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Timezone : GMT +8

Writing Pov : 3rd para & detailed 1st pov (although I must admit my para may not be that lengthy and I have not done 1st pov for a long time)

Activity Level : I have a full time job but I will try to reply when I get home at night. Sometimes my weekend will be more busier than weekdays so it depends. Do poke me after 3 days of inactivity, I would really appreciate that cause usually I would remember my replies.

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Name : Kaelen Vaelisar

FC Name : Seo Kangjoon

Rank : Noble

Occupation : Naval Admiral

Date of birth : 34th Thalos 1469 (31 years old)

Affiliations :

House of Sablefin, Vaelisar

Moonveil Army

Magick : Tideweaving and Ocean's Will, limitation - Emotional Echo

Sexual Orientation : Bisexual

Status : Single ; unmarried

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The night Kaelen Vaelisar was born, the sea howled as if mourning a secret. Thunder rolled far off the coast of Thaloriel, not with violence, but with weight — a heavy kind of sound, as if the world itself paused to acknowledge the arrival of something both radiant and ruinous.

He came into the world in the upper chambers of House Vaelisar’s ancestral hold, a towering stone fortress carved into the cliffs of Myr'dalas. The birthing room was perfumed with salt and sweat, candlelight flickering across silver-threaded curtains and stormglass windows. His mother, Lady Iewellyn Vaelisar, lay pale but fierce in her labor, her fingers crushing the silken sheets as midwives whispered prayers to the vanished goddess, Selunareth.

When the child came, he did not wail like a frightened thing but roared like a tide, fists clenched as if he had fought his way into the world rather than been birthed from it. Iewellyn took her son in weary arms and named him Kaelen. Sea born fire.

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Kaelen’s earliest years were not unlike the tides that curled endlessly along the Myr'dalas cliffs—restless, curious, and impossible to contain. By the time he was four, he had already disappeared from his tutors’ eyes more times than the guards could count, always found crouched beneath the eastern archway of the keep, eyes trained on the sea like it might speak to him.

He hated shoes. He questioned everything. He named the palace cats after some made up sea monsters. The staff said he was too clever for his own good, that his laughter was too sharp, that he stared too long at the stars for a child his age.

But his mother adored him. He slept curled at her side, preferred her voice over any lullaby, and would throw a tantrum if anyone but Iewellyn brushed his hair.

Lady Iewellyn would often run her fingers through his salt-mussed hair and say

“You were born with the sea in your lungs, my Kaelen. That’s why the land cannot settle you.”

The keep’s halls filled with whispers before Kaelen ever understood what was happening. There were hurried footsteps, candlelight flickering like it feared being snuffed out, and wet-nurses moving like ghosts. He clutched his toy ship—The Silent Leviathan—and sat curled on the cold stone stairs, listening.

Kaelen stood at the foot of his mother’s bed when the sun rose, blinking at the bundle she held. Iewellyn’s eyes met his, half-lidded with exhaustion, but soft.

“This is your sister,” she said hoarsely. “You must protect her, Kaelen. She is the daughter of the sea.”

Kaelen didn't answer. He only reached out and touched the the baby's hand. It curled around his finger like a promise.

A few months later, Lady Iewellyn drew her last breath. Kaelen didn’t cry—not at first. He climbed onto the now-empty bed, curled into her pillow, and fell asleep inhaling the last trace of her perfume: salt, jasmine, and the faintest hint of something like rain.

The next morning, the sea stormed for seven days.

Kaelen did not speak for five.

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Charismatic to the point of danger, Kaelen is a contradiction wrapped in charm. He’s a notorious flirt, a brilliant tactician, and a loyal brother as well as a Thalorien. His wildness is not born of rebellion, but of a deeper truth: he knows too well the cost of playing the part expected of him. Rather than inherit the crushing weight of duty, he turned toward the tides—literally and figuratively.

Though he claimed not to have interest in politics but he watches over Thaloriel like a hawk from the sea. On days that he would be offboard, he would visit the dark parts of Thaloriel to have his fun and at the same time building connections to his own interests (making deals or winning gambles with pirates so they would stay off their shores for their next trip or sleeping around just to get information of what he had missed while he was away) He may seemed easy on the outside but his heart is not easily given to just anyone.

He may had experienced another loss of his heart in between that burned him like the pain of drowning but he stood unwavering. That is why he made sure that will not happen again. Courtiers call him a disaster, a deviant, a disgrace. Sailors call him Storm’s Gambit, a man who fights with the patience of the tide and the fury of a tempest. His lovers call him unforgettable. His enemies, unfortunately, often have no time to call him anything at all.

"Cordelia got the crown. I got the wind. Fair trade."

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A cutlass hangs from one hip, and a curved dagger from the other—both gifts from past lovers.

He keeps a compass ring on his right index finger that once belonged to his mother.

A single earring made of black pearl hangs from his left ear—rumored to be a token from a pirate he let go.

More TBC

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Likes

The Sea (but not the calm kind)

He’s at peace only when the waves are crashing or storms are brewing. The chaos of the ocean matches the storm inside him.

Sailing in a tempest is, to him, freedom.

Poetry and Old Thalorien Sea Myths

Pretends to mock them, but secretly knows many by heart.

Especially stories about doomed lovers, sirens, and vengeful gods.

Cordelia’s Laugh

The only sound that cuts through all the noise in his head. Sounds just like his mother's.

Would never admit it, but it grounds him more than any anchor.

Dislikes

Shallow Flattery

As a man surrounded by gossip and praise, he loathes anything disingenuous.

“Say you hate me, say you want to gut me—just don’t smile and lie about it.”

Stillness

Can’t sit still for long without getting restless or irritable.

Still water unsettles him—it feels like death and danger waiting.

Being Compared to His Father

Though he’s loyal to Lord Eiran and even resembles him in war, he hates the expectation that he should follow in the duke’s footsteps.

Letting Anyone See Him Grieve

He will joke, drink, and fight through pain before ever showing vulnerability.

The more it hurts, the louder he laughs.