# data[].attributes.body
all that's left

name ; rowan tiraleith

faceclaim ; shownu (monsta x)

age ; early 30s?

height ; 183cm

rank ; commoner / farmer

kingdom ; edrathin?

powers ; none?

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i can't remember

name ; bastian volkaris

age ; 33

rank ; nobility / house of volkaris

kingdom ; solkarath

powers ; igniscraft, soulbrand

# data[].attributes.body
i...survive

likes ; working with his hands, being outside, feeling the sun on his skin, strong coffee, cooking, making things

dislikes ; crowded spaces, loud voices, fire, cold nights, being idle

strengths ; calm, capable, can learn how to do something after watching once, strong

weaknesses ; forgetful, fire scares him to the point that others sometimes have to help him build one in his home, quiet, withdrawn, aimless

# data[].attributes.body
everything

name ; Rivelle Verdigris

details ; After a chance meeting, Rowan saw Rivelle as a sign. A star for him to follow. Unable to forget her, he chased her down and became her personal guard. Her resemblance to his lost love drove him to her, but it is not Evaine that's made him stay--it Rivelle.

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i've heard that name before...

bastian was the eldest son of the volkaris family, a prominent military family in Solkarath.

as the eldest, he held responsibility on his shoulders with pride and humility, carrying a sword as if the world would crumble without the tool in his hand. he trained every day, studied every night. the perfect soldier, ready to be sent where he was needed. for his kingdom.

his military career took him to edrathin, a land long since conquered, with other kingdoms picking over the land for resources they lacked. bastian thought nothing much of it, following orders and doing his duty.

but then he saw her.

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she called me that

a rebel.

only, he didn't know that. not at first. all he knew was that evaine was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. a beam of sunlight in human form. warmth and beauty incarnate, full of grace and smiles and gentle touches that bastian had never known.

their love was slow. something shared over bread, over worn tables. from her little frowns at the sight of his sword, the firm way she spoke of her kingdom.

slowly, bastian saw edrathin as something more, too. not a land to be conquered. but as his love's home.

a place he soon realized she was ready to die to defend.

and she did.

# data[].attributes.body
her name is the only one i remember

there were small bands of rebels. perhaps unrelated to the larger movement the military was aware of within the kingdom.

supplies were stolen. encampments destroyed. eventually his higherups hunted down the rebels and...

bastian ran to evaine. he tried to warn her. but she wouldn't run. wouldn't listen. she ran into the throng, turning to stone as she protected her people.

bastian doesn't know what happened after that. he doesn't remember anything anymore.

# data[].attributes.body
that's where they found me

a nameless man was discovered passed out underneath a rowan tree not far from the sight of the scrimmage.

his clothes were burned beyond recognition. there were no other identifying marks nor papers on him. no one knew who he was. not even him.

they gave him the name rowan. rowan tiraleith. a common name for a common man with no memory, no name, nothing. all he had was a singular word.

evaine.

others recognized it. they brought rowan to the site of her death, where he visited her daily.

with nothing else to do and nowhere to go, rowan took up farming. he learned to build, to sew seeds and harvest.

sometimes he wonders.

but then again, perhaps it's easier to forget.

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...but i wish i didn't

# data[].attributes.body
rivelle verdigris

ward ; love

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Varek Kasirye

friend

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cahir valmyros

friend

# data[].attributes.body
gender

age

kingdom

genre

details

# data[].attributes.body
gender

age

kingdom

genre

details

# data[].attributes.body
call me ; rayne, or by any of my chara names

pronouns ; she/her, but i go by my chara's genders too

timezone ; gmt+9

age ; late 20s

i have a full time job and like to touch grass, so i do get busy sometimes

i, the mun, AM NOT my character, so keep us separate

# data[].attributes.body
rp style ; 3rd pov ONLY

rp length ; multi-para to novella. i mirror, but general word count is 500-800. however, depending on the thread/my partner, i can get over 1k

preferred genres ; angst, friendship, i do love a good romance plot, enemies

replies ; as mentioned above, i have a full time job and often do things on the weekend. if i'm over a week late with a reply, gently nudge me in PMs or discord!

rp soft limits

drama and smut MUST BE PLOTTED BEFOREHAND

themes related to self harm and/or suicide/suicide ideation must ALSO be discussed

rp hard limits

illness/terminal illness

vore

incest

# data[].attributes.body
rivelle verdigris ; edrathan

replied

varek kasirye ; tavern

replied

chara name ; room

replied

# data[].attributes.body
Nestled deep in the forest rests a graveyard.

A battlefield of bones and branches, overgrown with moss and vines. At first glance, you might not notice the oddities. The burned stumps. The rocks dyed red from blood. The moment you set foot into the space, a strange hush settles over the land. The birds are quiet, and every step feels sacred. A threshold, a forbidden space.

And in the center of this clearing is a statue.

It is a young woman. Her hair is in movement, trailing behind her in long tendrils. She's wearing simple clothing--clothing that doesn't look so unlike your own. Her hands are reaching out in front of her, fingers curled. But her expression is the most striking. Eyes wide open, beholding horror and death. Lips pulled back from her teeth in a snarl of defiance and anger, even in death.

If you're close enough, you can even spot the necklace resting at her collarbone. You might be able to make out the inscription carefully carved into it. Burned.

"Beloved"

Someone visits the statue daily. If you arrive in the clearing at sunrise, you will see him there. Clearing the vines that crawl along her legs. Brushing off the moss. Leaving the bugs, because she'd like them. Call them her little friends. He used to leave her flowers, but that felt wrong--she hated when she plucked them from the earth.

He cannot remember much about anything before. But he remembers her.

And there, sitting at her feet and witling small figures of animals, of swords he thinks he's seen before, of caped soldiers, he speaks. Quietly, softly. Telling her about his day. Sometimes asking questions.

Who was I?

Or, more importantly,

Who was I, to you?

She never responds, his beloved. So he silently moves to his feet, whispering a promise.

"I'll remember to come back tomorrow."

# data[].attributes.body
"EVAINE!"

The roar of a voice shuddered a man awake. The noise echoed in his mind, the timbre of the voice familiar, the tone bloodcurdlingly haunting. It was a sound of pain. Of a soul ripping to shreds. With his ears still ringing, he slowly peeled his eyes open.

Dappled sunlight made him flinch back. Instinctively, a hand lifted to shield his eyes, but the movement nearly spooked him.

"He's awake!"

To his left, he saw an unfamiliar woman, accompanied by a child. A small boy, who was peering at him as if he were some new species of particularly grotesque insect.

The man grunted as his senses came back to him one by one. There was an ache in his legs, his lower back, his shoulders. Bark was digging into his skin, no doubt leaving a perfect imprint on his back. His head was pounding, throbbing alongside the steady thrum of his heart. Everything was too bright, too loud, and he was /cold/. As his eyes adjusted to the light, and he took in his arm that still remained raised in front of him, he saw it was bare.

Confused, he glanced at his body to find whatever clothing he'd once been wearing was now in tatters. Singed at the edges, barely holding on to his toned body. They were black and dark brown, nondescript and plain. He frowned--why were his clothes like this?

"Hey, do you understand me?" the woman called, snapping her fingers to get his attention.

The man frowned and nodded, putting a hand to his head. When he pulled away, half-dried blood came back, and the man merely stared at the sight.

"Maybe he can't talk?" the young boy suggested, cocking his head like some sort of dog. He reminded the man of the dogs at...

The thought eddied from his mind as soon as it came.

"I can talk," he responded instead, though his throat felt tight and dry, as if he hadn't had a sip of water in weeks. The effort of speaking made him cough, and the woman reached out a hand to pat his back. Tongue feeling like cotton inside his mouth, the man glanced around the forest with a frown. "Where...where am I?"

There was a pause. An exchanged glance. "You're...you're in Yan'dritir. Edrathin." The man was silent, so she continued, voice gentler. "What's your name? Do you live around here? Were you involved in the battle? Are you hurt?"

"Battle?" he repeated, ears ringing once more. Flinching, the man put his hands over his ears, shaking his head.

The woman let out a gentle sigh. "One thing at a time. Your name--let's start with that."

Right. That was the logical place to start. "My name is..." Nothing. There was nothing. Not a single syllable. He frowned. "My...my name is...it's..."

His breathing picked up. The woman gave him an alarmed glance as she reached out. "You...you don't remember your own name? What /do/ you remember? Your clothes look..." She looked him over. "Well, I can't quite tell. Not much clothing left, is there?"

What did he remember?

The smell of earth. The flash of fire. His legs beneath him, pounding as fast as they could against rain-drenched soil, sticking slightly and threatening to suck him under as he kept moving forward. He had to get to her...had to get to--

"Evaine," he said, brightening. "Evaine! I remember her--where is she? Where's Evaine?"

There was a long silence. The woman's eyes turned glassy as she bit down on her lower lip. "You knew Evaine?"

"Beloved," the man murmured in response, instinctively reaching for a pendant at his neck. It was made of stone. That's right--it was carved there. Beloved. She carved it. And he made something for her too, didn't he? Where was Evaine?

"I can take you to her," the woman finally said after a few more moments.

...

"No."

The man sank to his knees in front of the statue. A singular stone figure, frozen among the ruins of a clearing. The grass had been burnt away. Only mud remained at their feet, but the man didn't care. Not when tears blurred his vision, the woman behind him shuddering with her own sobs as she watched the man wrap his arms around the cool stone, begging her to return.

"Evaine," the man whispered. "Beloved. Come back. Please."

But she was gone. And so was he.

With no memory, no name, and not a scrap of identifiable material on him, the man was given a new name. Rowan Tiraleith. He was given work, and he didn't complain.

Just like that, he integrated into his small village. Sometimes there were whispers about him, but they stopped after a few weeks. The mystery lost its novelty, and Rowan simply became another farmer. Another helping hand.

For now, Evaine was the only one who knew who Rowan truly was. It was for the best. Sun knew what sort of horrors his mind had buried.