
The piece Breena now wears on a pendant about her neck. It is meant to be worn in the hair, but she is too small for that use yet.  Two items bought soon after her rebirth, locked away until she's older.
(Bought from Moorgahaine's Emporium)
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Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 7:16 pm
A beautiful lantern from Orphne! heart
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Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 7:19 pm
A drowned baby.
The river bed claims few victims to it's crystalline depths, but those unfortunate enough to succumb to it's lure rarely survive their dance with the water sprites. Such a victim made her ballet with the reaper on the 22nd day of the eleventh month, but a babe as the water chilled her limbs. And so the story of Breena begins.
Naita, suspicious of the joyous nature of her half-sister of late, escaped the confines of the manor, to trace the outskirts of her tiny village. There was a river that ran along the eastern side, and to this point of interest did she turn her feet, keen to bask in the cool ripples.
The way to the water was a quiet track, cutting away from the workshops of the little town, to move into the shelter of a little copse, the pines and oaks sheltering any to pass by. It was practically impossible in this place to notice another until they stood before you at an arm's length.
Humming lightly under her breath, Naita continued on the trail, eyes cast down to the sleeping babe in her arms. Eydis' was napping more of late, rather than less, as happened with most infants as they grew, but the peaceful slumber of the little girl was too irresistable to interrupt, even to see the beautiful sights of her new home.
The other girl in Naita's care, Ceiba, walked alongside, one hand wound tightly around a golden bag that dropped from Naita's shoulder, setting off the emerald of her gown to a tee. The Theos child had scarcely dared move beyond either the manor or the two HQ's of the Forgotten Documents and Theos hall, so to be in this strange place struck fear into her young heart.
The sound of water was growing strong in the ears of the trio as the shadows encircling them grew infinitely darker for a moment, perhaps only a consequence of the sun ducking behind a cloud, but disconcerting nonetheless. The change in light, indeed, sent Ceiba deeper into the skirts of her guardian, the soft folds always a comforting influence.
Eydis, on the other hand, barely moved, though the sweet waves of slumber had ceased moments before. Her blue gaze flickered over the face of the young woman carrying her, and one chubby hand was raised to grab a strand of raven hair that fell over Naita's shoulder.
Smiling down at both her charges warmly, Naita continued down the track, determined to show the girls the beautiful river that ran by her home, their home.
A break in the trees directly ahead revealed the first glimpse of the water, slow-moving and peaceful, trickling gently over the stones in the shallower areas. In the deeper parts, the current was gentle, and reeds grew at the banks on either end. However, something black could be seen ebbing and weaving fluidly with the water, something new.
Eyeing this strange addition to the flow, Naita's suspicions were immediately raised. Placing the blue-skinned babe in the arms of the shivering Ceiba, she kissed each on the forehead, and moved towards the cool waters with care.
As the Theos girl seated herself in the lush grass, Eydis wrapped carefully in her arms, Ceiba's mind raced with the possible dangers of this place. So many shadows, such deep water, it was not safe for her new family, not at all.
The thought led to a tighter grip on the infant, and even Eydis' unfretting disposition could not stand for the vice-like arms. Letting out a tiny whimper, the baby cast her eyes towards her adoptive mother, now almost at the water's edge.
In the water the silent movement continued, ebony tendrils bobbing with the water's unceasing flow. Their source lay below, on the river bed where no movement disturbed it's inhabitants, no sound pierced their ears. Here lay a tiny body, not long since deposited, but long enough to no longer crave the sweet air in it's lungs.
Green gown tucking between the reeds, Naita peered into the clear water, eyes adjusting to the lens-like effect of the liquid. Indeed, she saw the black strands of before, and caught now from whence they strayed. On the mud lay an infant, ragged dress covering her pale form, skin white as snow. Her eyes were open, staring, and dark.
With a quiet cry, the woman waded into the depths, caring little for her expensive dress for what was perhaps the first time. Finery mattered little to death.
Reaching down into the liquid, Naita pulled the limp child into her arms, cradling her as the great waves of sodden hair fell against the now soaked sleeves of the woman's dress.
Back on shore, Ceiba watched the activity with a vacant look, consciousness breaking away for a somewhat more mysterious presence. Her grip on Eydis had loosened, and the baby's face was for once a mask of fear and darkness. The aura of death was spreading from the child in Naita's arms, and both her wards could feel it, distrust it, dislike it.
There seemed little time for protest, though, as the young lady made her way out of the water, petticoats falling sadly against her legs as the water sloshed through them. Making her sad, wet path back to the pair, Naita sat before them, drowned babe still cradled, but eyes closed by the woman, giving her a look that floated somewhere between sleep and eternal slumber.
"She's not dead, you know. Not really, not forever," Ceiba chorused, barely over a whisper, and in that same melodic tone her grandmother was known to adopt. "She will awaken, though she will never truly live, just as she is not truly dead."
Astonished, but trusting of the little possessed girl's abilities, Naita nodded numbly. She would take the drowned girl to Wiralu, the old woman knew better than any the ways of the world. She would know.
And so the trio scurried away from what was to have been such a happy outing. One feared for the lost life of an infant, one distrusted the supposed loss of life, and Eydis alone left the place with a heart pierced to the core with fear. The pale babe's face would not leace her mind's eye, that stare constantly directed at her, watching.
Cross-posted from Eydis' journal.
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Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 7:20 pm
Visit to Wiralu
As the pale morning light stretched it's way across the lands, a shadow moved swiftly, black against the grey morn. Naita, wrapped in a black cloak, almost appearing as liquid in it's superior craftsmanship, walked over the dew-kissed lawns of her home, headed for a familiar landmark.
In her arms lay a silent bundle, grey as the morning light, though white skin peeped through the material now and again, as did strands of hair, black as night and longer than seemed possible from it's size.
Lady Siri moved swiftly, her own raven locks flying free behind her, having left too early for her maid to style them in any fashion. The sight she craved soon met her gaze, the Theos hall, and beyond it the entrance into the forest of the two tribes who gave those children life. Taking the familiar turn without decreasing her speed, the woman scarcely even took a moment to look about herself at the wildlife. The sun was making it's appearance over the mountains now, breathing life into the land, awakening the many creatures that slumbered.
A bird sang ahead, sweet trilling lilting in time with Naita's footsteps.
The forest passed in a blur of green. It was not important, nothing but her destination was important today, nothing. She had to find the old woman, for she would know what to do, what to say, how to help.
A dark form loomed ahead, stark against the natural ways of it's surroundings. The obelisk! She was close, so very close. Her feet picked up speed, leaving the ground and kicking up dirt as she ran. Around her everything swam, a haze of shapes and colours until two white posts brought her senses round.
The posts, markers of the Luna village, were crafted from the wood of the old tree that played such a part in their history. Upon their faces were carved all manner of decoration, all depicting some part of Luna history.
They were things of great beauty, but Naita was in no humour to admire or study them today. She had to see Wiralu.
Jogging into the village, the woman practically wept with gratitude to see the aged face of the woman she came to seek eyeing her from a seat near the sacred altar.
"My Naita," the old woman called to her, raising her ancient body with alarming speed.
"My Naita, I see you have brought me a faery child."
These words puzzled Lady Siri, not least of which because Wiralu's ability to know just when and why she would come seemed odd to the young woman.
"Wiralu," she half-sobbed, "I think she's dead. Can you help her?"
Frowning, the old woman shook her head, eyes boring into Naita's.
"You know I have no control over life and death, my Naita. I can tell you what best to do with the faery child, but I cannot affect it's fate. Bring her to my home, she is not fit for the altar."
Nodding helplessly, the younger of the pair followed her aged friend to the stilted cabin, and made her way inside. Placing the wrapped infant upon the white table, she revealed the pale Breena to Wiralu's appraising eyes.
"Dead?" Wiralu chorused, with a hint of amusement, "no, sweet, this child has not made that choice. She is, however, not alive, nor will she ever truly be, I imagine. She must choose her own fate, and is too young to choose well.
She will awake, and how she will emerge I cannot say, for it has not yet been decided. I will say this, my Naita, do not seek to change her. We cannot change a greater will, and it is in that quarter she lies."
Coming to the end of her speech, she handed the bundled babe back to Naita, sighed wistfully, and kissed her friend goodbye.
"Take care, sweet," she called to the retreating figure of Lady Siri, before muttering, "you will need to."
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Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 7:30 pm
Days of death.
When Breena was born, her first sensation was her mother's warm skin against her own. The world was too hazy yet for visions to grace her eyes, or voices to grace her ears. But the sensation of a mother's touch is a connection to the world, an awakening of the soul. With this connection made, Breena's world collapsed back into a jumble of noises, colours, and odours.
The next thing she would feel was that which could only be described as the polar opposite of her first experience. Ice swam in her veins, death danced before her eyes, and it bore her mother's face. As she was held below the current of that icy river, her heart was touched by the chill of knowledge, as much of sensation.
Darkness embraced her, the world seemed to simply float away. She knew utter peace, utter contentment, but only for a moment. For in that darkness, a voice, comprised of innumerable voices, rang out.
"Child," it called, "child, you have come before us full young."
She knew the truth of this, gifted from birth with an itellect far outstripping her frail years.
In the void the chorus seemed to hang on every particle. She could not be sure she existed, let alone some golden note that spoke, yet could be felt, breathed, tasted, and seen, all with no sign to the spirit it addressed that it truly existed.
"Who are you?" she called, or she thought she called, for it was as a thought, imprinted on the brain, but bearing no sound.
"We bear no name, child, but you may call us the council. Your fate is yet to be decided, for your purpose for life was never met. We are each of us meant for something, and you must choose a new course, now that your previous is lost to the river. Rest well, child, for you will be addressed again."
With this, the seeming presence slipped away.
Breena felt no pain, no time, no sense of anything but the great emptiness of the inky void surrounding her. It bore no terror for her, for it held great peace, a knowledge that she had nothing to fear whilst there was nothing to be felt.
At length, after a day in the time counted in the plain of mortality, as promised, the chorus returned, presence ringing through her solicitude, issuing it's first question.
"Faery child," it sang, "your first decision must be made now. You may think not upon it, but do that which your heart speaks true.
Do you choose to stay, or return?"
Though it had seen fit to tell her not to think, such a declaration seemed ill-advised, for no time was allowed before an answer was drawn from her, from whence she knew not.
"Return," was the single word offered.
The chorus seemed satisfied. "Very well," the voices sang out, and left her.
Time seemed not to exist in this darkness, though the world around Breena's lifeless body continued to turn on it's axis. It mattered little to the dead whether a day or a year passed, and so the two days of silence passed unmarked, before something awoke. Out of the murk, the council's resounding voices chimed, the time for choice once more upon the young spirit.
"You have chosen to return, and now must your path be set," it rang out.
"No being is truly righteous, or truly evil. However, every mortal creature must choose an affinity towards one more closely. You, child, will stay true to the path you choose, never wavering. No time is to be given you, for you must choose that which is your utmost desire."
Again, it seemed the answer was drawn from Breena's very essence. "I will not be righteous," came her response.
Emotionless as ever, the untold voices marked their assent, and slipped away.
Outside this realm, the child's arrangements were being made, a room set up, her corpse placed in a crib each night, cuddled and treated as if it were alive. Lady Siri had taken the news she would live, or something like it, to heart, and determined to give that babe every possible pleasure. What would she have thought had she realised the futility of her cares? What would she have done, knowing that the soul that had vacated it's vessel for the time was making choices so against her solicitude?
Away from these wordly cares, the void continued on in it's accustomed way, passing hour after hour without noise, movement, or thought. The days numbered five now, since the child's spirit had come, and her time to leave drew nigh. But two questions remained unasked, and the council would have her make those choices.
On that fifth day, a clear, bell-like voice rose above the others, enticing and sweet. "My child," it called, "my own child. Now comes the choice of your gifts, your mark on the world." Apparently more than the voice would be appealing today.
"You may regain a gift of birth, your skin's warmth, long fled from your body, or master a new gift, offered by the west wind, that which blew your warmth away. It offers you sorcery, the ability to beguile your fellows. I will give you time to choose, but not long. I will return soon."
Dying away, the sugary voice left Breena in turmoil. Never before had she been allowed to think of her answer, rather than feel it. She mulled, and after an hour in the realm of her body had passed, she was called on for her answer.
"Sorcery," came her simple reply, a thought scratched into the darkness.
"A fine choice," her benefactor cooed, and flitted off into nothingness.
On the seventh, and last day, again it was a single voice that rose to meet Breena's attention, this time neither enticing nor golden. It was cold, mechanical, and showed no means of leading her towards a choice.
"You have made your choices for life, path, and gift, girl," it called, "now you must choose that which eclipses all others. It can cancel out any of the other three in a trice, or strengthen their resolve.
The choice I give you, is the choice of whether to love with a full heart, or a cold heart."
Preparing to make an immediate answer, Breena's instinct was checked as the voice rose again, almost deafening.
"Choose not before I tell you more.
If you love with a full heart, your chosen path will be clouded, and you will wander as guided by emotion. You will care for those who show you kindness, and will not beguile them with trickery. You will die for love, it is the fate I offer in this choice.
If you love with a cold heart, your chosen path will be lit, you will stray little, if ever. Your sorcery would grow accomplished, much put in practice. You can love, in short, but never easily, and never clearly.
Fate is uncertain with this, but you will likely die in misery, as you lived.
Your choice is not for thought, as you leave us momentarily. I want your answer now."
Breena was not sorry to be allowed no time, for, to be sure, she did not wish to be left in the darkness feeling for the choice of her bruised heart.
"My heart is frozen now," she attempted to voice, though as usual her answer came as no more than a thought, "why change that?"
"Very well," came the weak response, before the council fled, never more heard by her.
The darkness rippled around her, growing silver, bright, and then faded into the physical world, a nursery.
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Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 7:33 pm
The Awakening.
Outside the window the sky was smeared with orange as the sun made it's last gaze over the land, ducking lazily behind snow-tipped peaks. Soon night would set in, inky black and bejewelled.
Out on this scene Naita turned her eyes, sleeping babe at her breast as she tipped to and fro on the old rocking chair, floorboards creaking in a tired rhythm. After hearing the child's pained scream pierce the silence the previous night, the woman had determined to see little Eydis to sleep, before laying her in the cot this night.
On the lady's shoulder hopped Eydis' companion, the avian daemon, Frozen, determined to keep his unsleeping guard over the infant as she slumbered, allowing no harm to come to his tiny mistress.
Standing and making her way to the aged crib, Naita lay Eydis in it's soft blankets, carressing the babe's cold skin with a single finger.
"Sweet dreams, my darling," the woman whispered, before planting a kiss on the child's forehead and blowing out the flame beside her bed.
Repeating the sequence of the previous night, turning her attention on Breena before leaving, Lady Siri then tiptoed out, retreating to her own quarters.
Through the window the scene changed, all light petering out quickly and darkness spreading over the countryside. Ere long, the stars began clamouring for space, each pin-p***k glistening and glinting in mad attempt to steal the eye from any other.
And then came time for the crowning glory- the moon's rising. But no orb graced the skies in it's pale beauty. A new cycle had begun, a full seven days from the day by the river, darkness stole the attention from even the brightest star.
Lo, in the familiar cradle Eydis stirred, mind ablaze with image, that dead stare piercing her mind's eye once more. Again her mouth stood frozen in a silent scream, but tonight something had changed, for Frozen, instead of lying, asleep, beside her, the tiny avian hopped about her head in confused fury. Something troubled his mistress, something ached in her mind, but he could see no foe against which to defend her.
But across the way, the foe awoke.
In the other crib, a twin of Eydis' own bed, Breena's eyelids fluttered, the moonless sky perfectly visible from her placement. It was as if they darkness shone upon her, calling her back from whence she had lurked, and it was too irresistable a call for the pale child to ignore.
As if in slow motion, the babe's muscles tensed, relaxed, and tensed once more, chubby fingers rolling against her palm. Life, it seemed, could return to the cold body of this infant.
Back in the first crib, the blue-tinted infant's body lay frozen now, paralasys ceasing any movement in her muscles, and only her mind raced on, the carpet of insects writhing once more towards her, the mass undulating and forming singular beings, maggots, worms, every disgusting thing wishing to eat at her flesh. They were rising faster now than the previous night, the insects larger, hungrier.
That stare always seemed so constant in Eydis' mind, always present behind the hoards of base creatures, and tonight the stare had escaped her conscience. In the twin cot, two dark eyes shone gloatingly upon the terrified Forgotten girl, their pleasure evident. Breena's hunger for pain was being brilliantly satisfied by the terror of the other.
The psyche of the scared babe raced on, maggots spilling now into her cot, squirming and crawling towards her frozen feet, grey forms slithering with terrifying speed towards her toes. And from the darkness came the unseen presence of something larger, lurking in the shadows, waiting for it's moment, the moment to sink it's teeth into her waiting flesh...
Again, it ended with a scream, echoed by her room mate and complimented by a shrill screech from the surprised daemon, now huddled in one of Eydis' chubby outstretched hands.
It seemed Naita would have to deal with two wailing girls on this night of fear.
Cross-posted.
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Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2005 7:52 pm
Dreams of the river.
As the face of her guardian hovered above her, grey eyes searching, as usual, Breena's mind slipped away, slumber washing over her form. She had not grown accustomed to Naita's perpetual need to kiss her goodnight, nor the necessity to tuck in a babe who felt no difference between a frozen or a balmy night. Still, these thoughts soon washed away on the tide of sleep.
The clock ticked idly away, it's constant noise the only sound in the room. Eydis turned in her cot, Frozen ruffled his feathers. Only Breena lay perfectly still. Her eyes were twitching, though her limbs stayed completely motionless, arms at her sides, legs falling away beneath her torso.
Images were beginning to flood the infant's brain, the dancing reeds, a twig floating by, and a beautiful face abstracted by the waves. It was a memory, a memory of Breena's last moments of true life.
The face above her turned, quickly, features denoting a shock. Someone was coming, though only the sound of the rushing tide was known to Breena's ears.
The woman's face held visual perfection, every feature exactly as it should be. Her eyes were large and bright blue, completely unlike her daughter's coal black peepers. Her mouth formed a perfect rosebud, naturally red and usually twisted into a prettily coquettish smile. Her nose was small, thin, and straight. Her cheeks, kissed with pink, dimpled slightly when her smile took shape, but now they were drawn, pale.
Somewhere nearby a fish kicked against the tide's flow, stealing Breena's attention for a split second. When she again raised her eyes, the woman's concentration was upon her once more, but distracted. Something had alerted her, and now her task must swiftly be undertaken.
Breena's quick mind alerted her as she was pushed lower, and a stream of water made it into her mouth, down her throat as she gasped at the chill. She would feel the icy liquid gush towards her tiny lungs, but any attempt to rectify this resulted in more following it.
She was dying, and knew it now. The world was growing hazy, hazier, even, than the waves occasioned.
The firm grip on her shoulders loosened, then fell away altogether as the woman was finally sure of her task, and could no longer stomach the fear of those approaching. Breena watched her rise, dress wet, and run away, splashing her sodden petticoats with every hurried step.
No longer held down, the infant's form began it's ascent, but too late. The water's deafening roar had died away now, replaced by a throbbing in Breena's head. That hazy lens on the world was increasing, colours beginning to blend into each other, the paint of her view tainted by the water in her lungs.
The paint soon trickled away altogether, and only darkness remained, that dull throb continuing for a few ghastly moments. Breena seemed to be falling, falling into the abyss when a sudden shudder through her body rippled her mind back to waking.
Eyes popping open, then narrowing once more, the infant let out a shallow breath before turning, and resolving once more to slumber. The dream never left her, but it was not in her nature to fear it, nor to much care for the emotions it attempted to tug from her cold heart.
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