# data[].attributes.body
She was raised beneath the weight of reverence, not by the world, but by her own blood. In house Aemhyr where silence is sacred and devotion borders on obsession, Isaneth was their miracle—Blessed by Galaneth—cherished, watched, preserved like a living relic. Yet where others might expect solemnity, prophecy, or power, Isaneth grew into something quieter, more human. She is kind, gentle, and benevolent, with a smile like sunlight through old trees, and a laugh soft and strange—like windchimes in a forest that has long forgotten music. Though sheltered from much, she is not blind to the cruelty of the world. She simply chooses not to mirror it. She believes in small mercies: a soft hand on a shoulder, a word left unspoken, a single kindness left in the right place. In her heart, Isaneth hopes those gentle offerings will wander further than she can, and find the ones who need them most.

# data[].attributes.body
in stillness, servitude

# data[].attributes.body
House Aemhyr claims to be descended from the first stillwards of Galaneth, chosen by the goddess herself. Each generation pledged to servitude, continuing in the ways of the stillwards. Their devotion is not only tradition, but doctrine; those who stray from the path are quietly struck from the family’s ledgers, erased and forgotten in time. To be Aemhyr is devotion, servitude—to renounce power, relinquish titles, and forsake praise. Over generations, reverence has calcified into obsession; Galaneth is not merely worshipped, she is served, utterly and without question.

# data[].attributes.body
likes:

moss covered stones, worn books, warm tea with herbs, comfortable silence, simple fabrics and soft textures

dislikes:

oil lamps that burned too long, closed doors with whispered voices

# data[].attributes.body
maerrel aehmyr, head of house & stillward (npc)

isakora aemhyr, stillward of galaneth (npc)

maerlus aemhyr, the firstborn, stricken from ledgers

the secondborn, devoted heir apparent

isaneth aemhyr, the finalborn, the blessed

# data[].attributes.body
✦ 〉 a softness beyond the stone. — taken!
— plot for: isaneth aemhyr
— age : ~25
— gender : male
— kingdom: any
— genre: forbidden love, past romance

They met in their teens. Where others bowed their heads, and whispered in her presence, he asked her questions. Spoke to her as if she were just a girl—not a symbol, not a sacred relic.

They would meet in secret, stolen moments hidden away from the watchful eyes of stillwards and worshippers. He told her of the world beyond the sanctuary, of markets, and taverns, of cities beyond Edrathin. To him, she was just Isa, not The Blessed. Just Isa,

When her parents found out, their response was swift, merciless. They told her no one who hadn’t pledged their life to Galaneth could ever truly love her. He was banned from the sanctuary. She was forbidden from seeing him again.

# data[].attributes.body
✦ 〉 trust between ink and silence — taken!
— plot for: isaneth aemhyr
— gender: female
— age: ~20–30
— kingdom: any
— genre: pen friends, long-distance confidante

It started with a letter—official, courteous, forgettable. But the reply wasn’t. It was curious. Clever. Alive in a way the sanctuaries weren’t.

The correspondences were never meant to continue, and yet they did. One letter became two, then ten, then dozens passed in secret over seasons. The formality faded, replaced by the soft weight of honesty. their companionship became one written in ink—memories shared like offerings, small truths folded between parchment like pressed flowers. They wrote of their lives, of fleeting joys, of griefs that still ached in the quiet hours.

They don't discuss everything—not the way her name is spoken like a prayer behind closed doors, or how every moment of doubt felt like blasphemy. But somewhere between the ink-blotted truths and the pages worn thin by rereading, she found a soul that mirrored hers—not because they were the same, but because they listened without asking her to be anything else. Not worship. Not duty. Just presence.

# data[].attributes.body
fragments of isa

it's the little things that she holds close to her heart:

collecting pebbles—smooth, odd or beautifully imperfect stones. piled safely on a corner of her desk. gathered from quiet walks, memorable moments, gifted from children passing through the sanctuary. each one a memory etched in weight and shape.

keeping dried flowers pressed between old books. delicate remnants of flora who names she couldn't remember. But it didn't matter, for it was the people that gifted them and the moments they marked that mattered most.

when the hush of the sanctuary falls away and the world forgets to watch—she hums. soft and aimless, half-remembered melodies woven through reverie. it isn’t a hymn, not exactly. but it carries something sacred all the same.

# data[].attributes.body
name: isaneth aemhyr

age: 24

birthday: 62nd of rekindra in the year of 1476 a.r.

occupation: stillward of galaneth

location: hidden rootbound sanctuary, yan'drtir

faceclaim: lu yuxiao

# data[].attributes.body
She was born at dawn, at the altar of a Rootbound Sanctuary. The thirdborn child of Maerrel and Isakora Aemhyr, devoted Stillwards of Galaneth.

The midwives spoke little that morning, fussing in hushed tones over the labouring Isakora. The air was thick, still—like the earth and stone surrounding them was holding its breath. When the child came, she entered the world soundlessly—no cry, no gasp. Her limbs did not flail. Her body did not tremble. She was as still as the earth, eyes open, serene as stone. Not sleeping. Not lifeless. Watching.

But before fear could seize in their hearts, the tremor came. A groan from within the earth, deep and ancient. The walls shuddered and cracked, sacred carvings split. The ceiling began to collapse. Dust and rock fell like judgment from the sky.

And then—a sound.
A cry.

One sharp, piercing wail rang above the destruction. It came from the newborn.

Just once.

When the dust finally settled, ruin lay across the sanctuary. Bodies of Stillwards lay where they had served. The sacred hall was shattered. But where the child had been born—where Maerrel, Isakora, and a handful of others stood—there was nothing but peace. A blessing, they insisted, from Galaneth herself. The cry had not been one of a child. It was clear, commanding, impossible. It had split the chaos. Then commanded the stone to hold its breath.

And so they named her Isaneth—to honor the goddess and the blessing bestowed upon them.

# data[].attributes.body
threads (2/4)

market — velitaeh daranteh — in progress..

??? — corvus valuna — awaiting starter

# data[].attributes.body
timezone: eastern standard time. (mostly)

writing style: 3rd pov, length varies

activity level: pretty mid tbh

pm to plot.

call me by my user or my character's name. it's been awhile since i've been back here lmao. gimme a sec to get used to it again.

activity level + muse will be a little shifty, and i'm generally the most online mon-fri. please feel free to poke me if i dont respond within a week. i like to do the read, reply in my head, and forget to send it out irl.

preference for plotting so i have a general idea of where things are going. happy to explore most things. idk, just hit me up. fr.

x

cilantro