can we pretty pretty please have more information about ice demons and/or crystallis itself?
Well since you asked so nicely lol
Crystallis is mostly covered with water, and in fact most of the population of Ice Demons lives in a vast system of massive caves/caverns that exist under their planet's oceans. They're very technologically advanced, and have developed ways to both live comfortably deep underground as well as travel to the surface with relative ease when the need arises.
Most of these caverns have architecture that ranges from something like this artwork by Giorgio Grecu
And something between the Zora's Domain in botw/tears of the kingdom and this artwork by Antoine Lysson
Obviously the architectural styles vary depending on region, but that's the general vibe for most of the populated areas
Pronunciation: /ˈpɔːr.sə.leɪn/
"POR-suh-layn"
(Sounds like porcelain, but with a soft "layn" at the end)
Definition:
Porcelayne is a masc-aligned xenogender that feels delicate, smooth, and quietly strong—like fine porcelain. It evokes imagery of a fragile but beautifully crafted mask or figure, where masculinity is expressed as elegant, breakable, and calm. It might feel chipped or cracked in places, but still whole, carrying a quiet grace despite (or because of) its imperfections.
Frillique (Fem-aligned)
Pronunciation: /frɪˈliːk/
"frill-EEK"
(Like frill + chic, but with a soft “EEK” sound)
Definition:
Frillique is a fem-aligned xenogender that feels like soft lace, thin silk, or faded petals—gently beautiful and profoundly sensitive. It embodies femininity as something ephemeral, almost dreamlike, with a sense of vulnerability that enhances its charm. It may feel worn, like a delicate heirloom dress, or lightly torn at the seams—still lovely, still meaningful.
Crystallis (Neutral-aligned)
Pronunciation: /ˈkrɪs.tə.lɪs/
"KRISS-tuh-liss"
(Sounds like crystal + -is)
Definition:
Crystallis is a neutral or unaligned xenogender that feels like a thin, shimmering crystal—clear, fragile, and multifaceted. It reflects light in many directions, but can fracture easily under pressure. The gender may feel unstable or splintered, but still holds beauty in its vulnerability and quiet complexity. It resonates with those who feel gender as something precious, delicate, and undefined.
Crisp reverberating strings danced through the evening. Notes twisted and echoed up through the emerald, velvet tiers of Ridgedow Gardens. Dusk’s veil had long since darkened to a diamond-encrusted black, and Clarglow was alive with activity.
Footpaths were choked with revellers that formed a river of light that coursed and pulsed through the park. Will-o-whisp spots of light also glowed among the neatly trimmed hedgerows and statues. Their magic-addled voices rose up, joining in with the music of the Luminary Festival.
A young man, no more than a quarter of a century old, glowed brightest of all. A soft orange radiated from his eyes, and his veins pulsed a brilliant red. He was dripping in gold and gems. Over an outfit that somehow managed to be heavily layered and revealing at the same time, he wore a sheer cape, which was heavily embroidered with blood-red crystals that refracted his own light around him in dazzling, concentrated rays. It was such a dangerous colour of magic, but his expression was soft and dreamy.
Excited laughter rose up as a clustered group shot metallic confetti skyward. Gold flake drifted down and settled into his silver hair, cheeks, and shoulders. No doubt he would discover the remnants of this festival in his home weeks from now. He increased his pace, stepping off the cobbled path to overtake the group, when one of their number split from the group. The coils of her dark hair were so saturated with gold that she looked like she belonged on a pedestal next to the other statues.
She intercepted him, matching his pace. She snaked a long, slender arm around his waist and pulled him closer. She pressed her lips against his neck, leaving a wake of golden kisses up to his earlobe, where she leaned closer to whisper.
— “Aurie, Luv, I know that look. Don’t tell me you’re headed home. The eve has only just begun. “
Her glowing eyes Locked with Auren’s, her grip tightening, slowing the both of them to a stop, causing a temporary blockage in the flow of people.
“Overdid myself Mel.. you’ll have to –”
–” Come with us to the reflecting pool.” She cooed, meeting his lips in an off-center kiss, smearing his inky wine lipstick. Momentarily, he allowed himself to relax. He considered saying yes. His heart pounding, he dipped his friend backwards gracefully, resenting that he had to leave. An itch in his left arm reminded his fuzzy brain that he was in danger.
Gasping softly, he gently lifted Mella upright and spun her out towards her friends, who were growing impatient. He couldn’t make out their faces in the fuzz of the evening. “I can’t, I’m sorry Mel! We’ll talk later.” Before she could protest, he danced, spinning forward in a brilliant display of speed that ended in a stumble as he met a set of steep steps that coiled sharply upwards out of the park and onto the pink brick streets overlooking Ridgedow Gardens. The glazed windows facing the street were empty and blank… their occupants elsewhere, enjoying the festival. The empty buildings were like faces, judging him for his lack of zeal.
Auren wound his way through streets and side streets, his pace increasing as he grew more and more alone. Finally, he was climbing a set of steps to his own front door. Smirking at the sight of it he reached down into the front of the bodice that held together the layers of his outfit pulling free a loop of keys that were on a long chain looped around his neck. Aligning it to the keyhole he struggled with the lock, cursing softly under his breath as it initially failed to cooperate with him.
In the quiet black of his foyer, he latched the door behind him and stumbled forward, tearing at the ribbon that held the gleaming cape that draped from his bare shoulders. He let it drop on a black lacquered table. He reached up to unclasp an elaborate choker and tore his single, crimson glove down from his elbow. He pressed a gilded fingernail against a band of red ink encroached upon by a spreading corruption. Marginally extending beyond the band were sinews of mismatched muscle and skin; even his hair had begun to glow red.
Pulse rising, he wrenched his rings from his fingers, casting them into the ever-darkening room. Precious jewellery piled under him until only the dimmest glow from his own veins remained.. Slumping onto the steps, he tightened his grip on his arm and twisted it ninety degrees. A sharp click of crystal against porcelain met his ears. The room was enveloped in black as his final stone slid away from his arm, rendering the prosthesis inert. He slid to his side, the sounds of the party below overtaken by his own gasping breaths, panic refusing to subside alongside his magic.
