Fantasy Quest for Domina Character Sheets

[Mikotsuhime]

(I've never done this before so forgive the lack of proper fancy formatting etc etc. Don't feel like you have to use my formatting or anything, either, feel free to put as much or little information as you want.)

Agni
Name: Agni, no last name.
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Appearance: Agni is a dark skinned young man of no impressive stature, with dark reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes. He's a bit on the skinny side, though he carries himself with the confidence and posture of royalty. He has a strong jawline but otherwise fairly delicate features that speak of his obvious youth and inexperience. His hair falls just mid-way past his shoulders, and he keeps it tied back with a silk cord; it is very rare to see him with his hair loose. All of his clothing is expensive and finely made, adding to the feel of royalty and high standing that he gives off; he dresses in red silks, often with white or blue accents and heavy embroidery. Both his ears have several piercings with many gold hoops, and he wears many gold and jeweled rings that also speak to his status.
Position: Agni is the main representative of Domina Island, and calls himself the lead Guardian. None outside of the Domina Sect, the island's reclusive religion, know what that means or what his position entails, but it is clearly a high one.
Personality: Agni tends to be haughty and somewhat arrogant, believing in his own authority and unused to being challenged. Due to his young age and Domina's isolation, he is fairly inexperienced and can often be shocked or confused by things that most common folk find to be ordinary. He has a fairly short temper and is quick to offense, but his moods change quite fast and his anger does not stay very long. More than anything he loathes his own inexperience, and wishes to be seen as a capable adult on the same level as other representatives during the summit.


Rowen
Name: Rowen Vareth
Age: 26
Gender: Genderfluid; defaults usually to male but often presents as female as well.
Appearance: Rowen is a rather tall and wiry person, dwarfing the two others in their party by at least a foot each. While their clothing and outward appearance tends to change depending on their current gender presentation, Rowen always puts thought and effort into their appearance. They are always clean shaven and neat, and their clothing is never out of place in the presence of others. Their complexion is paler than Agni's but still darker than the typical mainland standard, and their black hair is fairly short, just tickling the back of their neck. They have a friendly face, with thick brows and a wide smile.
Position: Rowen is a priest of the Domina Sect, though their exact position and responsibilities are unclear.
Personality: Rowen is usually fairly friendly and open; they enjoy talking and while they're far from a politician, they know how to butter someone up with the best of them. They tend to act as the mouthpiece for the party. They can sometimes be a bit difficult to get along with, though, as it's not always clear whether they're laughing with someone or at them, and they usually keep their true motives close to their chest.​

May
Name: May Garrison
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Appearance: May is a small but energetic young man who makes up for his lack of height with boundless energy. He has short but very fluffy blond hair that always seems to look like a bird's nest no matter what he does with it, and bright blue eyes. He shares a similar olive complexion to Rowen. May always dresses in bright colours whenever he can, preferring pinks and greens to the more traditional red and white of his homeland. He tends to get cold very easily, and wears many layers, scarves and cloaks to keep warm.
Position: May's position is an actual mystery. Agni seems to treat him as a personal attendant, but he has his own Guardian title as well. He doesn't seem to hold any actual power from it, though.
Personality: May is bright, bubbly, and incredibly anxious, all the time. He has more energy than he knows what to do with, and has a tendency to ramble and get nervous in situations he's unused to. He tries to be optimistic, most of the time, and has a strong desire to be good and helpful to others, which sometimes puts him in troublesome situations. Overall he doesn't have near the level of confidence or poise of the other two and isn't really suited for political talks.​

 

[FireMaiden]

Queen Amalia Lionheart

Name:
Amalia Lionheart
Nicknames/Aliases:
The Lion Tamer
Star Bender
Phoenix
Moon
Ame
Age:
20
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
A small woman of fair skin, and long black hair, which nearly comes to her hips, Amalia is perhaps not what you would expect. She stands at five feet, and four inches in total height, heels doing little to help, and weighing maybe 135 pounds, she has a slender, but curvaceous frame. She has no blemishes, nor tattoos, though she will occasionally wear a bit of make-up. She favors darker colors, reds, blacks, greys, etc. As many compare Leo to the sun, they compare Amalia to the moon, her blue eyes almost sharing the same grey color. Leo may be the sun, but the king does not outshine Amalia in anyway, her own beauty unique, standing out against the golden radiance of the King. It's hard to ignore a woman like Amalia.
Magic:
Phoenix: Typically described as fire magic, because essentially, that's what it is, Pheonix is much more. Amalia has been blessed by the mythical bird that grants her a special ability, as well as advancing her normal magic beyond her years of study. She can actually call upon the Phoenix, who uses her as a host to fight. Flaming wings, swirling designs of fiery orange cover her skin. He can only be called fourth in times of great need or emotional stress. And he's every draining to use. Her normal fire magic is simple, but she's very skilled with it.
Northern Lights: Well, you know what the Aurora Boreialis looks like, right? Well, Amalia can recreate the same natural phenomena anytime she wants to. It doesn't serve any purpose other than looking pretty and impressive people, but hey, that's something.
Position:
Amalia is Queen of Fier, Wife of King Leo Lionheart, and one of the main representatives of her kingdom.
Personality:
Raised in a strict family in a position of power, Amalia has embraced her upbringing to become the woman she is today. First and formost, the thing most people know about Amalia, even outside of Fier, is that she is a woman of the people. She feels an extreme loyalty to her Kingdom, wanting to do right by them the best she can. Public opinion of her is high because of her actions. She does what she believes is right, sticking to her morals that was bred from diplomatic veiws and military parents. She's know for her diplomacy, her ability to talk through most situations, and has even one talked down a possible leader for potential civil war, then went about fixing the problems she could to prevent from happening in the future. Intelligent, and highly skilled with tactical planning despite her lack of technical combat experience in a battle field, she's behind many if the plans King Leo puts into place. Now, many people think Amalia is naive, that she is easy to manipulate, and both her young age and inexperience can be used again her. That's not true in the slightest, though she will use this to her advantage. Following along with whatever is going on to learn about what the other part is planning. Ultimately, she will use it against you because she ends up using it against you.
​

 

[Reynarda]

Jurriaan
Name: Jurriaan Leeuwen
Age: Appears to be in his late thirties, but is actually in his late fifties
Gender: Male
Appearance: Jurriaan is tall, with the stature and barring of a career military man. He has red hair that is only just starting to show grey at the temples and sharp blue eyes. Everything about him is orderly from the shininess of his medals to the careful trimming of his hair.
Position: General of Fier's Army
Personality: Jurriaan is austere on the best of days and cruel on the worst. He expects his subordinates to do exactly what he says when he says and without questioning it. He is, however, a master manipulator and is adept of using words and emotions to get exactly what he wants. The means does not matter to him--only the end. He can be charasmatic when he wants to be and is a skilled tactician.


Bram
Name: Abraham Leeuwen
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Appearance: Bram looks like a friendlier version of his father. He is actually two inches taller than his father but slouches. His blue eyes are brighter and he is more prone to smiling. He is also far less polished and keeps his hair less neat. The pockets of his red captain's coat are generally bulging with knives and food.
Position: Captain in Fier's Army, Disappointment
Personality: Bram is extremely out-going and brash. He forgets names easily and will shorten them regardless of the owner's preference. Despite his habit of swaggering about and flirting and rushing into things, he's actually quite observant and intelligent. He's just impatient and would rather be doing things. He is a highly skilled fighter and an adept leader and has a strong set of morals.


Vladimir
Name: Vladimir Drakonii (He is slowly becoming to be known as "Vlad" due to Bram and he hates it)
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Appearance: Vlad has deeply tanned skin and black eyes. He generally keeps his appearance very neat with the exception of his black hair--which he allows to do what it wants. He is rarely seen without his black cloak, which can become anything from a coat to a scarf and was inherited from his mother. He is very slight and is nearly a foot shorter than Bram. He has angular features and a magical tattoo of his family's crest on the inside of his left wrist. He also has a spiral of runes around his left forearm, but he keeps his sleeve pulled down to hide it.
Position: Diplomat/Investigator of Fier's Vampire Council of Elders, Pain in the Ass
Personality: Vlad has been described as "bookish" and "nerdy". He's clever and knows it. He's extremely snarky, and he has a habit of getting himself into trouble with his mouth. He bends rules as he sees fit and uses the rest to his advantage. He's skilled with his family's magic and with strategizing. Despite his smart-ass attitude, he is extremely loyal to the few people he cares about.​

 

[Nepenthe]

Josephus

Spoiler: Image Reference

Name: "Joseph" to close friends, no surname
Age: 12 years
Gender: Male
Appearance: At a measly 134 cm tall and 38 kg, Josephus is noticeably smaller than his peers. His porcelain smooth, effeminate features aren't his allies in the gender department, either. A mess of untamed umber curls hover over his grey doe eyes that would look innocent if not for a haze that clouds them with indifference. His skin is so pale it's almost translucent, allowing a light blush to filter through on many parts of his form. However, his girlish features are focused only around his face, leaving the rest of his body to the mildly awkward control of childlike, toned muscle that's porcelain all the same. Though Josephus can't boast a bodybuilder-esque figure, it is clear he is more invested in fitness than most his age. Being a traveler by trade, Joseph wears the same set of clothing everywhere he goes: a white linen shirt tucked into wool shorts, knee-high wool socks, and a pair of leather boots. In addition, he dons a leather cloak, knapsack , and sheathed sword upon his back. Strangely enough, none of his belongings or body look remotely dirty or wary from use--aside from the sword, that is, whose sheath, hilt and blade look so ancient it is as if one swing could turn them to dust.
Position: Traveler (foreigner)
Personality: Josephus is a quiet, no-nonsense child with a short temper and overall irritable personality. He tends to keep to himself and especially avoids troublesome people like the plague. However, behind that bitter facade is a courageous and compassionate boy who will go out of his way to help those he deems worthy. He isn't really a puppy-kicking, heartless bastard--he just acts like one.


Abraham

Spoiler: Image Reference

Name: Abraham Kondor
Age: 42 years
Gender: Male
Appearance: The offspring of an elf and a human, Abraham has inherited features from both bloodlines: he has both an elf's height and a human's stature, yet maintains a youthful appearance even as he becomes what is considered middle-aged. Abraham's eyes are a light hazel and would match the color of his hair if not for the fact that they often shift to shades of grey and blue. He often dons a black velvet tunic and thick fur cloak made from some monstrous beast's pelt; a leather belt wraps around his waist from which a dagger and rapier hang. Abraham almost always has a serene look on his face, as if he is undisturbed by all.
Position: First prince of Kur. However, he is a bastard, and as such there remains a dispute over whether he shall ascend the throne.
Personality: Despite his half-and-half upbringing--Abraham was raised by elves until he reached the age of 10--he maintains a classically chivalrous air about him. Abraham will never be seen in public unkempt or disheveled, preferring to achieve a constant appearance of august. However, he is not vain but instead has set standards for himself, some of which are so grand they are seemingly impossible to reach.​

 

[Emmi]

​

[IMG='width:1226px;']https://i.pinimg.com/564x/06/24/eb/0624ebb454e62847e0efb90df0d93d62.jpg[/IMG]
|| Name ||
Celeste Esmerelda

|| Alias ||
Ice Heart or Captain Ice Heart

|| Age ||
22

|| Gender ||
Female

|| Race ||
Human

|| Nationality ||
Coming from a kingdom called Aria, she came to Embra to help out those infiltrate the island for resources. After being paid a generous price from the royal family of Aria, Celeste promises to help out these "ratillions" and "fopdoodles" with their resource problems. Of course, she was told to be at the summit--or meeting--to show that a pirate can be trusted.

|| Profession/Position ||
Captain of a Pirate Ship
Celeste ventures the seas and oceans in search of treasure and new land. Although she spends most of her time on her ship in the water, she can be occasionally be seen on land as well.

|| Height ||
5'4"

|| Weight ||
120 lbs.

|| Appearance ||
Celeste Esmerelda is a charming lady, yet quite scary. She has long, whitish blonde hair that's stylized into a ponytail. Her eyes are a light blue with a hint of silverish grey, and it seems as though light reflects from her eyes like shattered glass. She has fair, pale skin and luscious pink lips that are naturally glossy. Standing at 5'4", she's a mesomorph build. Her posture is completely straight like an aristocrat, and she carries herself with poise and grace. She wears normal, brown pirate attire and a large brown pirate hat with a white feather.

Spoiler: Pictures

|| Personality ||
Celeste is a very calm and woman with a great composer. She's a very graceful and poised young woman who carries herself with pride and dignity. Celeste is a very mature person who will never back down from a fight. Even though she's pretty cocky, she lives up to her cockiness. She's very clever and intelligent who seems to know her ways through the seas. Being courageous and bold, she's also very quick and agile. Celeste is also alert around her surroundings, since she has trust issues. Along with being dedicated, she will never give up even with the hardest obstacles thrown her way. Even with these positive traits, she has quite the number of negative ones too. Even though she's very calm, she tends to be cold and ruthless towards others, putting others down in a very tranquil way. She's a selfish woman who cares more about her money than friendship. Being anti-social, she doesn't really make many friends, since she tends to shoo them away due to her creepy behavior. She's pretty rebellious against the government, royalty, and nobility, and believes every word from their mouth is a blunt lie (due to her parents' cruel behavior). Or rather, a truth that's too far stretched. She's a very troublesome girl who's pretty stubborn and will never change her own point of view unless given clear logic and fact and you somehow convince her. Taking away her sarcasm, she's pretty humorless, too. Overall, her character alignment is in between chaotic evil and neutral evil.

|| Equipment ||
Silver Death - "Silver Death" is her trusty silver pirate cutlass. It's pretty long, about 30 inches in length. The cutlass has a black leather handle with designs carved into the leather, and the cutlass's blade is very sharp and clean. It's blade's color is a graceful silver that shimmers with true beauty. It's sheath is long with black leather and silver designs on it.

|| Items ||
Truth of the Sea - "Captain Esmerelda"'s beloved pirate ship. She cares for it and treasures it like her own child. She wouldn't know what to do with herself if Truth of the Sea went missing, destroyed, or stolen. It was her only friend.

Mother's Amulet - Her green amulet. She always wears this amulet (as seen in her images), and she keeps it with her at all times even if she isn't wearing it. It was stolen out of spite for her mother. Even though she hated her mother... she can't bring herself to destroy or sell the momentum.

Extra
|| Dialogue ||
Talking: Green, Bold.
Thinking: Green, Italic.

|| Quotes ||
"I assume you haven't heard about me... and that's fine. I'll just give you a head start."
"Truth? You believe what your own government says, no matter if it's Truth or Lies, and you believe they're Truth because of your goddamn loyalty."
"Pardon me, but I'm enjoying my wine. I don't have time for such a dumbass."

|| Theme ||

Spoiler: Theme

 

[Ryse]

"Lions do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep~"

Name: Leona Lionheart
Age: Forty Three
Title: The Lion King
Rank: King of Fier
Species: Shavaqian
Wife: Amelia Lionheart
​

King, a word commonly associated with a man who sits upon a thrown and places a mark of gold upon his crown. A title reserved only to he who possesses the strength, the power, and the authority to seize control and take command.

Tell me oh audience mine, do you see a 'man' before you? Or do you see a god? Whether by deception, or simply merciless and perverse devastation. Her jealous rage, her demoniac beguilement. Adonian rite, the smoldering grace of Apollo and the intentful lavish of Artemis's hunterian demand, she is the last remnant of primeval strike, the bow and arrow that brought down the erymanthian boar, the sharpened drive of the sword through the impassable flesh of nemean lion, and that severed the screaming heads of the lernaen hydra all within the single, fell blow of hardied hands; famed bane of Hera, the lustful fault of Zeus, within her, she carries the herculean heritage of divinity's past and the mortal fracture of human lethality.

Shuddering power of eidolon regime, reigning imminence of rugged kings of the wilds, it drenches her in a thickened slather of sworn herald made in the promise of wrenching blood cut from the thrumming heart-lines of a dying sovereign of primitive strain and drawn from the aegis of iron chalices. Looming, muscular, she is the Templar of holy divinity, a seraphic creation derived to become the bulwark of the ryche, a partisan, a knight devoted wholly to the presentation of chosen cause that had become the need for servitude of a higher, intended calling. Every inch of sleekened, roughened curvatures that brim with the hardened press of delving flesh honed, edging muscle that were wrought to withhold, to remain adamant against driving force that shift, ripple, and curve in the arch of gleaming sinew forged in the searing pyres of rigid cast, of Hephaestus's dwelling brilliance beneath sable, crimson flesh. She is the last meld born phillistine, of liberated savagery, the czars of old with her golden kissed eyes of steadfast assertion of unfaltering resolve that remains intent upon its final purpose; to destroy and conquer.

She is the goddess of victory and the priest of war. Foes will shudder in her quake and bow down to their holy ruler. A finesse virile gorged beyond the grooves of mist laden secretion, forever loitering along the tender, corroding banks of malevolent chill, an enticing, sickly aura of frigid seduction plaintively nipping at agile scolded heels. Whose lithe, cajoling embrace whispers of darkness, a scorching laden caress leaving flesh horrifyingly destitute, thrashed in succulent stagnancy from intrinsic skeletal allure. A churning altar echoing of fog, of haze clouded in incendiary delirium, she is the face of glacial provocation, the cooling touch that beseeches the towering rows of incendiary hellish flame, the corridor of endless gloss, light, and ill fates swallowed and consumed with harsh, self-vindictive compliance.

Se is wrung of moral blood, but ever still possesses the conduct proper of her years of long ruling, austerity a sinking, flowing entity, within which she wallows in the intoxicant dusts of socerous marrows long since dispersed. A ravishing sense of quiet discord barely humbles the reaping of her vainglorious engrossment, rampant lacings of venom induced hysteria carefully hidden beneath wrappings of immaculate propriety, frigid elegance, and poker faced debauchery all calmly mantling the dipped wax of swarthy, licentious filth feasting and breeding beyond the sultry veil of empyrean elitism.

Her image is everything and anything; a culture of splendor inseminated therein her noble cultivation and golden woven blood. In keen discernment her sophistication and restraint are the greatest of her tools within an inventory of polished felicity. In the vigilant spirit of prudence and precision, she waxes, and wanes, as the foundation of his endeavors would cause a discreetly judicious psyche to dictate.The all seeing; the all knowing; ruminations and observance bear no heed to rectitude, only efficiency. Inadequacy is neither entertained nor tolerated; for naught is her patience with undivided weakness. Each blemish she finds, on those who surround her, or upon herself, is viciously scrutinized, and mercilessly sacrificed to the flames and scattered into dust.

A precursor of famine, the ravager of beauty and the usurper of wealth. She is a woman composed of debilitating darkness, the cavalier of decay wrapped gallantly in genteel robes. A curved beak gilded, glimmering in its satiating garnishments of mannerly offence, acerbic syllables sure to scorch (the salt in a weeping wound) and appall, though bandage with liquid honey. There is a predatory charisma which exudes from every encrusted aperture; a miasmic allure, a tyrannous magnetism which alike moth to flame, only fascinates to burn.

To scald the skin, and fester the flesh. Classic, dapper debonair, she extrudes the more roughened persuasion of feminine refinement, the hard boned stature absent of soft and fleshy distinction to define a more a lacking caliber, but there is nothing upon her that manifests the slightest provoking thought of subtlety within the hardened expanse of powerful, rippling sinew, and delving, calloused features of someone who had to mature far beyond their due.

Of considerable frame, she stands of herculean derive, toned and edged in the sharpened raze of a driving blade, primal and coiled bearing of silent wait of a crusade vindicator, an artisan of both impassioned affair and war as its contrive lines the thickened proportion of virile eminence. Laden deep in the thickened raze of wildened obsidian, lavished in the profound hue of obscurity and penumbra, she is a creature of dusk and shade that looms in the contour of evoking the memory of midnight, of searing torridity, and the listless chime of carillon warning in the distance beneath the tracing intimacy of fevered fingertips as burnished, bedroom eyes of avid gold eclipse in the smoldering veil of carnality.

Shoulder blades arch and coil in acute strength and physical prowess, from their erotically protruding joints bask and spread the great wings of seraph's grace, breadth wide, power discernible, adorned in the long, thickened flounce of feathery aerodynamic down. She is the light who casts a lustrous shadow of eerie darkness, an enveloping grandeur shorn from years of ghostly, clandestine propriety.

Supremacy flows through the invisible chasms of an iron moat eroded by the soft ebbing tide of chilling waters. Embraced, in the saccharine fever of early Winter's fervent ice, her lips of pallid stone persist in sealed devilry, secrets hoarded in possessive fixation, the argent delicacy of this ripened lamb silhouetted against a mantle of supernal bewitchment. Cloying chess-master contessa; she exhales the seething breath of goddesses, embellished therein the conniving coil of mortal intrigue.

The exemplified omen of pestilence, an ophidian Queen, Mother of Lions, parse fibers and sinewy hides. She is wrought of volcanic marble, a deific countenance chiseled in reptilian devotion; her physique bowing like a prehensile avifauna, svelte curvature arcing in viperish flexibility, giving the impression of nimble fragility. Entangled by thorns; her bodice oft rife with cold machinating beauty, android and steely, whose desires lay dead and frigid within ophidian, slender shell. She were imprisoned betwixt the diaphanous fabric of lethargic stupor.

Barbed wire forged, woven of stygian pearl; hues of a tinted gold, they manifest an exquisite iridescence across adonial musculature, angled limb and sinew chiseled with gleaming jackknife artistry gleaned from the bow of artemis, carved in subtle sacrilege donning threaded heartstrings of heralded vessel. Sumptuous athleticism is lacquered in the scaling of draconian plate.

Her clothes are reaped from the throes of blinding darkness, the somber saturation of searing winter's falling agleam within elegantly whorled coiffure, hirsute curls and winding plume framing visage of baronial masculinity, temptingly and seductively mature in its cold, sinister regard. She is a mass of emotionless misfortune, a creature born therein the throes of cynical ordainment. Careened and cultivated in a sealed curse of misanthropic iniquity, a woman that views the world through lenses of darkened marble, the reality of the world a creation carved meticulously from the bleached bones of sin and transgression.

Devoid of hope, teeming with furtive despair, she dons no vein of faith, merely the veil of numb apathy, indifference a swarm of locusts forever collectively feeding upon the crops of trust which attempt to grow within her deadened psyche. No breed of quest fuels her, for such exquisite emptiness is soft filled by they who chooses what of which she will consist. She bends to the will of wrath.

A willing contessa; the blind courtesan offers freely the flesh of her neck in willowy propriety. And yet, an untouchable pariah in way of essence and chilling ambiance. A maw touched by Ani, darkened and burnt by the flames of the damned in Hell, it scorches her tongue and taunts her jaws to a mask of disguise, a mask of lies and a mask of darkness. Mother. Holds in a high regard, beautiful visage and delicate doll. Father. Immortal being, a God. No ropes of love tie these two together, only united in their goal to create something worthy of their legacy.

Tell me audience...is she not worthy?

 

[nearlyflowers]

Princess Nadia Anatu

Name:
Nadia Anatu

Nicknames/Alias:
The Bastard Daughter

Age:
18

Appearance:
Standing at a whopping 5 ft. 5 in. with a slender build Nadia is not someone who is physically intimidating. Do not let the slender build be deceiving though, she is quick and flexible. Locks whiter than snow frame a petite face and wide, piercing, icy blue orbs. The color of her hair and eyes were traits carried down from her mysterious father. Despite appearing to be full blooded elf Nadia is only a halfling. There is a beauty mark under her right eye and ears that draw into a point can be seen poking out past the white locks. Being a bastard child of her mother Nadia tries her best to avoid bright colors or anything that draws attention to her.

Magic:
Ice Creation: Nadia has the ability to create and manipulate ice. Water must be present to create any ice. Once of her favorite aspects of ice creation is creating animals. When creating creatures they can last for a day or so unless they are destroyed.

Position:
The Third Princess of Delvan

Nadia was sent in place of her other family members because her father and mother hoped that she would either not return or that she would forever be out of her there immediate vicinity. They are fine with either option.

Personality:
When Nadia was born tension spread like wildfire in the Delvan royal family because Nadia appeared nothing like her father. Prior to having Nadia her mother was accused of bedding a sailor and Nadia became living proof of her mother's infidelity. Being the bastard princess made Nadia's life harder than that of her older sister and brother. She had to fight with her father to get educated and prove her worth again and again. Her mother, guilty for her transgression, never provided Nadia with any comfort or reassurance. The maids and worker around the castle became her parents. Nadia is a mirror. To those who treat her with kindness she returns the favor, but for those who treat her with anything less see a cold side to the young princess. She will embrace those she feels close to and protect them with her life while those she deems unworthy will taste the cold metal of her sword.

Other:
In Nadia's possession is an egg. It is pitch black with black speckles. It is currently in her bag wrapped up in thick blanket to keep it warm. She found on the the cliffs by the sea.

​