Profile of Nephele: Quick Facts
Headshot, fullbody and pixel by me

Played By: Box
Basic Info
Full Name: Nephele “Sabah” Tsiuri
Subspecies: Vancouver Island Wolf x Iberian Wolf
Size: Tiny, Lanky
Sex: Female
Gender: Female
Pronouns: she/her
Age: 3 (April 28th, 2018)
Birthplace: Outside the Teekons
At a Glance

Thread titles taken from Wander. Wonder. by The Arcadian Wild
Profile of Nephele: Details
I paved my path
Somewhere hard to follow
Outplayed, outclassed
I said...

Catch me if you can

Set It Off- Catch Me If You Can

 #444444  #7c7c7c  #252525  #8d8d8d  #91d9d8

A woman of gunmetal silvers and dark sooty grays, Nephele has always been and will always be small, and malnutrition as a child has left her lanky of body, perpetually a little too thin no matter how much she eats. Her coat is rather thin and a little patchy in winter, especially around her scars. Most of her fluff seems to collect around her shoulders, back of the head and rear end, making her appear almost off balance. Spindly legs carry her about, most marked with scars from various misadventures.

She is dark of palette, fitting perfectly into shadow and night. Even her lightest colors tend towards grays, easily cast into shade. Monochromatic in nature, it is like she was born for a life in the flip side of morality, and her scars seem to note this with certainty. Three curve near one of her eyes, another just above, while yet more collect on her legs, her front legs displaying scars on each side. Perhaps the worst is one of her back legs, her right, which appears to have been torn up severely at some point in her life. The only stand out piece of her grey on grey color palette may be her eyes, which glitter like twin aquamarine in the light. Maybe not desirable for someone of her persuasion, but she’s never been the type to judge.
Now chant the tales and legends told
Strengthened by the hymns of old
Weathered as this winding road is long

So we sing our traveler's song

The Aviators- Traveler’s Song

She is torn.

Nephele is a woman scorned by life itself, and her trust is as easy to gain as her ire. Once it’s broken, she will never trust again, and often will simply vanish. Her silver tongue doesn’t serve her well these days, when she’s too scared of who’s she’s becoming to understand the world around her. She is desperate for attention, yet shies away from it as though it would burn her to touch.

Despite a once fervent belief, Nephele is not a gods fearing woman. Instead, her religion is a winding road, and her thoughts as her feet set upon it. She’s a good little subordinate, but a horrible leader. She could be greater if she allowed herself to be, but Nephele has never allowed herself anything besides her name, and even that is in danger of being replaced at any given moment. Niceness is not something she is used to, and she often either second guesses it, or feels too guilty to do what she wants. Nephele is a chronic lier, and reasons this as simply telling little white lies. She’s a grand spy, a better thief, and entirely doing the opposite of that.

But, above all else, Nephele is, was, and always will be a pitiful coward of a woman, at least in her eyes. No friendship or relationship has ranked so great as to come before her own hide, and she will run from friend or foe if it means she survives. In truth, she is not a coward, merely a survivor trying to keep herself alive in a world that has constantly tried to snuff her out.
No matter how hard I try I can't change the monster that I was
Even if I happen to find I'm fighting for a better cause
I've known since long ago that soon I will reach the end of my road

So till my time has come I'll just keep roughing it up like a rogue


Cloudmirror Manor
To understand Nephele, you must understand the smoking roots she left in her wake.

On the sides of an idyllic little lake, corruption spread like a disease, down to the groundwater. Cloudmirror Manor wasn’t a place of honor, propped up on the backs of the wolves beneath the elites. The elites hung to the positions with teeth, and stripped those below them of anything that could define them.

Nephele was born into the lowest caste in Cloudmirror Manor, to two criminals cast into serfdom. Even then, her name was not Nephele. They called her Dýo, as all pups born second were called in the lowest caste. The secondborn daughter quickly became the last daughter, her siblings perishing to the limited nutrition and rampant sickness. But even then, little Dýo wasn’t giving up. She stubbornly clung to life, forcefully pressing through her early days until she was aware enough to gain a different name. A name she quickly gained from the guards who kept her in the caste system she’d been born into.

They named her Troktikó, rodent, and beat her back down into her place. Nephele learned young that to steal was to survive another day, and to fight back was a death sentence. So, she did the next best thing. As soon as she was able to, she turned her head to the stars, and her feet to the ground, and she ran.

They tore her leg apart as punishment, and next they named her Droméas. Runner. Branded with her new rank, buried under more work, barely able to walk on the leg as the wounds healed to overly hot scars. But even she kept her ear to the dirt, as every Serf did, and when the Insurgents rose up, she was caught in the tide, an unwilling body in a war she didn’t want to fight. Nephele wanted to run again, but running almost killed her before. So she didn’t, throwing herself into the effort.

She came out of it with nothing. Cloudmirror Manor was burned to the ground, leaving nothing but poison in the air, and a scrappy group of youths with all the guts of any good story protagonist. Their leader, Pidáo, wrapped Nephele up in their schemes, and gave her a brand new name to go with it as they all escaped Cloudmirror Manor.

Belladonna. He named her for poisonous nightshade. Maybe that should have been her first hint that her life wasn’t right from the start.

The Monkshood Guild

Maybe Pidáo’s name was right.

He did leap into the idea with gusto when she suggested it in a hare brained hope that she could stop walking for a while, falling further and further behind. She had been easily roped into the position of reluctant best friend in the tale of Pidáo. Nephele followed him, for he was her ticket to food. He didn’t seem to get her reluctant nature, and tried to pry her out of her shell forcefully as he and his friends worked on creating the Monkshood Guild.

After they created it, one of Pidáo’s friends introduced them to the language of thieves cant, and Nephele took to the language like a duck to water. So much so, she was given the rank of Silvertongue. Diplomatic in nature, she was the salesman, the pitcher of ideas to customers. She never saw bloodshed and she was content in it, content in being customer service and car salesman alike. She even began to enjoy it after a while, happy to do her job for the man who’d become pretty much her only friend. Pidáo, however, wanted more from her.

A lot more.

She was two and a half years old when her world began to fall apart again, as Pidáo dragged her from her comfort zone straight into a new position set up right beside his own. Guildmaster. Nephele hated it from the start, tried to do her damndest to get demoted back to Silvertongue. Pidáo wasn’t having it, and instead wrapped her harder in chains of his own design.

Three months was all it took. Pidáo had been trying to court the grey coated woman, but had gone about it in all the wrong ways. Nephele was freaked out, scared out of her wits, and desperate for an out. So, she found one, and once again became Droméas as she ran for it. Leaving the Monkshood, and Pidáo behind her. Belladonna petals left in her wake, as she changes her name several dozen times. Raccoon, Possum, but she always keeps one name to herself.

Nephele Tsiuri.

Lone Wolf
Alone, but free

Free, but haunted

Alive, but is she really living?

What is written in the ledger of the living when the battle ends?

Alone, but free. She has to believe that.
Mother ?*
Father ?*

Best Friend (formerly) Pidáo

* =deceased
Pack History
Cloudmirror Manor
Birth-> 1y 2m

The Monkshood Guild
1y 2m -> 2y 9m

Lone Wolf
2y 9m -> 08/17/21

08/17/21 -> 10/19/21

10/19/21-> Present
Profile of Nephele: Additional Information
Registered on May 27, 2021, last visited 18 minutes ago

·Nephele’s first language is Greek but she is fluent in English and the language of thieves, Thieves Cant. When using either of the two foreign languages, a hover tag will be placed on the words.

· Thieves Cant will appear like normal English, but will have a color marker to show it is not.

· Nephele’s scarred leg is able to be walked upon, and retains its normal use, but is weaker than her others and often pains her if she has walked a long way

· Doesn’t have an audible accent except for moments when she’s angry, or bone tired. Even then, it’s not as thick as you’d expect from a native speaker

· Nephele doesn’t worship any gods, but if she did, her choices would be Hermes and Iris. Hermes as the god of travelers and thieves, and Iris as her childhood patron, goddess of rainbows

· Nephele believes in the Greek pantheon and it’s assorted mythology, but believes she is not someone they follow or wish to associate themselves with.

Nephele's Signature
english · greek · thieves cant
Attached Accounts
Player Notes
20.College Student.They/Them.CST.In the WOLF discord as Box#7156 if you want to chat!

Hi I’m box! You can find me online at random intervals, but most often during the week as I have nothing to do. I don’t ooc plot very often, unless it is something that will affect the livelihood of my character, such as fights or death. Other than that, I leave everything 100% up to fate.

As for me personally, I enjoy Pokemon, Ace Attorney, Fire Emblem, and of course rp sites. I’m also avidly into The Owl House, as well as half a dozen other things at the moment. I do not control the hyperfixation, unfortunately.
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