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𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗘𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗥
𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑅𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑠
001. Lenore Leroux | The Council Building
002. Topaz Ellington-Wyver | Dining Room
Clocktower Square | Roleplay #1
Taz went to the weekly farmers’ market at the Clocktower Square with her best friend and platonic wife, Fae, to browse the booths and pick up some fresh produce. As usual, she threw a bit of a tantrum, but Fae, with her firm and gently forceful way of interacting with Taz, calmed her down in no time. Awww!
The Kitchen | Roleplay #2
Taz and Fae began dinner for the Ellington-Wyver family dinner, which started playful and teasing but ended a bit strained. Taz was a being a little too chaotic, which led Fae to being a bit overwhelmed and short there at the end. Taz went and set the table before heading to her room and leaving Fae to finish up, which Fae shortly after sent Taz a magical message with an apology.
003. Ivorii Altan | Oakwood Apartments
004. Ender Delacroix |
005. Nahilia Thorne |
006. Kyo-Hae Lucke |
007. Azuela Coral Stormvale |
008. Fallon Torrent |
009. Chae Wei-Xsu |
010. Luca Leroux | Fablecraft Amphitheater
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001. Lenore Leroux
Log Entry #1: Kindling a Spark | Incomplete
↪ Interaction with Lucarius.
002.Topaz Ellington-Wyver
003. Ivorii Altan
Log Entry #1: The Cost of Becoming | Completed
↪ Ivorii coming home after her militia initiation to see her father packing to leave.
004.Ender Delacroix
005.Nahilia Thorne
006.Kyo-Hae Lucke
007. Azuela Coral Stormvale
Log Entry #1: The Ballad of Azuela Coral | Incomplete
↪ Haunting little entry about her on the beach thinking about her namesake ballad.
008.Fallon Torrent
009.Chae Wei-Xsu
010. Luca Leroux
Log Entry #1: What She Sacrificed | Incomplete
↪ A day out with his mother, Lenore, who tells him about her past.
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𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗟𝗘𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗫
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Lenore is a small, warm presence with wide, soft brown eyes that still hold a quiet twinkle, even after all her years. Her thick crown of curls has long since turned gray, but the silver waves frame her face in a way that makes her look all the more dignified. Time has left its mark in gentle wrinkles across her cheeks and forehead, which accentuates the softness of her features.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her body is littered with scars from years of being at war, all of which are covered by the thick, oversized sweaters she constantly wears. She is known for being endlessly cold—she’s rarely seen without a thick, cozy blanket draped around her shoulders or tucked into her lap, no matter the weather.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Lenore is deeply respected for her quiet wisdom and unwavering gentleness. Her insight is often delivered softly but lands with the kind of weight that demands listeners to understand. She listens when someone needs her without judgment, and though she rarely offers advice outright, her solemn observations have a way of guiding people toward their own answers. To many, she feels like a traditional grandmother figure—steady, thoughtful, and kind.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yet beneath her warmth lies a fire that hasn’t dulled with age. Lenore may be sweet, but she is not meek. She’s known for a sharp tongue that only makes an appearance when someone is in need of a redirect. She is not cruel, but piercingly honest. She has lived through wars, loss, and hardship, all of which come together to provide her with a powerful sense of justice. She expects decency from those around her and has no patience for arrogance, cruelty, or dishonesty.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Lenore was once a fierce, scarred young woman hardened by war, someone who knew too much bloodshed and bitterness. But over time, she chose healing instead of resentment. Lenore is not only proud of her strength, but of the peace she has earned, both within herself and in the world around her. She holds deep gratitude for the clarity of her mind, the health of her body, and the love that surrounds her. The softness she now carries is not a weakness—to her, it is a triumph.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Lenore loves her son dearly and finds comfort in warm blankets on all days, chilly or scorching. She enjoys offering her opinion to those who genuinely listen and takes pride in her role as a Council member. Hot honey and lemon tea paired with cinnamon rolls are a favorite indulgence, especially when accompanied by handwritten letters—she deeply values thoughtfulness and effort from others. She prefers physical books and documents over magical ideations, and has a strong passion for history, especially when it involves learning more about the place she has come to see as home and safety, Voxthain.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Lenore dislikes arrogance or any apparent unwillingness to compromise, and has no patience for manipulation or dishonesty. Cold weather and even the slightest windy drafts bother her, as do loud, unnecessary noises. She’s especially sensitive to cruelty disguised as humor and has a deep aversion to war rhetoric or any glorification of violence. Those who speak more than they listen tend to grate on her nerves, and she finds strong perfumes or any overpowering scents unpleasant.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Lenore had never used magic when she lived in Valekros, as her city focused on brute physical force in training, but moving to Voxthain where it was so widely used made her want to try her hand at it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She knew she would never be a powerful magic user, but her interest and passion for it more than made up for the lack of inherent skill or years-long training. Besides, the skills she has learned are of the utmost importance.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Lenore can move small things around at will, which makes staying bundled up in her layers of blankets much easier.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She can also summon heat or warm herself up by calling on the warmth around her. This woman would die of cold in the shade of a twig on a scorching summer day.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The last skill she has mastered is summoning her honey lemon tea and fresh, warm cinnamon rolls.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Luca is the only family Lenore has. He is a traveling musician and she supports everything he does and truly, deeply admires his creative soul. She is silently grateful that she raised him in a peaceful atmosphere with the freedom to be whoever he wanted to be, that he didn’t turn out like her or have the cruel, hard life that she did. Of her many regrets, keeping him and leaving the only home she knew to give him a better shot at a meaningful life will never be one of them.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Lenore was utterly shocked when a niece she never knew she had showed up on her doorstep when she was eighty-two years old. She was horrified at first, though hid it well due to Luca’s excitement, unwilling to burst his bubble. She left that life behind and was struck hard by the thought of her past being able to catch up with her future, but once she was assured it was just this one person who also wanted to escape the violence much like herself, she was able to connect with her niece. Paloma chose to live in Asterath, ultimately, a decision Lenore approved of. They visit very often back and forth between the cities, having a stronger bond as time goes on and a deep familial connection.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cal and Lenore have a much more positive relationship with one another than Cal has with most of the other Councilors.
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Lenore was born in a city on the opposite coast of Voxthain—the City of War and Death—named Valekros. The city had long been known for the constant strife and battles it had always befallen, warring with a neighboring city over land and rights to specific buildings. She was only two when her own parents died, both of whom were warriors in their city’s Defense Force. There were so many war orphans, and as she had become one while still a small child, she was marked for death by slow and agonizing starvation.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her parents had been high-ranking officials who shouldn’t have had a child to begin with, but she was still a child of two previously important people. Lucarius, a battle-hardened general, found her hardly clinging to life after searching for her. She would later come to know that he had been her mother’s best friend, and therefore knew he couldn’t let her child die if he could avoid it. If he could save her the way they couldn’t save themselves.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀From childhood, she knew only war and wilderness. Valekros was more open forest than it ever was a city. Lucarius, gruff and scarred, grew to cherish Lenore when he had previously only intended to keep her alive. He drilled into her the ancient warrior code of Valekros, understanding that she would be a warrior just as he was one day.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Valekros had always been protecting their own land under the onslaught of the vicious, greedy neighboring city they’d been at war with for years. Valekros warriors were honorable and most of them, good people. Under Lucarius’s stern but gentle guidance, Lenore learned that true strength was never used for glory alone, but for the protection of their loved ones and the future of Valekros. He often shared tales of their city’s past, and of his own, teaching Lenore to fight for what’s right and to be merciful where situation allows for it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Lucarius trained her in both sword and spirit until she turned eighteen, where she was officially allowed to join the battalions rather than doing grunt work. In their shared evenings by campfire, he would remind her of what they were fighting for and praise her battle prowess and sharp eyes. When morning came and they marched out with their battalions, she struck with purpose and honor. Lucarius tended to the flame within her with such care, but fire was impossible to tame entirely. One thing could cause a roaring inferno, and that it did.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Even in a city known for war and bloodshed, Lenore was content. Her life was stable and certain, even after an unexpected ambush where she had broken her arm and Lucarius was left to strike down six of their attackers alone. Four of their other men in their campsite had died, leaving both of them alone to fend off the ambushers. Lucarius did so with ease, but he left one alive to report back to his army commander and warn against trying that again.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Lenore would soon realize that this was the worst mistake he had ever made—the worst mistake she had ever allowed him to make. Ambushes were not rare, but it had been their first time experiencing one. Lucarius had heard that the other city had begun to back off from that specific approach, ambushing, after too many of their warriors had returned describing the deaths of their fellow warriors. Why would it have worked any differently for him? Killing the wrong person, or leaving the wrong person alive, would be the exact thing that ended Lucarius’s life.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀They had made camp on a night like any other, crickets chirping and fireflies flitting about, when another ambush came. They weren’t intending to kill, they were intending to torture. Lenore would never forget that night, Lucarius’s screams of pain and her screeches and wails begging for their assailants to stop. She had been held back as she watched her father, the only person she had ever loved, get beat into the ground until he was finally silent and unrecognizable, heart unbeating and lungs unbreathing. The woman who had done it—Mikilah, her name was—had gone on some tangent about how Lucarius had killed her father that night and sent her brother back to share the news. Lenore didn’t care. Brown eyes dark with the promise of death and red hair framing her face, she promised that she would kill Mikilah.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Mikilah had ordered her men to leave Lenore and the others alone. They had just come for Lucarius, for their own personal revenge. For months Lenore followed their trail like a bloodhound. Every flicker of a shadow, every whisper of a rumor of the enemy, spurred her onward. She fought relentlessly in ruined border villages, storm-swept passes, and blackened ruins, leaving no one alive. Every bit of mercy left her soul, every bit of honor that Lucarius had taught her to carry with her always. Gone.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀When she found Mikilah after years of searching, she wasted no time. The woman fought with fury and brutality that Lenore expected, but Lenore had trained for this. Had spent every day consumed with fury and grief and that fire that nobody could soothe. Lenore made sure Mikilah suffered just as Lucarius had. She walked away from the battle bloody and half-dead herself, passing out in the middle of a bloodied, body-ridden battlefield.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She almost wished she weren’t alive when she came to, wounds nearly healed. Killing Mikilah like she had killed Lucarius years ago would weigh on her forever. Lenore had been raised better, taught to be better, and she knew that what she had done was something Lucarius would have never approved of. Her only consolation was that he’d have done the same for her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Lenore was drained, even as she was only nearing thirty. Years of relentless war and fighting, finally being left with no one to turn to ever again and no goal to fight for, nearly led her to ending her own life. Her commanding officer, Graylon, knew what she had been doing for so many years and could see the way the fire left her eyes and her spirit. He had also loved Lucarius, had tried to be there for her after it happened, but she pushed him away every time he did. Graylon relieved her of her warrior duties and brought her to the children’s unit and offered her a position there. It was something to live for, she supposed.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She worked there for four years, the laughter of the children slowly healing her broken heart. She began to yearn for a family, so she accepted the relationship when Graylon expressed his attraction to her. But something else had drawn her attention, too—a distant city called Voxthain. Peaceful and magical and calm, petty noble strife and no war, were the rumors she had heard. Graylon loved Lenore, but he loved his city more. Two years after they entered a relationship, Lenore found out that she was with child. Graylon told her no to leaving for Voxthain that they couldn’t just leave their city. Lenore knew with certainty, though, that war would never end—and she refused to stay in that cycle any longer.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She also realized that the connections she craved were not romantic and certainly not with a man who was focused on the exact thing she wanted to get away from. So, without so much as a goodbye, she left. Packed her things and paid all the coin she had to a traveling caravan, as she had heard that Voxthain didn’t dabble in things such as currency. When she reached Voxthain, she knew she was home. She found a small inn to live in, making friends with the owner and other residents while trying to find a way to settle down in a place where she had no connections and no bearings.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀When her baby arrived, she realized that she hadn’t chosen a name. It had never even crossed her mind, but maybe that was because she knew what his name would be already. Knew that he would be a he. Luca. She didn’t dare give him her father’s full name in fear of casting upon the child her trauma and pain, but Luca sounded right. It felt right, the best way she could keep her father’s memory alive. Lenore taught him all of the values that Lucarius had taught her, also beginning to learn about Voxthain customs and history. Lenore found that she had a deep passion for helping others, something she discovered in her time taking care of the children in Valekros, as well as for leading.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀It was an easy decision to run for the Council when a previous Council member stepped down. The people of Voxthain could see her determination, and she almost felt as if she had Lucarius at her shoulder when she shared a brief recounting of her past and why she wanted to be Councilor with the city. Her vengeance, that regret, was hers and hers alone. But losing Lucarius and fighting for her former city, long ago were things she was willing to share.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She won the election easily, and was elected into office promptly after when she was forty-eight. Luca was twelve, the most supportive and gentle young man Lenore had ever met. She grew busy as she settled into her Councilor role, but she refused to let Luca grow up alone or feeling alone. She took him with her most days when she had things to do, took personal time to spend time with him, listened when he expressed interest in guitar and singing.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Forty-two years has she lived in Voxthain as a Councilor, still going strong and maintaining that fire everyone knows her for. Her life has been simple and steady, which is exactly what she had wanted from the day she entered Voxthain.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Lenore’s current goals are to serve Voxthain in the way its people truly deserve, to remain a steady and loving presence in her son’s life, and to find a peaceful resolution to the shadowfog. She fears her past catching up with her, the possibility of failing her son, and the looming threat of a potential war between the cities.
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
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𝗧𝗢𝗣𝗔𝗭 𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗧𝗢𝗡-𝗪𝗬𝗩𝗘𝗥
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz has long, wavy light brown hair. Her soft green-blue eyes are full of mischief and warmth, always gleaming with some unspoken joke or mischievous idea. There’s rarely a moment when she doesn’t wear an excited grin or a goofy expression that makes it hard for anyone around her to stay serious.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her fashion choices are notoriously casual, which is especially shocking for someone of noble blood. She flaunts basic white short-sleeved shirts, tattered jeans with holes in all the wrong places, or even threadbare shorts that make Voxthain tailors cry. Taz towers over most of her family, a fact she never fails to use to her advantage.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz has always been a bit of a whirlwind, someone who is carefree, loud, and utterly unapologetic about who she is. Taz is usually the one laughing too loud or showing up ten minutes late with a half-eaten pastry in hand. She was never raised with the etiquette expected of someone in her position, and she’s never tried to fake it either. Titles, manners, social expectations? None of that has ever meant much to her. She finds joy in ignoring the rules, and if there’s a way to turn a formal event into something fun or ridiculous, she’ll find it. That rebellious streak runs deep, but it’s never mean-spirited. She just refuses to live a life where she can’t be herself.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Despite all the chaos, Taz is fiercely loyal. Her friends and family always come first, and she’d drop everything in a heartbeat to help someone she loves. She’s especially devoted to her best friend and wife, Fae, who’s much more composed and elegant, but Taz sees it as the perfect balance. Where Fae brings stability, Taz brings the spark. She’s the type to make a fool of herself just to see someone smile or pull an all-nighter to help plan something she has no business being involved in. Her heart is huge, even if it’s sometimes hidden behind a joke or sarcastic comment.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She’s earned quite the reputation among the Voxthain nobles as the class clown, which she takes pride in. While said nobles are more concerned with the topic of duty and image, Taz is more interested in finding the next fun thing and making her loved ones feel more alive and fulfilled in the world.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz loves her family more than anything. She finds joy in colorful flowers, warm sunshine, and open spaces. She enjoys pressing flowers into notebooks and tending her garden, especially when it’s full of blooms. Designing and decorating her home with Fae is one of her favorite things, and she cherishes every moment they spend doing it together. Taz has a soft spot for jokes that make people smile without causing harm, and she’s happiest during game nights and group activities where everyone feels included.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz despises potions or anything of the like that messes with her mind or the minds of others. Winter frustrates her—it takes away the flowers she loves so much and brings boredom when there is no gardening to do. She gets uncomfortable around uptight nobles and doesn’t do well with silence or feeling trapped. Boredom is her worst enemy, as sitting still too long makes her squirm. She’s not a fan of cleaning up after her own pranks, though Fae insists, and there are a few flowers she avoids because they make her sneeze nonstop. Which, rude, because she loves her flowers. It’s often the prettiest ones that make her sneeze the hardest.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz does not use any magic. From a young age, she much preferred watching others perform magic and applauding them. She never showed a strong affinity for any magic and quite disliked using it when she had to in class.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her goofy and clumsy nature made it a hazard anyhow. She enjoys the magic of being the funniest person in the room and the magic she feels when with her loved ones, not the kind that everyone else uses.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz adores flowers and is shockingly good at tending to her flower garden outside the Ellington-Wyver manor. She brings bouquets to her favorite people weekly, freshly picked flowers from her garden.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz is surprisingly good at decorating her home with Fae, such as furniture placement and accent colors.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz’s official but platonic wife and best friend, Fae is the person who means the most to her. They lean on each other for everything and their bond is unbreakable and unwavering, stronger than any romantic relationship Taz could ever imagine. Fae keeps Taz in her place, Taz keeps Fae on her toes. It’s how they work and Taz wouldn’t have it any other way. Fae and Taz found one another when they needed each other most. Spending their lives together with the family they brought together and built? It’s the best thing either of them could have ever hoped to achieve in their lives.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz’s closest family member and someone she can talk to about anything, Lucien—or Luci, as she likes to call him to be a menace—is a Voxthain Councilor who didn’t let their bond falter when he became a Councilor, her trusted confidant no matter what. He cared for her when she was young, doing things to keep her safe and happy as well as to keep their shattered family together that she doesn’t know about and couldn’t even fathom. They talk to each other about most things and Taz supports him wholeheartedly, even if a little teasing and unserious at times.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz is an endless supporter of Arya’s antics. She’s a willing supplier when Arya needs specific items to do something mischievous and quite possibly very rude to someone, and often takes the hit from Fae when Arya has placed plastic over the toilet seat on a random Thursday morning. They’re a terrifying duo, but Taz is willing to take a scolding and a few nights on the couch for some exciting and incredibly goofy pranks.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Julien is similar to Fae in that he is more focused on noble stature and serious business, but Taz has learned how to deal with that without batting an eye. She pushes him to loosen up and be more out there quite often, like with Fae, but has much less success. She also knows when to back off, and knows she annoys him sometimes, but the effort is still there and will always remain there. They both have each other’s backs if they need something, though, as there is love in the family with everyone even if there are some tensions and different views.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz has a very protective bond with Marianne, the young girl awakening her few maternal instincts that were not entirely overridden by her impish, sisterly behavior. She encourages the moments of social confidence her daughter shows, but also encourages her to take it easy and enjoy her introverted side, too. Taz loves doing pranks with Arya, but even more so when Marianne decides to join in.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz met Luca just after she married Fae. He’d been asked to play music for the wedding, and the moment they started talking, something just clicked. The two of them vibed instantly, like they’d been waiting their whole lives to meet someone who matched their energy. To her, Luca is more than just a friend she values like all the rest. He’s her shenanigans twin, her chaos co-pilot. He’s always ready with a wild idea she didn’t know she needed or the perfect joke made at the perfect time.
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The Wyvers were once a prosperous noble family, but when Taz was a young child, her parents were killed by the shadowfog. Their will stated that in the event of their deaths, their possessions would go to their children, unless they were underage, in which case, they would go to their aunt.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz and Lucien’s aunt was unfortunately addicted to Asterath-created potions, and began trading away all the family possessions for them. Taz was not old enough to know what was happening, but Lucien, her brother, was. She wondered why he bothered working as hard as he did sometimes—they had so many possessions and, as nobles, she thought they didn’t have to work hard.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀As she grew older, she began to realize what their aunt was doing. Things were missing from the house and sometimes food did not seem like it was the quality she was used to—if it came at all. Her aunt was growing old and didn’t want to do the trading for her potions in Asterath, the destructive kind that altered her mind and made her an angry, bitter woman. Lucien was always away, so maybe he didn’t notice, but Taz had to watch how her aunt was affected by the potions as her only reprieve from the constant reminder was school.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀So, Taz was sent down the Asterath with valuables to trade, taking the stairs to avoid notice on the elevators. She’d done this multiple times, resigned, still too young to defy her aunt. One day, there was one potion left—and two hands reached for it at once. Panic sliced through her, unsure of what her aunt’s reaction would be if Taz didn’t get her potion, but the other girl let her have it. She ran off after, leaving Taz teary-eyed at the generous display. She didn’t know the other girl’s story, but she wanted to.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀At Cogworks Academy only days later, they saw each other again. Maybe, if not for their brief encounter, they’d have never noticed one another. The similarities in their families’ faltering notoriety and inner issues brought them close together immediately, both girls in need of a friend like one another. Fae approached Taz and it was smooth sailing from there. They were two young girls fighting their way through life, but together, life problems became more tedious than harmful, as they had one another to lean on.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Throughout their friendship, many things happened, one of the most concerning to Taz being Fae’s mother’s pregnancy while she was still a potion-abuser. Fae’s worry seeped into Taz, as they were so deeply connected, and she tried to be there for her best friend in every way she could. Taz’s aunt slowly weaned herself off of the potions after a while with Taz’s gentle encouragement, but the damage was done. The Wyvers were no more, their house and basic furniture all that remained and food only brought back because of Lucien. Every beautiful, magical item in their home was now deep in Asterath with strangers.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz watched her best friend spiral into a busy life of sadness and stress, unable to do anything. She was one person—helping her best friend might be better than nothing, but it was not enough. Not at all. Lucien, to Taz’s absolute amazement, became a Councilor, starting the process of pulling their family name out of the gutter. And it hit her like the blast of a magical wave of air. Marriage. She’d sprinted to where she knew Fae was—she never allowed her friend’s location to slip her mind—and blurted the proposition out with bright, worried eyes and a grin on her face. Neither of them ever had any romantic intentions with one another, if either one of them could even experience romantic love, and they both knew it. It was perfect, no matter what it might be misconstrued as, because it was theirs. The way they wanted it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀That winter, Taz and Fae married their noble families together into the Ellington-Wyver noble household with the blessing of their siblings. Marriage granted Taz more abilities to help Fae, so the day-to-day of the household tasks were much easier. Her aunt was slowly dying, so Taz allowed her to move in to live the rest of her days in peace.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz traded off the old house to a private investigator, enlisting him to search for specific valuables that had been lost in Asterath for the potions years prior. He found about a dozen of the hundreds, but that was all Taz could ask for. Some of her family’s valuables were better than none.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Since then, she has redecorated her shared home with Fae and made it into something so uniquely theirs. Their family are all very close, the time spent together always full of laughter and fun. Taz loves her life and her people, vowing to always take care of them and keep her family afloat.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Taz wants to always be there for her family no matter what. She hopes to fill the world with laughter and make as many friends as she can along the way, which she thinks and hopes that she is already doing with minimal annoyance on others’ behalves. Her biggest fear is losing the people she loves or letting them down. She never wants to hurt anyone she cares about, even by accident. And though she’d never admit it out loud, as she avoids the topic entirely, potions truly scare her. Her aunt’s addiction changed her mindset on potion use for likely the rest of her life.
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗜𝗩𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗜 𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗔𝗡
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ivorii has shoulder-length ash-brown and eyes of cold and piercing chips of ice. Her skin is a soft sunkissed tone that complements her otherwise cool demeanor, owed to the fact that she hates being indoors and spends the majority of her time outside. She often wears a focused, no-nonsense expression, posture upright and alert, projecting an energy of calculated readiness.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Despite her disciplined appearance, there’s an undeniable softness to her features that even her aloof demeanor can hide. She loves wearing bows to pull her hair back and tends to enjoy having her hair in some intricate braid or two. Her room in the apartment she shares with her mother is mostly empty due to the fact that her massive closet is home to her many, many articles of clothing.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A respected yet notoriously reckless member of the militia, Ivorii is known for her exceptional observational skills and sharp perception skills. Her focus and determination have earned her admiration from peers and superiors alike. However, her natural talent often fuels a bold overconfidence—she rushes into danger out of both arrogance and the belief that she genuinely can handle anything. And most of the time, she can, which hasn’t helped any worried loved ones’ cases against her impulsivity.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her independence runs deep and she is fiercely self-reliant. She constantly walks a tightrope between her unrelenting drive and the importance of her own safety. Her loyalty to her family, especially her mother Selene and the extended Hayden family, is her compass. The connection between Selene and Katarina Hayden is sacred to her, something she can’t fully understand but will always love and support as it has made her mother twice as happy now as she was when she was with Alasdair.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Though she maintains a stoic, composed front around strangers and other militia members, those close to her know a completely different Ivorii. Around family, her emotional walls soften—she laughs more freely, speaks more openly, and leans into the warmth she rarely allows herself in public. That shift is most visible in her dynamic with August, where her father’s legacy of mischief lives on in her sarcasm, inside jokes, and subtle grins. Beneath the calculated sleuth lies someone who craves connection, even if she doesn’t always know how to ask for it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ivorii has a quiet appreciation for both stillness and activity. She likes routine just so she can find fun ways switch it up, taking walks in the forest bordering Voxthain, sun-warmed stone beneath her hands, and the rare moments of laughter shared with August or her family. There’s comfort for her in crisp observations, tactical precision, and the trust of people who know her better than she knows herself.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ivorii despises being underestimated and has zero patience for performative authority or anyone who puts ego above efficiency. Winter irritates her—too quiet, too cold, too much time for thinking—and so does sitting still when she could be doing something. She hates the feeling of being less than, not the best at what she does, which has led to her rivalry with another investigator, Elliot. Most of all, she hates feeling like she’s not enough. More than not being the best, she fears being abandoned because she wasn’t enough for someone to just stay.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ivorii is very perceptive and intelligent, her role in the militia as an investigator a hard-won achievement. She had the connection to Katarina already, sure, but the commander would never let someone incompetent into her militia, not even close friends or family.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ivorii can charm someone subtly to avoid detection, make them more willing to answer questions she might have, or fully force them to tell her the truth. She has never had to use that magic before, but she has practiced it with Katarina as well as Selene enough to use it if she needs to.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ivorii is so very sharp and notices the smallest details before anyone has even thought to consider them at all. Enchantment, she has found, doesn’t always have to be an infliction on someone else. She can enhance her vision and the speed at which her mind processes information that she receives for a short period of time.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Selene and Ivorii are very close, Selene being the person that Ivorii derived almost all of her core traits from. She looks just like her father appearance-wise, but she acts just like her mother did at her age. The recklessness and stubbornness—straight from her mother. They are very close, but recently Ivorii has felt as if her mother has been too busy to spend any time with her, putting a brief but painful rift in their closeness. Ivorii stands for no slander on her mother’s relationship with Katarina, no speculation, and will actively confront someone if she hears them speculating and gossiping. She loves seeing her mom and aunt, who is essentially her other mom anyways, being happy together. It would never be anyone else’s business about the contents of that relationship.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her mother’s best friend and partner, Katarina is Ivorii’s aunt and another parental figure. Ivorii looks up to and idolizes Katarina, having deep respect and love for the woman. Ivorii learned a majority of her enchantment abilities and some new combat skills Selene didn’t teach her from Katarina, leading her to even further respect for the militia’s commander. As with Selene, Ivorii saw how deeply Katarina loved Selene, how they were two pieces of the same puzzle. The men they were married to kept them as two separate corner pieces, but when they were both gone, the two woman could find their places together in the center of the puzzle, together in whatever form they wanted to take whether it defied societal norms or not.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Caledonia is the daughter of Katarina, so they grew up together. Three years of an age difference and completely different live experiences and traumas disallowed for a close relationship between them, but there is a steady understanding between them still, as their mothers are so close. Ivorii trusts Cal fully and would defend her no matter what. Caledonia hardly trusts anyone, but Ivorii appreciates that she has a base rapport with her sister, much more than most can say. She is content even being in Cal’s life and having the family that she does. She hopes that one day Cal will come around, but she never presses her sister over anything.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀August is the son of Katarina, but he is a brother to her in every way that counts. He is three years her minor, but they grew up together and did everything together. She has always been the big sister stereotype, teasing him and goofing around until he sometimes cried—the baby—but she has always been loving and gentle with him. They share their days with each other, joke around, and he knows things about her and things she’s done that even Selene doesn’t. Most of his secrets are hers, and all of hers are his.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ivorii has an intense rivalry with Elliot, both being esteemed investigators in the militia. He normally has a more cocky air about him in their dynamic while Ivorii gets aggressive and rude, her pride making it impossible to accept being bested by the insufferable man at any point. Ivorii feels like she will never cease to be pissed off with the guy even if he suddenly fell at her feet and proclaimed her the best investigator. She only daydreams about that twice a day at most.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ivorii was born to Selene Altan when she was twenty-eight, having been entirely unplanned but very welcome. Selene and her husband were nervous, of course, as new parents, but they immediately loved their daughter and each vowed to give her the best life that they could.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀From birth, Ivorii was a handful. Curious, vocal, excitable—always up and running around and asking questions. She didn’t grow out of it even with her mother’s gentle laughs paired with redirects or Alasdair’s more serious reprimands. She grew up with a good set of parents, an amazing aunt figure in Katarina, Selene’s best friend, and a mostly-supportive cousin figure in Caledonia.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀When Ivorii was twelve, she began to show interest in the militia. She begged Selene and Alasdair to let her start training to join, made all sorts of excuses and arguments in her favor. Predictably, Selene was all for it, even reaching out to Katarina to work out the details of it all. Alasdair, however, was a firm no on the subject. Being as protective as he always had been, he argued that she was too young. So, compromises were made. Ivorii was not happy with the rules and conditions he set out, but she and Selene both knew he wouldn’t budge unless they relented.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀For six years, that became her life. Training, learning, honing her skills. Her curiosity and natural urge to learn were each sated with the new opportunities the militia brought her. Selene trained her in hand-to-hand combat, sharpshooting, and specific manipulations of using magic in battle—aiming bullets better, hitting just the right spot with a heavy blow. Katarina trained her in enchantment magic, which Ivorii had a natural affinity for and interest in. With ease, Ivorii learned her way around manipulating magic to alter someone’s ability to resist her questions and to lie to her. She tested it on Katarina with permission as well as Selene, both of which warned her not to abuse the power with those who it was unnecessary to use it on.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀At eighteen, she became a full-fledged member of the militia, earning the title of investigator. She had always been so observant and asked all the right questions, which led to an uncanny ability to figure out crime scenes and map out what happened in a given area. She was headed home the night of her initiation to share the news with her father, only to open the apartment door just for him to walk out of it. His family wasn’t enough for him, so he left. He missed his comfortable life from before, so he left. Ivorii never told Selene that she had to watch him walk out and never plans to.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ivorii might have been more hurt if she were closer with him, but she never had been. He had always exuded vibe of someone unhappy where he was. An unsatisfied man was an obvious man. She somehow wasn’t all too surprised or bothered when he left, as Selene and Katarina had always been the parental figures she looked up her whole life, but seeing the look in his eyes when he effortlessly walked out as his daughter stood right there would never leave her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ivorii is now twenty-one. For three years she had solved many cases and continued honing her skills in combat, magic, and investigation. She is thoroughly trained and qualified, but still young and impulsive. Especially with the seemingly random murders popping up around both cities, cases in which everyone knows she’ll feel inclined to personally stick her nose into.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ivorii plans to solve the murders happening around the cities with whatever measures it takes. As misguided as she can be, she sees it as a challenge to solve before she gets one-upped by someone rather than saving innocents from being murdered. She carries deep fears of abandonment and failure—ghosts left behind when her father walked out without any regrets. Though she rarely admits it, she worries she won’t be enough when it really matters. She throws herself into her work not only for glory but to prove she’s stronger than the pain that shaped her, determined to rise in rank, master her talents, and protect the few people she still has left—whether or not they ever ask her to.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗗𝗘𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗥𝗢𝗜𝗫
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender has smooth, warm-toned skin that catches the light like polished amber, and expressive, dark eyes that seem to hold centuries of stories. Her lips are always settled in a thoughtful, almost knowing smile, one that is more easy-going than mysterious.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her hair, long and dark as a raven’s wing, is either down over her shoulders in soft curls or half-up in a space bun at the top of her head. She favors simple, flowing garments that echo her connection to tradition—soft fabrics in deep hues of charcoal, midnight blue, and muted plum that drape over her form without constriction.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender is the kind of leader who doesn’t need to raise her voice to be heard. Her presence settles a room, not with dominance, but with an unshakable steadiness—like the tide coming in, certain and sure. She speaks softly but with intention, and every word feels like it matters. People follow her not because they must, but because they trust her, instinctively. She’s introspective by nature, often found deep in thought or tracing the edges of old books, seeking wisdom in silence. Though the mantle of Moon Matron came early, she wears it like it was always meant for her, trusting her mother enough to know that she received the responsibility when she was ready.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her magic is deeply tied to her emotions, and she’s unafraid of feeling fully. Love, grief, joy, fear—she welcomes all of it as part of being alive, part of being human. She is endlessly empathetic, drawn to understanding people rather than judging them. She remembers the names of every Coven member, the quirks of their laughter, the wounds they carry. She believes that healing isn’t just physical, and that leadership isn’t about control, but care. When the safety of her people is at stake, she becomes sharp, decisive, even fierce.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀At her core, Ender is a weaver of connections. Her loyalty to her family, both blood and chosen, is unwavering. Ender honors tradition, but she is not a slave to it—she adapts, evolves, and listens to the new voices rising beneath her guidance while attempting to maintain a steady hold on what she finds important.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender enjoys quiet nights under the full moon, often found on the balcony of her home with a book settled in a warm chair with a blanket. She enjoys learning languages and being able to read old books filled with forgotten history and facts. She loves burning sage and lighting candles no matter the time of day, finding that to be the perfect atmosphere to settle down and hand-make gifts for her loves ones and Coven members.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender has great distaste for liars and those who mindlessly spew insincere words with ease, valuing honesty and genuine connection above all else. Disrespect toward sacred traditions, even if not her own, feels like a personal wound. She holds a profound reverence for magic and expects it to be used with purpose—not selfishly or to cause harm. She dislikes being rushed into decisions before she’s had the time to reflect and understand fully, as thoughtful deliberation is key to her leadership.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender’s magic can be described as well-rounded and she has a bit of a jack-of-all-trades focus going on. She has practiced across many disciplines, determined to be a good Moon Matron and to set a good example for the younger students and her own children. She feels such a deep connection to the moon and nighttime in general that she finds herself using magic with greater ease and more powerfully at night.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender is best at creating protective wards and shields, often using this magic to guard her Coven members or sacred spaces. While she can dispel minor hostile magic, her strength lies in preemptive defense and sanctuary creation rather than aggressive counterspells.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender is known for often summoning familiars for the Coven students to play with after school hours. She occasionally practices short-distance teleportation to move swiftly when needed, but she avoids summoning large beasts, preferring subtler forms of assistance.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender’s Enchantment abilities are weaker than her other areas of magic. She learned it to make sure she could use it if necessary, but she hates it and the concept of controlling others.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender often uses small, elegant effects like conjuring moonlit glows or cooling breezes to enhance ceremonies with this magic.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender’s skill with Illusion shines in creating minor illusions to aid in rituals. She values silence spells to maintain secrecy in Coven-only moments.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender’s Transmutation talents center on healing. She regularly uses mending to tend small wounds and ailments and can grant vision-enhancing spells to see more clearly in darkness.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender’s mother is the one who taught her how to be both fierce and tender, how to carry the weight of legacy neither of them would ever want with grace and respect. Their bond runs deeper than blood, threaded with shared rituals, late-night stories, and unspoken understanding. When Ender was named Moon Matron at twenty-three, her mother stepping down from the position, it wasn’t just a passing of a title—it was her mother’s quiet faith in her to do the Coven justice. She had always been a bit more distant from her father, who was closer to the main family that she and her mother hated, but he was always kind and raised her well, more present than most other noble fathers Ender had heard of.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender sees Wyatt as as her quiet constant, always the steady hand at her back when the world tilts. They share every interest and hobby, he is her other half. To her, he’s not loud in his love, but present in every small way: folding her sweaters just how she likes, remembering the songs she hums without realizing, respecting the privacy of her Coven and never pressing her for more information. He’s her safe place, her always.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender and her daughter share a quiet bond. They spend warm mornings on the balcony in the soft glow of Luminos reading books together, moving back to the comforting hush of their home to have lunch and make crafts together. Both introspective people, they find joy not in the bustle of the city, but in the simple time they spend together. Ender hopes that Marianne feels safe to grow at her own pace when with her, and that her presence is steady and a calm anchor in an often overwhelming world.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender’s heart swells with a fierce, quiet pride when she thinks about Tris—her wild, brilliant child who dances to their own rhythm in a world that often demands conformity. To Ender, Tris is just her beautiful child. Nothing to fear or change, only to love and support unconditionally. She delights in their eagerness to learn, especially when it’s something alive and dynamic—not the dull, tedious topics that she knows doesn’t hold their attention. Yet, as much as she loves Tris’s free spirit, Ender finds it difficult to ease the tightening grip of worry whenever her child insists on running headlong into the city’s shadows and dangers. Ender knows her caution sometimes feels suffocating to Tris, and while she tries to give them space, the thought of losing them to reckless curiosity is a shadow she struggles to push away.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender was born to a Grimcroft mother and Delacroix father. Her parents loved her fiercely but gently—her father with his warm, grounding presence and her mother with the watchful eyes of someone who carried the weight of something sacred. As the Moon Matron, her mother was a revered figure in their small, tightly-knit corner of the world, but at home, she was just Mom. She had always loved braiding Ender’s hair, letting her fall asleep in her lap during long evenings spent reading books by candlelight.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀From the time she could speak, Ender was learning, absorbing magic like it was second nature. Her mother never sat her down and told her what her future would be. She didn’t have to. It was in the way she gently passed on knowledge, not as an obligation, but as a gift. She grew up understanding that magic was not just power, but service. That leadership was not about being obeyed, it was about being trusted. And still, her childhood was full of softness: laughing until her sides hurt during summer rainstorms, running barefoot through morning mist, curling up beside her father during long winter evenings with tea and stories.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The main Delacroix family—cold, political, polished—always felt like a different world entirely. Ender saw them only at the rarest of formal gatherings, and even then, their smiles felt more like performances. Her mother never spoke badly of them, only encouraged Ender to make up her own mind. And over time, she did. She saw the way they moved, how control mattered more than connection, how everything was calculated. It didn’t disgust her—it just didn’t fit. Their version of legacy was about reputation and power. Her mother’s was about people. About care. And Ender knew, even as a teenager, which one she belonged to.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She met her husband when she was seventeen. He was the kind of person who never demanded space, but always made room. By nineteen, they were married in a small ceremony, surrounded by candles, wildflowers, and the people who truly mattered. It wasn’t grand, but it was honest, sacred in its simplicity. Two years later, after they settled down and got their own home together, they had their children—first Tris, then Marianne, born minutes apart. Beautiful twins, Ender’s whole world. Ender was just twenty, still learning who she was, but the moment she held them in her arms, something in her settled. Not just the protective love of a mother, but the quiet certainty that she would shape her world into something safe, something worthy of them.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀At twenty-three, she stepped fully into her role as Moon Matron. She had grown into it not because she was told to, but because she’d been raised into it. Now with a young family, a sacred title, and a life carved far from the politics of the larger Delacroix legacy, Ender led the life that she knew she had always wanted.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The years that followed tested her in ways she never anticipated. Leadership meant holding grief and hope in the same breath, and though she loved her Coven members, it ached every day to be so aware of the suffering around her and how lucky she had gotten in life with her parents. As her children grew, so did Ender’s responsibilities, her influence, and the needs of her Coven. She never let herself be swept into the polished pageantry of the mainline Delacroixs, even when they extended invitations or called for unity. Her life was already full.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Now, at thirty-six, Ender is still leading her Coven with a wise grounded outlook. Her daughter Marianne is gentle and introverted, much like Ender was at that age, and their bond is a quiet, comforting presence in her life. Tris, on the other hand, is wild and bright, loud and impulsive, and Ender’s heart often lives in her throat trying to keep up. Their clashes sting, but underneath it all is a fierce mutual love neither of them question. Her marriage, still steady after nearly two decades, is her anchor—filled with deep affection, understanding, and space to grow.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ender has recently found herself caught in quiet dread with the shadowfog creeping ever closer and whispers of unrest stirring across Lux. Even were it not for that, her magic has felt something deadly looming on the horizon for months. Her days are filled with practicing her magic the best she can, teaching protective rites, and spending time with her loved ones to keep her mind at ease.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗡𝗔𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗔 𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗡𝗘
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Nahilia carries herself with a poised elegance, her smooth, dark skin glowing with a natural warmth. Her hair, a deep black, falls in straight locks that curl lightly at the ends. She always keeps it neat, often pulled back with a practical yet graceful touch.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her onyx eyes are perhaps her most defining feature, somewhat stern and wholly unwavering. Yet within them glimmers a quiet kindness, a softness she rarely speaks aloud but that others feel in her presence. A faint line between her brows hints at years of deep thought and responsibility, but her smile, when it comes, is surprisingly gentle—rare but genuine, like sunlight breaking through cloud.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Nahilia is a woman shaped by conviction. Raised in a family known for its contributions to Voxthain’s medical infrastructure, she has long believed in the value of purposeful work—work that heals, uplifts, and supports others. She brings this same integrity to her own position as overseer of the clinics, ensuring every room, every hire, and every supply reflects her standards. She doesn’t demand perfection, but she does expect effort, care, and a refusal to cut corners. Her expectations can be high, but they’re not cruel. They are rooted in a deep belief that those who serve others must strive to do so with excellence.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Despite her sternness, Nahilia’s leadership is not harsh, it is grounded in empathy. She listens when others speak. She owns her missteps without defensiveness. Her pride in her family and their work never overshadows her willingness to learn or adapt. She knows the value of humility, and though she is slow to offer praise, when she does, it carries weight. Those close to her know that her warmth is not given freely, but is consistent.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀This same warmth extends into her role as a mother. Though Nahilia is not intimately familiar with the finer points of medicine and more so running the medical industry as a whole, she is pragmatic enough to recognize her daughter Avaliyah’s passion for it. Rather than clinging to control, she has learned to step aside, letting Avaliyah manage the stocking and the medically intricate aspects of the clinics. It is a quiet act of trust and respect, one that speaks volumes of the kind of parent she is—stern, yes, but willing to yield when love and good sense require it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Nahilia takes comfort in order and reliability. She enjoys well-maintained spaces, the quiet rhythm of a day spent purposefully, and the subtle beauty found in practical things like neatly stacked books, the soft glow of lantern light, or a perfectly brewed cup of tea. She values honesty and straightforwardness, admiring people who own their mistakes and strive to improve. Dedication, respect, and quiet strength are qualities she deeply appreciates in both work and relationships.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀As one would expect, Nahilia grows frustrated with disorder and carelessness, especially when they affect others’ wellbeing. She has little patience for slack attitudes or those who treat responsibilities lightly. Empty promises and needless drama wear on her, as does incompetence that risks harm. Above all, she detests wasted effort, believing that every task and relationship deserves sincere commitment and respect.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Nahilia can perform any smaller bit of magic she deems necessary, such as moving something closer to her or sending a short-ranged message to someone, but she doesn’t specialize in anything specific nor does she really have deep feelings on any magic.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Nahilia and Avaliyah have a more or less positive relationship, but they have their moments. She appreciates her daughter’s ability to do her work and how well she does it, but can’t suppress some annoyance and displeasure with her when she brings emotion into the job. She sees it more as a hindrance than anything, but alternatively, Avaliyah also doesn’t appreciate her mother’s attitude at times either.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Nahilia Thorne was born into a prominent noble family in Voxthain, known for their control over the city’s medical sector. Raised to be refined and elegant, she never questioned the expectations placed upon her. Proud of her title, she placed her family’s name above her own identity. It was clear from a young age she was going to become the next family head, and she carried that knowledge with ease.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Everything changed when she met Terrance, a clinic worker employed at one of her family’s clinics. Their meeting was inevitable, but Nahilia was not expecting his charming and disarmingly blunt nature, or the way he teased her for her uptight nature. Rather than take offense, she was intrigued—falling in love with him came easily. Though the pressure to uphold her family’s status remained, it was the suffocating expectation, not fear, that lingered. No one anticipated that she’d defy her lineage the way she did—by marrying a commoner.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her family’s reaction was initially stunned silence on the matter—outrage followed later. But Nahilia stood her ground, standing by her choice. Life with Terrance was unlike anything she’d known: full of warmth, laughter, and stories that opened her mind to more than her own limited view. Terrance’s humble, hopeful view of the world captivated her. She grew ashamed of her narrow outlook, but he never judged her—he supported her, loved her through every step as she began slowly taking down the classist ideals she’d once upheld. She worked tirelessly to make her family’s clinics more accessible, growing to believe that everyone deserves dignity, care, and a chance at life—regardless of birth and blood.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Together, they had two children: Izeal and Avaliyah. Nahilia and Terrance raised them with a balanced understanding—know your worth and your title, but never place yourself above others because of it. Under Nahilia’s influence, Voxthain’s medical system slowly transformed, reaching more common citizens than ever before. She was proud, happy, and fulfilled. Her husband and children meant the world to her, as well as her younger brother who was the only supportive member of her noble family and his son, Kieran.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Then, tragedy struck. Her husband passed away in an accident when Izeal was nine and Avaliyah seven. Though broken inside, Nahilia never wavered. Her resilience was as much a part of her as her noble blood, but the warmth she once exuded gave away to a more solidified outward steel and sternness. She grew more reserved, her kindness now laced with quiet severity. She rarely shows her grief, choosing instead to spend those particularly lonely, silent nights with only her tears for company. But she continues the work she and Terrance began together, building a better medical industry in Voxthain—not just in memory of him, but to keep her heart occupied and his spirit alive in everything she does.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Nahilia strives to maintain the Thorne hospitals and keep up the good health of Voxthain citizens, focusing on what she always has rather than the impending shadowfog she’s heard about or the deaths popping up around the city. It stems more from fear of all she’s worked for unraveling than not caring, but it has the same end result anyways of her seeming as if she doesn’t have any interest in helping her city with the most pressing matters.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗞𝗬𝗢-𝗛𝗔𝗘 𝗟𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗘
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo has fluffy black hair that’s beginning to recede, giving him a slightly mature edge despite his otherwise well-aged features. His slanted eyes are always alight with curiosity and an alertness that makes it hard to sneak up on him, even when he’s distracted. One of his most striking features is his oddly pink lips, which makes the question of if he’s wearing lipstick not as uncommon as it should be.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀When not among people, he can be found nose-deep in ancient maps and dust-coated history books nobody in Voxthain dares touch. His appearance often takes a backseat to his scholarly pursuits, and there’s something perpetually ink-smudged or slightly rumpled about him. There’s an eccentric charm in the way he exists, much like a professor too preoccupied to notice the world judging his mismatched socks.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo is a brilliant mind and has photographic memory. He carries an internal library of knowledge, from images and maps to the exact wording of books he’s only skimmed. Though he loves his family deeply, his obsessive passion for his studies and research tends to eclipse his personal connections. He genuinely wants his family to thrive and feel secure, especially compared to other noble houses he observes, but emotional closeness doesn’t come naturally to him when his mind is always in another century.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Outside of work, Kyo is surprisingly goofy. He’s infamous for truly awful dad jokes and a gentle, self-deprecating humor. Unfortunately, these moments are often fleeting because he tends to become so absorbed in his research that he forgets to eat or sleep, let alone socialize. He’s well aware of this flaw and does try to fix it, but change comes slowly when your passion feels like oxygen.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Despite being highly independent and capable, Kyo’s reluctance to ask for help only deepens the problem. He doesn’t like feeling vulnerable or reliant on others, and this pride, paired with a scholar’s single-mindedness, makes it difficult for him to balance work and life. Still, there’s a sincerity in his efforts that keeps him from being cold or distant. He wants to do better, and he hopes that counts for a lot more than if he didn’t.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo adores the smell of old books and the weight of history pressed between their pages. He finds comfort in quiet spaces, especially the Lucke Museum where he spends nearly all of his time. He very much enjoys puzzles and cryptic riddles, anything that tickles his brain and keeps him chasing an answer. Maps, especially ancient or flawed ones, fascinate him endlessly. He also has a soft spot for kittens and puppies, any little animals really, and secretly enjoys when someone brings him tea without having to ask for it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo can’t stand small talk or shallow conversations, just much of anything that feels like wasted breath. Loud, chaotic environments exhaust him, and being interrupted when he’s focused on something is a quick way to get on his nerves. He dislikes being pressured to express emotions on demand, and finds overt sentimentality to be uncomfortable. He has very little patience for willful ignorance or people who argue without evidence. And though he rarely says it out loud, he’s deeply frustrated by his own tendency to burn out from overworking, even as he struggles to change it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo has never had much interest in devoting hours to learning as much magic as he could. He found his affinity for earth magic early on in Cogworks and has used it so much that he is more than likely one of the strongest earth magic users in the cities, though quietly. He enjoys doing behind-the-scenes work and seeing the result of the hours he spends meticulously caring for the museum.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo’s primary magic lies in Illusion, which he wields with effortless precision. He uses it to reconstruct damaged texts, simulate what broken structures once looked like, and restore old, damaged artifacts to their prime. It allows him to see through time in a way, something he takes great joy in. His affinity for earth magic allows him to manipulate soil and stone to excavate without damaging delicate relics. He’s known for “cleaning” artifacts by coaxing dust and mineral buildup off of them with subtle vibrations, preserving every fragile detail. Kyo treats magic like an extension of his academic tools: quiet, precise, and deeply respectful of the past.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo and his sister share a quiet, deeply intuitive bond, built less on words and more on shared routines. She’s the explorer, the one who ventures out to find artifacts hoarded by nobles, which are most of the time not taken very good care of. She trusts him to treat her findings with a gentle hand, and he trusts her to bring back pieces of the past worth preserving. They’re rarely physically affectionate, but they show care in small, specific ways: she makes sure he’s eaten, he fixes the tiny tear in her field bag without mentioning it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo loves Ranami and her passion and hunger for knowledge, much like himself. It’s like seeing himself reflected through another person, which he values deeply. But he worries, more often than he admits, that she mistakes that recognition for conditional love. That maybe he’s failed to show her that it wasn’t her passion that made him take her in, that it was her. Her fire, her curiosity, the connection he felt with her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Mia exhausts him but Luminos, Kyo loves her. She bursts into rooms like a wildfire, speaking too quickly for him to catch every word, leaving before he can get a word in edgewise. He doesn’t always understand her, not fully, but he admires her boundless energy and the way she throws herself into the world like no one else does. He worries for her, the constant recklessness, her romanticism, her need to be the hero, but he’d never try to snuff out that fire. He only wishes he were better at showing how proud he is of her while also being a better father and paying more attention.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo-Hae Lucke was born the eldest son of Voxthain’s reclusive but renowned Lucke family, caretakers of the city’s largest historical archive and curators of its vast museum. His parents, both devoted scholars, instilled in him a passion for quiet study, preservation, and truth. His mother, Min-Ji, had married into the Lucke family from a lesser-known noble house, and though not born to the name, she upheld its legacy with discipline and grace. His father died when he was only twenty-two, and so Kyo inherited the family estate, the museum, and its mountain of responsibility.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Driven by a deep reverence for history and a photographic memory, Kyo focused most of his early adult life on research. He had little interest in public life or politics, preferring books to people and libraries to meeting rooms. But by the time he grew older, at age twenty-eight, he began to worry about his own heir. He had never married, so he settled on the idea of adopting. While on a research trip to Mezd Kathir with his sister who dragged him from the museum, Kyo encountered a young girl named Mia-Aesira while she darted ahead of a group of orphans during a guided outing. She was loud, curious, and nearly ran straight into him while asking too many questions at once. There was something about her fire and fearlessness that stopped Kyo in his tracks. When he and his sister learned of her story—an abandoned noble-born child—they didn’t hesitate. Her circumstances were tragic, but she radiated light, and they took her home to Voxthain.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Raising Mia was a whirlwind. She clashed with Kyo’s quiet life in every way, but she brought laughter into the Lucke halls. Though she often questioned authority and followed her own rules, she had a good heart and boundless determination. Kyo never understood her need for pranks and heroics, but he never tried to tame her either. He may not have said it aloud as often as she needed, but he loved her fiercely. He had never voiced his reservations about her becoming his heir, but she had very little interest in the values he expected his heir to hold.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀At thirty-seven, nine years later, Kyo met Ranami in the Lucke Museum where she stood, wide-eyed and reverent before a historical display most children would have skipped. She was only ten, with a nervous posture and a mind overflowing with facts and wonder. He and his sister learned she’d taken herself to Voxthain from Asterath, escaping a grim orphanage life after being neglected by her biological mother. Kyo saw himself in her instantly, what with her obsession with learning and awkward social tics.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He and his sister decided to adopt her almost immediately, heading to Asterath to finalize the adoption, bringing her home with wide, frightened, but curious eyes. Ranami was terrified of being used, of being taken in for her usefulness rather than herself. And that terrified Kyo, too, because he wasn’t sure he was showing love in ways that made sense to her. Still, he tried. In his own quiet way, he tried.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Now, both daughters are grown—Ranami a brilliant, anxious scholar with Cogworks credentials, and Mia a blazing-hearted War Caster in the militia. Kyo is immensely proud of both, though he’s still learning how to express it in ways that make sense to them all. He spends his days restoring ancient artifacts brought in by Mun-hee and his evenings losing at game night, and while he’ll never stop being reserved, his daughters have taught him that love doesn’t always look like words—it can be in showing up again and again, even when you don’t know how to say the right thing.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo, unlike most nobles in Voxthain, is immensely terrified and concerned about the shadowfog. He has been studying his texts and books and maps to try and understand what’s happening, how it’s happening, but he has come up with nothing. With every passing day that he fails to understand this next challenge, the more dread that settles into his soul and makes him more and more uncertain in his abilities. As if he’s a failure and can’t succeed in the one thing he’s dedicated his life to.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo has fluffy black hair that’s beginning to recede, giving him a slightly mature edge despite his otherwise well-aged features. His slanted eyes are always alight with curiosity and an alertness that makes it hard to sneak up on him, even when he’s distracted. One of his most striking features is his oddly pink lips, which makes the question of if he’s wearing lipstick not as uncommon as it should be.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀When not among people, he can be found nose-deep in ancient maps and dust-coated history books nobody in Voxthain dares touch. His appearance often takes a backseat to his scholarly pursuits, and there’s something perpetually ink-smudged or slightly rumpled about him. There’s an eccentric charm in the way he exists, much like a professor too preoccupied to notice the world judging his mismatched socks.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo is a brilliant mind and has photographic memory. He carries an internal library of knowledge, from images and maps to the exact wording of books he’s only skimmed. Though he loves his family deeply, his obsessive passion for his studies and research tends to eclipse his personal connections. He genuinely wants his family to thrive and feel secure, especially compared to other noble houses he observes, but emotional closeness doesn’t come naturally to him when his mind is always in another century.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Outside of work, Kyo is surprisingly goofy. He’s infamous for truly awful dad jokes and a gentle, self-deprecating humor. Unfortunately, these moments are often fleeting because he tends to become so absorbed in his research that he forgets to eat or sleep, let alone socialize. He’s well aware of this flaw and does try to fix it, but change comes slowly when your passion feels like oxygen.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Despite being highly independent and capable, Kyo’s reluctance to ask for help only deepens the problem. He doesn’t like feeling vulnerable or reliant on others, and this pride, paired with a scholar’s single-mindedness, makes it difficult for him to balance work and life. Still, there’s a sincerity in his efforts that keeps him from being cold or distant. He wants to do better, and he hopes that counts for a lot more than if he didn’t.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo adores the smell of old books and the weight of history pressed between their pages. He finds comfort in quiet spaces, especially the Lucke Museum where he spends nearly all of his time. He very much enjoys puzzles and cryptic riddles, anything that tickles his brain and keeps him chasing an answer. Maps, especially ancient or flawed ones, fascinate him endlessly. He also has a soft spot for kittens and puppies, any little animals really, and secretly enjoys when someone brings him tea without having to ask for it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo can’t stand small talk or shallow conversations, just much of anything that feels like wasted breath. Loud, chaotic environments exhaust him, and being interrupted when he’s focused on something is a quick way to get on his nerves. He dislikes being pressured to express emotions on demand, and finds overt sentimentality to be uncomfortable. He has very little patience for willful ignorance or people who argue without evidence. And though he rarely says it out loud, he’s deeply frustrated by his own tendency to burn out from overworking, even as he struggles to change it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo has never had much interest in devoting hours to learning as much magic as he could. He found his affinity for earth magic early on in Cogworks and has used it so much that he is more than likely one of the strongest earth magic users in the cities, though quietly. He enjoys doing behind-the-scenes work and seeing the result of the hours he spends meticulously caring for the museum.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo’s primary magic lies in Illusion, which he wields with effortless precision. He uses it to reconstruct damaged texts, simulate what broken structures once looked like, and restore old, damaged artifacts to their prime. It allows him to see through time in a way, something he takes great joy in. His affinity for earth magic allows him to manipulate soil and stone to excavate without damaging delicate relics. He’s known for “cleaning” artifacts by coaxing dust and mineral buildup off of them with subtle vibrations, preserving every fragile detail. Kyo treats magic like an extension of his academic tools: quiet, precise, and deeply respectful of the past.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo and his sister share a quiet, deeply intuitive bond, built less on words and more on shared routines. She’s the explorer, the one who ventures out to find artifacts hoarded by nobles, which are most of the time not taken very good care of. She trusts him to treat her findings with a gentle hand, and he trusts her to bring back pieces of the past worth preserving. They’re rarely physically affectionate, but they show care in small, specific ways: she makes sure he’s eaten, he fixes the tiny tear in her field bag without mentioning it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo loves Ranami and her passion and hunger for knowledge, much like himself. It’s like seeing himself reflected through another person, which he values deeply. But he worries, more often than he admits, that she mistakes that recognition for conditional love. That maybe he’s failed to show her that it wasn’t her passion that made him take her in, that it was her. Her fire, her curiosity, the connection he felt with her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Mia exhausts him but Luminos, Kyo loves her. She bursts into rooms like a wildfire, speaking too quickly for him to catch every word, leaving before he can get a word in edgewise. He doesn’t always understand her, not fully, but he admires her boundless energy and the way she throws herself into the world like no one else does. He worries for her, the constant recklessness, her romanticism, her need to be the hero, but he’d never try to snuff out that fire. He only wishes he were better at showing how proud he is of her while also being a better father and paying more attention.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo-Hae Lucke was born the eldest son of Voxthain’s reclusive but renowned Lucke family, caretakers of the city’s largest historical archive and curators of its vast museum. His parents, both devoted scholars, instilled in him a passion for quiet study, preservation, and truth. His mother, Min-Ji, had married into the Lucke family from a lesser-known noble house, and though not born to the name, she upheld its legacy with discipline and grace. His father died when he was only twenty-two, and so Kyo inherited the family estate, the museum, and its mountain of responsibility.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Driven by a deep reverence for history and a photographic memory, Kyo focused most of his early adult life on research. He had little interest in public life or politics, preferring books to people and libraries to meeting rooms. But by the time he grew older, at age twenty-eight, he began to worry about his own heir. He had never married, so he settled on the idea of adopting. While on a research trip to Mezd Kathir with his sister who dragged him from the museum, Kyo encountered a young girl named Mia-Aesira while she darted ahead of a group of orphans during a guided outing. She was loud, curious, and nearly ran straight into him while asking too many questions at once. There was something about her fire and fearlessness that stopped Kyo in his tracks. When he and his sister learned of her story—an abandoned noble-born child—they didn’t hesitate. Her circumstances were tragic, but she radiated light, and they took her home to Voxthain.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Raising Mia was a whirlwind. She clashed with Kyo’s quiet life in every way, but she brought laughter into the Lucke halls. Though she often questioned authority and followed her own rules, she had a good heart and boundless determination. Kyo never understood her need for pranks and heroics, but he never tried to tame her either. He may not have said it aloud as often as she needed, but he loved her fiercely. He had never voiced his reservations about her becoming his heir, but she had very little interest in the values he expected his heir to hold.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀At thirty-seven, nine years later, Kyo met Ranami in the Lucke Museum where she stood, wide-eyed and reverent before a historical display most children would have skipped. She was only ten, with a nervous posture and a mind overflowing with facts and wonder. He and his sister learned she’d taken herself to Voxthain from Asterath, escaping a grim orphanage life after being neglected by her biological mother. Kyo saw himself in her instantly, what with her obsession with learning and awkward social tics.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He and his sister decided to adopt her almost immediately, heading to Asterath to finalize the adoption, bringing her home with wide, frightened, but curious eyes. Ranami was terrified of being used, of being taken in for her usefulness rather than herself. And that terrified Kyo, too, because he wasn’t sure he was showing love in ways that made sense to her. Still, he tried. In his own quiet way, he tried.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Now, both daughters are grown—Ranami a brilliant, anxious scholar with Cogworks credentials, and Mia a blazing-hearted War Caster in the militia. Kyo is immensely proud of both, though he’s still learning how to express it in ways that make sense to them all. He spends his days restoring ancient artifacts brought in by Mun-hee and his evenings losing at game night, and while he’ll never stop being reserved, his daughters have taught him that love doesn’t always look like words—it can be in showing up again and again, even when you don’t know how to say the right thing.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kyo, unlike most nobles in Voxthain, is immensely terrified and concerned about the shadowfog. He has been studying his texts and books and maps to try and understand what’s happening, how it’s happening, but he has come up with nothing. With every passing day that he fails to understand this next challenge, the more dread that settles into his soul and makes him more and more uncertain in his abilities. As if he’s a failure and can’t succeed in the one thing he’s dedicated his life to.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗔𝗭𝗨𝗘𝗟𝗔 𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗩𝗔𝗟𝗘
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Azuela Coral has skin is a warm olive tone, often kissed golden under sunlight, with faint freckles that bloom across the bridge of her nose if you know to look for them. Her dark brown eyes are big and luminous, soft at the edges but sharp when she’s focused. There’s a clarity in her gaze that makes people think she sees more than she lets on. Her eyebrows are expressive, always giving away her mood, even when her lips try not to.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her hair is thick, dark, and wavy, falling to her shoulders in lazy curls that frame her face with a bit of softness she tries not to brush away too much. There’s usually something slightly disheveled about her, like she ran her hands through her hair too many times thinking or got caught in the rain and didn’t care. She dresses in simple, layered pieces with a practical lean—coats with deep pockets, worn boots, little trinkets braided into her hair or hung from necklaces like memories she refuses to let go of. There’s a weight to her style choice, something earnest, thoughtful, and a little romantic.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Azuela Coral is perceptive in the way people rarely expect. She is quiet, but not passive; gentle, but not naive. She has a gift for reading between the lines, picking up on tension or hesitation, and reacting accordingly. She listens more than she speaks, and when she does speak, it’s usually after she’s measured the weight of her words. There’s a softness to her that feels deliberate, a choice she makes to keep her mind on something surface level and not the constant deeper thoughts that plague her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Despite her sensitivity, Azuela Coral has a spine of quiet steel. She’s not quick to anger, but she doesn’t forget when someone’s been cruel. She has strong convictions and can be surprisingly stubborn when it comes to standing up for what she believes in, especially when others are too afraid to speak. She has no patience for manipulation or pretense. Nothing makes her shut down faster than false niceties or empty flattery.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Azuela Coral also has a streak of quiet romanticism. She sees beauty in things that are overlooked: broken statues, wildflowers pushing through cobblestone, the ocean’s way of being something to so beautiful yet so deadly. It’s part of why she’s drawn to the expression of art, why she writes everything she feels and makes it into something she can touch with her fingertips.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Azuela Coral has always been drawn to things that are perceived as broken or damaged. Chipped teacups, well-worn journals, the broken spine of a book. Music, especially gentle acoustic melodies or sweeping orchestral pieces, it grounds her. She finds peace in music and sitting in the sun by the beach for hours writing in her own well-worn notebook. The ocean fascinates and horrifies her, she loves pressing flowers into her notebook, and the way light spills through stained glass always catches her attention. She loves the world and loves existing in the world.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A specific few dislikes of hers, but ones she feels deeply nonetheless, Azuela Coral dislikes people who speak over others, perform kindness for praise, or assume that softness equals weakness. She has no patience for arrogance or cruelty, especially when it’s cloaked in charm, as she herself is very charming but genuine all the same. She gets easily frustrated by being misunderstood, particularly when her silence is mistaken for apathy or submission. She dislikes deadlines she didn’t agree to, being interrupted while thinking, and the kind of performative drama some nobles treat like it’s a sport. And above all else, she hates being lied to. Not in grand betrayals, but in small, deliberate ways that make her question what was real and what wasn’t.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Azuela Coral’s magic is rooted in her love for humans and the ocean both. She has learned powerful healing over her years at Cogworks and also has privately trained herself in some light Transmutation.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her most-used and most notable Transmutation ability is the way she can easily shift her lungs into gills, her skin into something more suited for pressure and salt, allowing her to explore the ocean’s depths. It is a meticulous magic, as going too far down and the Transmutation not holding up well could result in her drowning. She doesn’t go far, but she enjoys the soft silence below the gentle waves.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Used to see underwater most of the time when she goes deeper than usual, she can enhance her vision to see in the darkness of the ocean as well as to repel the salt that would otherwise burn her eyes.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Azuela Coral’s healing magic is where her heart truly shines. She is talented with physical wounds but her area of expertise is more related calming nerves and bringing clarity to the disoriented. She often exhausts herself to make sure others are taken care of, such as her family when they’re stressed or some of her friends.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Azuela Coral trusts and confides in her brother, Antonio, more than anyone else in her life. He is the only one she has ever shared her concerns with about her ballad, the haunted feeling she gets from it. She also tries to make sure he can share his worries and concerns as well, but he hardly does. Either way, she always enjoys his company greatly and feels at ease with him.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Discuss with Aelin.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Azuela Coral was born into the Stormvale family, her parents immediately heading off to Asterath constantly due to the family’s inter-city relations focus. As a result, Azuela Coral ended up raised by her uncle in their oversized manor. Her sister and a handful of cousins filled in the rest of the gaps with warmth, teasing, and the occasional scuffle, especially her brother, Antonio. Though she missed her parents deeply, even having never known them, Azuela Coral grew up surrounded by a patchwork family who did their best to love her completely.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Even from a young age, Azuela Coral had a sharp mind and a sharper tongue. She learned how to navigate the rigid structures of school while never quite fitting into them—too outspoken, too headstrong, too clever for her own good. But it was those very traits that made her a natural leader among the underdogs, the kids who got overlooked, underestimated, or shoved aside. She didn’t just stick up for them, she rallied them, organized them, made them believe they had something to fight for. Now, at sixteen, Azuela Coral is a respected and slightly notorious figure among her peers. She’s a top student who always has a song on her lips and a reputation for standing her ground, even when said ground shakes. Though she still carries the ache of being left behind, she’s learned to channel it into something powerful, something bigger than herself—an unspoken promise to never make anyone else feel unwanted the way she once did.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Beyond that, Azuela Coral has struggled with the ballad her parents named her after. The Stormvales kept a collection of ballads they had been using to name their children after since any of them could remember, and hers was always particularly haunting.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her gown was stitched from seabird calls,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her hands were cold as the anchor falls.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She hummed a tune none dared to learn,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀And did not speak of her return.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The moon was high, the wind was slow,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She vanished where the dark waves go.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀No cry, no splash, no final breath,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Just silence deep, a sudden death.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀They searched the coves, the cliffs, the reef,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀But found no trace, nor sign of grief.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Just tangled kelp in ribboned shape,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A scrap of lace, a pearl-caught cape.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀They whisper still, Azuela Coral,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A name that stirs the water’s thrall.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀It echoes deep where light has fled,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀And wakes the things that sleep as dead.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Beware the tide when night is near,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Beware a voice too soft to hear.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀For if you call, she might reply,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀And you, like her, may not know why.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She wants to escape the level of infatuation she has found herself trapped in with the ballad, but she finds herself drawn back to the ocean. To stare in horror at the waves lapping at the shore, in longing at the depths below, a sinking feeling in her stomach that she just cannot shake.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Azuela lives in a state of quiet in-betweenness, the ocean calling to her in dreams, its voice tangled with the ballad she can never quite silence. She loves the sea like it’s part of her soul, but she fears what it might still demand of her. Just a ballad namesake or not, she feels a haunting connection she cannot shake, but chooses to toward her relationships, trying to understand what it means to truly choose people and let herself be chosen in return. The shadowfog is a topic she hears more and more about every day, but she’s not ready to carry the weight of the world. She’s trying to live for herself, to build something soft and real before the tide comes back in.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗙𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fallon’s appearance is striking, effortless. He stands tall—around 6’2”, he’ll have everyone in his general vicinity know the moment they approach—with a sculpted, athletic build that speaks to both strength and discipline. His features are bold and defined, with a strong jawline, and a crooked nose that serves to further his defined look and not hinder it. His skin is a warm golden-bronze, smooth and radiant in a way that always looks a touch sun-kissed.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀His hair is thick, dark brown, and always neatly styled. He keeps it swept back or parted with just enough mess to keep him from looking too rigid. His eyebrows are dark and expressive, often furrowing when he’s deep in thought or staring at someone who has just said something ridiculous, and his eyes are a rich hazel—warm in the light and positively glowing when locked into a debate or chasing an idea. There’s a natural charisma to the way he holds himself, his gaze meeting others like he’s expecting them to keep up.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fallon is a man of ambition—brilliant, idealistic, and always chasing something just beyond the horizon. He believes deeply in progress, in the idea that innovation and science can elevate society, even if the path there is steep and treacherous. He’s proud of what he’s accomplished, but more than that, he’s hungry to keep doing more. There’s a constant hum of energy beneath his calm exterior, the sense that he’s either on the verge of a breakthrough or a breakdown.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fallon’s passion makes him magnetic. People believe in him because he believes so hard it hurts. He’s charismatic and sincere, with a natural presence that commands a room without needing to raise his voice. But that same intensity can make him stubborn, reactive, and at times deeply insecure when his ideals are questioned. He craves validation, especially from those he respects, and that need can cloud his judgment. He’s a man who wants to do good, but sometimes convinces himself that his version of good is the only one worth pursuing.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀There’s a part of Fallon that is always reaching back toward the boy he used to be, the one who dreamed of changing the world for the better, before politics, pressure, and expectations got in the way. He carries a sense of guilt over compromises he’s made, especially when the lines between innovation and exploitation blur. Still, he wakes up every day determined to push forward. He needs to believe that everything he’s sacrificed—friendships, peace of mind, and maybe even pieces of himself—was worth it. Because if it wasn’t . . . then what kind of man has he become?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fallon has an unshakable love for precision. He finds comfort in clean blueprints, flawless mechanisms, and the quiet tick of a well-calibrated gear. He enjoys working with his hands, not just out of necessity, but because it grounds him. Late nights in his workshop with metal filings on his fingertips bring him more peace than many things ever could. He has a soft spot for bitter coffee and strong tea, which is typical of a man like him. Fallon appreciates honesty, even when it’s harsh, and respects people who challenge him with sharp minds and sharper questions. Despite his guarded demeanor, he also quietly enjoys mentorship—seeing someone else’s potential unfold under his guidance reminds him why he started at all, makes him feel like less of a fraud on the harder days.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fallon can’t stand inefficiency. Sloppy work, lazy logic, it grates at him like rust in a screw. He has little patience for people who speak just to be heard or who rely on charisma in place of competence. If you want to be charming, do it with intelligence to back it. Fallon is also quietly uncomfortable with overt praise, particularly when it feels unearned or politically motivated. He hates being pitied, despises the idea of being seen as a victim of his upbringing, and grows cold when people bring up his parents and wonder about his father when he doesn’t mention the man.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fallon doesn’t use magic. He understands it intimately, down to its logistics, structure, and how it bends within engineered systems. He can break down spell matrices and draft efficient siphoning circuits, but to him, magic is a tool. Something measurable, replicable, controllable. Not something to channel through his own body. He believes too much in precision, in calculation, to ever trust the volatility of casting.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fallon’s relationship with his mother, Maren, is quiet and gentle. She supports his future but knows very little of what he truly thinks, more what he decides to tell her about his ambitions. He truly loves her, but fears what she would think of him if he fully disclosed the way he thinks and the things he knows he’s willing to do for recognition. Instead of speaking about those things, he fixes her radiator before she even mentions it, upgrades her tools and sends them to her wrapped in cloth she once stitched. Maren, ever perceptive, never pushes him to be more emotionally open than he can manage, but she knows her son well. She worries for him in the way only a mother can, not because he’s lost, but because she can see how much of himself he’s buried just to keep going.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fallon has worked with Casmir on projects over the years, learning over time that they were incredibly similar people and worked incredibly well together. His relationship with Casmir is built on the ease at which they understand one another, the way they share uncannily similar minds. Or at the closest Fallon has ever come to meeting someone just as passionate as him, even if they don’t share the darker knowledge that they would do anything to succeed. Fallon worries for his partner’s declining health, the way he has become more frail and weak over time. He never looks down on his partner for the illness that afflicts him, but merely wishes to help in any way he can without pressing a boundary.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fallon was born in the lower-class area of Voxthain. Fallon’s home was a small but sturdy one wedged between a row of tenements, one of the houses with a real roof and a reinforced door, courtesy of his paranoid father. His mother, Maren, had traded her life of comfort in a middle-class noble family to be with her husband, a blacksmith in Voxthain’s working class area. She was a seamstress by trade, and a mechanic by necessity, constantly fixing things such as threads, circuits, and wounds.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fallon’s father would disappear for days, claiming he was away at work when Fallon and his mother knew better, then come home with alcohol on his breath, his hands shaking, and his words sharp, lashing out at Maren for everything from burned stew to the way she looked at him. Fallon learned early to keep quiet after the first time he stood up to his father in his mother’s defense, to read the weight of footsteps on the stairs, to protect his mother in whatever ways he could. He would sit beside her in the dim light while she mended clothes, asking endless questions about the things she used—how the gears turned, how she could thread so effortlessly with limited resources. She answered every one, tired but patient. He learned everything she could give.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cogworks was a battleground of its own. Fallon was always so endlessly brilliant and curious, but he was nobody’s son. No big name, not even a small name to be proud of. Other kids from better-connected families sneered at him, and teachers often looked through him. But he refused to fade. He threw himself into learning, stealing books from shelves he wasn’t meant to touch and sneaking into side workshops to study the machines through the cracks in their casing, to study the science tools and mixes.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He was relentless. He studied through nights and awoke early to help out around the docks and scrapyards on the weekends, trading tools and handmade objects to save up enough to finally move Maren out of the house where her husband haunted the walls. By seventeen, he made sure she had her own apartment in the upper Voxthain area of the city—small, quiet, safe. Fallon never looked back at that house again. He buried it, just like he buried the version of himself who used to flinch at footsteps and dodge drunken words.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀At Cogworks, Fallon transformed from the boy nobody knew into a name people whispered with a mix of awe and resentment. He was smart, yes—but he was also proud. He challenged ideas openly, took command of group projects, and built useful everyday devices that blurred the lines between magic and technology. He graduated from Cogworks with high esteem at eighteen and spent the next seven years of his life learning more and more about science, how magic and technology could be used in tandem. He fought for his place at the top, and luckily enough, Voxthain didn’t have a massive crowd of people vying for top for scientist. Those who were interested in technology enough to study it were very sharp, brilliant people, though—so much so that Fallon almost faltered and reconsidered his own merit.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀At his lowest, he found a way into the official Voxthain scientist team. An apprenticeship that opened up with few competitors, a position he snatched up greedily. He was twenty-five when he stepped into his position on Voxthain’s scientific advisory team. The apprenticeship had started simple: checking enchantment decay rates in power conduits, rewriting aging formulas in outdated magi-tech, and quietly presenting findings behind more senior scientists. But Fallon didn’t stay quiet for long. Within a year, he was leading trials for sustainable energy channels and proposing bold, controversial overhauls to the outdated systems that powered the city’s water and energy systems.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He was loud, sharp, and far too young to be taken seriously by the city’s more traditional elite. But he didn’t ask for permission. He made himself essential. Every test he ran, every flawed system he pointed out, was another crack in the veneer of an aging city too comfortable with how things had always worked. Fallon had the vision—and more dangerously, he had proof it could function better.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀With a few connections and more charm than he liked to admit, Fallon found himself heading for the exact life he had dreamed of. Acknowledgement, fixing things, being better. Now, in his late twenties, Fallon stands at a crossroads. He’s near the top—semi-known, understood by fellow scientists, on the edge of being a hero to both Voxthain and Asterath—but nothing feels secure. He still visits Maren on quiet weekends, sharing tea and fixing things in her apartment she insists don’t need fixing. He still keeps the first tool he ever built, a cracked little copper switch with a glowing rune, in his desk drawer like a talisman. But the truth is, Fallon isn’t sure who he is anymore. The boy who dreamed of rewiring the city to protect people like his mother? Or the man who’s slowly realizing that maybe you can’t change the system without becoming a piece of it first?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fallon’s thirst for acknowledgement will ultimately become his undoing. He has a passion for his work, but his main motivation is to be known, to become someone. He fears oblivion and loves science, so his life goal has become combining the two in order to promote his ambition, which will continue to be his focus more and more as the shadowfog approaches. He thinks he can be the hero, so that’s where his focus will steer towards, whether his methods are harmful to citizens or not.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗘 𝗪𝗘𝗜-𝗫𝗦𝗨
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Chae has warm, coffee-colored skin and a head of dark black hair that’s almost always swept into a messy bun, strands escaping in every direction as if echoing her energy. Her eyes are a deep, rich brown, constantly alight with laughter and mischief. Though her hands are often smudged with grease and soot from her work, Chae never skips her signature winged eyeliner and dark red lipstick. It’s a small act of glamour in a chaotic world, even if both tend to smear by midday.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Chae is frequently seen in oil-stained overalls or rolled-up sleeves, tools clipped to her belt, and little charms tied to her boots or bag. She loves charms, she attaches them to everything she possibly can.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Chae thrives on connection, always eager to listen, laugh, and learn someone’s story. Her kindness is genuine and effortless, and she’s a natural at making people feel seen and valued, which is part of why she’s so beloved around the mechanic’s district. There’s something grounding about her presence, as if she’s the type of person who will offer you soup, advice, and a recalibrated arm without blinking.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Chae is no pushover, though. Raised with a firm belief in honesty, she speaks her mind with a bluntness that can catch people off guard. While it’s rarely meant with cruelty, her directness can sting, especially when her words outpace her tact. She doesn’t mince words or pretend to agree when she doesn’t, and that, combined with her fierce protectiveness, means she won’t let anyone step on her or her loved ones.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀There’s a spark of stubbornness in Chae too, the kind that refuses to give up when things get tough. She’s endlessly dedicated to her craft and her community, and while she sometimes works herself to exhaustion, it’s always in service of something or someone she cares about.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Chae loves creating things that matter. She finds immense joy in the delicate art of crafting prosthetics that blend form, function, and beauty. She adores warm pastries from her mother’s bakery in the morning, tinkering with new designs late into the night, and getting lost in stories people tell her while she works. Chae has a soft spot for anything handmade, especially those charms she loves attaching to everything.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Chae strongly dislikes dishonesty or people who talk in circles. She dislikes shallow compliments and sugarcoated criticism—she’d rather hear the hard truth than be placated. Loud bragging, condescension, and people who don’t treat workers with respect all get under her skin. She hates when others treat prosthetics or disabilities as “less than,” and won’t hesitate to shut that down. She gets frustrated when people ignore instructions or waste time arguing over ego instead of solving problems. Chae also isn’t a fan of cold food. There has been trauma.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Chae learned from her father how to help others with her abilities and magic, but also from her mother how to wash her hands when she finished and help out in the bakery. She knows all of her mother’s recipes and how every menu item tastes by heart, enjoying the time that allows her to spend with her mother as well as the brief escape from her daily work.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Chae is very talented with Transmutation powers, mostly for objects and rarely actual human body parts. Shaping different prosthetics to match her clients makes way for her creativity to flow, allowing for unique and individualized looks. She is very good at building things either with her hands or with her magic, but she leans heavily on magic, as she believes it makes things easier and that magic fuels her everyday work.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Chae is very close with her father, Jingyi, who is also a Voxthain Councilor. He raised her to succeed him in his work within the Tinkerers’ Guild, building prosthetics and appreciating the community. They do a lot of volunteering work together and are well-loved by Voxthain’s commoner population.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀As with her father, Chae holds a dear attachment to her mother. They have a gentle, loving relationship built on warmth and kindness. Chae is always the first to try her mother’s new bakery items.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kavan has always been someone Chae could rely on. What moments of awkwardness he has are made up for by Chae’s gentle demeanor and ability to notice body language and react accordingly. She trusts him with anything and her stark bluntness is very much on the back burner when she’s around him, as his presence soothes her and makes it harder for her to voice harsher opinions and words. He’s usually all that stops her from arguing with Helm over magic as well.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Chae was born to Mei Wei-Xsu and Jingyi Wei-Xsu, two Voxthain citizens with kind hearts and gentle souls. She got her middle name, Liu, from her mother’s maiden name, which her parents wished to preserve and pass down to their child. She was raised with joy and care and love and with deep care and empathy for those around her. She knows how lucky she got with her parentage and she loves them more than life itself.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her family had always been normal Voxthain citizens, but her mother had grown up poorer than most. To top that off, she’d lost her left leg in a carriage accident when she was young. That was how Mei and Jingyi had met, her need for a prosthetic leading her right to him. They fell in love and had Chae over a decade after their marriage. She was a joy in their lives, the child they’d planned for after they got their own lives together. When they knew that they could support a child and show her the best life they possibly could, Chae came along.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her father had always been a notable presence in Voxthain’s smaller communities, an advocate and strong voice for tasks and service projects beneath the Council’s notice. Chae took after him in that aspect, fostering a deep respect for normal citizens and the hard-working class like her family. The Tinkerers’ Guild very quickly became her favorite place aside from home, and even as a toddler she’d messed with machinery tools and held a deep fascination for them. Under her parents’ watchful eyes, of course, as she was a mischievous child.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Chae’s early life was peaceful and taught her the value of showing kindness and using her privilege to help others who didn’t have what she did. She always got rewards at Cogworks not for her intelligence, as she was not exactly booksmart, but for being an outstanding classmate. She excelled in Transmutation, though, as that was the magic form most useful for her passion that she’d honed at school and with her father. She soon met Kavan, a timid young man who reminded her a lot of her mother, who she felt drawn to and protective of immediately. He didn’t exactly trust her for a while, but after some years went by and they’d hung out at the Tinkerers’ Guild and at his dance studio, their friendship solidified.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Chae never wanted to do more in life than make prosthetics for people, do community projects, and make friends. And she didn’t, as she was content. Her mother’s bakery and Kavan’s dance studio were both relatively close to the Tinkerers’ Guild, so she enjoyed her little corner of Voxthain and didn’t venture out much aside from going to Cogworks. She soon met Helm, a smithing apprentice, who also hung around the Tinkerers’ Guild often doing his own work, and they became friends as well. It was a bumpy start, as they never saw eye-to-eye on magic and using it in their work, but she was determined to be his friend. She enjoyed his company and felt drawn to him just as she did with Kavan, even going so far as to introduce the two.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Chae is currently doing what she’s always done, living life to the fullest, appreciating everything she has around her and the people she loves. She can only hope that the professionals such as the Council and the intelligent scientists will stop the shadowfog, because she only helps with prosthetics for those who have suffered from the shadowfog to limb-losing degrees. She can’t do anything else to stop it and that scares her, but she chooses to ignore it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Chae holds a quiet, simmering rage toward the shadowfog because of what it steals. She’s seen too many people walk into her workshop broken in ways that aren’t just physical. Families frayed, futures bent. She’s tired of seeing children fitted for limbs before they’ve even had a chance to grow into their bodies. She pours her righteous anger into her work, each prosthetic carefully engraved and cared for like a personal task for herself every time. There’s a restlessness to her work, like she knows it wont matter if the shadowfog isn’t stopped.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗟𝗨𝗖𝗔 𝗟𝗘𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗫
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Luca wears the world he lives in, with sun-brushed skin with the kind of golden tan that speaks of long days outside, evenings in the amphitheater, and more than a few rooftop sunrises. His hair is dark and tousled, thick with a slight curl at the ends that always looks like someone’s fingers just ran through it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He’s got a bit of scruff, never quite clean-shaven, never fully bearded, just enough to soften that sharp jaw. His nose is slightly crooked from a fight he doesn’t remember, same with a scar that crosses the bridge of his nose. His eyes are a deep onyx, rimmed with laughter lines, the kind that people remember. They’re the kind that hold a thousand stories and still manage to look at you like you’re the most interesting one.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Luca is the kind of man who can light up a whole room with nothing but a grin and a raised eyebrow. Outgoing, magnetic, and endlessly charming, he has a way of making everyone feel like they’re the only person in the world when he talks to them. He remembers names, favorite songs, little things you didn’t even know you said. He’s a natural storyteller, always spinning some tale with his guitar in his hand and a teasing glint in his eye. Whether it’s a ballad, a ghost story, or just a wild recount of a bar fight that somehow ends in laughter, people flock to him. He carries a perfect balance of confidence and quiet humility.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Music is at the center of Luca’s soul. Whether he’s plucking at a worn guitar, whistling a lullaby, or humming under his breath while cooking for someone he cares about, there’s always a tune trailing after him. He believes music can heal, can bind, can keep the hard thoughts at bay—and when Luca plays, people listen. He doesn’t just perform, he shares. His voice can still a room or lift it into riotous celebration. And when he sings, it feels like he’s giving away pieces of himself, all wrapped in harmony. Music is how he tells the truth when words alone don’t cut it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀But beneath all the charm and laughter is a man forged in fierce loyalty. Luca would walk into fire for his people without hesitation. He sees himself as their protector, their shield, their voice when no one else is speaking up. He’s the first to crack a joke to ease the tension, but the second someone threatens what he loves, he turns deadly serious. He fights with a fire that’s equal parts love and fury. There’s a leader in him—not by title, but by presence. He puts others first, often to his own detriment, and carries their burdens alongside his own without ever asking for thanks. Luca isn’t perfect—he’s reckless when his heart’s involved, and sometimes gives more than he should—but people follow him because they know he’d never leave them behind. Traits he inherited from his fierce, beautiful mother, Lenore.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Luca loves music like it’s the air he breathes, especially live performances and street musicians. He prefers being the performer but never misses a chance to support others and give them their time to shine. He has a soft spot for spontaneous dancing, even if it’s in the middle of the street or a quiet kitchen. He thrives on connections to others, be that late-night talks or drinks with strangers who need a listening ear. He’s drawn to things that are warm—sunlight on skin, strong coffee, a person who has so much life within their soul.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Luca can’t stand many things, most of which he inherited from his strongly opinionated mother. Rules that silence people, systems that leave the vulnerable behind. He has no patience for arrogance, especially from those who’ve never had to fight for anything. Betrayal hits him harder than it should, especially when it comes from someone he trusted. He’ll forgive, maybe, but he never forgets. He hates goodbyes, even when he’s the one leaving. And though he rarely admits it, he dislikes feeling useless—when he can’t fix it, help them, or save the day. That helplessness lingers in his bones longer than it should.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Luca’s never touched magic. Not for any specific reason, but because it’s simply never been part of him. He respects it and he sees the beauty in it, but his interests and strengths have always lived in his voice, guitar, and the way he genuinely cares about making people happy.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Luca and his mother are incredibly close, each viewing each other as their whole worlds. She was the only family he had ever known until Paloma came along, the steady force behind every song and every step on the road. Lenore never questioned his restless spirit or his music, no, she admired it deeply. She had given him a freedom she never knew herself, leaving behind a life of hardship so he could chase something brighter, something more meaningful. Luca knew this without her saying it aloud, even though she had shared her story with him before, and it grounded him in ways no magic ever could. Everything he was, and everything he hoped to be, was a testament to her sacrifice and her love.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Luca got a new family member when he was forty-six, a distant cousin who had traveled from Valekros to find the family member that had moved to Voxthain, his mother, Lenore. When she got there, she was pleasantly surprised to meet Luca, and he was ecstatic to meet her. They hit it off immediately and he loved her from the start, bordering on overbearing at times as he tried to get to know her. She was young and impulsive, he noticed, but she was family. He visits her in Asterath consistently at the fighting ring for some drinks together paired with some of his music, enjoying the company of one another.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀To be decided.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Luca met Taz just after she got married to Fae, having attended to play music for them. They hit it off immediately and vibed like crazy. They hype each other up like nobody else can, turning even the most mundane moments into something worth remembering when they’re together. Whether it’s spontaneous trips to the beach, late-night ice cream runs, or dancing in the middle of the street just because the mood hits right, they live for the joy of shared experience. They’re each other’s biggest fans, always ready with a compliment, a wild idea, or a shoulder to cry on (followed quickly by a distraction that ends in laughter).
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Luca’s life in Voxthain was a steady experience of simple joys and deep-rooted connections, a life marked less by upheaval and more by the small, beautiful moments that build a soul. He grew up wandering the city’s streets with a small guitar strapped securely to his back, teaching himself to play by ear, watching street performers, and soaking in every melody that drifted through the air. Music was more than a hobby, it was his second language. Lenore nurtured this passion with quiet devotion. When Luca was a teenager, she gifted him his current guitar, a brand new instrument she had specifically made for him.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀From an early age, Luca’s infectious charm and genuine warmth made him a beloved figure throughout Voxthain. His friends were everywhere—street vendors, fellow musicians, shopkeepers, and wanderers—all drawn not only to his talent but to the way he made everyone feel seen and heard. He had an uncanny ability to find people’s stories in the cracks of the city, to lift spirits with a well-timed joke or a song that seemed to speak exactly to their hearts. Lenore watched all this unfold with a quiet pride and a deep gratitude that her son’s childhood was free from the harshness she had once known. Their life together in Voxthain wasn’t punctuated by grand drama or catastrophe, but by the rhythm of daily life: laughter over shared meals, the soft glow of candlelight during long conversations, music echoing down narrow alleys, and the steady presence of community.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Voxthain itself shaped Luca in subtle but profound ways. It was a place where everyone knew your name if you made yourself known in a positive manner and where neighbors became family. Even now, the stories and friendships Luca formed throughout his life follow him, shaping his life irrevocably. His bond with Lenore, with music, and with the city is unbreakable. Each strum of his guitar pays a tribute to that peaceful childhood, to the mother who gave him everything she could, and to the people who loved him simply because he was Luca.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He has spent his whole life traveling, making connections, building bonds, playing music—even at fifty-four, he shows no signs of stopping or slowing down.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Luca is still wandering, still playing, still beloved everywhere he goes. He’s not chasing fame or fortune, he’s chasing the connections and laughter he thrives off of. His reputation precedes him now, so people in both cities anticipate his arrival. Children run up to ask for stories, parents appreciate the depth of emotion in his music. The cities both still call to him, the people of the cities, but the impending shadowfog brings worry to his heart every night when he turns in for sleep. What if everything is destroyed before he can do the things he wants in life? What if his people are taken from him by something he cannot even begin to stop?
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
