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Life was never something of a luxury for Lynnelia, though it could be called a haven at times. Her family and herself were not always residents of inner Sundial. Her early life occurred in a place similar to the western, coastal region instead, far away from a more modernized area. It was a city accessed through one of the safer routes found connecting place to place, though they were by no means in a particularly wealthy part of the world. However, it was, in its own way, a place of beauty and a thing to be cherished for Lynnelia, who was born to a loving mother and father, the youngest of two daughters, and raised among the sea found there.
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Her childhood was not, however, a particularly eventful one, as there were not many children her age at the time, and those who were had already paired and tripled off with one another. Lynnelia would sometimes find solace in the company of her sister when the other would let her — as she was six years older than Lynn — but on the off days, which were many, she could instead be found helping her parents with the day's work or off to her own solitary activities. For the most part, Lynnelia grew up both alone and included; although she never truly made a real friend of her own during her time there, she wasn't terribly unhappy until the day that would change what she'd known for thirteen years of her life.

stitch by stitch i tear apart

They'd thought it was a storm just like any other, and the townspeople had fallen back to the safer regions away from the sea waiting for it to pass. People whose homes were nestled up there opened their doors for the night, everyone already so familiar with each other that it was almost second nature to do so, and everyone found refuge one way or another. The subsequent events were unlike any other they'd seen, a storm stronger than what they'd ever expect. A week had come and gone before it was deemed safe to approach the shore once more, and the townspeople found three-quarters of the homes stationed there demolished and unrecognizable. The Arnetts were among the unlucky few.
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Life grew more and more difficult following the tragedy until the day came where her mother told them that they were to take what little they had left and leave the city behind them - for good.
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Sundial was a place unlike anything Lynnelia had ever seen, a sentiment shared with her father and sister, though her mother navigated the streets with a familiarity she'd never answer to whenever Lynnelia would ask. All she knew was that they lived in the poorer areas of the city for two more years before their luck began to shift, the reason for which Lynnelia began to recognize over the years, for as she grew older she began to understand the intricacies of covens and those whose names ruled Sundial, and knew enough to realize which one her parents had aligned themselves with.
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Silvertongue.

if brokenness is a form of art

Ever since things began to pick up for her parents, the Arnetts moved out of the hovel and nearer to downtown Sundial, a place known for housing the coven in question. Initially, Lynnelia met the area with a mixture of wonder and distaste, though it was an upgrade from their previous living arrangements. She found herself lost in the whirlwind of it all too often, but it led to some interesting experiences she wouldn’t have been privy to elsewhere; in essence, Lynnelia’s familiarity with the tide transferred into befriending the busy streets she’d come to call home for the next few years.
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When she was seventeen, however, she’d lose more than she had previously thought possible.
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Her mother and father had gone out on one of their various excursions of which they’d never speak of, Lynnelia left alone with her then twenty-three year old sister who had already pledged her official allegiance to Silvertongue, as was proper — it was the only familiar coven they had, and after everything, the two girls were wary of approaching anything new. Up until then, Lynn was sure in her choice, but as the hours passed, and then days, with their parents missing, things began to waver inside of her.
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On day three, her father came back in the shape of a corpse.
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On day five, her mother was declared missing in action and presumed dead.
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A week later, her father was covered with a casket and bathed with a soil ceiling.
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It was something Lynnelia could not recover from; she began voicing efforts to find her mother, though her sister implored that she simply leave it alone and accept that whatever they had done had been a “botched job.” Lynn never understood this twisted insistence to retire her pursuit of the truth, and the two sisters were left on opposite ends.
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Four days following, a mere two weeks shy of her sister’s twenty-fourth birthday, she disappeared without a trace and only Lynnelia was left.
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Alone.

surely this must be my masterpiece

Three months after the loss of her sister, on Lynnelia’s eighteenth birthday, Silvertongue pursued her; they’d left her alone for the most part, but it became clear that they were wanting to collect her, especially upon discovery of her affinity. Lynnelia never understood the allure, all she knew was that her trust and loyalty to them was broken, and she’d have to decide what to do with herself to keep safe. She refused to believe everything was a coincidence, from her father’s death to her mother and sister’s disappearance in such a short amount of time. There was something, or someone, targeting them, and Silvertongue was not to be hailed as a protector of her own life.
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She knew of the three other coven’s whose names were large around Sundial, and she figured her safety was best placed in those with power and numbers. The Helios’ Knights were too noticeable, and while they were revered and respected, Lynnelia was not too fond of them. The Jester’s Den was also very well known, as was their location, which caused Lynn to naturally shy away from the coven. Her only option left was the hardest one to find: Leviathan, a coven known for its mystery.
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The decision was easy after thinking it through, and Lynnelia, an extremely stubborn and determined individual, pursued the coven to secure herself a position within its numbers. She knew, however, that simply aligning herself elsewhere wouldn’t protect her very much. Thus, she grew out her hair — which was so characteristically cut short and braided throughout much of her life — to an unrecognizable length and style, coloring it differently every so often, cut off contact with all those left who knew her as Lynnelia Arnett, and went under a different name.
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At nineteen, Ophélie Dodier was born, and the journey for the truth had begun.