Chapter Text
Name: Joy Falsa
Race: Tiefling
Class: Bard
Subclass: College of Lore
Appearance: Average height, slim, acrobatic physique. Chin length, fluffy black hair. Cherry red skin, permanently black lips and nails. A pair of black sheep horns curl around either side of her head. Has a soft, cherubic face, smaller nose, rounded features, and exceptionally sharp canines.
Likes to wear clothes that are easy to move in, shirts and dresses with light fabrics, usually pants that end at her calves, all in blues or greens. Wears a pack with her violin and bow strapped to the side. She has a pair of boots and a pair of shoes hanging off the side of the pack, but only wears them when she absolutely needs to.
Personality: In a word, bubbly. Excitable and optimistic, always willing to help or listen to someone vent, a little demonic ray of sunshine with an odd obsession with street food. Of course, she’s also a bard, and thus loves to be the center of attention. Big and flashy displays are her forte, both in magic and socialization. If she can talk to an entity she will try to make friends with it. All of this, while genuine in its own way, helps to hide a pile of self-doubt, self-loathing, and mommy issues. On top of all of this is strong distaste for unjust or abusive authority, probably getting her in trouble if she doesn't have anyone to stop her from cussing out a nobleman. Crippling claustrophobia.
Backstory: When Liandra Sepultura gave birth to a bright red baby with horns and a tail, she nearly died on the spot. Constance would grow up to wish she had. Not a single time did her father look at her without disgust in his eyes, or her mother kept from shaking at the sight of her, or her brother waste an opportunity to insult her or belittle her. They forced her to learn illusion magic just to hide her true form, for the sake of appearances in front of guests.
And when her new little sister, Cassandra, was born not a month after her 5th birthday, Constance might as well have not existed. Ostracized by most of her family, Constance rebelled against every attempt they made to make her a good, obedient little girl. She ignored or outright failed to attend her lessons, hid in the rafters, attic, or gardens of the estate, ruined the fancy dresses her mother forced her to wear with stains and dust and mud.
Most times she got away with her rebellious attitude, her family all too happy for her to be away from them. But on the rare times her actions disrupted her family’s precious image, or interfered with their business, her mother had a singular solution. She would drag Constance, usually by her hair, to a rarely used broom closet, throw her in, and lock the door. Then she would leave the girl there, usually for a few hours, while her daughter screamed and begged to be let out. But sometimes, Liandra would retreat to another part of the manor, far from her daughter’s voice, and forget about the girl. At those times Constance would be found by a maid practically the next day, sobbing quietly and mumbling apologies to her mother, swearing to behave.
These punishments, however, did nothing to dissuade Constance. While they did curb her behavior for a time, they mainly taught her to be sneakier.
Constance found little joy in anything. Well, with two distinct exceptions; music and stories. She lost herself, and her troubles, in music, wonderous sounds and songs making her dance with a wild grin on her face. She was enthralled with tales and legends of old, of grand adventures and dangerous monsters. Her wonder at these things, combined with her powerful rebellious attitude, led her to sneaking out of the manor grounds to see the world just outside.
And she loved it.
Autumnstone, the town her family ruled, was vibrant, full of peoples and races from all over the world, to the point where a little Tiefling girl went with hardly a second glance, much to her delight. Exploring and marveling at how wide the world suddenly was, Constance found herself wandering into a noisy tavern. Her eyes went wide when she saw a… another tiefling! She was blue instead of red, adornments and baubles hanging from her horns and tail. But the crowd didn’t seem to care, focused as they were on her music. She playing a violin for the patrons, a raucous tune unlike any of the slow elegant songs she'd learned. She was enraptured by the performance, along with the patron's smiles as they sang along, sometimes poorly. But no one cared. Soon after she had to sneak home, the memories of the scene playing over and over in her head.
So, one trip to town became another, which became monthly visits, which became every other day. Soon, "Joy Falsa" became a beloved fixture of the town. She began sneaking her own violin with her not long after her visits started, playing on the street to any who would listen. She received a few listeners and applause, a few coins even, which she usually spent on food carts and stalls. She had (and still has) a weakness for good street food and festival fare.
A few weeks into this, she met the tiefling woman she’d seen before, this time in her small audience. She applauded Joy’s talent, offering to teach the young lady, only 8 summers at the time, some new songs for a less noble crowd. Sea shanties, drinking songs, tales of valiant heroes, humorous songs, all new and exciting music that no aristocratic tutor would have deigned to show her. Of course Joy accepted the offer immediately, eager to learn both the music, and about this grown up just like her. After a few more months it was not an uncommon sight to see a little tiefling girl standing on a table in a tavern and leading inebriated patrons in song.
Around the same time, Cassandra had begun to garner more and more attention from the family. Apparently, the girl was perfect: kind, intelligent, well spoken, polite. All things that made her and Joy’s parents keep the younger sister from interacting with the older. However, despite their efforts, Cassandra sought out Constance. Whether she was hiding in the garden skipping lessons, locked away in her room because their parents had guests, or even high in the rafters of the library, Cassandra kept finding her big sister.
It was more than a little confusing for the tiefling, so used to being ignored or outright hated by everyone on the estate. As it turned out, however, her perfect little sister was also fearless. At first she was bothered by the attention, unused to honest curiosity as opposed to abject hatred. When Cassandra smiled at her she was almost put off, thinking it some trick, it had been a while since their older brother had tortured her, so she thought her little sister wanted a turn. But the girl never tried anything, just saying hello, asking what she was reading, or just sitting next her and watching the world go by. Slowly but surely, Constance got used to the presence of someone who didn’t wish she were dead, even enjoying the positive attention. Playing with and telling stories to her little sister became a third joy in her life.
Of course, this was met with strongest disapproval from the rest of the house. Any time they found the two together they were separated, and Constance confined to her room. Yet again and again Cassandra found her, or even the other way around. Eventually getting sick of having her time with her sister interrupted, Constance invited her to come with her to Autumnstone. Naturally, the insatiably curious Cassandra agreed.
Upon Constance telling her to call her Joy while in town, Cassandra decided to take the name Julia, to match her sister. Joy hadn’t enjoyed a trip to Autumnstone nearly as much as when her sister joined her. Showing her sister all the sights that had fascinated her on her first visit, trying foods with her, and watching the same wonder that filled her own eyes. The tavern was the highlight of their trip, packed to the brim with the loud patrons Joy had come to know. Their cheers as she stepped atop a table, their smiles as she played, Julia’s excitement at seeing her perform, it was a memory she would cherish.
And naturally, it preluded one of the worst times of her life.
Given how easily she snuck out usually, Joy severely underestimated how quickly they would notice Cassandra’s absence. They were discovered in town by the family guards, apparently franticly looking for the youngest daughter. When they returned with both, the Lord and Lady assumed that their rebellious demonic daughter had attempted to kidnap her perfect little sister. Cassandra insisted otherwise, begged their parents not to punish Constance for something she so obviously didn’t do. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Joy didn’t even try to defend herself, she’d long since giving up trying to make her family see her as anything other than a monster.
She was confined to her room, the door locked from the outside. She was left her violin but caged as she was the music felt… gray. Cassandra talked to her through the door, but never received a response. She settled into a somber stillness, the vibrancy of her life beyond the grounds taken from her. The confinement was, at least, not as tight as the old closet, but its permanence made it just as haunting. For three weeks she lived completely isolated in her own house, the sadness and depression giving way to restlessness and anger. She changed into her street clothes, grabbed the money she earned from performing, and snuck out of her window, maneuvering down the exterior wall to the one below her room. Sneaking through the house, especially in the middle of the night, was child’s play with how much experience she had. She stole a dagger from the guard’s quarters, some food from the kitchens, and, just to spite him, her father’s signet ring from his office.
Before she left she slipped a note under her sister’s door. It read, “Julia, I need to leave. You made my life here bearable, but now it’s too much. It will be a long time before we see each other again, hopefully we’ll be happier then. Just know this isn’t your fault, and I love you. Your sister, Joy.”
That night, Constance Sepultura, a twelve-year-old girl punished for the crime of being born, vanished from the world.
Joy Falsa, on the other hand, had a very hard time right out the gate. Autumnstone was quickly covered in guards looking to drag her back. She stayed at the tavern for a short while, but it became obvious she couldn’t stay. Traveling was much harder than she’d thought, the wilderness between towns a lot farther than she’d expected. Quickly finding herself lost on the road, hungry, and realizing how in over her head she was, part of Joy started to doubt her choice.
But fate decided it’d done enough to her, apparently. As she sat beneath a tree, rain pouring down, holding her instrument case close in an attempt to keep it dry and trying to fall asleep, a dark blue hand reached out to her. The hand belonged to the tiefling bard who’d taught her all that time ago. There was no explanation, no reveal of the tragedy that led her here, Joy simply fell into the woman’s arms and sobbed, the traveling performer silently embracing her.
Later, she’d learn the woman’s name was Esta and, in an act that she would always claim was a simple flight of fancy, she brought Joy with her. They traveled, performed, Joy’s music and magic improved as years went by. Neither asked the other questions of their respective pasts, silently agreeing that the present was far more important. It continued like this for eight years, until Esta simply vanished.
Joy awoke in the inn they’d stayed in to find no Esta, none of her belongings, only a note that said, “I’m sorry, I need to go and I can’t bring you with me.” And that was it, Joy was alone again. Not the scared, defenseless little girl she once was, but alone all the same.