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𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗘𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗥
𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑅𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑠
001. Ceonrei Dirith | Warehouse ✓
Council Meeting Room | Roleplay #1
Ceonrei arrived at the Voxthain Council Building for a meeting with her Sister Councilor, Caledonia. Unsurprisingly, things went south fast. What started as a tense conversation quickly devolved into a heated exchange of insults, ending with Ceonrei storming out.
Neowrath Tavern | Roleplay #2
Ceonrei had just wanted to unwind, vent to her best friend Fiehra, and complain about a certain Voxthain Councilor—only to discover said Councilor was sitting right there next to her at the Neowrath Tavern, disguised and apparently itching for a brawl. What followed was a fiery clash of words, aggressively intimate hand-holding, and a couple of shattered hand bones. Ah, young love.
Ceonrei’s Log | Roleplay #3
Fiehra teleported Ceonrei away to receive care for her wounds after the previous roleplay, leaving our golden girl to contemplate the events and her own emotions and thoughts on it all.
Neowrath Tavern | Roleplay #4
We circled back around to the Neowrath Tavern, Ceonrei heading back to hopefully find Caledonia there again to talk about everything that had happened. Instead, Fiehra and Hannah, two bartenders and one her closest friend, informed her that she needed to get there quickly. When she arrived, she learned that Caledonia had been abducted very recently.
Fairylite Market | Roleplay #5
Ceonrei left the Neowrath Tavern to search for Caledonia, but is soon followed and stopped by Europa. She then demanded to be told where Club Serpentine was, which Europa of course made more difficult than it needed to be, but then complied. The information was not accurate, unsurprisingly.
002. Atilius Augusta |
003. Cress Winters | Winters’ Home ✗
Winters’ Greenhouse | Roleplay #1
Cress was gardening at her family’s greenhouse when her sister, Katniss, came in with goodies to chat. They’re very close and have just the most wholesome interactions. Best sisters in the cities, at least Cress thinks so.
004. Zyx Vyperion | Rattling Chambers ✗
005. Sylvessa Tassith |
006. Solaea Synth | Vortex Hotel ✗
Medic Hollow | Roleplay #1
A scuffle, an arrogant fool, and a striking woman—just another day for Solaea. The roleplay wrapped up quickly with Solaea and the woman slipping away to find a hotel room together.
007. Thessaly |
008. Fiehra Ivy |
Neowrath Tavern | Roleplay #1
Fiehra spoke with Hannah and Ceonrei about Caledonia’s abduction. After Ceonrei left, Europa charmed her and Hannah so that they couldn’t go anywhere or help find Caledonia.
009. Navi Seomun |
010. Jinni Kaggath | Foggy Froggy Lounge ✗
011. Saffron Voss |
Mod
001. Ceonrei Dirith
Log Entry #1: Duty or Defiance? | Completed
↪ Ceonrei was clobbered by Caledonia. She wars with her own sense of pride and her duty as a Councilor, what’s new?
002.Atilius Augusta
003.Cress Winters
004.Zyx Vyperion
005.Sylvessa Tassith
006. Solaea Synth
Log Entry #1: The Beginning of the End | Completed
↪ The day Solaea’s life fell apart and her parents disappeared. The day she found that haunting letter she vowed to never touch again.
007.Thessaly
008.Fiehra Ivy
009.Navi Seomun
010.Jinni Kaggath
011.Saffron Voss
Mod
𝗖𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗥𝗘𝗜 𝗗𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗛
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ceonrei has smooth, deep olive skin with a soft, sun-warmed undertone, and sharp, bright yellow eyes. Her long, light brown hair is thick and silky, often twisted up into a cute, low-maintenance top-bun that gives her a playful charm or left down in delicate waves framing her face. There’s an effortlessness to how she looks, confident but never showy.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Among her jewelry—black metal rings, silver chains, or dark piercings—there’s one piece that never changes: the old orange and pink woven bracelet tied tight around her wrist. Though it's ragged from time, she takes care to keep it from fraying more than it already has. It’s the last thing her sister ever gave her, and Ceonrei wears it religiously.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ceonrei is spirited and bold in a way that draws people in. She exudes warmth without crossing into overbearing cheerfulness. There’s a steadiness in the way she listens, the way she roots herself in a conversation, making people feel like they matter. Her loyalty runs deep and permanent, and while she gives that love freely to those who’ve earned it, she can be dangerously indifferent to anyone outside her circle. When Ceonrei cares, she cares. But when she doesn’t? You’ll feel the chill. Her protectiveness is both her most beloved trait and her most dangerous one.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Though seen as unorthodox for a Councilor, even in Asterath, Ceonrei deeply embraces creativity and openness rather than rigidity and tradition. She leads with compassion, humor, and a genuine desire to connect with Asterath’s citizens. But she isn’t naive—her views are shaped by trauma, grief, and a sharp memory of injustice. She doesn’t always think about the bigger picture if the people she loves are at risk. That tunnel vision can make her reckless, but it’s also what keeps her human. She has an innate ability to inspire trust in others, even when she herself is doubting everything behind the scenes.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She is not quick to anger—but when she breaks, she breaks. Petty insults or basic slander don’t bother her, but the second someone threatens her loved ones or dismisses what she’s built from the ground up, the things she knows she exceeds in, she is very quick to anger. Those close to her know that any fury from her is born from heartbreak, from the guilt she still carries every day, and from the unspoken truth that she sometimes feels she did deserve her mother’s rage.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ceonrei is a very good knife-thrower. She can aim from very far away, precision unlike any other. She loves dancing under neon lights, darting through the market alleys, rooftop strolls above the city noise. She adores the familiar comfort of fizzly drinks with her father, and long, meandering walks with her grandfather. She finds joy in street art, vintage jackets, soft instrumental music, and the joyous laughter of a child.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ceonrei has no patience for elitism or classism, especially in Voxthain citizens. She hates being underestimated, but hates pity even more. She can’t stand the sound of someone crying alone, or crying at all. She avoids floral perfumes and anything too sweet-smelling, loathes being idle, and being trapped in silence with nothing but her thoughts. Worst of all, she can’t stand looking in the mirror too long. Some days, she still sees her mother’s disappointment staring back.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ceonrei’s magic is driven by imagination and visual detail, allowing her to summon complex items from nothing but air. Though her Councilor duties leave little time for hobbies, she still makes room for late-night drinks with friends or the occasional wild escapade.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ceonrei has refined her magical ability to transmit messages over vast distances, usually as brief visual flashes of words or spoken words carried on a wisp of wind. While it requires concentration, she can maintain stable communication across the entirety of Asterath, and with effort, possibly across both major cities. The farther the message, the more draining it becomes, but she can do it nonetheless.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ceonrei’s visually-inclined mind allows her to summon items in intricate detail. She often conjures utility-based items on the fly when needed, but sometimes crafts artistic or emotionally symbolic things as well. The magic is demanding, especially for complex materials that are utility-based, but Ceonrei’s control is sharp from years of focused training.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ceonrei can control artificial lighting around her. She can dim or brighten streetlamps, change color palettes in neon signs, or cause an entire room to plunge into darkness. When necessary, she can also amplify a light source into a blinding flare to disorient others. It gives her a horrible headache to use this magic at all sometimes, but she knows she can easily.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her father was always kind and supportive after her sister’s death, unlike her mother who hated her and went insane. He kept her safe and always looked out for her, which she will be eternally grateful for.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ceonrei’s grandfather took her in when her mother went insane and she needed a safe space, teaching her a lot of what he knew and guiding her through life. He and her father are two of her three close loved ones.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fiehra has been Ceonrei’s only friend for many years, her confidant and biggest supporter alongside her father and grandfather. They have a sarcastic but genuinely loving dynamic.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Caledonia is Ceonrei’s Sister Councilor, though their relationship is anything but civil. The two clash constantly—arguments, barbed insults, and tension thick enough to split the room. Ceonrei’s never had this kind of combative dynamic with anyone before, and while part of her is begrudgingly intrigued by Caledonia’s icy, unreadable nature, that curiosity never lasts long. The longer they interact, the quicker Ceonrei’s patience burns out, replaced by frustration at Caledonia’s unyielding, venomous stubbornness.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Born in Asterath to two average citizens, Ceonrei was raised in a peaceful and warm household. Her parents had always been deeply in love and their magic was always so bright and captivating. Ceonrei had always hoped to take after them in every way she could. She had a sister come along a little over a year after her, the two being close throughout their younger years.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She and her sister enjoyed stirring up trouble at Cogworks with other students. One day, a young boy claiming to be the child of powerful Club Serpentine gang members threatened to have their parents track her down and kill her whole family, but she didn’t believe them. Her parents had always warned her and her sister to stay on their side of town—and they did.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀That didn’t do much good when Snakes found where her family lived, Ceonrei’s sister answering the door to be killed immediately. Ceonrei was a few paces behind her, curious about who was at the door, watching as the knife pierced her sister’s neck and blood splattered everywhere. The rest was a blur, her mother on the ground screaming as her father rushed over, pushed Ceonrei to the side, and took care of the Snakes. She never asked where her father learned to fight like he did that day.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ceonrei screamed and screamed until she lost her voice, her mother gasping for air on the ground as her father held her sister’s pale corpse. Ceonrei needed the comfort of her mother, to tell her why this had happened, She told her mother through the tears that she had bullied some kids at school and what they had threatened. She reached for her mother, begging for her sister to come back, for a hug, for all of it to go away—but that was the last time she ever reached for her mother. She smacked Ceonrei’s hand away, shrieking furious words and throwing harmful hands, her husband pulling her off Ceonrei before she had two dead daughters. Before her father took care of her sister’s body, she managed to take a bracelet her sister always wore from her wrist. A woven string bracelet of orange and pink, one she’d made merely days before with their grandfather.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ceonrei was unenrolled from Cogworks by her father—her mother refused, stating that Ceonrei deserved to be killed by the people she provoked to kill her own sister. He hired tutors and personally schooled her, his kind hand guiding and nurturing her as a person even as her mother tore her down and hurled insults at her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her father moved her in with her grandfather when he realized that his wife would never treat her the same again, unwilling to let his living daughter endure the abuse. Six years passed, the same routine of doing her work with her father and grandfather, finding fun things to do with them both, and avoiding her mother who screamed and shouted at Ceonrei the moment she saw her visiting her old home.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ceonrei had always been fond of her grandfather, she and her sister often hanging out at his house, messing with his gadgets and reading his dusty books. He accepted her into his home easily, raising her and teaching her everything he knew, never once mentioning her sister. It was for the best, Ceonrei knew, and so she never did either.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀At eighteen, she finished her lessons. She had honed her Transmutation magic beautifully, conjuring items from thin air with intricate detail, her innate ability to visualize things in great detail coming in handy for that skill. She also learned to send messages very long distances to her father and grandfather when she wandered Asterath, which is how she met her best friend, Fiehra.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀They met when she was sixteen wandering Asterath and hit it off immediately. After a few months, Ceonrei told her friend about the years of torment from her mother after she all but killed her own sister. Of course, Fiehra reassured her that it was not her fault, but Ceonrei would never get past the screams her mother had woven into her soul, the blame that pressed on her chest every day of her life.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She felt as if her life were moving forward—learning more about Asterath as she explored the neon streets and alleys, meeting more people, making connections. Feeling healed, educated, and happy. Near her nineteenth birthday, she was asleep peacefully in her room in her grandfather’s house when she felt a blade at her throat, those oily, dark whispers in her ears. Her mother, ready to kill her after having snuck into the home, eyes wide with insanity and skin pallid. The blade drew blood briefly before her father burst in and dragged her away, leaving Ceonrei to wonder what she could do if her mother was ready to take her life. She wondered why she didn’t try to push the woman away. Perhaps she knew deep down that she deserved it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀It wasn’t a problem anymore when, days later, her mother was found dead. Her father never told her what had happened, but Ceonrei could tell from the way he was heavy with guilt, the way he apologized for nothing and collapsed in her arms after he brought the news. He had likely given the woman a potion of some sort, a sedative with too much power, to save Ceonrei from her mother’s wrath.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Four years passed, her life relatively peaceful, he could finally think of her sister without the screams of her mother rattling in her skull, but she still had a long way to go before the nightmares stopped. Asterath Councilors never lasted long, so a new election was held—the candidates were not promising. Ceonrei had a wild thought, an idea her loved ones supported wholeheartedly, to run for Councilor. She had no experience with leading—nor did any other candidate—but she knew she wanted to fix some important issues. She ran and won by a landslide, the hopeful eyes of Asterath’s citizens gazing back at her giving her a newfound hope in her ability to become a leader. She would do her best for the city she called home, even if deep down she knew she was only taking the position to occupy her time and thoughts from focusing on her past and trauma.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ceonrei serves as Asterath’s most competent Councilor, though her leadership style is unconventional. The common citizens adore her creativity and genuine kindness, the way she wants to make a change and just needs to figure out how. She spends her days balancing massive issues with more smaller, local ones. The shadowfog encroaching on a needy, terrified Voxthain has grated on her nerves listening to them whine, but when it truly matters, Ceonrei is the type of person to fight for everyone around her, not just her own people even if they are her main priority.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗨𝗦 𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧𝗔
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Atilius bears the kind of rugged handsomeness that commands attention without demanding it. His face, cut in strong lines and framed by a neatly kept beard, is marked by the lived-in look of a man who has experienced a lot in his life. Dark brown hair, often worn tousled as though he hasn’t the time to tame it, carries streaks of lighter bronze in the light. His storm-blue eyes, flecked with stone gray, hold a piercing intensity—steady, observant, and difficult to read.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He has broad shoulders and a build that he maintains with managing heavy book shipments. He has calloused hands that betray the amount of work he does with them. He wears comfortable flannels over form-fitting short-sleeved shirts and jeans, sometimes managing to clip his unruly curls back with a few colorful pins.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀At first glance, Atilius is the sort of man people dismiss as endearingly awkward. He laughs at his own jokes in a sort of apologetic way and seems more comfortable lingering at the edge of conversations than in their center. His hands are rarely still, fidgeting with trinkets, sleeves, or the hem of his coat when nerves start to fray. He has wide, curious eyes and the occasional stammer, obvious to most that he is a shy, nervous soul. He never raises his voice, never makes demands, and has a way of ducking out of conflict with ease.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀His calmness is the kind that makes him look like he’s meek. He doesn’t argue or flare up in tense situations, he simply folds himself smaller, lowering his eyes and letting others do the shouting. It makes people feel safe around him, even protective. He nods earnestly when spoken to, chuckles softly at things others overlook, and has an odd way of making others feel clever in his presence. He hates drawing attention to himself, and for the most part, he succeeds at fading into the background.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Beneath the mask of awkward charm, there’s a steady patience to him. He never rushes or pushes others. He remembers small details about people, a thoughtful and deeply observant person. His goofiness, his anxious ticks, his gentle calm, it all makes him the type of person that can be relied on and trusted through and through.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Atilius is an avid book enjoyer. He reads less than he manages them at the library he spends his time working at, but they fascinate him and the knowledge behind the covers brings him almost a sense of power. He is a quick learner and loves finding out new things to archive within his mind for later. He enjoys chill people that can be friendly and stimulating without being overbearing and prying.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Atilius dislikes those who ask too many questions and put him on the spot. He is not deeply private, but he does not like focus or attention on himself. He dislikes when he cannot think of solutions to problems, growing deeply annoyed with himself when that happens.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He does not use magic.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Future meet-cute!
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Atilius was born elsewhere on Valoran, his life relatively dull. He left his city at twenty-two, tired of the predictable rhythm of his old life and craving something new. His wanderings eventually brought him to Voxthain, but soon he heard of Asterath, the undergound city. It sparked a curiosity he couldn’t ignore. Drawn by the promise of a city full of history, culture, and subtle intrigue, he made the journey down into the vast cave, carrying only a satchel of belongings and an eagerness to learn.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Since arriving, he’s spent three years quietly observing, studying Asterath’s customs, politics, and daily life. Despite his shy, anxious nature, he’s made a small circle of friends who appreciate his gentle humor and attentive listening. He lives in a very nice, comfortable apartment overlooking the city—a space filled with books, notes, and trinkets collected from both Asterath and Voxthain. His days are split between his work at the grand library, where he delights in handling book shipments and keeping things organized and neat, and relaxed afternoons spent wandering the streets with friends, sharing stories, or discovering hidden corners of the city. His ultimate goal is to be intelligent and knowledgeable enough to be trusted with the deeper archival areas of the library, the promise of more information intoxicating to him.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He also maintains frequent trips back to Voxthain to visit some friends and trade books, but the journeys have allowed him to build a network of knowledge and connections. To the casual observer, he’s just a quiet, bookish man with a goofy charm and a steady calm, but his years of observation, study, and careful travel have allowed him to grow more and more knowledgeable about Asterath, the city he loves.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Atilius spends his time with a few odd friends here and there and takes care of the library he works at. He enjoys his simplistic life, unaware or avoidant of outside issues that each city faces.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cress has long, wavy, and wispy brown hair that cascades freely down her back, rarely tied up since she enjoys the feel of it around her shoulders. Her slanted, deep brown eyes always seem to shimmer with some kind of joy. She has a warm smile that lights up her whole face. Her skin is a beautiful tan shade, kissed by the sun and lightly dusted with freckles, giving her a look as earthy and gentle as the gardens she tends.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her clothing reflects her softness: she gravitates toward light, airy fabrics like loose skirts and short-sleeved tops in pastel hues, often looking like she just stepped out of a spring afternoon.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cress is a gentle soul. She radiates warmth, not in a loud or boisterous way, but with a quiet steadiness that makes people feel safe in her presence. She’s the kind of person who remembers your favorite tea, who notices when a plant looks droopy before anyone else, who instinctively offers her hand when someone looks like they’re on the verge of tears, even if she’s the one usually on the verge of tears.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sensitive and anxious by nature, she feels everything deeply and sincerely, and that emotional depth gives her a powerful intuition and empathy for others. Her anxiety can make her hesitant in unfamiliar situations, but she still tries, especially when someone she loves is involved. She believes everyone deserves to feel safe, heard, and cared for.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cress is also deeply connected to her family and her environment. The greenhouse her parents run is not just her home—it’s her sanctuary, her whole heart. She spends her days planting, pruning, harvesting, and laughing with her mother, tossing jokes back and forth with her father sometimes, or basking in any rare moment she can steal with her sister who is often out and about. While she’s technically affiliated with the Spider gang through her family, she remains completely removed from their more dangerous activities, choosing instead to pour her energy into nurturing beauty and growth wherever she can.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cress adores early mornings when the greenhouse is quiet and dewy, the warmth of the sun filtered through first the roof of the cave, then the leaves. She loves nurturing life, be that tending to her plants, watching her sister laugh, or baking flower-shaped cookies for her family. She loves soft fabrics, lavender-scented things, and the hum of bees.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She gets overwhelmed by loud, aggressive energy—shouting, unexpected loud noises, sharp voices all make her tense. Which would be why she has a deep fear of leaving her home and greenhouse, as Asterath is constantly bustling with noise and energy.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cress has honed magic that relates to her everyday life and what she loves to do most. It helps her manage her family’s greenhouse and makes everyday gardening much easier for her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Cress’s earth magic is her strongest. She can coax plants to grow faster, healthier, and more beautifully, simply by being near them or running her fingers through the soil. Her connection to the land, even as underground as Asterath is, allows her to sense the health of plants and the energy of the ground beneath her feet.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ While not her strongest gift, Cress’s water magic is gentle and purposeful. She uses it mostly to nourish her plants—summoning fresh dew to thirsty petals or misting delicate leaves with a flick of her fingers. She can cleanse water sources, summon light rain, or guide small flows through irrigation lines in the greenhouse. Her touch with water is more intuitive than powerful, better suited for care than combat, but it fits her perfectly.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cress’s younger sister, Katniss, has always been one of two people she was closest with in life. One of the two people she wholeheartedly trusted with her life and secrets both. She worries about her sister to no end—never judging or looking down on her for anything—wishing she could do more than stand by and watch. She has no idea what her sister has gone through but she knows her well enough to see traces of memories and sadness and can’t do anything to help.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her mother raised her and gave her every core value and hobby she has, always being a steady and soothing person in her life. Her anxiety developed on its own without provocation, but her mother was always there to soften the blow of hard days. For that, she is someone Cress would do anything for.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The guy is usually busy with gang duties, but he and Cress have their moments when he’s around where they check in with one another and joke around. Otherwise, they aren’t close enough for much else.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cress was born the first child to two Arachniad parents, her father being a fairly highly-ranked member in the gang and her mother someone who loved greenhouses and plant life. For her whole life, she’s had a powerful bond with her mother, having been raised with such gentleness and love. She took the same interests as her mother, immediately falling in love with plants and caring for that sort of life. She and her father were also always close, but he tended to make efforts to “toughen her up”. Her mother defended her from those attempts, as harmless as her partner was being, as she appreciated Cress’s empathetic, gentle demeanor.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cress’s life had always remained uneventful, as she preferred sticking to the greenhouse and the occasional visits to Voxthain to see their gardens—far more vast and beautiful than the small greenhouse in Asterath. Her mother picked up on her love for the upper city quickly and promised that no matter what Cress decided, she had a home in Asterath. Her mother had schooled Cress and Katniss herself instead of sending them to Cogworks, but she never had harsh words for Voxthain. She taught them the pros and cons of each city and basic school subjects, helping them however she could. Their father wasn’t around much, but only as a normal gang member would be busy, so they were still close and had time to bond over the course of Cress’s life.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cress, being the older sister, broke every stereotype associated with older sisters. She was the one being protected by Katniss most of the time, even if she would fight ferociously for those she loves. Her family had always protected her before she could protect them, and sometimes she feels very bad about it, but they reassure her and alleviate that anxiety they all know well enough. Katniss and Cress are very close—they had always been. Hardly ever had they fought—Cress would just start crying—and so they grew up together with a powerful bond just like Cress’s with their mother.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cress has slowly been realizing how dangerous Katniss was becoming—and the danger she was facing in doing the things she was doing. It had always been a worry, but everyone in the gang liked to steal. But not all of them began entering the realm of danger in doing so, Katniss had. Cress had always been too anxious to say something, but her concern can sometimes present itself in her being pushy attempting to get her sister to spend time with her or stay home for the day, even if Katniss hardly listened.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cress’s life is and always has been incredibly uneventful. The only things she ever has to worry about are others. Especially her sister, Katniss, who has become increasingly entangled in the gang’s more dangerous circles. Cress doesn’t even know if it’s the gang or if her sister has found new dangers to get into. Her anxiety, usually manageable, has grown sharper due to that concern and the whispers of the shadowfog approaching Voxthain, just above Asterath and the greenhouse. She has lingering fears that Katniss won’t come home one day. She doesn’t know how to stop any of it, only how to love harder and try to manage her spiraling panic when it surfaces.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗭𝗬𝗫 𝗩𝗬𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗢𝗡
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Zyx is an imposing figure, built like a fortress and impossible to miss. Towering over most, his frame is layered in thick, powerful muscle, giving him the presence of something ancient and unstoppable. His deep tan skin stretches over his bulk like bronze over iron, and his shoulder-length brown hair falls in messy curls.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀His most noticeable feature is his eyes: red abysses of feral red. There’s a sense of stillness to Zyx, moves always deliberate, almost lazy in their lethality. Scars dot his body like badges of honor, most of them earned without a second thought.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Zyx operates without a shred of a moral compass. There’s no line he won’t cross, no rule that binds him. If he wants something, he takes it. If someone stands in his way, they disappear. He mostly harms for sport and malice, but also because he has an inherent disregard for human life. What some would call evil, Zyx would simply call unbothered.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀His demeanor is far more subdued than expected of someone so brutal. He speaks in monotone with an almost praciced level of deadpan, rarely raising his voice, rarely expressing much at all. The humor he offers is dry and unsettling, like he’s letting everyone else in on a joke only he understands—and that joke usually ends with someone dead.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The only time Zyx shows any spark of genuine feeling is with his family—particularly Cadmus. His devotion there is terrifying in its own way, an obsessive, bone-deep protectiveness that overrides everything else. While his affection is quiet, it’s absolute, and Cadmus is the one soul Zyx sees in value.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Zyx relishes in the feeling of absolute control. He likes watching others unravel under pressure he exerts, testing their limits just to see where they snap. His one genuine source of softness lies in Cadmus and their children. He likes the thrill of shared cruelty, the sick comfort of lying beside someone just as broken as he is.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Zyx loathes sentimentality and anything that tries to paint him as redeemable. He abhors institutional magic like that taught at Cogworks, with its rules and ethics and watered-down theory. Any figure of authority that believes their title makes them untouchable earns his ire as well. Children’s laughter grates on him—except from his own, whom he tolerates and protects with feral obsession.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Zyx was never one for the rigid, polished magic taught at places like Cogworks. Zyx turned inward, searching for something raw and cruel enough to match the dark thing settled deep within his soul. What he unearthed wasn’t taught in classrooms. It was personal, feral, and entirely his own.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Zyx created his only form of magic through years of brutal experimentation, first on animals, then on people, molding it until it obeyed him like a well-oiled machine. Rupture focuses on the manipulation of internal force—organs tearing themselves apart, veins combusting beneath the skin. There are no pretty movements or whispered spells. Rupture is performed through sheer will, intention, and physical touch.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Zyx’s husband of eight years, his Rattler, his whole world. Cadmus is someone who has seen and continues to see every dark, evil, cruel, and intimate side of Zyx all while loving him no less. They do everything together and are two very powerful people in different ways. Zyx is so heavily attracted to his husband’s intelligence, as even if Zyx is sneaky, Cadmus’s intelligence is unmatched. Rupture and Rapture, they call themselves.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Zyx’s two children are the only other people he truly cares about aside from Cadmus. He is not specifically close with either of them, as they are still quite young and just entering Cogworks, but he would not hesitate to murder anyone who harmed them in any way.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cadmus’s daughter who he’d had before entering Zyx’s life, Europa, is not exactly Zyx’s cup of tea. Because he loves Cadmus, he keeps her alive and safe, but he holds no affection for her. Perhaps the first sneaky thing he’d done where Cadmus was involved, he pushed for Europa to become a Councilor. He wanted her pulled away from his family and his gang, becoming tired of the woman more and more as the days passed. He never told Cadmus why he chose to back her, but he was sure his intelligent husband could gather exactly why.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Zyx’s childhood is obscure to him, as he does recall it being a happy one. There was no catalyst to his cruelty, no reason. None. In some way, his soul was just branded with dark magic and he was irreversibly irredeemable. At birth, he was doomed to hurt those around him, and he enjoyed that knowledge. He grew up quicker than most, hardened and unbelievably cold towards everyone. He ignored his parents entirely, didn’t make friends, and worked on his magic.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He hated all magic Cogworks taught, so he resorted to learning his own. It took ten years from the time he was thirteen discovering the magic he did enjoy for him to perfect it. Rupture, he called it. At fourteen, he attempted it on another student and almost killed them—only their arm exploded, as he’d only been using the magic on animals and wasn’t great with it quite yet.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He fled, but not in terror, merely to celebrate the victory and continue working on it. He was immediately put up on wanted posters so he could be punished, but nobody ever found him. He abandoned his home and parents, wandering the streets and spending nights in hotels or inns along the darker sides of Asterath, practicing that deadly magic on many innocent passersby. This went on for four more years, the power growing more and more efficient.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀As if a testament to how his abuse of magic led to deep changes within his mind and body, his eyes went from deep brown to glowing red. The dark magic within him somehow recognized the bloodshed occurring over and over and it began to show on his physical features. He was a shell of a human, a year of time passing feeling like a minute to him. He began to slow down the rampage once word spread of the “Red-Eyed Serpent”, garnering attention he did not want. Power, though, he did. And the mention of his resemblance to a serpent brought a new thirst for something other than death and blood.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He had his sights set on becoming the Head of Club Serpentine, a gang known for their genuine bloodlust and deadly crimes. Never before had he wanted recognition or held any form of ambition, but the petty murders began to grow dull. He was bored with it all.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Zyx claimed his role as the Serpentine Head by murdering the previous one. It was not a hard task, but finding the man was nearly impossible. He managed it, though, as his cunning ruthlessness led to many tortures for that information. The murder was not told to be “an accident”, no, the murderer is meant to take full responsibility so their claim as Head is acknowledged by the rest of the Snakes. He immediately began working on the restructuring his new gang needed. With that, he also needed a Rattler.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The gang would not accept a one-man leadership, so he decided he’d compromise just enough. He met Cadmus, who was Rattler even before Zyx killed the previous Head, fairly quickly, deciding not to talk and kill first so he could replace the man, but he didn’t get that far.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Their fight was impossible as he couldn’t touch the man before he transmuted into non-physical form. They tired themselves out quickly, neither of them able to even hit one another at all. The pause when they both finally realized they couldn’t even hurt one another was the first moment Zyx felt that spark. That spark that he had never felt and was resigned to never feeling. But oh great Lantas, he fell and fell hard for Cadmus, the intelligent, cunning man.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Many intimate, disgustingly vulgar things happened after that, but it enabled Zyx to settle into their partnership for the gang as well as their growing romance. He and Cadmus both were cruel people who saw the darkest sides of one another and never thought anything of it. With that, they also saw the more intimate, soulful sides of one another—what little of the “soul” part they each had. They married at thirty after three years of a whirlwind romance of murder and torture together.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cadmus’s transfiguration magic allowed a shift in anatomy, so they were able to have children together. At present, their two children are five and seven. Cadmus already had a daughter, Europa, but Zyx doesn’t quite acknowledge her at all. He protects his family with every resource possible, and at least protects his husband’s previous child even if he doesn’t like her, leading Club Serpentine to even more cruelty than they were even previously known for. His steamy romance with his husband translated into a powerful co-leadership dynamic, as they do everything together and garner joy from being awful people together.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Zyx rules his gang from the shadows as steady as ever. Every order, every hit, every act of cruelty sent through his deadpan voice and merciless gaze. The Councilors have long since given up trying to apprehend him. Every bounty placed on his head has ended with the hunter’s body left somewhere poetic. The steps of the Council building, perhaps. He delights in the prospect of the shadowfog, but does not so much with the murders that he knows are not him or his gang. It threatens his known specialty as well as his gang’s notoriety, so he is currently hyperfocused on figuring out who is doing the murders.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
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𝗦𝗬𝗟𝗩𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔 𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗧𝗛
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sylvessa’s blonde hair is cut short, tousled in a way that looks accidental but never messy, like she stopped caring how it fell, yet it still frames her face with that quiet kind of defiance. Her eyes, a pale hazel-green, carry a depth that’s far too old for someone her age, rimmed always with a hint of exhaustion or confusion, depending on the day.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀There’s a tension to the way she carries herself: shoulders pulled tight, jaw clenched ever so slightly, as though she’s always on the edge of remembering something dangerous.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Before the Shattering, Sylvessa was a quiet, tender soul living in the cold shadow of her favored twin. She was gentle, empathetic, and endlessly patient. The kind of person who gave her kindness even when none was returned. Despite neglect and emotional starvation from her mother, Sylvessa held onto a fragile hope that she might one day be seen and loved for who she truly was.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She had a soft, cautious optimism and a streak of resilience born from surviving in harsh circumstances without much support. She kept her head down around the snakes in Club Serpentine, never provoking, often overlooked, but quietly longing for connection or a place to belong. She was loyal to the few who treated her kindly and carried a subtle strength beneath her vulnerability.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Though overshadowed and unseen, Sylvessa had a quiet spark of defiance and a secret longing to prove herself beyond her sister’s shadow—a hope that one day she could carve out her own path, away from neglect and cruelty.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀After the Shattering, the girl who was Sylvessa became fractured and blurred beneath layers of forced memories and false identities. All of the traits that made her who she was were buried deep under confusion and pain, replaced by a disoriented, hollow version of Seymora that her mother tried to impose.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She is now caught between fragments of her true self and the imposed persona. Moments of flickering memories and intuition break through, but they are overwhelmed by doubt, fear, and a haunting sense of loss. She struggles to trust her own memories or emotions, often feeling disconnected from herself and those around her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Who am I? Who am I? Who am I?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Who is she? Who is she? Who is she?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Magic once felt like the only thing that was truly hers. Sylvessa had a quiet, instinctive talent for it. She remembers loving it deeply, the way it made her feel weightless and seen, even if only by the magic itself and by not the humans she wanted to be seen by. But now, after the Shattering, her emotions are raw and unruly, like glass shards under her skin. Like something she’ll never get back. When she tries to call on her magic, it’s wild and uncontrolled. It terrifies her. So she avoids it, represses it, lets the power rot behind a barricade of fear and grief.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Discuss with Elizabeth.
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Born a twin in the heart of Asterath’s cruelest circles, Sylvessa came into the world already forgotten.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She and Seymora were identical in blood, but not in worth—at least, not to their mother. From the very beginning, their mother had eyes only for Seymora. She poured her love into her, trained her, shielded her, praised her every breath. As twins, Sylvessa just couldn’t understand why. What made her special? Seymora was her masterpiece, her legacy. Sylvessa? An echo, an afterthought. She wasn’t hated outright, just neglected so thoroughly that it became its own kind of violence. She learned early how to go unnoticed, how to live on scraps of affection and never ask for more.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Despite it all, Sylvessa remained soft-hearted. She didn’t fight for attention or retaliate. She simply . . . hoped. She clung to what little warmth she could find—her own magic, the rare moments Seymora spared her a smile. Magic was the only thing that ever felt truly hers, a quiet companion in the cold. Her illusions were delicate, intimate things: flickering butterflies, glowing orbs, soft lightshows hidden in the dark corners of Serpentine alleyways. But no one praised her for it. No one noticed.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Club Serpentine was no place for girls like her. They celebrated power, not softness. Strength, not sweetness. Her sister fit right in. Sylvessa didn’t. The others dismissed her as fragile, weak, useless. Some mocked her. Others ignored her entirely. She was the invisible twin in a den of snakes. Watched, maybe, but never protected.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀When she was old enough to realize the love she longed for would never come, she left. Fled Asterath at fifteen. Not that anyone would care or notice anyways. Disappeared into the edges of Voxthain, hoping to build something, anything, of her own. Began knocking on doors as hunger, terror, and loneliness soared.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀To her surprise, someone opened the door.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A small host family took her in—an older woman and her partner who saw Sylvessan’s quiet trauma and didn’t flinch from it. They didn’t ask for explanations. They didn’t demand answers she didnn’t have. They offered warmth and structure and the kind of love that didn’t have to be earned. It wasn’t perfect. She flinched at every raised voice, kept her shoes by the door like she was ready to flee again—but it was safe. It was hers.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀They encouraged her to apply to Cogworks, even though she was years behind. At sixteen, she enrolled—tentative, overwhelmed, and deeply aware of how far behind she was. But it was there that she met Mia-Aesira, the loudest, brightest, most relentlessly kind person she had ever known. Mia didn’t just see her—she dragged her out of the background, kicking and blushing. They became inseparable. For the first time in her life, Sylvessa had someone who didn’t want her to shrink or disappear.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀At nineteen, she finally graduated. Late, yes, but proud. She had carved out a life of her own—however fragile. A home. A future. A best friend. She even dared to think she might be happy.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀And then her past came to collect.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Weeks after graduation, she vanished without a trace. Her mother had been watching, waiting. And when the moment came, she struck. Sylvessa was abducted under the cover of night, taken back to Asterath—and subjected to the Shattering.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her memories were stripped, burned, overwritten. Her mother, driven mad by grief after Seymora’s death, forced Sylvessa into her sister’s skin. She dressed her in Seymora’s old clothes. Fed her false memories. Whispered her name like a curse and a prayer. Tried to mold her into a daughter she had never loved, but now couldn’t live without.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sylvessa was gone. Or so they thought after weeks of the torture.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀But something is still alive beneath the surface. Something fractured, buried, but something . . . trying to remember. Trying to fight back.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sylvessa lives inside a stolen life.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her mother calls her Seymora. Dresses her in Seymora’s old combat leathers. Trains her in Seymora’s old routines. Forces her to repeat words that don’t feel like her own and praises her only when she gets it right. But something in Sylvessa’s chest rebels with every breath. It doesn’t feel right. None of it does.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She is quiet, compliant, she doesn’t know what else to be. She nods, obeys, plays the role she’s been carved into, but behind her eyes is something raw and flickering. Glimpses of another life, another self: the warmth of found family, the sound of Mia-Aesira’s laugh, the soft pull of magic used in joy instead of fear. She doesn’t know where the memories come from. They come in flashes, in dreams that feel like warnings. Nothing feels correct or right or real. Magic like the kind her mother used on her shouldn’t even be possible. How? How? How?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She has pieced together more than that she exists over the weeks she has been abducted, listening and trying to be present. “Revenge” and “send her out” are whispered phrases she hears a lot, along with a name. “Caledonia”? Either Sylvessa spaces out in a daze of not existing or is put through more wardrobe changes or routines by her mother, both removing any bit of focus she’s tried to regain.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
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𝗦𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗘𝗔 𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗧𝗛
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Solaea has a wiry, toned frame, giving her an equal balance of muscle and agility. Her golden hair is often combed over and hanging in her face slightly, caught in a messy side ponytail. Her ice blue eyes, her most intense feature, are rimmed with a subtle but vivid ring of yellow.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her features are fine, sharp even, but she has an effortless allure nonetheless. There’s little softness to her physique, and she manages to be intimidating when she wants. Alternatively, she has an unnatural way of drawing others near and seeming almost nurturing.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀To strangers and passing acquaintances, Sol comes accross as calm and reliable. She seems like the type who always has a plan, who knows when to speak and when to listen, and who somehow stays level-headed even in the face of disaster. Her smile is easy, her voice smooth, her posture relaxed. Beneath the surface, there’s a constant ache. A mind dragging behind it years of grief, self-doubt, and guilt that never went anywhere, just got quieter as she used louder methods of coping.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She is intelligent and pragmatic, often able to strategize or defuse tension before it begins. But she also shirks responsibility in the places it matters most—particularly when it comes to her younger sibling, Blue. She knows she’s absent more often than not. She knows she’s emotionally unavailable. She knows. But knowing doesn’t help her act differently. She tells herself she’s doing what she can, that it’s better than nothing. And yet, that lie tastes worse each time she says it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀What truly defines Sol is the internal war no one sees. She’s someone who’s never been taught how to heal, only how to hide. Her unresolved pain over her parents’ disappearance festers beneath every choice she makes. On some days she feels capable of greatness; on others, she can barely get out of bed. She isn’t heartless—far from it—but somewhere along the line, she decided that surviving was enough. That maybe pretending to be okay could pass for actually being okay. And now, she doesn’t know how to undo that choice . . . or if she even wants to try.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sol finds comfort in nighttime walks—even if Asterath is always dark, the underground-dwellers have an inherent ability to know what time of day it is aboveground. Sol appreciates music, even if she has little time to enjoy that particular thing anymore. Painting had always been her favorite hobby before her mother disappeared and took that with her, too. Despite her distance from her sibling, she genuinely loves Blue and quietly treasures the rare moments they share laughter, or silence that isn’t strained. It has been too long since they shared those moments, and she pushes down any attempt her heart makes to bring up longing.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sol despises pity. She hates being asked too many personal questions, especially ones that prod at her feelings or force her to acknowledge the depth of her own self-neglect and sibling-neglect. She avoids being alone, avoids quiet spaces, preferring the bustle of crowds to keep her mind occupied. Sol has little patience for forced optimism or people who think everything can be fixed with the right attitude. And above all, she hates herself most on the days when she realizes how long she’s gone without checking in on Blue—when she remembers that love, no matter how deep, is meaningless without action.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Solaea would find more interest in magic if it weren’t such an emotion-based thing to do, to use. She used to enjoy messing around with Transmutation magic, but refuses to now, as the last time she tried, she spent days sobbing alone in her room screaming for her parents to come back.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Though not by her own magic, Sol has had a Transmutation enhancement made on herself. A powerful Asterath Transmutation magic-user gave her a yellow ring outside of each pupil, allowing her to move with greater speed, process information much faster when she activates it, and emit a yellow trail behind her when she sprints. It was not by her own magic that it exists, so when she has to activate it, it’s not directly siphoning off of her, therefore avoiding the part she hates about using her own magic.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Blue is Sol’s younger sibling, only a child when their parents vanished without a trace. In the aftermath, everything fell apart slowly, in a long, quiet erosion. Sol, already grappling with her own grief, couldn’t fill the role their parents left behind. She tried, in her own way, to keep things stable, but the truth was she was barely staying afloat herself. And Blue—confused, scared, and needing more than she could give—was left to fend for themself far too often. As time passed, the distance between them solidified into silence. They began navigating life in separate orbits, occasionally brushing past each other but never really connecting.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀As one does, Valen knocked her date out at the fighting ring when he tried to instigate a fight with Sol. Both women were immediately attracted to one another and it didn’t take long before they were both heading for the Vortex Hotel to find a room for themselves. Just sex, just flirting. Sol cannot handle more in her life than that, but the company of a beautiful woman is enough for her. For now.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Solaea was born to an Asterath mother and a Voxthain father, Juniper and Emmett—a romance forbidden by Voxthain nobles and heavily looked down upon by Asterath citizens. Asterath was far more accepting, even if still on edge about it, than Voxthain—so Sol’s father left to be with her mother. Sol was born a year after they settled into their home, the household happy and nurturing.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Blue, Sol’s sibling, was born when she was ten. An accidental birth, but one her parents took in stride. She was excited but also worried how a new family member would change their dynamic she’d built with her parents. That worry was soon relieved when Blue was born and Sol took the time to play with them and do fun things together as a family for many years. One day, Solaea decided to take Blue outside with crayons, paints, and cans of spray to do art all over the side of their home. Upon discovery by their parents, Emmett had almost had a heart attack over it while Juniper laughed and laughed.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sol had been a good kid growing up, but Cogworks was hard for her. The teachers didn’t teach in a way her mind could grasp easily. She felt that it was her fault, so she grew frustrated and angry over the years, turning to an unhealthy source of coping—forcing her way into the wrong crowd at Cogworks. She was unable to focus or learn properly, but now she was also distracted.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Blue and she remained close up until Sol had chosen to make the wrong type of friends, her time and focus aimed on them rather than Blue or her parents. Sol was so wrapped up in her self-destruction that she stopped paying attention to anyone in her family. Her parents noticed that she was acting off, as she was growing rude and hateful towards them as well as Blue at times. While they knew their daughter well enough not to take it to heart, they weren’t going to allow it to persist. They pulled her from Cogworks and began teaching her themselves. Emmett being a former teacher’s assistant at Cogworks certainly helped, tailoring the learning to how her mind worked.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sol had no interest in magic or any branch of the magic system, preferring to use her physical strengths and her sharp mind to accomplish things. She turned back to her family and Blue once her education caught up and her life grew boring, preferring to stay in the moment rather than worrying about her future plans.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀When Sol was eighteen, life had regained a steady rhythm. She spent time with Blue vandalizing buildings—who was growing up to be a mischievous little gremlin—wandered the streets of Asterath with her father, and learned how to paint with her mother. Painting became Sol’s favorite hobby, inheriting her mother’s gift for it. All of this came to a screeching halt when truly out of nowhere, her parents disappeared.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sol had left to go trade for some paints, and Blue was at school. She arrived home a few hours before Blue was set to return, confused and scared when her parents were nowhere to be found. Gone. Most of what happened after that was a blur, events she doesn’t remember in the panic and terror of it all. Blue had arrived home to see her pillaging through the house for an explanation, for anything. Nothing, she found nothing.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sol went out and begged neighbors for answers, battered them with questions, sobbing as she desperately tried to figure out what happened. Nobody had answers, and even as kind as the neighbors were, Asterath citizens knew more than better not to meddle. She was left entirely alone with Blue, not one single sign of a struggle and only one note promising their return on the kitchen counter.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The two siblings had no other family, no clue what to do next. Sol finally found a letter in her parents’ room a day after their disappearance that she just didn’t understand. Why did her father have a horrifyingly cryptic, most certainly threatening letter that appeared to be recent? Was that why they disappeared? Sol was sure of it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sol couldn’t explain to Blue what had happened to their parents, as she couldn’t say for sure either, brushing off their questions for days after it happened, too focused on the papers and figuring things out to worry about anything else. She had Blue stay back from Cogworks, more or less ignoring her sibling after issuing that command, too wrapped up in the confusion and insanity she was facing to make sure they obeyed.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sol had no choice but to pull herself together, to put the letter away and focus on her own life and Blue. She was left with an eight year old sibling to care for—a responsibility she was never ready for. She’d learned how to be a big sister over time, not a parent. Regardless, she finally explained that their parents had died. She apologized for her own behavior, doing her best to be a soothing, steady figure for them as they processed the news.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Solaea did her best to keep herself together for a while, heading out to trade for food and supplies that they needed. It went well for a few months at most, but it soon fell apart. Solaea took to wandering the streets of Asterath in an attempt to find something to do, quickly stumbling upon the fighting ring, Asterath’s main attraction. The bright neons and loud music drew her to it—as well as the bloodied Asterath citizens fresh out of a fight she passed as she entered for the first time. She’d done some basic self-defense with her parents, but the ferocity and brutality of the fighting ring was new to her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Sol decided to try one fight in the ring on a whim—a fight where she got beat very quickly. The thrill of it, though, kept her going back for more. She trained with some of the other fighters and learned techniques by getting beat to a pulp on most days, but she enjoyed the distraction and feeling of freedom it gave her too much to let the pain deter her. She discovered her natural talent for betting, an inherent bit of luck she seemed to carry, turning away from daily fights and more so towards the betting side of the ring. Her parents weren’t around to offer them that kind of stability, but Sol’s seeming inability to lose a bet kept them afloat. Jewelry and valuables came to her like moths to a flame, but that didn’t quite matter much when she was allowing her sibling to grow up without any guidance in the world.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Time flew, at least for her. She found a good rhythm, keeping the house well-stocked and heading off to the ring when Blue went to school—or presumably went to school, she wouldn’t have known. She never knew or even asked how Blue was doing—what they were doing—and made no effort to change that. She never asked if they needed anything, wanted anything. She didn’t know parenting, but it was her own flawed thinking and coping mechanisms that led to the deterioration of their relationship. They hardly interact, and when they do, it’s strained and too formal for family members. Sol likes the normalcy of her life and the regular schedule she hardly ever diverges from, but she takes her own comfort at the cost of Blue’s formative years where they need a parent more than anything.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Solaea is treading water, outwardly stable, inwardly breaking. She’s settled into a predictable, almost mechanical routine: she wakes up, trades for supplies, checks her bets at the Asterath fighting ring, and trains when she feels like burning off the weight in her chest. She’s no longer in survival mode, exactly, but she isn’t thriving either—she’s just existing, doing what she knows how to do, and avoiding anything that might force her to confront the emotional wreckage she left behind.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔𝗟𝗬
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Thessaly’s looks are a strange mix of softness and sharpness, like porcelain-doll fragility offset by the wildness in her pale blonde hair that never seems to lie flat. Their skin is fair with a faint pink flush, as though the cold has just kissed their cheeks—an appearance mirrored by their birthplace. They have wide, glassy blue eyes and a wide, almost convincingly sincere smile.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She dresses like she’s wandered through both a candy shop and a snowstorm, pulling together airy silks, pastel velvets, and odd trinkets that never quite match. They enjoy thick, oversized wools and coats even when it’s too warm for said outfits, showing nothing but pure comfort when enshrouded by layers of winter clothing.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Thessaly is the kind of woman who lives suspended between different spectrums. On her gentler days, she is airy, whimsical, and almost childlike in her delight. They hum to themself, twirls when no one is watching, and speaks in flourishes that make even the dullest sentence sound like a secret. Beneath it all, they carry a strangely fragile aura, as if it could change or be uprooted at any moment.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀When the ring lights hit, her eccentricity becomes a force of nature. She thrives in spectacle, a dramatic tempest flair, her voice holding both mischief and majesty. The air-headed charm disappears entirely as her eyes flash with wild intensity when provoked, when something rubs against the grain of her volatile heart. She’s unpredictable—rules and expectations never anchor her and never will. They flit where their emotions pull, burning bright and vanishing just as suddenly.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The way they drift between extremes leaves little room to make lasting connections. She is enigmatic, moody, and sometimes withdrawn to the point of dead stares and deep silences. She is hard to place, hard to pin down, and never steady for too long.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Thessaly used to hate snow after being cast out of her homeland, but that particular wound has since healed. She loves snow, finding something mesmerizing in the way it falls silently, covering the world in endless possibility. Winter is the only time she goes to Voxthain to see the snow. She thrives on change, constantly shifting her surroundings, routines, and even her own moods. Magic captivates her endlessly, not just as a tool but as a source of wonder.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Rules frustrate Thessaly, binding her creativity and restricting her freedom. Stagnant feelings or routines suffocate her spirit, leaving her restless and irritable. Anything predictable or monotonous, from strict schedules to unchanging habits, grates against her vibe.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Thessaly’s magic is rooted in their icy heritage from the snowy mountains of Ywdell. She can summon ice from the air and water around her. They can also charm and command only their own ice-formed objects with subtle enchantments. It is magic she has always had and has rarely used, yet runs in their blood regardless.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Thessaly uses ice in many different ways, such as summoning ice and cold shards from the air and water around them. It is generally more dramatic and fun than really useful, creating illusions of swirling winter storms or glimmering frost that accentuate her dramatic presence. Their more destructive side of magic mirrors the raw, untamed fury of a blizzard. She can summon jagged ice spikes and shards at terrifying speed, striking with precision and force that can pierce armor or shatter stone, and also can summon a rabbit named Tùzi.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Thessaly can charm her own ice creations to do what she wishes, though not other people or random objects. They can ask an ice shard to embed itself in someone’s neck, for example, or command an ice cloud to snow on a giggling child.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Thessaly has a white companion bunny they can summon named Tùzi, Mandarin for rabbit apparently? She doesn’t do it often as Tùzi prefers to stay in Thessaly’s mind, but the rabbit is one of her only friends and the sole creature that sees the havoc in their mind on a regular basis.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Thessaly has a deep resentment and hate towards their sister that has only intensified over time. The more they miss home and the parents she killed the more Se’rana’s mere existence infuriates Thessaly. She tries to mind her own life and dispel the thoughts, but the rage grows and grows deep within her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Thessaly and Paloma have a relationship that thrives on mischief and competition. They are the two head fighting ring announcers, with Thessaly leaning heavily into dramatic flair and unpredictability and Paloma being blunt and sarcastic. When on the mic together, they argue endlessly, trading barbed insults and serious but not too aggressive critiques. Thessaly delights in riling Paloma up, seeing every exasperated glare or sarcastic retort as a private thrill, and Thessaly just knows that Paloma secretly enjoys matching her blow for blow, even if she’ll never admit it.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Thessaly was born in Ywdell, the city covering the whole of the snowy mountains. She and her sister, Se’rana, lived with their parents in the most populated, beautiful place in the center of the city. It was called a village, as they were elite and seen as the leaders and “pure” populace. Life in the always-frozen city was harsh but serene, and Thessaly grew up in a world defined by quiet companionship and warmth shared in a loving home. She and her sister Se’rana were inseparable, best friends as much as siblings, bound by the innocence of youth and the thrill of learning their family’s magic together.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀That fragile peace shattered when they were fourteen. During a lesson meant to be careful, measured, and small, Se’rana pushed too far, too hard—and their parents’ lives were lost in the burst of magic that caused an avalanche. The village emphasized being careful with magic, but the two were naturally curious and thought they could manage it. Not only were their parents killed, but the avalanche took the lives of a few innocents in their homes down the mountain.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The village saw only murder, not accident, and cast both girls out, leaving them in grief, terror, and exile. Thessaly’s mind broke with the shock. For months they moved like a ghost, unable to process what had happened, drifting in and out of themself while Se’rana tried to keep them both alive. The mountains taught them survival even if they were taken care of, so they found food and managed the cold, long nights better than most would—but they had never faced the cruelties of the wider world before.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀By the time they reached Voxthain, they were both starving, scarred, and aged beyond their years at only fifteen and sixteen. Voxthain felt unbearable to Thessaly. It was too bright, too polished, a mocking reflection of the beauty she had lost in Ywdell. It was the underground city of Asterath where they finally chose to stay, in the shadows and the gloom that matched their splintered spirit. Se’rana also went, but they parted ways after reaching the cave city. She visited at first, clinging to their bond despite the weight of what had happened, but Thessaly could no longer look at her without fury curdling in their chest. What once was love and loyalty rotted into resentment.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Thessaly’s found a home with an old woman who offered them something they had lost: stability. The woman lived simply, tucked away in a cavern home carved from stone and firelight, and wanted only company in her last years. Thessaly never set foot in Cogworks or among the citizens in the bright, elegant city above. She refused to leave Asterath. Instead, they learned from the old woman—stories, songs, scraps of history, little magics of preservation, and the art of voice. Se’rana stopped visiting—even the sight of their sister made Thessaly feel sick, repulsed. It festered like a wound reopened, raw and unhealed, growing worse each time. So they told their sister to stop visiting, slamming the door in her face for the final time when they were nineteen.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀When the woman died just after Thessaly turned twenty, the grief hit hard but differently than before. She finally understood loss, and that understanding let her step forward unlike it did when she was fourteen. They got their own small apartment in the undercity, carrying the woman’s lessons with her in memory and in spirit.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Their path to becoming a fighting ring announcer wasn’t planned—it unfolded from their voice and eccentric nature. Thessaly began reciting the old woman’s tales aloud in Asterath’s squares, her strange cadence and dramatic flourishes gathering curious crowds. They had a flair for exaggeration, for turning even mundane observations into little performances. It was a coping mechanism at first, a way to control the attention that had once felt suffocating, but it became a skill. Her voice could silence a rowdy crowd or whip them into a frenzy, her stories growing more and more violent, loud, and intense. She was hired for one night as an announcer when the full-time one fell sick. Their unpredictable energy and theatrical presence made the fights larger than life. One night became many. Soon, they weren’t just a girl who’d survived exile and loss. They became the ring’s eccentric herald, their voice bringing life to a dull crowd and humor to hard nights.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Thessaly lives for the nightly announcements they do in the fighting ring. They spend their free time practicing voices and dramatic flairs and making new personas in their mind, excited for their next bout of narration on the violence that unfolds in front of them. Sometimes she forgets who she is, but she loves what she does. She cares very little about the world around her or the goings on.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗙𝗜𝗘𝗛𝗥𝗔 𝗜𝗩𝗬
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fiehra’s look mirrors her spirit, warm and vibrant. Dark black hair frames her face in a chaotic halo, always slightly windblown no matter how she tries to tame it down. Her skin is a deep olive, dotted with small scars and freckles. Her eyes, a rich brown with grey flecks, seem to catch every flicker of emotion around her—restless, aware, and hard to fool.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She dresses just as she did when she lived in the Barvolan Desert, a comfort thing for her. Rugged pants, cropped tops, utility boots, and fingerless gloves. There’s always a knife tucked somewhere, a scrap of cloth tied at her wrist, and the faint scent of the desert incense she burns in her apartment.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fiehra is a spitfire in every sense of the word. She’s sharp-tongued, quick-witted, and never afraid to bite back when someone crosses a line. She doesn’t wait her turn to speak, she takes it, usually with a smirk and a raised brow, daring someone to shut her up. Fiehra has never been one to water herself down for the comfort of others. If you ask her opinion, she’ll give it to you raw, unfiltered, and probably a little too loud. But it’s not about drama and being right, it’s about truth. She believes deeply in standing up for what’s right, especially when others can’t.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Beneath her fire is a fiercely protective soul. Fiehra may bark, growl, and challenge authority with every breath in her lungs, but when someone she cares about is in danger, her entire demeanor changes. She becomes a shield and throws herself in the way of the harmful thing. She’s the first to throw herself into a fight if it means keeping someone else from bleeding.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She thrives in chaos, oddly grounded by it, always adapting on her feet and charging headfirst into life’s worst storms with a grin. She's impatient with cowardice but patient with healing. With her, it’s always “you good?” followed by a hug, a shove, or both. Her humor is biting but affectionate, her love language a blend of teasing and total devotion. Fiehra isn’t soft, but she’s solid—the kind of person who makes you feel like you can breathe a little easier just because she’s standing beside you.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fiehra lives for adrenaline, for the buzz of a close call and the anticipation of a new thing happening. She’s got a soft spot for spicy food and desert flowers and scents. She’s surprisingly sentimental about old songs, especially ones that remind her of home or something she can’t quite name. And despite her sharp tongue, she adores people who can match her wit, call her bluff, or dish it back harder. If you can make her laugh mid-fight? She’ll remember you forever.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fiehra can’t stand being idle. Nothing puts a dampener on her spirit faster than becoming bored, life growing stale, nothing new happening. It almost makes her angry to be sedentary. She hates feeling trapped, physically or emotionally, and claw her way out of any situation simulating that fear of hers bleeding and snarling. Cold weather is another enemy—it makes her deeply uncomfortable.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fiehra’s magic manifested young. It had to. Out in the Barvolan Desert, survival depended on instinct. At first, it showed in strange flickers—vanishing from danger without running, reappearing on dunes she hadn’t climbed. Her family called it desert mirage, a spirit trick, necessary for escaping oncoming sandstorms and snakes in the sand.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fiehra had to learn to teleport, or mirage as she grew up calling it, at a very young age. She still uses it constantly, so she can move vast distances if she can just picture the place she wants to be. She removes children from dangerous situations with it most of the time, or merely entertains them with goofy teleporting item tricks that they love.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fiehra’s relationship with Paloma is full of warmth and love. Paloma didn’t just pull Fiehra out of the shadows, she pulled her into a real home, enrolling her in Cogworks and standing as her guardian when nobody else would. They bicker like an old married couple, Paloma’s sharp wit matching Fiehra’s fiery tongue, but beneath the teasing is a deep trust. Paloma is the calm to Fiehra’s storm, grounding her when the chaos threatens to consume her, while Fiehra reminds Paloma what it means to fight fiercely for something better.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ceonrei has been Fiehra’s best friend for many years. They know how to make one another laugh on hard days and are always there for each other, if a bit scathing in their humor towards one another.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Future babygirl kissing girls relationship! Starting off as friends, though! Cuties!
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fiehra was born to a nomadic desert family in the Barvolan Desert. She grew up under the shelter of weather-worn tents, learning to read wind patterns and teleport with magic before she could read, running barefoot alongside other children through sunbaked dunes, and listening to the slow, patient stories of elders around flickering campfires.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀At eleven, a group of foreign travelers arrived at her camp. They were heading from Asterath and Voxthain, the twin magical cities to the south, and spoke so very highly of their homeplace. The elders scoffed, muttering of foolish tales and dangerous ideas—but Fiehra’s ears burned. One of the travelers, a woman named Mun-Hee, held her attention like a spell. There was a man with her too, but he was background noise. Fiehra trailed them for days on their mission like a stray pup until she gathered her courage and approached them, offering to guide them through the confusing desert.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀For weeks she led them through the desert trails, pointing out sheltering caves and whispering winds. But when their journey ended, and they turned back to the cities, she realized her family was gone. Or, rather, she had left her family. She loved them, but she was young and they were all so travel-oriented that she didn’t feel much attachment to them. The loss didn’t sting like it should have.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The road south was cruel. Fiehra scavenged, stole, and nearly starved before she stumbled across the hidden descent into Asterath’s underground. She hadn’t managed to catch up with the two travelers, but she had made it despite all odds. She found a group home easily, as communal living was all she’d ever known and it appeared as if there were many parentless children in the underground city. She worked odd jobs, swept alleys, fetched food, ran errands for valuables to trade. Every day was different, every branching cave new. She thrived.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀At fourteen, she started cleaning the blood-slick floors of the fighting ring, scraping puke and teeth off the stone after matches. The violence didn’t bother her, not much did. But it bothered someone else to see a child in the fighting ring for any reason. Paloma was a fighting ring announcer and one night she saw Fiehra mopping up the aftermath of a particularly brutal match. She pulled her aside, demanded to know why a kid was cleaning this shit. They talked. Then they had dinner. Then Paloma asked her to move in.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fiehra didn’t hesitate. It was another new chapter, and she lived for those.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Paloma enrolled her in Cogworks the following week, officially becoming her guardian. They bonded quickly—both immigrants, both fighters in their own way. Fiehra knew the city better than Paloma by then and delighted in dragging her to her favorite hidden spots in Asterath. For the next four years, they built a home. Strange and patchwork, but full of warmth and understanding between them both.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀By eighteen, Fiehra graduated from Cogworks with decent marks and a restless soul. The thrill was fading. She needed something more. That’s when she discovered the Blacklights—a specialized group dedicated to guarding Asterath’s streets, protecting the people from the gangs festering in the dark corners of the city. They called their watchdogs across the city Shields. Fiehra wanted in.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her passion and street-earned grit got her accepted, and she was stationed, of course, near the fighting ring. No one else wanted that corner of Asterath. Fiehra made it her turf.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her focus was the kids. She knew what it was like to grow up surrounded by brutality and adrenaline, and she wasn’t about to let another fourteen-year-old mop up blood like she once had. She applied as a bartender at the ring to keep eyes on everything. No one wanted the job. She fit right in.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Now twenty-two, Fiehra’s days are full of unpredictability. She serves drinks to murderers and mercenaries, flashes smiles at fighters between rounds, and slips warnings to lost kids who linger too close to the edge. She’s still restless, still searching—but for now, the role fits. It’s messy, wild, and raw. Just like her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fiehra is deep in the chaos she thrives in—bartending at the Asterath fighting ring by night, patrolling as a Blacklight Shield by day, and doing her damnedest to keep the younger kids out of the kind of mess she willingly throws herself into. Life is loud, bloody, unpredictable, which is just how she likes it. She splits her time between her small but cozy shared apartment with Paloma and the undercity streets she knows better than her own reflection, staying on the move, always chasing the next jolt of purpose.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗡𝗔𝗩𝗜 𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗠𝗨𝗡
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Navi is an avid daydreamer, always lost in her own mind and quite loose-tongued. She tends to drift through conversations with either a soft, spaced-out charm or by muttering some unhinged commentary straight from her mind that she couldn’t resist verbalizing. She might seem a little airheaded, but she is deeply intelligent and quick-witted. She sings her words more than she speaks them, potential lyrics fluttering through her mind on loop.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She moves through life with a laid-back vibe, never rushing but always moving forward, silently feeling things deeper than she lets on. Navi is goofy and dreamy but also fierce and profound, a high-energy soul when discussing something she loves or enjoys.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Navi’s loyalty for her people runs deep, though she might not say much or express it the best. When she cares, it’s in subtle things like a poem written for them, a hand-made trinket left quietly at their door, a hand-written note. She’s a friendly and open person but she hides her own feelings, emotions, and struggles in favor of being helpful and less burdensome to those around her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Discuss.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Discuss.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Discuss.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Navi Seomun was born as a result of two worlds colliding. Her mother, Reika, was the younger sister of Nahilia, the matriarch of the noble Thorne family. Reika, as she knew she would never be the family head or have any reason to forge her life in a nobility-based way, strayed from the typical path of a noble and fell in love with a wild-spirited young man from Asterath. He showed her a life beyond ballrooms and bloodlines, loved her fiercely, and even proposed to her once she informed him that she was with child. Reika gave Navi his last name before they were wedded, as she was born before they could marry and Reika didn’t want her child carrying the Thorne last name if she would never be recognized as a full part of the family. As a random but common act of violence in Asterath, Navi’s father died before she was born.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Reika never recovered. Her grief hollowed her out before Navi got to know the type of person her mother used to be. Her laugh vanished, her warmth turned brittle. She raised Navi in a well-off apartment on the edge of the Thorne estate. Reika, once full of life, became a ghost that Navi had to learn to live with. A ghost who drank and did potions, teaching Navi indirectly but just as effectively by example that those things were not good. She had nobody to talk to about monuments in her life, her feelings, her thoughts—so she learned to keep it within and regulate herself.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She developed a stutter as a child, and of course, other kids mocked her. Teachers pitied her. Even her mother, numb to most things, would flinch when Navi struggled to speak and violently tripped over every single word. So she stopped trying to speak the way others did, her childhood of self-regulation allowing her to problem-solve and think critically on her own much better than others her age. Instead of speaking in common ways, she found rhythm—notes, rhymes, cadences that slipped from her lips like spells. Speaking in poetic rhythm, saying what she felt and forming the words in her mind before saying them. It was her first introduction to music and lyricism and she knew she would stick with it for the rest of her life.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her cousin Avaliyah was the only consistent presence in her life—the one person who didn’t treat her like someone other and alien. They shared secrets, safe silences, and the kind of connection that didn’t need explanation. But aside from Avaliyah, Navi had no one. She became quiet, self-contained, and dreamy. She learned how to carry herself with gentle whimsy, closing off her feelings behind odd phrasing and soft smiles. Her mind became a sanctuary filled with lyrics and metaphors no one else could decode, and she was okay with that.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Navi kept her head down in her early years of Cogworks, content to exist in the shadows of the bustling, lively halls. But during her later years—still quiet, still drifting—she met (insert rest of history here)
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀a
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗝𝗜𝗡𝗡𝗜 𝗞𝗔𝗚𝗚𝗔𝗧𝗛
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Jinni is tall and beautiful in a way that feels unapproachable rather than inviting. She dresses in structured clothing—tailored coats, sharp boots, dark, layered tones that absorb rather than reflect light. Her blonde hair is cut into an airy wolf cut that is easy to maintain. Her eyes are dull but a stunning green, often narrowed further in a look that makes most people hesitate before speaking to her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀But up close, her features soften. There are fine lines by her mouth and eyes that suggest she frowns more than she smiles, yes—but when she looks at her students or Kaela, there’s a visible shift. Her eyes seem lighter, her posture less rigid. Her voice, often clipped and quiet, takes on a smoother rhythm.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Jinni is guarded, but not cruel. She doesn’t snap without reason, though her coldness can feel like a slap to those unaccustomed to her energy. Every part of her personality is bound tightly by control—she doesn’t like attention, doesn’t like vulnerability, and doesn’t let herself be known easily. She’s cautious in every interaction, treating the world like it’s one breath away from betrayal. It isn’t that she hates people; it’s that she doesn’t trust them. Sarcasm is her defense mechanism, deployed in sharp flicks of words when someone gets too close or too nosy. She doesn’t believe in softening herself for strangers.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀And yet, something in her breaks open around her students. She’s patient, attentive, even protective—never indulgent, but always kind. Her sarcasm vanishes entirely when she’s teaching, replaced by clarity and care. Her students feel it, too, the quiet dignity she grants them by never talking down to them. She notices who’s struggling and always finds a way to guide without embarrassing. She gives them structure, steadiness. It’s clear that, while she doesn’t believe people deserve her trust, she fiercely believes that children deserve safety and knowledge.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀When she’s around Kaela, though, it’s like watching a completely different person. She watches Kaela like she can’t believe someone like her exists: someone warm, adored, easy. Jinni tries to mimic Kaela’s openness in small ways—smiles she hasn’t practiced, casual touches she overthinks, praise she means but delivers awkwardly. She’s utterly smitten, and everyone can tell. Around Kaela, she’s softer, sweeter, sometimes even playful in her stiff, unsure way. It’s as if Kaela is the one place where Jinni allows herself to hope.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Jinni has a quiet fondness for order—neatly stacked papers, well-organized shelves, and the steady rhythm of routines. Despite her aloof exterior, she adores literature, particularly tragic poetry she will never admit to reading. Her favorite moments are when her students surprise her, whether it’s a clever question, a breakthrough in their learning, or simply showing kindness to each other. Kaela’s laugh, which she’ll do just about anything to hear, is another thing she loves deeply.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Jinni detests chaos, especially emotional outbursts—whether they come from others or threaten to rise within herself. She bristles at nosy questions, performative friendliness, and people who assume they know her. Loud voices and sudden changes to plans each make her irrationally angry. She dislikes witnessing vulnerability, both in herself and in others, though she’ll tolerate it from children with far more grace than adults. Jinni also harbors a strong distaste for small talk, forced gatherings, and anyone who tries to “fix” her, especially those who assume Kaela must be doing just that.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Jinni’s magic is rooted in control and precision, not flash or power. She can sense magic like a dog on a scent trail like a sixth sense that tugs at her attention whenever enchantments, wards, or magical residue linger. Though her offensive casting is limited, her ability to sever, disrupt, or dismantle spells is exceptional.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Jinni can trace the thread of a spell mid-cast and cut it before it completes, often with a single whispered word or a flick of her fingers. Same with pre-existing enchantments. She doesn’t brute-force her way through them, she finds the weak spot and severs it with precise timing and deep knowledge of structure. It’s not a showy skill, but it is incredibly effective.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Though shielding wasn’t her original strength, Jinni surprised herself when she began teaching defensive spells to her students and realized how naturally it came to her. Her shields are clean, wide, and resilient—capable of covering not just herself but multiple people. They aren’t unbreakable, but they hold strong under pressure, especially when she casts them with others in mind.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Kaela has always been the one person who has had the ability to awaken a hidden, buried part of Jinni filled with love, joy, and kindness. Kaela, only Kaela. Jinni clings to the woman, and even though they’re not in an established relationship, they share every moment they can together and love each other with everything they are.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Jinni sometimes visits the couple who had taken her in and cared for even when she pushed them away, doing activities together and talking about their lives.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Raised in Asterath by a grandmother who had lost her sanity years ago, Jinni was just one of the many Asterath kids causing chaos on the streets. She was meant to go to Cogworks at five, but her grandmother didn’t enroll her. It took more than a few adults around the neighborhood realizing she wasn’t going to school, most of them not bothering to bring it up. Most Asterath citizens don’t meddle, but some do. There was one couple, though, who desperately pleaded with her grandmother to enroll her even if the old woman couldn’t even hardly comprehend the request. Jinni spent a lot of time at their house baking cookies and doing fun crafts, so they came to care about her.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀At nine, Jinni was finally enrolled by a Councilor at the time who spoke on her grandmother’s behalf. The Councilor was a family member of the couple that had grown fond of Jinni. She got a late start, but as a naturally curious child, she caught up to the others her age very quickly. Some students teased her, but she didn’t understand that it wasn’t just joking. She didn’t have much social interaction in her life before then, so she didn’t realize. Later, though, she met Kaela. The young girl was outgoing and sweet, the best friend Jinni had needed. As they grew up throughout their teen years, they were inseparable and obviously in love, but neither of them said a word about it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Jinni supposed nothing could last forever, though. After graduation from Cogworks, just as she was working up the courage to tell Kaela how she felt, she found out that her grandmother was remarrying. Her grandmother, despite what some may think when they hear the word, was still rather young. Jinni’s mother, who she never knew, had her when she was nineteen, her grandmother equally as young whenever she had Jinni’s mother. She had just been driven crazy by something and nobody ever knew what.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her new husband was a sketchy weasel, dealing in weapons and potions both. Jinni knew what had happened—he’d seen her grandmother’s weakness and wanted to use it. And he did. Jinni couldn’t go back to Voxthain, couldn’t reach out to Kaela, because her whole life centered around protecting her grandmother. It was for nothing, though, as the new husband had been working on a potions lab beneath their home. Unsurprisingly, tragedy struck. Jinni was out trading for supplies one day, her grandmother and the man at the house. One malfunction with the potions in the basement killed them both and obliterated the house. Jinni was only twenty at the time, two years having passed since she lost contact with Kaela.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Jinni fell off after that, the abrupt end of the only life she knew bringing her to hopelessness. She wasn’t close to her grandmother, but the woman was all she had. With no other option, she fell into the same Asterath life others did when horrific things happened to them. Asterath was good for those types life complications. She began to drink at saloons, drowning out the memories.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Six years. Six years and she had a schedule down, sleeping wherever she could find company on long nights and drinking her life away. That same Councilor who had enrolled her in Cogworks and helped her move her life forward all those years ago approached her in the bar she frequented, sent by the couple who hadn’t given up on Jinni. They’d offered her a home with them, but she refused. They finally sent the Councilor in hopes that she could inspire Jinni to regain her life, take back control. And she did. The Councilor mentioned how Jinni was a great student, so willing to learn and help others learn. How she had more in front of her than this life that she’d fallen into. Jinni began to visit the bar less and less, allowing her memories and mind to return to a state of normalcy.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀For the first time in years, she remembered Kaela. She had mentioned wanting to become a teacher, Jinni recalled, and had been so excited—did she attain that dream? Was she at Cogworks? A newfound sense of purpose began guiding her as she found accommodation in a nice Asterath apartment area, reconnecting with that kind couple who had all but saved her life by sending their Councilor family member to help her out. Jinni didn’t know what she could do after that, but sobering up and having a good home was a good start. She headed into Voxthain more, stopping by Cogworks to inquire about job openings. She wanted to find Kaela, even though it had been too many years. Why would the woman remember or care about her after she just up and disappeared?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Jinni had always been pretty good at Abjuration magic, but she had no training to be a teacher. There was also another Abjuration teacher already, so Jinni couldn’t take that position yet, qualified or not. The teacher was growing old and wanted to give her position to someone younger, though, and began searching for an apprentice. Jinni willingly volunteered for that position and received it—teachers were in short supply, it seemed. The old Abjuration teacher noticed Jinni’s skill, but berated her daily about her manners and rude tone and words. It was the way of Asterath, but the teacher slowly albeit aggressively trained Jinni to be kinder and nurturing.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Jinni learned quickly, even if changing her whole set of mannerisms proved a challenge, coming to love the job and even being a teacher’s assistant more than she thought she would. With Abjuration came teaching English, another thing Jinni was already great at. The position seemed as if it were made for her. She kept to herself, though, and for a while she wasn’t even sure if Kaela was at Cogworks. She convinced herself that her former best friend was long gone, but she grew to love teaching nonetheless. If anything, it was a way to move her life forward, even if she would always remember Kaela and wish she’d done things differently.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Out of nowhere, after Jinni had accepted that fact, there she was. Kaela. Jinni was struck by the woman’s beauty and light endlessly radiating from her very existence. She’d changed so much in appearance, but that undeniable radiance? That was the Kaela Jinni remembered. The Kaela she’d almost given up on. She had to work up the courage to approach, certain Kaela wouldn’t remember her existence and that she’d seem like some off-the-rails stalker.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀But she did. Kaela recognized Jinni—they spoke, caught up, spent time together. Jinni couldn’t apologize enough for her disappearance, but Kaela didn’t blame her. It took no time for Jinni to trust Kaela like she did as a teenager, to fall right back in love with the woman.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Jinni was changed, different in so many ways. She was not kind and carefree like before. She had grown so closed-off, distrustful, pessimistic. Even the training to be kinder students didn’t transfer over to her behaviors with other adults. Jinni worked on it, Kaela supporting her every step of the way. They were together again and that was all that mattered to Jinni, as well as the fact that she’d pieced her life back together. She showed Jinni love when she needed it most, much like she became her best friend all those years ago when Jinni needed it. Every positive emotion she has felt within the past nine years of her own teaching career has been due to Kaela. Kaela.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Jinni is currently living in a considerably nice Asterath apartment, working as an Abjuration and English teacher at Cogworks. Though she’s still bristly and guarded around other adults, she’s made immense progress—thanks solely to Kaela. She and Kaela will more than likely never officially be together, as they are both teachers and it’d be relatively improper, but they are soulmates through and through. Their dynamic is good for the both of them, though, and maybe one day they’ll find more. A life together, forever. Jinni is hopeful for the first time in her life, knowing she has forever with the woman she loves.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
Mod
𝗦𝗔𝗙𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗡 𝗩𝗢𝗦𝗦
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Saffron has a thick mop of darker blonde curls that are almost always a mess. His bright blue eyes are always alight with curiosity, sometimes betraying a hint of insecurity. His expressions tend to be open and readable, even when he tries to hide how he’s feeling.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He stands at an average height, lean and lightly athletic from soccer, with calloused hands that show evidence of both sport and craft. He wears clothing that is comfortable, such as flannels and soft short-sleeved shirts.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Saffron is a genuinely kind and respectful person. He tries hard to be good to people and is the type to hold doors open or offer to help carry things, even if it’s a little awkward. There’s an unpolished, awkward sweetness to him. He always means well, but his good intentions don’t always land the way he hopes. Years of quiet isolation have left him with underdeveloped social instincts, and his attempts to bond can come off as overeager or odd.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Despite this, Saffron’s loyalty is unwavering. Once he latches onto someone as a friend, he’s all in. His affection is earnest, almost childlike in its transparency. He’ll share his passions without shame, whether it’s chasing a ball across a soccer field or showing off his latest knitting project with a proud grin. He doesn’t care if it makes him look “uncool”—he enjoys what he enjoys, and that authenticity is part of his quiet charm.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Above all, Saffron wants connection. His loneliness clings to him in quiet ways—overexplaining jokes, hovering too long in conversation, misreading signals—but it never stems from arrogance or malice. He’s just a boy who wants to belong, learning in real time how to express that desire without overstepping.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Saffron loves cold drinks on in the mornings along with the rhythmic click of knitting needles in a quiet room. He enjoys making things with his hands, whether it’s crafting a scarf for a friend or piecing together a puzzle just to see the full picture. Soccer gives him a sense of motion and purpose. It’s where he feels most confident and connected to others, especially because he’s one of the best players on the team.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Saffron dislikes feeling dismissed or brushed off, something he’s unfortunately familiar with. He gets flustered when people make fun of his interests, not because he’s ashamed, but because he doesn’t understand why kindness or softness is mocked. He’s uncomfortable with dishonesty or passive-aggressive behavior, since he relies heavily on clear signals to navigate social situations. He dislikes being alone for too long—it reminds him too much of his early years, where silence wasn’t peaceful, just empty.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Saffron specializes in magic that feels more like mischief than any attempt at mastery. His conjurations are often small and comforting, the snacks he summons layered with far too much sugar to be healthy. To him, magic should make the world a little gentler, so that’s what he aims to use his for.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Saffron’s favorite conjurations are the little creatures he summons. They’re usually harmless and cute, aren’t permanent, and most vanish after a few hours. They seem oddly intelligent, though, sometimes reacting to moods or hovering protectively near those who are upset. They serve no practical purpose beyond comfort and companionship, but that’s exactly why Saffron loves them. Especially a companion that siphons off of his magic and summons herself, a little cat-owl that calls herself Fable.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀In classes, Saffron’s conjuration habit gets him in trouble more often than not. He’ll casually summon a cup of sparkling juice or a bowl of popcorn mid-lecture, offering it around without thinking. He’s known for handing out warm cookies during exams and quietly creating plates of food for classmates who forgot lunch. The food always tastes great, surprisingly so, and disappears after a few hours with no lingering mess. While it earns him points with classmates, many instructors view it as disrespectful or disruptive. Saffron doesn’t mean to be defiant; he just genuinely believes a well-fed class is a happy class.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Saffron and Ranami have been best friends for a few years at Cogworks. They tend to be very gentle and understanding with one another, finding deeper conversations and interactions easy together. Saffron has recently begun to suspect he has a crush on her, assuming the strong feeling love and affection for Ranami is romantic.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fable is a cat-like creature with soft brown feathers, wings like an owl, and wide amber eyes that seem both owl-and-cat-like. She is his most common summoned creature and even summons herself most of the time, as she and Saffron have established a good friendship and rely on one another equally. She has helped Saffron really overcome most of the issues that might have presented themselves with his attention-seeking and he keeps her occupied and gives her company.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Saffron was born in Asterath, his mother and father both very fun and free-spirited people. They were never affiliated with a gang, instead preferring to spend their time together wandering Asterath and doing likely just-as-dangerous activities together. Saffron was and still is not upset that he never got much attention from them—he prefers the permissive relationship he has with his parents to the strict, suffocating ones he knows his fellow Cogworks students have with their own.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He was always taken care of growing up, but he hardly got much attention from anyone, which of course led to him being a bit of an attention-seeker in his teen years. He loves his parents and, as he’s seventeen and is nearing adulthood, has gone out and participated in some of his parents’ excursions. It’s safe to say he prefers his Cogworks friends and getting up to mischief with them after seeing what his parents went out and did.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Saffron is seventeen and in Cogworks, nearing the end of his last year. He is a terrible student in the basic education departments, but he excels in his magic area of expertise—Conjuration. He loves summoning little creatures, and sometimes even bigger ones, for others to ooh and ahh at. He has a specific little creature he almost always has with him, a little cat-like creature with four legs but feathers like an owl and wide amber eyes. He calls her Fable at her request, as the creatures he summons usually have their own minds formed from the magic. Fable likes him and he likes her, so she summons a lot more often—most of the time with Saffron even consciously doing it.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Saffron is enjoying the best years of his life, every bit of his time spent with his partner, Ranami, knitting, playing soccer, or helping out around Cogworks. He loves his life and Ranami and finds joy in everything he does.
Mod
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Yee-haw!
