⥼ AGE and BIRTHDAY ⥽
25 ─ October 13

⥼ IDENTITY ⥽
Female ─ Cis Woman ─ She/Her

⥼ STATISTICS ⥽
5’8” ─ 128 lbs ─ Blood type: AB

Idunn has long inky black hair, that drapes down to her waist, before the slumber her hair was usually very well-kept, now it is unkept and frizzy, and she plays with it often, running her fingers through the knots and tangles. Her hair is in stark contrast to her papery-greyish skin, which looks smooth and delicate like glass. Her eyes, the only color on her face, are pastel purple orbs that appear to be constantly spinning. She has a delicate and dainty face with prominent cheekbones and a small nose. Her arms have magic scars, possibly from fire and lightning magic, and are toned and athletic due to years of training. She also has scars along her back from cutting herself, to be able to use her magic.

Easygoing ─ Observant ─ Witty ⤄ Controlling ─ Deceitful ─ Inconsiderate

Idunn, long ago, was a kindred spirit. Always shining a light of positivity and hopefulness everywhere she went. Even in the toughest battles, when she was bleeding inside out, she called for her allies to keep pushing in the hope of finally defeating the darkness, once and for all. With bravery in her heart and her weapons in hand, she'd take on any threat with a voice calling out for everyone, to just try their hardest and stay hopeful and proud.

That Idunn has been long dead, has been dead for a long while. The Idunn of the now dismisses people's happiness and how they feel in certain situations. Ignoring how they feel and telling them, "It'll work out." Constantly pressuring and reprimanding them for being sensitive or pessimistic, even if the opinion is validated. She'll often twist stories and keep information from others if it makes the situation seem more hopeful or safe. She'll minimize almost every emotion someone feels if it causes the problem to seem sad or unhopeful. She's very trickish and deceitful, twisting the truth in any way, shape, or form.

⥼ ORIENTATION ⥽
Pansexual ─ Demiromantic

⥼ LIKES ⥽
The crisp sound of tinkling bells ─ Cooking for friends ─ Pranks and witty remarks

⥼ DISLIKES ⥽
Silence for long periods of time ─ People who have 'no sense' of humor ─ Cheap liquor

⥼ FOCUS CORE ⥽
Blood, minoring in Shape

⥼ APPLICATIONS ⥽
Idunn fights with the magical gifts with Blood and Shape, using them with mastery and efficiency. With a prosthetic right arm, received when in service, makes using her talent of manipulating Blood, far easier and quicker, without having her cut herself, evidently shown through scars that are all over her body.

Using her mastery of Earth and Water, she creates blood weapons out of iron and her own blood, usually channeled through her prosthetic. These weapons are more of an exploration of the idea of blood weapons that solidify in terms of hitbox but are still sort of fluid for the most part. She also uses her blood for other uses, creating tendrils of blood that lash out against her foes, controlling enemies using their own blood, and etc.

⥼ SIGNATURE SPELLS ⥽
Crimson Torrent ─ Idunn manipulates the blood within her body, forming a swirling vortex of crimson energy around her. From this vortex, she can project streams of razor-sharp blood tendrils at her enemies, slicing through anything in their path with deadly precision.
Surgery ─ Idunn maniuplates her own or the blood of her target, being able to place effects on the target. The effects consist of:
Vital Extraction: Idunn extracts vital fluids or energy from the target, weakening them and transferring the stolen essence to herself or her allies.
Organic Reconstruction: Idunn manipulates the target's body, repairing injuries, curing ailments, or enhancing their physical attributes temporarily.
Blood Puppetry: Idunn takes control of the target's movements, forcing them to act against their will or turning them into a temporary ally on the battlefield.
Life Transference: Idunn can sacrifice a portion of her own vitality to restore the health or prolong the life of the target.
Sacred Retribution ─ Idunn invokes the ancient blood rites of vengeance, marking her enemies with a bloody sigil that binds their fate to hers. Any harm inflicted upon her is mirrored back upon her foes with amplified force, as the very blood coursing through their veins becomes a conduit for their own demise.

⥼ KEY of VIRTUE ⥽



Blades of the Play: The Comedy Blade can if enough Vitanima is siphoned, on slash, create illusions that will stun enemies, without being charged the blade has the chance of making an enemy burst out in laughter, stunning them. The Tragedy Blade, if enough Vitanima is siphoned will drastically decrease the morale of whoever is attacked, putting them in a deep state of despair, without being charged the blade has a chance of cutting deeper than a normal blade.

The Blades of the Play, were forged by an unknown blacksmith long ago, as a gift to the Matrona family of playwright and poets. It was usually used as a decoration or artpiece before Idunn started wielding it, when she was crowned a knight.

⥼ SKILLS and HOBBIES ⥽
Writing plays and poetry ─ Going on walks in thick forests ─ Sleeping

⥼ SPELL LIMITS ⥽
One ─ Prolonged use of Crimson Torrent drains Idunn's energy quickly, leaving her fatigued and vulnerable to counterattacks. Additionally, the spell's effectiveness diminishes in dry environments.
Two ─ Surgery requires intense concentration and precise control over blood magic, leaving Idunn vulnerable to interruption or counterattacks while casting.
Three ─ Idunn has 5 minutes to mark the sigil onto an enemy, if she fails, she risks the chance of bleeding out, or massive migraines.

⥼ KEY WEAKNESS ⥽
Idunn's key's weakness is when in use, evertime a debuff is used against an enemy, it takes a toll on Idunn's mind, causing migrains, hallucinations, and microsleeps throughout the day. For this reason, she doesn't use her key, as often as some of the other knights, resorting to using her blood weapons more often.

⥼ FEARS and PHOBIAS ⥽
Atychiphobia ─ Somniphobia ─ Being called out or exposed

⥼ OTHER WEAKNESSES ⥽
She's an implusive liar, even when she doesn't actually need to. She always feels like she needs to be in control of situations, no matter what. Getting paranoid, when things start looking south. When there's no hope.

⥼ RELATIONSHIP STATUS ⥽
Crushing hard on Brann

⥼ POSITIVE FIGURES ⥽
Daemonium ─ Savior/Master ─ Committed
Aleksei Kovalyov ─ Fellow Knight ─ Close
Brann Lohgtroen ─ Fellow Knight ─ CRUSHING SO FUCKING HARD
Temp ─ Fellow Knight ─ Fair
Xian Haoran ─ Fellow Knight ─ Fair
Merete ─ Fellow Knight ─ Fair
Miriam ─ Fellow Knight ─ Extremely Close

⥼ NEGATIVE FIGURES ⥽
Council of the Empire─ Former Parental Figures ─ Broken

⥼ ASSOCIATIONS ⥽
The Seven ─ A group of knights, formerly tasked with defending the empire from a dark magical threat. ─ The Fourth Virtue, Hope
The Fallen ─ All that's left of the Seven
The Knights ─ The group that every knight operates under, controlled by the empire ─ The Seven (highest legion of knights)

Idunn came from the noble Matrona line, famous for bringing multiple famous poets and playwrights to light. Idunn's father, Alexender Matrona, was a particularly well-known and popular playwright, writing comedies, tragedies, epics, and lots of others,

Sadly, when Idunn was born, her mother didn't make it with her, causing Alexender to become grief-stricken. This grief influenced all his plays after her death. The young Idunn was thrust into these plays, as a child actor. She was a prodigy on stage, portraying characters from her father's depressing tragedies like no other. Behind curtains, she was a lonely little girl yearning for her father's love. Haunted by his wife's death and consumed by his art, Alexander grew distant from his daughter, burying himself in his work while neglecting the girl who craved his affection. Idunn found solace in the characters he portrayed, losing himself in their tragic tales, and being exposed to horrors at a young age.

In her times of solitude, she learned magic on her own, learning from books, her father kept from Matronas long ago, and learning from knights, who often patrolled around her city. It was soon discovered, that she had an aptitude for magic and was soon sold to the Empire, so her father could afford renovations to the theater. He didn't even say goodbye. Though it seemed, her days becoming a knight were far better than her days at the theater, she soon rose the ranks, with hard dedication and her innate ability for magic, becoming one of the strongest.

⥼ AGE and BIRTHDAY ⥽
28 prior to Slumber ─ November 5th

⥼ IDENTITY ⥽
M ─ Cis Man ─ He/Him

⥼ STATISTICS ⥽
6’2” ─ 174 lbs ─ O-

Aleksei's most striking feature is his wild, curly white hair that cascades in an unruly mane around his slender face. Though rare, his albinism gifts him with the ethereal appearance of a prince stepped out of a fairytale, from the snowy crown atop his head to the soft blue of his eyes. Those eyes, so pale they verge on violet when the light catches them just so, are framed by long white lashes and fine arched brows. Their cool color contrasts beautifully with the warm undertone of his skin and the rubicund flushing of his cheeks. His face is all gentle curves - a soft jaw, round cheeks, and a pert upturned nose combine to give him a sweet, almost cherubic look. This innocence is complemented by his near-constant crooked smile, charming in its lopsidedness. Though his resting expression trends toward cheer, it can morph into a dark scowl when irritation takes hold of his gentle spirit. The decades spent in slumber have made such soured moods more frequent. Still, Aleksei's handsome smile returns swiftly, lighting up his face and creasing the fine laugh lines that have accumulated at the corners of those striking eyes. His height, just above average, complements his slender build. Wiry muscles, honed from years of knightly training, ripple subtly under his fair skin. Though less bulky than some warriors, he possesses a quiet strength and graceful poise.

Insightful ─ Tempered ─ Passionate ⤄ Egotistical ─ Vengeful ─ Sadistic

Once upon a time, Aleksei was a genuinely kind and gentle man, radiating warmth and compassion to all he encountered. In his youth, he was known for his passionate friendliness, eagerly striking up conversations with strangers and acquaintances alike. Aleksei performed acts of service constantly, gladly giving his time, money, or possessions to those in need without expecting anything in return. He held a deep empathy for others, intuitively understanding people's troubles and motivations. Aleksei's generosity knew no bounds - he would forfeit all his worldly goods if it meant aiding another soul.

However, after decades trapped in an enchanted slumber, Aleksei awakened as a twisted, corrupted version of his former self. His warped psyche interprets kindness through a lens of egotism and self-interest. Now, Aleksei's so-called selfless acts serve to stroke his ego and feed his inflated sense of self-importance. He views his superficial generosity as concrete evidence of his greatness, pointing to his supposed sacrifices as justification that he deserves glory and praise. Aleksei no longer performs true acts of service, instead delegating tasks he deems beneath him to others while taking credit for their deeds. His empathy has become a tool for manipulation - he uses his intuitive understanding of others to trick and deceive them into serving his wishes. Where he once freely gave, Aleksei now makes uneven trades and deals, offering his power in exchange for people's possessions, freedom, or very lives if it suits him. This corrupted man is but a dark parody of his once kind self - he abuses the image of benevolence for personal gain, growing enraged if his "kindness" goes unacknowledged and vindictively attacking those who fail to thank him.

⥼ ORIENTATION ⥽
Homosexual ─ Panromantic

⥼ LIKES ⥽
Good Company ─ Cold weather, specifically rain ─ A game of Durak ─ Sweet, plum wine

⥼ DISLIKES ⥽
Solitude ─ Hot weather ─ Sitting still and having nothing to do ─ Stouty ale

⥼ FOCUS CORE ⥽
Soul, minoring in Shape

⥼ APPLICATIONS ⥽
Aleksei wields the elemental forces of Soul and Shape with cunning mastery, cloaking his cruelty in false generosity. With a smile, he raises walls of earth to shelter the downtrodden, only to leave them trapped and abandoned. He conjures flames to warm the cold, letting them grow until they consume all in their path. Aleksei's gifts appear kind, but breed suffering.

His power over fire and earth allows sinister creativity. With penetrating heat, Aleksei mimics the forging of diamonds, focusing scorching flames through dense minerals. Yet at any moment, he can turn this searing force upon his enemies, blinding them with blistering light. The very ground obeys Aleksei's whims, opening sinkholes and pits beneath the feet of those who displease him. Or he can compress soil and stone into nigh-impenetrable barriers, encaging any who dare defy him.

Aleksei makes the earth's bounty an instrument of manipulation, commanding vines to constrict and roots to spread at this command. His fiery power mutates the natural world, breeding new species of flora to serve his wishes. With but a thought, Aleksei can generate hybrid plants or inflict potent effects upon the environment.

In Aleksei's hands, the fundamental elements of Soul and Shape become tools of covert cruelty, masked by the guise of generosity. His imagination in combining them seems endless, as does the suffering he casually inflicts upon those foolish enough to trust his false benevolence. For behind Aleksei's kindly facade lurks only a desire for narcissistic gain, no matter the cost.

⥼ SIGNATURE SPELLS ⥽
The Precious Blade ─ The most iconic of his talents, The Precious Blade, showcases Aleksei's deftness at fusing the fiery Heat of Soul with the earthen Density of Shape. Calling upon these forces, he can summon gemstones such as rubies, sapphires, and diamonds from the ether, morphing them into elegantly wrought blades balanced to lethal perfection. Though Aleksei's power enables him to craft any manner of swords or daggers, when pressed for time, he defaults to conjuring spikes and spires which require less finesse yet remain deadly implements. The glinting crystals he summons are as beautiful as they are dangerous, singing with the harmonious union of earth and fire.

Blessing of the Sun ─ Another fearsome ability as iconic as his Precious Blade is that of Blessing of the Sun, combining the searing Glow of Soul with Aleksei's gem-shaping skills. Through this synthesis, he forms crystal lenses able to concentrate sunlight into blistering beams. By carefully modulating the lenses' curvature, the resultant rays can either gently warm or melt solid rock, such is their intensity. With but a thought, Aleksei can focus the sun's might into a weapon as potent as any blade.

Healing Soul ─ In counterpoint to his destructive abilities, Aleksei has also cultivated restorative powers. His Healing Soul technique draws on the Spark and Heat of Soul to invigorate the body's own healing processes. Through an ignition of one's inner fire, Aleksei can rapidly mend wounds and regenerate damaged cells. While less flashy than his combat skills, this power highlights Aleksei's versatility through his command of Soul's life-giving aspects.

Shepherd of Darkness ─ Finally, developed during his fifty-year slumber through the guidance of Daemonium, Aleksei's Shepherd of Darkness shows his mastery of all four elements in harmonious conjunction. Combining the earthy Bloom of Shape, the watery Birth of Blood, the airy Freedom of Breath, and the fiery Passion of Soul, this ability permits Aleksei to control all lifeforms through hypnotic movements. Flora bends to his will and fauna heed his call as Aleksei conducts nature's myriad voices like a somber symphony. Though lacking the raw devastation of his other skills, this subtle power evidences Aleksei's deep connection to the forces underlying creation.

⥼ RINCI the MERCIFUL ⥽
This delicate key, once known to embody the Buddhist principle of mercifulness, has since been twisted to inflict harm. Originally gifted to Aleksei by Haoran as an expression of gratitude, this Fu Chen, or horsetail whisk, was intended to channel Aleksei's magic in a way that would not injure any living thing, magnifying his kindness in a way no ordinary weapon could.

The whisk itself was crafted from lightly hued, warm wood, etched with intricate markings depicting peace and tranquility. Its fibers were as pale as Aleksei's own snowy locks, evoking a sense of purity and light. When Aleksei first received Rinci, he wielded it gracefully, using it to channel and direct his magic like a conductor guiding an orchestra. The energies flowed from him effortlessly, calming storms and healing wounds without causing any pain.

However, with the rise of Aleksei's corruption, so too came the shift to Rinci's capacity for damage. Aleksei has since begun coating the delicate fibers in diamond dust, transforming the once harmless horsetail whisk into a brutal weapon. The diamond fragments are as fine as fiberglass, inflicting deep lacerations with the slightest touch. With each graceful flick of his wrist, Aleksei can now lay open flesh to the bone, bringing immense suffering rather than mercy.

Though originally a gift representing the ideal of harmlessness, Rinci has become a frightening physical manifestation of Aleksei's corruption, its beauty warped into something sinister and cruel. The whisk that once channeled healing now dealt devastating wounds, sparkling with diamond shards as sharp as its master's corrupted heart.

⥼ SKILLS and HOBBIES ⥽
Painting ─ Dancing ─ Singing ─ Animal Husbandry and Handling ─ Blacksmithing ─ Sleight of Hand

⥼ SPELL LIMITS ⥽
The Precious Blade ─ While Aleksei can summon gemstone blades that are elegantly crafted and lethally sharp, overuse of this ability risks migraines, fatigue, nausea, and bleeding from prolonged Vitanima channeling. Each blade also requires intense mental focus to will into existence and maintain structural integrity. In the chaos of battle, it may prove difficult to summon more than a few weapons at once without losing control. The blades themselves, though beautiful, lack versatility beyond slashing and stabbing. Aleksei's chronic illness exacerbates these issues, with nerve pain and coughing fits potentially disrupting his concentration while wielding the crystals. Ultimately, The Precious Blade provides deadly yet limited offensive options that Aleksei can only employ sparingly before physical and mental exhaustion set in.

Blessing of the Sun ─ This power enables Aleksei to unleash destructive solar beams, but excess use risks overtaxing his body and mind. Each lens requires careful calibration, limiting how many can be controlled at once. The heat and light may also give away Aleksei's position. While able to melt rock when focused, the diffuse rays have limited range and can be blocked. The symptoms of Vitanima overuse and his chronic ailment will steadily debilitate Aleksei the more he channels the Blessing. While the solar onslaught can devastate foes, it quickly drains Aleksei past the point of effectiveness.

Healing Soul ─ Though this ability can rapidly heal wounds, Aleksei's chronic illness limits how much Vitanima he can channel at once. Overextending this power risks bleeding, fainting, and exacerbating his symptoms. The healing is also localized to Aleksei's hands on a body, preventing wide-scale mending. Powerful injuries or illnesses may require prolonged sessions to fully treat, tiring Aleksei past his limits. While useful for quickly stabilizing injuries, Healing Soul cannot persistently undo massive damage without incapacitating its wielder.

Shepherd of Darkness ─ Though this subtle power highlights Aleksei's Vitanima mastery, the extensive focus required gives enemies an opening to attack. The range of control is also localized, allowing distant foes to resist. Summoning specific creatures is mentally taxing, with general manipulation of plant and animal life easier to sustain. However, without precision, the Shepherd can do little beyond distraction. Moreover, any disruption in concentration due to Aleksei's chronic illness rapidly breaks his influence. While evidencing profound skill, the Shepherd's weaknesses betray its lack of direct combat impact.

⥼ KEY WEAKNESS ⥽
Though a formidable weapon in skilled hands, Rinci the Fu Chen does suffer from significant limitations that inhibit its efficacy in many situations. Most notably, the horsetail whisk relies extensively on open, sweeping, dance-like motions to build momentum and inflict damage. The long, graceful arcs and flicks of the wrist required are simply not possible in close quarters or cramped spaces. Tight hallways, small rooms, and other enclosed areas restrict the broad, sweeping movements needed to slash and lacerate with the diamond-coated fibers. Even open spaces can pose issues if crowded with obstacles or combatants, preventing the unencumbered motion ideal for Rinci's use. With ample space to wheel and pivot freely, flicking the horsetail whisk to and fro, Aleksei can inflict devastating wounds. But without room to maneuver unimpeded, the whisk's potential is sharply curtailed. The exquisite, hypnotic swirls and arcs through the air transform into clumsy, stifled gestures when deprived of space. Though beautiful and alluring when allowed to dance through the air unhindered, the encrusted diamond fibers lose their bite when movements are constrained. For all its grace and elegance, Rinci remains dependent on openness and freedom of motion to fully manifest its lethal potential. The very quality that makes it so mesmerizing - the sweeping, unbroken flow - also exposes its limits in situations where space is scarce.

⥼ FEARS and PHOBIAS ⥽
Solitude ─ Rejection ─ Failure/Disappointment

⥼ OTHER WEAKNESSES ⥽
Chronic illness is his biggest weakness, physically. Mentally, he faces weaknesses in the form of his fellow knights and the dependency he's developed around them, and in his own lingering self-doubt, believing himself too weak without his spells, weapons, and the support of his fellow knights

⥼ RELATIONSHIP STATUS ⥽
Lusting after Haoran

⥼ POSITIVE FIGURES ⥽
Dmitriy Kovalyov ─ Guardian ─ Very Close (deceased)
Dayte Markovic-Kovalyov ─ Husband ─ Very Close (deceased)
Daemonium ─ Savior/Master ─ Devoted
Idunn Matrona ─ Fellow Knight ─ Close
Xian Haoran ─ Fellow Knight ─ Very Close
Brann Lohgtroen ─ Fellow Knight ─ Very Close
Terisa Sokolov ─ Fellow Knight ─ Close
Renaud ─ Fellow Knight ─ Close
@Autumn Moon's character ─ Fellow Knight ─ Close

⥼ NEGATIVE FIGURES ⥽
The Council of the Empire ─ Holy Leaders ─ Tarnished
Father Ambrose ─ Headmaster ─ Vile

⥼ ASSOCIATIONS ⥽
The Seven Knights of Virtue ─ An elite force of specialized knights serving the empire, each standing for one of the Seven Holy Virtues ─ The Second Knight, The Knight of Kindness
The Fallen Seven ─ What remains of the Seven Knights of Virtue after their fifty-year slumber ─ The Callous

Discarded at birth for his striking albinism, the infant's cries pierced the frigid [tbn] air, a plaintive melody signaling his remarkable future. An artist, drawn by fate to the babe's makeshift grave, glimpsed beyond societal prejudice to the luminous potential within. Rescuing Aleksei, he nurtured the boy's fledgling talents, finding inspiration in his ethereal beauty. Together, they weathered the storms of Aleksei's chronic childhood illness, the artist employing his young muse as a conduit to conjure exquisite artwork. Despite his fragility, Aleksei exhibited prodigious control over Vitanima, intuitively channeling the element of Soul to generate flames, a fiery manifestation of his inner light. Recognizing Aleksei's rare gift, his caretaker secured tutelage from a master to elevate the boy's skills. With compassion and wisdom, this mentor revealed the deeper meanings of Aleksei's magic, guiding him to fulfill his destiny.

Through battle after grueling battle with his fragile health, Aleksei revealed himself to be remarkably talented and remarkably powerful, becoming a further inspiration for his guardian, a gifted artisan. Though fueled by this creative spark, Aleksei's guardian grew increasingly concerned for the boy, witnessing the violent toll that tapping deeper into his Vitanima took on him - debilitating migraines and bone-crushing fatigue compounding his already delicate condition. Time and again, the guardian gently questioned if Aleksei was pushing too far, asking if he wanted to cease his intense training and seek an easier path in life, one that didn't stretch his physical body so perilously thin. But no matter how the artist pushed, Aleksei refused to abandon his journey. His guardian had shown him such kindness all his life that the boy was determined to capture that benevolence and pay it forward by mastering his magic. As he slowly gained control over the finer intricacies of Soul in the forms of Heat, Glow, and Spark, learning in his training with the master how to tap into the three other elements of Shape, Blood, and Breath, unlocking within them the raw power of Earth, Water, and Air, Aleksei strengthened his inner flame. He forged an especially robust connection to Shape, embracing the structural facets of Dense, Root, and Bloom in conjunction with the wild, uncontrolled power of the flames of Soul. Combining these forces, he developed a unique magical skill, crafting hard gems by harnessing the heat and pressure of fire and stone. Though his body was weakened, Aleksei's spirit remained strong in his quest to master his magic and spread good in the world.

With a heart full of hope and a mind focused on his craft, Aleksei embarked on the next chapter of his journey. Though it pained him to leave behind the only family he had ever known, his wise guardian who had raised and mentored him, Aleksei knew he must follow the calling of his magical abilities. His unique mastery over the primal forces of fire, earth, and notes within each had caught the attention of the grand mages, and they directed him westward, to the central island of the archipelago, where he could learn the deepest mysteries of the elements. Aleksei set forth, traversing forests and mountains on his quest, before embarking across the frozen seas to the land of [tbn]. He meditated daily to strengthen his connection to the living flames of his inner fire, the ancient bones of the earth, and the boundless energy of his very soul. Though his body remained weakened from channeling such raw power on top of his chronic illness, Aleksei's spirit soared with purpose. He imagined helping others and spreading light with his magic once he refined his skills. The western lands held the promise of transformation, of transcending to the celestial reaches of Vitanima where he could grasp the fundamental nature of the elements. With steadfast dedication through every aching step, Aleksei journeyed toward this new horizon. The road ahead was long, but his will burned bright with the hope of attaining new heights in his magical arts.

While fate dealt the promising mage a cruel hand, cursing him with such insidious illness that wracked his body with agonizing pain and bouts of violent coughing as his body tore itself apart from the inside out, Aleksei persevered, journeying to the famed Vitanimus Academy where he honed his talents under the tutelage of the wisest mages in the Empire. It was there that Councilman Viktor, overseer of the academy's advanced students, first took notice of Aleksei. One could say, Viktor saw himself in the tenacious young man, and took Aleksei under his wing, nurturing his burgeoning powers despite the protest of his frail health.

"Your weakness is but the crucible through which your strength is forged..."

Viktor would say, urging Aleksei to push past the fire in his veins. With Ambrose's guidance, Aleksei rapidly excelled, earning top marks in all his studies. Ambrose grooming him all the while, envisioning the day Aleksei would take his place on the Council. But Aleksei's passions lay not with politics and academia. On the day of his graduation, to Ambrose's dismay, Aleksei enlisted in the city guard, driven by an oath to protect the common folk who had shown him such kindness when he first arrived, a foreigner with nothing to his name.

Though his illness persisted, attempting to bar him from the life of service he dreamed of, Aleksei persevered. His valor and compassion earned him the rank of knight, defender of the people. In time, the Council itself took notice, inviting Aleksei to join the revered order of the Seven. As a Knight of Virtue, Aleksei safeguarded the empire he called home, his inner light guiding him through the darkest nights. The road behind him was long and fraught with suffering, but Aleksei stood tall, an inspiration to all who knew his story. For he was the living embodiment of strength through adversity. But more than that, the epitome of kindness, taking all which had been given to him in life and giving it back to the world that had given him such promise.

Aleksei settled neatly into his role as the Knight of Kindness, standing strong among the other Knights of Virtue, and though Ambrose, who had held so much faith in him during his schooling, was disappointed to see him pass up the chance to become one of the Council as his apprentice, he appeared proud of Aleksei, and Aleksei was proud of himself. In the final moments, as the Council sealed him and the other Knights into their death-like slumber. As his illness spiked once more and cut off his cries and pleas for mercy, with a final bout of violent coughing through thick, hot blood spilling from his mouth with that oh-so-familiar taste of salty iron. Aleksei could swear he heard that same Councilman, Ambrose, the headmaster who had pushed him so hard against his condition, whisper cruelly across his mind.

"To think...you would face such a similar end to that which eluded you not that long ago... Oh the irony..."

⥼ AGE and BIRTHDAY ⥽
22 Prior To Slumber ─ March 27th

⥼ IDENTITY ⥽
M ─ Agender ─ He/Him

⥼ STATISTICS ⥽
5’5” ─ 146 lbs ─ A+

Compassionate ─ Trusting ─ Inspiring ⤄ Critical ─ Perfectionist ─ Worrisome

Brann was the youngest of the Seven, and was one of the last to join them. Before his recruitment, he looked up to the others has heroes that had his utmost faith. Once he joined, he followed their every step until he followed them into a trap. But even then, he called out to his allies to have faith. Faith that this would not be the end, faith that they would escape the fate they were given.

Now, with his reawakening, Brann has become deeply resentful of the people who betrayed him. Deeming the council to be blasphemers who deserve to grovel at the Seven's heels and beg for forgiveness. He is deeply critical of others, and holds them to their ideals and demands perfection of adherence to them. Those that don't are hypocrites and traitors to themselves that don't deserve to have their problems solved. He views the weak as those that need to give in more to their faiths if they want to become stronger, and the strong as prideful assholes that have no faith in others. Brann himself has lost faith in everyone but the Seven and there is no longer any winning his favor.

⥼ ORIENTATION ⥽
Pansexual ─ Panromantic

⥼ LIKES ⥽
Watching His Friends Be Happy ─ Cooking With Idunn ─ Hero Stories

⥼ DISLIKES ⥽
Hypocrites ─ People Giving Up On Him ─ The Smell Of Alcohol

⥼ FOCUS CORE ⥽
Soul, Purely

⥼ APPLICATIONS ⥽
Brann has had faith in his simplistic fire magic his entire life. Unable to afford an education, he never learned the ways of Heat, Glow, or Spark and thus didn't have the foundations to understand the Celestial Texts on Passion, Ferocity, and Rebirth. Instead, he refined Soul into heightened forms until its power, and the drawbacks that come with it, rivaled Celestial Magic.

Brann does not minor in Shape, Fluid, or Breath. More accurately, he is unable to use earth, water, or air magic but instead utilizes the concepts within the three other traditions to alter how he interprets Soul and his stronger spells rely on multiple of these changes to function. Through Shape, he can give form and structure to his flames allowing him to ignore the typical physics that fire answers to. Through Blood, he can give his flames a mind of their own causing them to move independently like a beating heart. Through Breath, he can give substance to his flames and detach them from himself allowing them to sustain themselves as opposed to continuing to drain his Vitanima. With a Pure Soul, he can ignore even the Carnal aspect, Fire, and instead interact with a being's soul directly to damage or manipulate it.

The following are staples within his arsenal, but barely describes what he is capable of. His Contingent-equivalent spells ignore the notes, and his Celestial-equivalent spells ignore the abstracts. It is pure soul, strengthened by pure faith.

⥼ SIGNATURE SPELLS ⥽
Cardinal Level:
Soul Given Shape: Brann summons hardened fire that takes on a crystalline appearance, but unlike crystal does not have shatter lines and instead has the rigidness of metal. This fire can be melded into weapons or shields that still burn with the full intensity of fire. Thus, only those who have a core of soul can wield them without having to withstand the heat.

Soul Given Blood: Flames extend along the floor around Brann, creeping over an substance it comes into contact with. Brann can also use this spell to throw a flame-blob that will cause a similar, put smaller-area, effect at a distance.

Soul Given Breath: A breathing flame self sustains itself, and Brann uses this to light never-ending fires. They can still be put out as normal, but otherwise they no longer need a fuel source to keep burning.

SoulBurn: Soul refined by soul, Brann's sends a firebolt out towards an enemy. Instead of igniting their flesh or clothes, it burns their soul. Only another mage with capable healing can relieve the pain, and those who die from its effects can only be revived if their soul is extinguished, as the burning keeps them dead. Brann developed this technique to combat the endless waves of dark entities that seemed to only return to the void and come back healed up or even stronger than before. This spell was meant to be a final end to the deathless dark.

Contingent Level:
The Tears of Cassiel: Soul given Shape to form piercing needles of fire, and Blood to act independently, Brann assaults his enemies with seeking projectiles that he must still sustain with his Vitanima but doesn't need to direct or command. The flames pierce through targets and continue on to further enemies, leaving those with lacking magical defenses no rest as they must keep moving to avoid them.

The Storm Of Barachiel: Soul given Blood and Breath, Brann superheats his fire, separating the breath between air and creating a vacuum directly around the flame, he then extends this space outwards like veins extending from a heart until it makes contact with something. The heat and energy looking for somewhere to go, quickly races across this line and becomes plasma. Not quite lightning, but similar, the plasma ball slams into his enemies and explodes.

The Armies Of Michael: A Soul, given a Shape and the ability to Breath, is almost equivalent to a living creature. No Fluidity to think, Flame Elementals are summoned to fight alongside Brann but he must command them in order for them to act.

The Judgement Of Azrael: Soul itself. No flames, no heat, no glow, no spark. Brann grips another beings soul and rends it from their body. This doesn't kill, but will leave the target unconscious until their soul can recover. Brann must make physical, skin-to-skin, contact with his target to use this ability. Directly connecting his soul to theirs.

Celestial Level:
The Flames Of Jophiel: The prime Soul spell, given Shape, Blood, Breath, and refined with Brann's own soul, this spell represents the aspects of a true knight. Protection and Justice:

• The Gates of Eden: Brann conjures a dome that moves on its own with a desire to protect as many of his allies as possible. Enemies will need to expend substantial Vitanima simply to enter the Gates, but will immediately ignite and continue to burn from the flames intended to protect even God.
• The Flaming Sword: Brann conjures a two sided blade at the end of his staff, made of the strongest flames that Brann can produce. The ultimate weapon of Justice, the blade thinks for itself and will extend to whatever range is necessary to strike his enemies.

The Fall Of Samael: A new spell created during the 50-year entrapment, this spell infuses Soul not with Shape, Blood, or Breath but instead with the dark void itself. Black Flames coat Brann's body, slowly consuming his flesh and infusing all of his spells while active with Hellfire. These flames do not go out, inflict SoulBurn, and cause those on fire to feel any pain that Brann experiences. As the target's soul is damaged, so is there Vitanima, restricting their ability to cast spells. In the case of SoulBurn itself, those who perish from a Hellfire SoulBurn have their soul consumed by the void, lost forever to empower Daemonium. Those that are under the effects of both his virtue key and hellfire experience both the drawbacks that Brann does and feel the pain doubled due to experiencing Brann's pain. With a loss of Vitanima, and suffering enough drawbacks to not want to use spells anyways, this spell is intended to be used as a final stand. Either the target is dying if they cannot withstand the suffering, or Brann will die as his own spell consumes him.

⥼ SKILLS and HOBBIES ⥽
Journaling Everything ─ Learning New Recipes ─ Magemanship

⥼ SPELL LIMITS ⥽
Cardinal ─ His Cardinal spells come with very little drawbacks but without the ability to utilize alternate expressions of Soul, Brann must rely on his skill manipulating the Core identity of Soul and the other traditions
Contingent ─ His Contingent level spells usually cause Brann nosebleeds or small cuts. In addition, each spell has its own unique drawback due to Brann having to play by the rules of multiple traditions at once.
Celestial ─ His Celestial level spells cause Brann's eyes to mildly bleed or large cuts to appear on his body. The Flames of Jophiel doesn't have any additional drawbacks, but relies on Brann's Virtue Key to function. No staff, no blade or dome. The Fall of Samael constantly adds more suffering, every spell altered by it's effects has double the cost and while the damage accrues over time, Brann takes equivalent damage to casting a Celestial Level Spell every 30 seconds this spell is active.

⥼ KEY WEAKNESS ⥽
The Blade Of Uriel isn't really a weapon at all. It is a mage's staff that come with all of the same drawbacks a mage would normally suffer, but without heightened spell-casting in return. It relies entirely on the feelings of others in order to function and requires a Celestial level spell in order to bring out its capabilities as a weapon.

⥼ FEARS and PHOBIAS ⥽
Being Hated ─ Running Out Of Chances ─ Outliving His Fellow Seven

⥼ OTHER WEAKNESSES ⥽
Brann is not a fighter. He's quick and cunning, but he lacks a warrior's strength. Just like his Virtue Key, he struggles to be physically useful in combat without utilizing The Flames of Jophiel. Even then, Brann relies on the fact that the spell grants him a massive range and the flaming sword can't be blocked. An enemy that gets close could easily control the staff and thus the spell, or even wrest it from his hands.

⥼ RELATIONSHIP STATUS ⥽
Single

⥼ POSITIVE FIGURES ⥽
Daemonium ─ Savior/Master ─ Faithful
Temp ─ Fellow Knight ─ Idolized/Uncertain
Aleksei ─ Fellow Knight ─ Idolized/Trusts/Close
Haoran ─ Fellow Knight ─ Idolized/Fair
Idunn ─ Fellow Knight ─ Idolizes/Trusts/Respects/Very Close
Miriam ─ Fellow Knight ─ Trusts/Close
Merete ─ Fellow Knight ─ Respects/Fair

⥼ NEGATIVE FIGURES ⥽
Council Of The Elders ─ Leaders ─ Betrayed/Vengeful

⥼ ASSOCIATIONS ⥽
The Seven ─ A group of knights, formerly tasked with defending the empire from a dark magical threat. ─ The Fifth Virtue, Faith
The Knights ─ The group that every knight operates under, controlled by the empire ─ The Seven (highest legion of knights)
The Holy Church of Virtue ─ The main church operating within the Imperial Capitol ─ Bishop serving the Leading Cardinal

Born into poverty within the Capitol, Brann grew up in the alleyways with only his mother to support him. She would tell him the tales of heroes and the knights and these stories left him with wonder and awe as opposed to resentment and suffering like most in his conditions. His mother passed when he was 12, and the street-life didn't suit him. He couldn't steal, or beg, or scrounge. So Brann relied on the stories he was told and sought to join the knights. He was turned down, obviously, and was put into the care of the church. There, he would learn of Faith and had access to information about the knights.

Brann practiced his magic, focusing his faith into his flames each day. Getting better and better as time went on. He learned of Aleksei, and wanted to care for people as he did. He learned of Haoran, and wanted to be skilled with a blade as he was. He learned of Idunn, and wanted to inspire people with his words as she did. They became his idols. Once The Seven was formed, He learned of Temp and wanted to know anything about them.

His desires helped him grow in ranking until he was awarded the status of Bishop. At that point, he attempted his greatest feat. Brann cast The Flames of Jophiel, a Celestial level spell, and nearly died doing so. However, the power could not be denied and the Council took notice. With some help to control the drawbacks of his spells, Brann would be the first mage since the age of myth to create a Celestial spell. Thus, he was recruited into The Seven and his faith was rewarded.

⥼ AGE and BIRTHDAY ⥽
25 ─ November 4th

⥼ IDENTITY ⥽
male ─ cis man ─ he/him

⥼ STATISTICS ⥽
5’6” ─ 157 lbs ─ sleek and densely built

Xian Haoran is a traveling cultivator, hailing from a cultivation sect in the northern islands. He wears traditional, noble Hanfu instead of cumbersome metal armor, opting for mostly blue and black shades of fabrics, and letting all of his beautiful layers of silk billow in the wind. He has a fairly sharp V-shaped face with undefined, pouty lips and an even, sloped button nose. His eyes are shaped like willow leaves, and the irises glitter a dark blue-purple shade like storms. The eyes themselves look tired, shadowed by his long, downcast lashes and a severe-looking set of brows. Haoran tends to wear his long, dark hair half-up, opting for tying a loose bun with a dark blue ribbon matching his deep-water eyes. Two moles speckle his otherwise jade-pale face, one under his right eye and one on the left side of his chin, under his lip. He always stands with dignity and great posture, a long neck framing his pristine and aloof face.

Clever─ Playful ─ Protective ⤄ Distant ─ Vengeful ─ Hot-Headed

There was a long time ago when Haoran had compassion in his heart, when he’d sit and heal people, when he’d take as much time as needed to help others— almost as if he was making up for lost time, out in the west of the archipelago. He seldom showed his emotions, seeming stoic, but still had a gentle smile and a friendly shine in his once ocean blue eyes. Since he was little, he was trained in swordsmanship and magic, and all of this culminated into a strong, gentle, and infinitely patient young man— diligent in his teachings, never skipping or snuffing a single lesson, never raising his voice, able to wait and meditate and simply learn and teach to perfection. The Black Jade never repeated himself, always able to wait, to observe, and to flow with what others presented him.
It seems, after such a long slumber, a switch flipped in Xian Haoran’s head. He can’t sit in peace and think of the world without thinking about why everything should die for the suffering he faced. He can’t train and hone his skills unless he pictures blood staining his blade and bones cracking under his fists. His gratefulness, his gentleness, it’s all been replaced with ever-flowing turmoil deep in his chest, and resentment in all forms bubble and boil. There’s no such thing as perfect moments anymore. He seldom waits, and when he waits, he waits for prey to fall into a trap. His heart got hollowed out by memories awoken, and he struggles to feel anything but rage and pain. Though, now that he has room to be more than a kindly and distant disposition, he’s become a little more mischievous, showing a quick wit and snark that has long been beaten down. There’s no more reason for him to sit and ponder and train in silence, unless it is to get revenge on a world that shred the fabric of his being into nothing but rags.
Much has changed, and now, blood will run for the sake of his own solace.

⥼ ORIENTATION ⥽
Homosexual ─ homoromantic

⥼ FOCUS CORE ⥽
Blood, extremely advanced

⥼ APPLICATIONS ⥽
Haoran’s core was the strongest his sect had seen in generations, making him exceptionally talented in magic pertaining to his aspect. From a young age, this man has had a profound understanding of the aspect— for example, he can control water so acutely he can take it out from the humidity of the air, find water in plants, and even control the water in the blood of human beings and other animals. He understands water and the link with life it possesses, and through it he has spells so strange some people wouldn’t be able to guess where he managed to develop them from. Water-based magic, for Haoran, is almost second nature, to the point he may rely on his magic a bit too much— but what harm can that do..? He knows how to use water for healing, for blocking, for dodging, for moving, even for extending the edge of his crystalline sword with ice, or sending frozen dagger projectiles to any targets around him. Truly, his magic and form is the epitome of flexibility and flow, though… he often sees his magic as a first and last resort. The following “spells” are actually not properly named, just examples of his most common uses of his abilities.

⥼ SPELLS ⥽
Water Whip ─ a simple and low-cost spell involving Haoran taking a bit of water from a source such as a lake, a bottle, or even the humidity in the air, and using it for many things— including, but not limited to: literally whipping enemies, grabbing things out of Haoran’s reach, and defending his blind spot.
Ice Travel ─ Haoran and his party is not limited to just the ground. He can easily summon pillars, bridges, and platforms with ice, and because of it can get places faster with people he cares about.
Healing ─ with water and some focus, Haoran can channel energy through water to heal various wounds and illnesses— he may use a whole body of water for intensive healing, or a palmful of water that floats on his hand to heal injuries in a pinch.
Fluidity ─ water moves and adapts around anything it comes in contact with, and so does Haoran. With this spell, he stops and simply allows things to pass around him like fluid water— essentially a fast dodge.
Shadow Hopping ─ with enough water, Haoran can vanish into the humidity of the air, or even a puddle, and quickly pop up somewhere else.
Shadow Puppeteer ─ Haoran can focus on the blood within living things and force them around, usually to grapple or incapacitate. Before his slumber, he never used this technique. Now, it’s one of his favorites to employ.
Ice Blade ─ Haoran can use sharp daggers of ice, both as pure projectiles and as extensions or modifications to his attacks. He can even form ice on his sword if needed, using it as an extension or a power-up.

⥼ KEY of VIRTUE ⥽
His virtue key and primary weapon is a Chinese “jian,” in other words a two-edged sword, forged by Aleksei long ago based off of Haoran’s description of “good swords.” This sword was forged in some otherworldly manner— its blade extremely sharp and opalescent, as if a giant fiery opal was polished and honed into a lethal edge. it has an off-putting translucency to it, the hilt contrasting the glittering and ethereal blade with a simple but flowing hilt and a pommel with its name engraved in mandarin characters— “微光,” meaning “twilight.” It has the ability to use its stored magical energy to move on its own accord, and channel energy from Haoran to be controlled with just his mind. In the last days before his entombment, Haoran tied a dark blue sword tassel to the pommel, for “good luck.” The irony.

⥼ SKILLS and HOBBIES ⥽
Playing the dizi (a type of flute) ─ playing the guqin (a type of seven-stringed zither) ─ singing — swordsmanship

Xian Tao was born in late autumn to a spiritual cultivation sect in the easternmost parts of the continent: the Xian sect. For generations, the Xian family and all the disciples have studied the various arts and schools of magic, learning how to strengthen themselves, their weapons, and their spirits. His mother, Hua Yuemeng, resented how small and delicate he was, expecting him deeper in the winter months— yes, she was married off very early, and yes, she herself was still very young… maybe her midwives were right, saying she needed to put on more weight to carry a baby better. Then again, she was only seventeen, being sent to the Xian sect to wed the eldest son of the sect leader and heir to that spiritual throne when she was sixteen. Sure, Xian Yichen was… thirty… but this marriage benefitted both of their families! And he was strong and tall, surely they’d have a great child, right..?
The only good news was that Yuemeng’s firstborn was a son. That firstborn still came a month early, and… looked sick, tiny, almost like if she held the baby’s limbs too hard they’d snap. One of the midwives even suggested just “letting go” of the tiny thing in her arms, to let the earth retake him. Her major qualm with that was.. wouldn’t it be unlucky to spit the gods in the face, to say “this son isn’t good enough” to them? It’d certainly be too much to expect them to apologize and give her something better than the little baby boy in her arms. Along with that, she… didn’t want to go through those horrid seven or eight months again, and she didn’t want the pain of childbirth again.
When she approached her husband and father in law, they didn’t seem too happy about Xian Tao’s existence, either. They probably expected a strong baby, a healthy baby who didn’t need medicine the second he came out of the womb, a baby who could hold the Xian family name. Little Xian Tao, while not killed by the grace of his mother, was still rejected by his father in every way but officially. It was actually Lady Xian who noticed her small and sickly son start using magic at 18 months, the same time he got a grasp on walking, and it was all on his own! He was seen playing with the water in a fishpond in the courtyard, stumbling around like toddlers like going, and Hua Yuemeng just had to call her husband over to witness the sickly child effortlessly move spheres of water with fish in them.
Sometimes, Lady Xian wished she never pointed out their son’s talent to her husband. Maybe she would have kept raising the sickly child, and then he would’ve learned to laugh and smile. It was fine at first— Lady Xian often sat in the courtyard as Xian Yichen very gently taught their son more about the core of Blood that he seemed so talented in. When little Xian Tao was four, Xian Yichen started teaching him magic alongside the eight year old disciples. And then, when he was eight and already *stronger* than the masters when most children his age barely started to learn magic, Hua Yuemeng stopped seeing her sweet son.
She never wanted to question how her son disappeared, how she barely saw the small child— and, when she saw him, he just stared.. absently. She pretended to ignore distant screams and cries, and she pretended to ignore the bruises she found at bath time, and she pretended to ignore all the signs that little Xian Tao was exhausted. Hua Yuemeng still sat there with her son, still comforted him, still tried her best to maybe ease the intense training he was thrown into far too soon, but… something changed in that child’s curious mind, and made his deep blue eyes ever distant.
She still got to sit there and watch her son learn many other things— history, calligraphy, cultivation principles, how to play the seven-stringed guqin and the flute, how to shoot a with a bow and arrow how to fight, but… she never saw Xian Tao’s magic courses again.
She learned why, when her son vanished at the end of fall, at his tenth birthday. Xian Tao returned to her with his beautiful, dark blue eyes, but… they were hollow. His skin, too, already pale like white jade, looked ashen instead of lively. The worst part was when her son asked for help with… an injury.
The image burned into her mind. On her only child’s back, her once tender son, she saw the Xian insignia branded onto him, the burn of a circle with a beautiful orchid upon it deep and welted and clear. Not only was that brand on his left shoulderblade, but she saw strange runes trailing down his entire left side, starting from below the shoulder blade and ending at his lower hip. As she put ointment on them, she noticed two things— these strange sigils were… carved into her little Xian Tao, and they pulsed with a strange, blue energy. This… was the last straw. How could her husband treat her son like that?! How could the sect itself be okay with this?!
Lady Xian decided to look through the sect’s literature— she was sure whatever was going on was written into some of the scrolls kept in her wretched husband’s study. When she found the unassuming scroll, a simple roll of cream paper tied up and locked away with documents like the sect finances and trade agreements, she thought it was just another training manuscript.
She was wrong.
She almost gagged in disgust when she finally closed the thing— there were… experiments? Strange ramblings she barely could understand, trying to hone magic further and… using Xian Tao as the test subject, as the start— the median between the magical cultivation world and normal, weak people. It was simply vile to think Xian Yichen was okay with torturing his only son for the sake of… science? Could she call this science? The bastard hurt Xian Tao for years on end, and then carved him up. Hua Yuemeng did the only thing she knew was the right thing— she had to confront her disgusting husband, the newly appointed and honorable sect leader who so honorably turned his son into a magical weapon with absolutely no remorse.
That’s how Xian Tao became alone. That’s how his single comfort, his mother, was taken away from him. He simply never heard from his mother again, after he saw the way she threw herself at the person he was forced to call “father.” That was when a truly awful waiting game began.
Truth be told, Xian Haoran can’t remember those days, the days where he was always called ‘little Xian tao’ well. He just remembers pain in his back, and how long he waited for a chance to run away during a training mission when he was eighteen. He remembers the trek he took to the west, all on his own. He also remembers the days he spent honing *himself* into a fine, razor-sharp edge, instead of being sharpened and calloused by his father.
He knew how to wait for his happy ending, and he knew that the magic in his body was his own instead of anyone else’s. He learned what freedom was to him— it was the ability to wait, and the ability to help others.
It’s a pity he became another tool for the council to use. It’s a pity he knows, now, that the hollowness eating him couldn’t be filled with endless diligence and compassion. It’s a pity all he has left is to finally lose his patience and rage against the world that threw him into slumber.

⥼ AGE and BIRTHDAY ⥽
24 prior Slumber ─ July 22 (Cancer)

⥼ IDENTITY ⥽
Female ─ Cis Female ─ She/Her

⥼ STATISTICS ⥽
5’2” ─ 150 bs ─ Blood type: B-

The soft golden of her hair is always up in either double braids or a half wreath. Her next feature to be striking is the bright blue of her eyes, but what's different is the seeping purple that seems to come from her pupil. Some could swear it had never been like that before. She loves to wear whites with bright blue accents, keeping her clothes simple but modest. She can always been seen wearing an earring on her right ear; the matching on her twin.

Kind ─ Observant ─ Empathetic ⤄ Passionate ─ Overwhelming ─ Manic

Before the slumber, Miriam has been kind and even empathetic towards others. She always favored children; using playing tag or hide and seek, knowing they were the purest and most innocent of the world. Miriam was also very observant of everything around her, making sure people were taken care of and she could help guide her fellow knights to give guidance as well.

After the slumber, the corruption twisted her to believe you were either pure, or you should be judged harshly; by her. Her once passionate faith would now be what would set her aside from before. The passion would transfer into her "punishments" as she called them. Not only that, but she would nearly turn her mood at a moment's notice and may be overwhelming for some.

⥼ ORIENTATION ⥽
Pansexual - Demiromantic

⥼ LIKES ⥽
Flowers ─ Gifts ─ Softer Music - Rabbits

⥼ DISLIKES ⥽
Canines Beasts ─ Summer Heat ─ Mess

⥼ SKILLS and HOBBIES ⥽
Sewing ─ Gardening ─ Swimming

⥼ FEARS and PHOBIAS ⥽
Nyctophobia ─ Becoming Mute ─ Seeing Merete's Death

⥼ OTHER WEAKNESSES ⥽
Allergic to Strawberries - Merete is her twin - Hates being crept up on and touched from behind

⥼ FOCUS CORE ⥽
Breath; minor in Blood

⥼ APPLICATIONS ⥽
Miriam found Breath came to her easier than all the other elements. She used the notes Drift and Range more than Loose. It allows to carry her voice farther than she's physically able and gives her the means to talk to more than one person at a time if she needs to. Her minor in Blood allows her to use Pitch to give her range the ability to either console the people or rally her allies.

After the slumber, her voice is used as a means of.. deception. She uses it to tease and suggest to people,
then instantly turn on them and punish them for going along with the suggestion; still believing Chastity is everything.

⥼ SIGNATURE SPELLS ⥽
Breathless ─ Cardinal ─ Just as the name suggests, Miriam uses her focus of Breath to.. pull the air from your lungs and literally make you breathless. It pulls the air from your lungs forcefully and makes it hard to breathe.
Mist of Suggestion ─ Cardinal ─ Using her Breath focus and her minor for Blood, Miriam can emit her pheromones to give off suggestions; mostly to have people be lured to go against what she deems 'pure' and then uses that against them later as she hands out her 'punishment'.

Piercing Voice ─ Contingency ─ The Range of her Breath and the Pitch of her Blood lets her emits an ear piercing sound that can daze and deafen anyone who is within her eyesight. Sometimes, she gets the pitch wrong and can burst eardrums, rendering people permanently deaf.. or was that on purpose, oops.

Domination ─ Slumbered Celeste ─ Inhaling a hyper dose of the Mist can cause one to no longer be able to resist the suggestions and simply become 'mindless', allowing Miriam to take command and tell them to do whatever. This can be dangerous, as sometimes you don't remember the encounter afterwards.. and sometimes you do. Thankfully, having a higher will power can help you resist Domination, but who knows for how long.

⥼ SPELL LIMITS ⥽
Breathless ─ Using Breathless makes Miriam have vertigo for the next couple hours. She becomes insanely dizzy and usually has to rest more often than not as everything is spinning in her vision.
Mist of Suggestion ─ Use of Mist causes Miriam to get an ocular headache. It is harder to use in an open area as the natural upwind will carry her mist away from her desired target.
Piercing Voice ─ Use of Piercing Voice makes it so that Miriam loses her voice the next day. She also has extreme sensitivity to her other senses, as the pitch and frequency makes everything heightened for her; one of the causes is being using it in a closed space. It can be very exhausting and she is often seen in her 'quiet room' after using this spell.
Domination ─ Overuse of Domination has an adverse affect on Miriam, after releasing her spell; within three hours of said release, she becomes listless. She becomes what she sows, a mindless nobody. Unfortunately for her, she becomes exhausted afterwards and does not remember anything that happens within the four hour listless state she is in.

⥼ KEY of VIRTUE ⥽



The Key belonging the the Knight of Chastity is a mace; the meaning to be retribution to those who would cause pain and suffering to innocents. She uses the pain of a bludgeoning weapon to etch the same pain of the innocents into the sinners.

After the corruption, the key was twisted. Permanent eyes are etched onto both sides of the mace;
a constant reminder that the once Pure Chastity is now judging you and will no doubt punish you if you go against what she deems "the pure soul".

⥼ KEY WEAKNESS ⥽
The downside to wielding her mace is that she must be front and center in the heat of the battle. In order to protect herself, her mace will almost instinctively shift into a shield, blocking any attacks. This also makes her weaponless and free to be surprised or ambushed.

⥼ RELATIONSHIP STATUS ⥽
Eh, relationship? We'll see.
^{Crushing on Brann and Idunn
also temperance, but we don't talk about that.}

⥼ POSITIVE FIGURES ⥽
Daemonium ─ Savior/Master ─ Devoted

Merete Engberg ─ Fortitude/ ─ Twin
Idunn Matrona ─ Hope/Brightblooded ─ Very Close
Xian Haoran ─ Patience/Black Jade ─ Fair
Brann Lohgtroen ─ Faith/Everflame ─ Close
Aleksei Kovalyov ─ Kindness/Callous ─ Fair
Akuji Okes Erasmus ─ Temperance/Nameless One─ Fair

Father Fredrick (Orphanage Headmaster) ─ Guardian ─ Okay (deceased)

⥼ NEGATIVE FIGURES ⥽
Council of the Empire ─ Leaders ─ Vengeful

⥼ ASSOCIATIONS ⥽
The Fallen Seven ─ What remains of the Seven Knights of Virtue after their fifty-year slumber ─
The Punishment
The Seven Knights of Virtue ─ An elite force of specialized knights serving the empire, each standing for one of the Seven Holy Virtues ─
The First Knight, The Knight of Chastity: The Pure
The Knights ─ The group that every knight operates under, controlled by the empire ─ The Seven (highest legion of knights)

Miriam and Merete never really knew where they came from. The orphanage headmaster never told them who their parents were; just that they had been left at the doorstep with the names they have now. Growing up in the orphanage wasn't too bad. They had shelter and food; despite being worked poorly. They mostly did the dishes, cooking and cleaning of the gravestones; no one else really wanting to be out in the creepy graveyard.

The twins didn't mind it. It meant they could be alone to practice their abilities. Miriam showed more promise in the Air element or Breath as they came to find out and Merete showed more promise in the Earth element, or Shape. As their natural abilities progressed the older they got.. it was clear enough that Miriam had been favored a little more.

At the age of sixteen, the twins were finally separated. The headmaster thought Miriam would thrive in the general guard of the town, signing her up without her knowing and her getting taken away. It left Merete at the orphanage, where their blossomed use of Shape let them essentially become the head grave keeper.

Unfortunately, she had been told she couldn't see Merete anymore when she finally got settled. It didn't sit well in her stomach, but now that she was here, she couldn't leave and disrespect the church that raised her. She loved Merete, but she knew she would see them again. She just didn't think it would take eight years.

Miriam spent the rest of her adult life in the general guard, up until the point that she had been recruited to the Seven. She went through the training of becoming a guard, building enough muscle to chase people and to wield her chosen weapons. She favored a heavy mace when she went into the guard and the men looked at her like she had been crazy. They didn't question her again when she beat almost all of them in the sparring matches.

Unknowingly to her, her time in the town guard had caught the eye of a Capital Captain and she was recruited under their care. It allowed her a whole new world to explore and further hone her abilities. Her luck seemed to only go further the longer she stayed in the Capital. Within the first three years of her time in the Capital, she was assigned as a Personal Guard to one of the councilman.

It was a great time for her, until the attempt. She had followed dutifully her councilman and nearing the end of the day, some rebels against what the Councilmen stood for tried to take their life. With her use of Breath and Blood, she was able to save his life in a fairly peaceful way. The rebels getting executed not too soon after; not that she would know that. This save of the Councilman, is what propelled her further into her life.

Being recruited into the Seven was one of the greatest accomplishments she had been given. All her hard work in the guard and honing her Breath abilities allowed her to be seen. She hated that she couldn't share it with Merete, but her sadness was dismissed quickly when she found Merete already in the building for the Seven. Her dream to be back together with Merete had been granted, except.. she could tell they weren't the same.. Perhaps, eventually they'll finally come to ask for help. She wasn't exactly the same either, but being back together with her twin was all she cared about.