250825

pov

i write in strictly third pov, but feel free to write in whatever pov you feel most comfortable in!

style

beige prose with a tendency to get lost within the five senses of heavy environmental descriptions and inner dialogues.

length

multi-para in various lengths depending on how much muse i have for the thread and what the plot consists of. no one-liners please.

location

i prefer to write in public rooms. never do i thread inside pm's either as pm's are strictly for ooc and plotting purposes. i also like to keep my walls clean.

plotting

i expect you to go through my character's background and i will go through yours. it is okay if we do not have a specific plot from the very beginning, i am open to brainstorming ideas with you! as a reminder, consent is key between both parties.

genre and themes

i am open to most themes and genres, although i do have some hard no's when it comes to sexual content. i do not write smut often unless i am very comfortable with you so most of the time, sexual content can be heavily implied in the thread that is consented between both parties and will not have to be explicitly written out. my favorite genres to write are romance, angst, and fluff.

activity level: 3.5 out of 10

i work full-time so my activity can be sporadic. you may often see me in the main chat, but please do not poke me unless it has been over two (2) weeks! i am very good at updating my tracker and i try my best to reply within a week. if it has been more than two weeks, i will personally let you know that i need more time. some threads might be replied faster than others according to my muse level, but i definitely did not forget!

▹ full name: livana myralis nerina verdigris

▹ nickname(s):

rina by close friends and family

the pearl of thaloriel by patrons and the people

▹ name day: 5th of caelunor, 1470 A.R. unknown

was found by the madame on the 67th of rekindra, 1471 A.R. and has become her first name day since

▹ age: 30

▹ gender: cis-female

▹ pronouns: she/her

▹ birth order: first unknown

▹ rank: noble commoner

▹ kingdom: thaloreil

▹ occupation: courtesan at the realm's embrace

▹ birth place: castello du myralis, south of seltheris vale, thaloreil unknown

▹ current residence: the realm's embrace, edrathin

▹ faceclaim: lee jieun

▹ height: 162 cm

▹ weight: 48 kg

▹ eye color: brown at first glance, but flecked with green and gold when caught by the light

▹ hair: long silky black hair that is sometimes tied in a half up-do or is let fully down to her waist mimicking waves of the sea

▹ body type: slim, lean

▹ scars, tattoos & birthmarks: a small, healed scar near the left side of her hairline, usually covered by makeup or her hair

▹ piercings: bilateral earlobes

▹ attire: usually wrapped in luscious fabrics of shimmering iridescent shades of midnight blue, pearly whites, and soft opals; reminiscent of the sea’s unfathomable depths under a moonlit sky and all threaded with strings of tiny pearls that trailed like morning mist over gentle waves as if holding secret moonbeams within

▹ scent: moonflower, silver lavender, sandalwood, white amber, and a hint of sea salt

▹ mbti: infj ^{the advocate}

▹ moral alignment: lawful neutral

▹ temperament: phlegmatic-melancholic

▹ positive traits: loyal, gentle, empathetic, intelligent, observant

▹ negative traits: distant, withdrawn, guarded

▹ habits: hums to herself when alone, runs her fingers over pearls on her fabric or the few sea pebbles she keeps on her person when lost in prayer

▹ hobbies: ceremonial dancing, praying, singing rituals, collecting sea relics, dream journaling

▹ likes: singing, moongazing, tea ceremonies, the smell of incense, when the moon meets the horizon over water

▹ dislikes: violence, war, large fires, desecration of sacred places, those who mock belief

relationship: unknown

status: deceased

occupation: head of security for the house of myralis, aegis branch

connection: biological father

relationship: unknown

status: deceased

occupation: priestess

connection: biological mother

▹ orientations: heteromantic & heterosexual

▹ relationship status: single

▹ love languages:

quality time & acts of service (giving)

words of affirmation & quality time (receiving)

typing . . .

5th of caelunor, 1491 a.r.

yan'dritir, edrathin.

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beneath the silver gaze of the full moon, nerina stood knee-deep in the cool, whispering waters of a secluded lake in the forest. the night was still, save for the gentle ripple of waves brushing against her skin. a tender touch, yet one that the waters themselves, by unseen will, carefully withheld. they parted around her as if honoring an unspoken sacredness, cradling her without intrusion, keeping her untouched amid their eternal ebb and flow.

her eyes were closed, lids heavy but serene, breath slow and steady, drawing deep the chill night air mingled with the scent of damp earth and ancient stone. here, far from the gilded halls of realm’s embrace, where prying eyes and idle tongues dared not follow, she sought refuge—not from the world, but from the restlessness that dwelled within. the fullness of selunareth’s blessing swelled in the moonlight, weaving a delicate thread of magic through the air, thickening the veil between this world and the restless beyond.

though she had grown amid the sturdy soil and ancient roots of edrathin, the land of earth, where stone rose sharp and steadfast beneath sprawling oaks, the ocean’s call never ceased. it sang to her beneath the surface of her thoughts, a distant, ceaseless hymn that tugged at the corners of her soul. she believed with unwavering certainty in her bond to thaloriel, the water kingdom, and to selunareth, the moon goddess whose blessing she carried like a tide within her veins. yet the how and why remained shrouded, a mystery she chased in the whisper of waves and in dreams tangled with salt and shadow.

and in that sacred silence, the ocean haunted her.

dreams, fragments like shattered glass shining under dark waves, played endlessly behind her closed lids. she saw flickers of flame licking the sky—a temple burning, stone cracked and crumbling, the bitter scent of ash and salt merging in her lungs. the toll of distant temple bells, uneven, broken, echoed in her mind like a dirge, mingling with whispered prayers spoken by trembling lips, desperate and devout. a cacophony of wretched screams tore through the shadows; anguish etched into every note, piercing the stillness of her soul.

metal upon metal. the harsh song of battle, the rhythm of steel and struggle. a woman’s voice, soft but fierce, rose above the chaos—calling. a man’s voice answered, rough and pained, desperate and sure. names spilled from their lips, carried on the tides of memory. yet none spoke her name. no, these names were foreign and familiar all at once, echoing from a time she did not know but felt embedded deep in her blood.

beneath the calm surface, she felt the surge of her magick—the ancient gifts woven into her very being. the aether, fierce and untamed, rose within her like a tempest barely held at bay, stirring the depths of her soul with restless power. it whispered of great waves and sea spirits, of force that could crush or protect, of strength born from depths dark and unfathomable. it was this power that sometimes cracked the veil between worlds in her dreams, spilling forth the voices of the past.

and then there was the language of flowing waters, of secrets carried on currents unseen. it spoke to her in riddles and echoes, its ancient words slipping like salt upon her lips even as she slept. the ocean whispered names—names of others lost to time, names that brushed against the edges of her memory, names of those who might have been kin, or foes, or forgotten souls bound to her fate. and sometimes, just beyond comprehension, a name not her own but spoken to her. a name she could not yet recognize, yet it stirred something deep within—a spark of truth hidden beneath layers of silence.

why did the past haunt her so? because it was not truly gone. it swirled beneath the surface like the tides themselves, inexorable and persistent. she was more than nerina verdigris, the pearl of thaloriel, one of the beloved jewels of the realm’s embrace. somewhere buried beneath the currents of her dreams and the salt on her skin lay the truth of who she once was—a daughter born of moonlight and blood, bound by fate to a legacy shattered by fire and betrayal.

the ocean urged her to listen, to remember, to awaken. until then, she would stand within its embrace, both shielded and haunted, waiting for the tide to rise and the names to find their meaning, the past to reclaim its place within her, and the truth of who she truly was to be spoken aloud beneath the watchful moon.

for now, she was the pearl—shining in the dark, a beacon between worlds, caught between what was lost and what might yet be.

location: brothel, edrathin

status: need to reply

location: brothel, edrathin

status: replied

location: brothel, edrathin

status: replied

"the moonbound are not masters of the sea, but its stewards. they do not command the tide, for the tide obeys no master. instead, they guide its course as one might turn the prow of a ship already in motion. all moonbinding flows with the rhythm of selunareth’s breath—the waxing and waning moon, the unquiet heart, the presence of water in all its forms."

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

echo charm

"the gift of memory’s touch and the shaping of the heart’s tide. with it, a moonbound may draw forth truth from the depths of another’s mind, soothe the wounds of sorrow, or weave a gentler dream to replace a harsher one. the most skilled may leave their mark like a pebble dropped into still water—rippling through the thoughts of those they meet long after they have gone. in the courts of kings and the chambers of the lowliest taverns, such a gift has swayed lovers, halted wars, and changed the course of fates unseen."

▹ as a courtesan, it was her quiet yet loud instrument, allowing her to lead patrons into peace, longing, or revelation without a single lie upon her lips through songs and murmurs of sweet nothings. she could become the mirror in which they saw the version of themselves they most desired—or most feared.

ocean's will

"the sea’s own fury, called forth at great need. it may take the shape of a breaking wave, or the spirit of a beast born in the blackest depths. yet those who wield it must tread with care, for the sea remembers its debts.

▹ she rarely called upon it, yet the waters often called upon her. in dreams, they rose in endless swells, carrying visions of fire and ruin—memories she did not understand. the voices of people she had never met whispered to her through the currents, speaking her name as if it had been theirs to give.

salt tongue

"the oldest tongue, whose syllables may only be carried through living water. it is the speech of rites long forgotten, of secrets sent across leagues of ocean to reach a single ear. but this is no one-way telling—the water may speak back."

▹ in its whispers come fragments of pasts the she cannot recall, warnings from those long drowned, or summons from a place beyond the horizon.

limitations

"remember this, child of the tide: the sea holds your past, your present, and your end. you may walk the land, but you will never be beyond her reach."

▹ to let passion overwhelm her can break its vessel, where the spell turns upon its maker, corrupted by their own heart. those who use the tides for conquest or greed risk selunareth's wrath, for the the goddess suffers no tyrant. and to drink too deeply from the current is to face tidal burnout, when the body cracks with thirst and the mind is swept away into madness’s undertow.

long before she became nerina verdigris, before her name was hidden and the sea was her cradle, she was born livana myralis, the child of two souls bound not by status, but by faith and fate.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

thalor myralis, the younger brother of mater azura myralis, was born into the noble lineage of house myralis of the moonbound cranes, a bloodline entrusted since antiquity with safeguarding the wisdom and sanctity of selunareth’s worship. where the first-born daughter inherited the title and political seat, thalor was entrusted to be the sword and shield of the clan.

appointed as head of security, thalor held a unique and sacred role in the aegis branch—not only as protector of noble blood, but as the bridge between worship and kingdom. in a realm where spiritual rites still held legal (although declining) and cultural weight, his duty was vital. he oversaw the safety of high holy festivals, full-moon rites, and coronations blessed by the goddess herself. he was often seen at the gatherings of the selunari synod, coordinating guards during sacred ceremonies that spanned night into dawn, when offerings were floated across the tide and memory-magic shimmered on mirrored waters.

it was at one such ceremony that his life changed forever.

astoria servelle was a common-born priestess, orphaned as a child and raised in the cloisters of a humble tide-temple overlooking nytheris reach. she was serene, with a voice like twilight surf and eyes that saw deeper truths. she wore no jewelry save for the pearls of her devotion, and many claimed that when she prayed, the moonlight bent to kiss her brow.

she met thalor not in grandeur, but in silence—at the quiet end of a vigil where the moon lingered longer than it should. he was standing at the edge of the sanctum, watching her as if remembering something lost. it began with shared glances across the incense smoke, small exchanges at temple gates, and then, eventually, whispered prayers exchanged like secrets beneath moon-kissed colonnades.

they were not meant to love.

but selunareth’s dominion is memory and emotion, and their love—quiet, slow, and enduring—was the kind that gods remember.

their love, once hidden, blossomed into a solemn union, though few within house myralis dared challenge thalor’s will. seeking sanctuary and a life of simplicity, the couple made their home on the secluded castello du myralis, a crescent-shaped isle south of seltheris vale, where a stony ridge emerges during the low tide, linking the isle briefly to the mainland.

it was on one such rare night, when the sea laid bare the path of stone and the moon turned her full face to aelmyros, that astoria went into labor. the night was sacred—a high tide of ritual when supplicants knelt and begged the goddess not for mercy, but to be remembered. to not be forgotten in a world that had turned from her gaze.

beneath the singing of priestesses and the chiming of prayer-shells, astoria gave birth to a daughter, and named her livana. her cries echoed through the stone halls like a promise.

she was born healthy, radiant, and on that potent night, blessed by selunareth herself. a faint shimmer dusted her brow—a mark of divine favor, visible only beneath moonlight and seawater. the templekeepers whispered that this child would remember things she had never lived, and speak truths not yet spoken.

but aelmyros had forgotten the gods.

relationship: unknown

status: alive

occupation: duchess of house myralis

connection: paternal aunt

when the sons of veluranth rose from the dust of scorched scripture, they began their crusade against the remnants of the old ways. their pyres were not merely for heretics, but for memory itself. and the temples that moonbound cranes protected were among their first and fiercest targets.

one such temple stood by the glimmering shores of a lake nestled deep within the forested veil of house myralis’ ancestral lands in the nytheris reach, where silver-leaved trees whispered old hymns and moonlight danced across waters said to hold the dreams of the dead. it was there that livana’s family made their final stand.

the child had only just been born on a night when faithful souls begged selunareth to spare them from her wrath and grant them her blessing. they believed she had. the infant glowed faintly in moonlight, a pearl among shadows, and the tides had been calm that evening—as if the sea itself held its breath.

but peace is short-lived where zealotry treads.

when word reached them that the sons were advancing, thalor knew what must be done. the temple, though hidden, was not beyond danger. and so he and astoria, once mere lovers from different castes and now husband and wife beneath the eyes of the goddess, returned to the sanctum where they first met.

they brought their daughter with them, not to flee, but to entrust her to the one force left in the world they still believed in.

as the temple bells tolled warnings and firelight breached the tree line, thalor and astoria wrapped livana in sea-silk and moon-threaded prayer ribbons, her brow marked with sacred sigils only seen by those who still remembered how to look. with shaking hands and solemn hearts, they laid her within a secret alcove beneath the inner sanctum’s altar—a hollow cradled in moonstone, known only to the high priesthood and those blessed by the goddess' light.

outside, flames consumed the sacred groves. inside, blade met spell, and prayer met fury. thalor, sword drawn, stood like a sentinel against the tide. astoria, her hair crowned in ash and salt, sang the final rites as she called down moonlight one last time.

they held the line—husband and wife, guardian and priestess, until there was nothing left to give.

and then the temple fell.

stone cracked. ash rained from the heavens. and the forest wept.

the house of myralis lost an entire branch that day. no bodies were ever recovered, only scorched marble and the ruins of devotion. it was assumed that the child had perished with them, her name lost to time.

but the sea remembers.

in the stillness that followed ruin, after the screams had faded and the fire had exhausted itself on stone and sanctity, a hush settled over the lands like the breath between tides. mist crept low across the water, and the moon, half-shrouded in ash, cast a pale glow upon the blackened temple ruins.

it was then that she had arrived.

she had been deep within the velvet-draped halls of realm’s embrace when the letter came. the parchment bore the unmistakable hand of astoria myralis, a dear friend from years past—one whose beauty and grace had once rivaled the jewels themselves. the ink trembled in places, as though written between moments of flight, but the words were clear enough:

"once the sons of veluranth approach, i will not survive. my daughter must. she is the last of us. find her. even if my body burns, do not let the tide take her."

she left before dawn, traveling northward with the letter pressed against her heart. she crossed the lowlands of seltheris vale with a strange weight in her lungs, a ripple across her skin, as though the sea itself urged her forward. guided by the sharp cries of gulls and the bitter scent of salt and smoke, she arrived at the smoldering wreckage just before dawn.

there, among moonstone relics and broken prayer bells, she found her.

a babe, barely a year old, cradled in an alcove untouched by fire. the stones around her glistened with dew though none had fallen; the air was damp with magic, not weather. the child did not cry. she breathed softly, like a wave returning to shore.

she fell to her knees.

she recognized the blessing—the woven prayer knots, the hidden sigils, the faint scent of crushed starpetals—and she knew, with a reverence that gripped her bones, that this child had been spared by divine will. a relic of a bloodline thought extinguished.

she named her nerina, after the sea nymphs of old.

and from that day forward, the madame raised her as her own within the halls of the realm’s embrace, where beauty and wit were honed like artistry, and where the the pearl of thaloreil would one day rise.

but only the sea and the moon above it knew the truth of who nerina verdigris truly was.

within the sanctuary of the realm’s embrace, where veils danced like seafoam in the breeze and music echoed through candlelit halls, nerina verdigris grew like moonlight on still water—quiet, radiant, and unknowingly divine.

she was one of the rare few brought into the fold of the verdigris lineage, a name carried by a line of courtesans raised by the madame, known not just for beauty, but for depth—keepers of secrets, givers of peace, and storytellers with hearts carved from poetry and steel. the madame was both mother and mentor. she never told nerina the truth of her origins, only that she had been found during a time of sorrow, kissed by salt and silver light.

as a child, nerina was different from the others—not louder, not bolder, but still. her presence alone could soften a room, halt quarrels, and ease fraying nerves. the other girls called her “the hush before dawn.” servants swore that when she sang to herself in the baths, the water rippled even when still. cats followed her; mirrors fogged when she wept. but most of all, she listened—deeply, intently, as if she could hear what was not spoken aloud.

by the time she was ten, she felt the call of the tide.

her voice was haunting—low and crystalline, as though echoing from a place untouched by time. her laughter lingered like perfume. when she touched another’s hand, they felt understood. dreams clung to her skin like silk, and more than once, a patron who passed her in the hall would pause, eyes glimmering with emotion they could not name. and when she sang, it was as if the sea itself listened, laced with a siren's tone, weaving enchantment and longing into every note.

it was the madame who recognized the signs of moonbinding—a gift of memory, dream, emotional resonance, and the ancient call of the ocean. but it was not she who guided nerina in it.

the one who took little nerina beneath her wings was the previous pearl of thaloriel, a woman whose own mastery of moonbinding was spoken of in reverent tones. she had noticed the child’s quiet stillness, the way she seemed to listen not only to words but to what lay beneath them.

under her tutelage, she was taught how to stitch calm into a soul with nothing more than a whispered phrase, how to mend broken hearts not with words, but by guiding their grief back to the tide. she could call forth truths hidden even from oneself. for those suffering nightmares, she offered sleep undisturbed. for those gripped by sorrow, she gave release. she never forced—only invited. and people always stepped willingly into her light.

by adulthood, she had bloomed into one of the most luminous jewels the realm’s embrace had seen in a generation. draped in pearls and moonlit silks, she embodied thaloriel’s spirit—fluid, deep, and unfathomably serene. she became known far and wide as the pearl of thaloriel, not just for her beauty, but for her stillness beneath pressure, her radiance in darkness, and the sense that she, like the sea’s most precious treasure, had survived something immense.

but for all her grace and gentleness, nerina harbored a quiet conviction.

she never forgot the whispers of the waves, or the way her dreams sometimes took her to a burning temple by a silver lake. in sleep, she saw a woman’s hands cradling her, a man’s voice murmuring prayers, and the sound of bells drowned by fire. she never spoke of these visions aloud.

not yet.

for now, she serves the goddess in silence. she gathers secrets. she heals and listens. and though she knows nothing of her bloodline, though she wears the name verdigris, a deeper truth lingers in her marrow.

the sea remembers. the moon waits. and the pearl shines not just to dazzle—but to reveal.

relationship: strangers

status: alive

occupation: daughter of the exchequer branch

connection: cousin

location: outskirts, edrathin

status: need to reply

relationship: positive

status: alive

occupation: madame of the realm's embrace

connection: adoptive mother

rina... one night pls

yeah, make me beg

✾ kaedorin thayn 3 days ago Reply

Good, now make him beg

location: verdigris residence, edrathin

status: need to reply

location: brothel, edrathin

status: replied