elle fanning. cis woman . she/her . wasn’t that daciana funar walking the cobbled roads of coňstanja? it’s nice to see the lady of house funar out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously cruel , whilst also managing to be quite charming. the twenty four year old is eager to explore bran keep. i heard that they themselves are divine ( salvator ). it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of the lightning-struck tower; golden girl with a god complex; violence begets violence, and you are nothing more than the product of your own creation.
ORIGINS & FAMILY:
Name: Daciana Funar
Nickname: Daci, Dacia
Birthday: February 27
Place of Birth: Brailya Castle
Notable Family Members: Regulus Funar ( father ); Althaea Funar ( mother )
PHYSICAL:
Faceclaim: Elle Fanning
Height: 5’7
Build: slim
Hair Color: golden blonde
Eye Color: blue
Unique Mannerisms/Physical Habits: twisting her rings, eyes suddenly losing focus, avoiding corners, running when things get messy
PERSONALITY:
Scent: Vanilla & spice; peonies, lavender
Clothing Style: the very latest fashions, quite expensive, she wears rich tones and pastels best
You enter the world screaming, born upon blood and lightning. The much anticipated first born child for the ruling lord - your arrival is heavy with expectation and delight. This is a barren land, and you come too bright and bold - nearly killing your mother in the very moments you take your first breath. Both mother and daughter survive the birth - but your father decides there will be no more after you.
Heavy is the head that bears the burden of expectation and legacy - and you are just a girl; until you’re not. You know of the Divine, everyone does. But it's not until you watch a serving boy slip and fall in a storm that they realize you possess the gift of healing. It's terrifying and gory and by the old gods do you hate the sound of bones knitting back together and skin sewing itself whole. What cruel twist of fate would gift such a weak stomached girl with the gift of healing?
It doesn't matter, because you are the golden girl, the promise of Brailya and the future of the House of Funar. This you know, this your father has instilled in you since you were old enough to understand. Your gift is secondary, a slight complication in the pretty little life that you’ve crafted for yourself. You push through the disgust, focusing on the power this offers.
simay barlas . cis woman . she/her . wasn’t that mavi bladyan walking the cobbled roads of coňstanja? it’s nice to see the adopted lady of house bladyan out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously distrustful, whilst also managing to be quite feministic. the twenty-five year old is eager to explore bran keep. i heard that they themselves are divine ( salvator ). it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of the smell of lavender and the moon overlooking calm waters.
basics
full name : mavi bladyan
nicknames : maves, mave
age : 25 (25 physically )
birthday/zodiac : august 19th / leo
gender/pronouns : cis female / she/her
sexual orientation : bisexual
house : bladyan
family : lord remus bladyan, lady esma bladyan
languages : english, asl, turkish
personality
bad habits … . self-blaming, holing herself up from others
hobbies … . reckless enjoyment (sometimes), working
fears … . realizing her family might hate her for helping hel escape
alignment : chaotic good
behind the mask
face claim … . simay barlas
height … . 5'5"
hair color … . brown
eye color … . brown
scars … . one on her left shoulder that’s still healing after secretly helping hel escape
wasn’t that kajsa erner walking the cobbled roads of coňstanja? it’s nice to see the lady of house erner out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously callous, whilst also managing to be quite steadfast. the twenty-six year old is eager to explore bran keep. i heard that they themselves are divine ( corporal ). it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of the glint of moonlight off a blade dripping in gore, battle scars worn proudly, a garden with flowers wilting.
𝟶𝟶𝟷. 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂 …
⋯⋯⋯ GENERAL DETAILS.
FULL NAME: kajsa erner.
NICKNAME(S): none.
AGE: twenty-six.
PLACE OF BIRTH: aradyan, valanya.
CURRENT LOCATION: coňstanja, valanya.
GENDER: demi woman.
PRONOUNS: they/she.
ORIENTATION: bisexual.
OCCUPATION: soldier of the army of the divine.
TITLE(S): lady of house erner.
DIVINE?: yes, corporal.
⋯⋯⋯ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.
HEIGHT: 5'4.
TATTOOS: none.
PIERCINGS: none.
SCARS: many, including a relatively fresh large puckered scar on the stomach where she was stabbed through with a blade and nearly killed. another more faded scar from cheek bone to jaw. some miscellaneous burn scars from fighting beside inferns.
CLOTHING STYLE: prefers battle fatigues or armor, but is willing to dress appropriately to events if requested.
DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: scar over face and is usually seen with a sword, even in casual situations.
⋯⋯⋯ HEALTH.
ALLERGIES: apples.
SLEEPING HABITS: sleeps well generally, though has occasional nightmares.
SOCIABILITY: 7/10. do notttt talk to him... or do!
⋯⋯⋯ PERSONALITY.
CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS: h.elene a.quilla (an e.mber in the a.shes), a.equa c.laudius (the w.ill of the m.any).
TRAITS: callous, steadfast, pious, blunt, straightforward, loyal, aloof, skeptical, reckless.
LIKES: big shiny swords, fancy bows and arrows, weaponry in general, being in control.
DISLIKES: her parents (it's mutual. kind of).
FEARS: lacking control/agency, sudden loud noises.
HABITS: staring at people very obviously, standing at attention, picking at scabs.
HOBBIES: making arrows, spending time caring after her weapons.
𝟶𝟶𝟸. 𝙱𝙸𝙾𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝚈 / 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 …
tw: mentions of battle, injury, death
quick and messy tl;dw (too long; didn't write a lot) bc im sleepy pls forgive me
being the only child of a noble house that always has great expectations and where everything has always been pre-decided for you has only ever held kajsa back. her parents, protective over their heir, were unwilling to disclose that she was divine to keep her from conscription. she enrolled in the academy a year late due to this, but with her family striking a deal with their influence, the family was able to avoid punishment.
honestly absolutely loves her powers. enjoys her strength and speed and gets a rush out of it. has a habit of overextending herself and needing to take days or longer to recover from it.
continued being a soldier in the army of the divine even after her required six years.
has been forced into leave due to injury and overexertion. hates being forced to twiddle her thumbs and play the part of happy little noble and it's even worse when she has to deal with her parents on top of all that as they continue to disapprove of every action she takes.
makes problems. on purpose. including an engagement. womp womp
names her weapons.
favors a longsword and battle axe. is quite alright with a bow and arrow as well but considers that more of a hobby than a realistic weapon to use in battle.
most realistic weapon for her to use are technically daggers or a pair of shortswords, but consider: she likes big sword.
wasn’t that coraline bucur walking the cobbled roads of coňstanja? it’s nice to see the personal spy to the king out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously untrusting, whilst also managing to be quite discreet. the thirty-five year old is eager to explore bran keep. i heard that they themselves aren’t divine. it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of careful to say a word when every wall listens to every syllable, footsteps as silent as shadow, orders followed quickly and without dissent.
𝟶𝟶𝟷. 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂 …
⋯⋯⋯ GENERAL DETAILS.
FULL NAME: coraline bucur.
NICKNAME(S): cora.
AGE: thirty-five.
PLACE OF BIRTH: coňstanja, valanya.
CURRENT LOCATION: coňstanja, valanya.
GENDER: genderfluid.
PRONOUNS: she/they/he/any.
ORIENTATION: bisexual.
OCCUPATION: personal spy to the king.
TITLE(S): none.
DIVINE?: no.
⋯⋯⋯ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.
HEIGHT: 5'7.
PIERCINGS: both ear lobes.
SCARS: many literally everywhere from various events.
CLOTHING STYLE: dependent on what she's doing / where she's going. when she's working she's in neutral clothing that allows her to move quickly and quietly. otherwise, she's wearing more flowy and colorful clothing.
DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: tries sooo hard not to have any distinguishing characteristics, though her hair is quite distinctive.
⋯⋯⋯ HEALTH.
ALLERGIES: cats.
SLEEPING HABITS: sleeps well when she needs to!.
SOCIABILITY: 8/10. fake it til you make it babey!
⋯⋯⋯ PERSONALITY.
CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS: mmm tba.
TRAITS: untrusting, discreet, good listener <3, optimistic, organized, principled, mannered, rule-following, concerned.
LIKES: people pleasing unfortunately.
DISLIKES: not meeting other people's standards.
FEARS: abandonment.
HABITS: forgetting to make noise intentionally when walking up to people, checking every room for exits, listening to every conversation.
HOBBIES: painting.
𝟶𝟶𝟸. 𝙱𝙸𝙾𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝚈 / 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 …
too long didn't feel like writing right now;
rough upbringing. youngest and only surviving sibling. father was killed in the king's army and mother fell sick shortly after. raised as a devout follower of the gods of old and still is quite religious. was a court spy for over ten years and was very very good at her job. able to disguise, infiltrate, and get information easily, just doesn't work that well with other people. was chosen as the king's personal spy recently (within the past few years) and is a little bit of a wreck over it due to the responsibility that comes with the role. trying to root out the origin of the rumors of strange rituals happening as the king's health declines. incessantly worried. would she give her life to protect the king? probably not. would she say she would? probably. in a situation where there is an attack she would first protect those that can't protect themselves (noninclusive of nobles, they have people for that).
note: her position as personal spy to the king is unknown to most. she poses as part of his guard in public.
wasn’t that zain idrisi walking the cobbled roads of coňstanja? it’s nice to see the scholar / liege of house idrisi out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously manipulative, whilst also managing to be quite pragmatic. the thirty-three year old is eager to explore bran keep. i heard that they themselves are divine ( salvator ). it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of the chill of the winter exacerbating an always present ache in the joints, fingers stained with ink from a night spent endlessly writing, the shifting smile before another's close-kept secret is spilled.
𝟶𝟶𝟷. 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂 …
⋯⋯⋯ GENERAL DETAILS.
FULL NAME: zain idrisi.
NICKNAME(S): none.
AGE: thirty-three.
PLACE OF BIRTH: devya, valanya.
CURRENT LOCATION: coňstanja, valanya.
GENDER: agender.
PRONOUNS: they/he.
ORIENTATION: bisexual.
OCCUPATION: scholar.
TITLE(S): liege of house idrisi.
DIVINE?: yes, salvator.
⋯⋯⋯ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.
HEIGHT: 6'0.
TATTOOS: none.
PIERCINGS: both ear lobes.
SCARS: many across his left leg, specifically around the joints.
CLOTHING STYLE: professional, clean, sophisticated.
DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: leg brace over his left leg and occasionally glasses.
⋯⋯⋯ HEALTH.
ALLERGIES: none.
SLEEPING HABITS: poor. this guy does not sleep if he doesn't have to, utterly and fully consumed in his research and studies.
SOCIABILITY: 2/10. do notttt talk to him... or do!
⋯⋯⋯ PERSONALITY.
CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS: v.ictor f.rankenstein (f.rankenstein), v.iktor (a.rcane).
TRAITS: self-serving, manipulative, deceitful, argumentative, pragmatic, imaginative, protective, purposeful.
LIKES: books <3 reading <3 being owed favors <3 writing <3 tinkering <3.
DISLIKES: himself lowkey... expectations from others (especially his parents), not meeting his own standards, feeling like he doesn't have agency over himself.
FEARS: letting himself down.
HABITS: finger tapping, clicking his tongue, running a hand through his hair.
HOBBIES: literally nothing.
𝟶𝟶𝟸. 𝙱𝙸𝙾𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝚈 / 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂 …
tw: mentions of chronic illness / chronic pain / health issues
quick and messy bc im sleepy pls forgive me
big big big expectations from his parents and the people of devya. unfortunately he ranks #1 at letting people down (sometimes.... he's more like a solid third place really)
didn't do that well in physical training and he'd always had weaker health than his siblings. somehow zain was much better at the social aspect of interacting with those in devya which pleased his parents, though he hated all of it with great intensity
did end up displaying signs of being divine and attended the academy of mircea. did very well at the academic and gifted portion of his studies, not that well at everything else. during the course of his enrollment at mircea, his health worsened slightly, but not enough to deter him from continuing on to graduate and join the army of the divine
admittedly, he was disinterested in the fighting part. he showed aptitude in strategy and was a capable healer when the situation called for it.
zain quickly completed his six years in the army and went back to devya to spend time with his family. he holed himself up in research (vampyrs, disease, medicine in general. somehow always circling back to trying to heal himself. never worked. never stopped trying.)
about five years ago, zain returned to constanja as a scholar. he'll sometimes teach at the academy but mostly focuses on his research and other scholarly duties. rarely, if ever, uses his divine ability as it's never really helped himself.
will eagerly talk someone's ear off about his studies if they give him the chance. is receptive to other people's opinions on his research and interested in an academic back-and-forth.
if you're a work of art , i'm standing too close ; i can see all the brush strokes ⸻ yofielys verkon , lady of aradyan . a study on the weight of guilt as marrow in your bones , the faith that demands but never gives , the body as an altar of penance , devotion turned self - flagellation , the divinity that touches everything but you , the hollowness left behind .
nadia parkes . cis woman . she / her . wasn’t that yofielys verkon walking the cobbled roads of coňstanja ? it’s nice to see the lady of aradyan out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously guilt - ridden , whilst also managing to be quite dutiful . the twenty - three year old is eager to explore bran keep . i heard that they themselves aren’t divine . it’s funny , whenever i think of them , i think of hands clasped tightly in solemn prayer ; ever - present guilt ( so present so that you do not know where you begin and where it ends ) eating away at your soul , at your spirit ; the belief that you are dirty , that your sin has made you so , a body rocking back and forth , begging to be forgiven .
you were born , perhaps , with not much fanfare . three years after your sibling , your upbringing had been quite … quiet , to say the least . relegated to being raised by a revolving door of nannies and governesses , you were quite happy to be stuck in your apartments , reading , praying , toting along after whichever woman was delegated as your companion for the day .
it never bothered you , never crossed your mind , that the divinity in your siblings sets them apart from you . perhaps your nannies had shielded you , or perhaps your childhood naïvety simply made you not care . you had dolls to play with , scrolls to read , prayers to recite . why bother with comparisons ?
initially , you were as religious as your family was . that is , to say , that you viewed your family's piety to the church of the one true god as merely duty , a burden on the title you were born with . so you attend mass , you say your evening prayers . nothing out of the ordinary .
you are fourteen , in the bustling aradyan marketplace . it is unusual for a lady of your stature to be here , of course , but your parents barely pay you any mind , and so you've gotten used to following your governess to the town centre like a little duck imprinting on its mother .
it is an accident , they say . two carts , carrying goods , carrying fruit and crops , wooden wheels perhaps unaligned , screwed all wrong , the jagged roads of the town , bumps and bruises and sharp turns . they collide into each other , into stalls , into people , and suddenly it is a cloud of rubble and dust and screaming . oh , god , there is so much screaming .
you had happened to be in the middle of it , yet your governess finds you unscathed , save for the coating of dust around your beautiful robe , a cut on the cheek . you had … survived .
there were injuries , a casualty or two , but nothing that your parents are too concerned about . the condolences are sent out to the grieving families , your governess fired , and you … you do not know why you had survived the ordeal .
you do not know why you had survived the ordeal , but you know it is not right . you know it's not right that you walked away when others did not . that you breathe while they were crushed beneath splintered wood and wheels . that your hands , soft and clean , will never know the grasping , desperate touch of the dying , begging to be saved . you wake in cold sweats at night , fingers digging crescent moons into your palms , teeth clenched so tightly your jaw aches, because why you ?
you were born with no divinity, no power, no mark of the one true god’s favor upon your flesh. your siblings radiate His light, but you — you are just a girl. and yet, you survived. your governess had called it a miracle, but she was fired, so what did she know ? perhaps she was wrong . perhaps it was not a miracle , but a mistake .
perhaps adi had spared you by accident .
the thought sinks into you like rot into fruit , like a worm into marrow , burrowing deep into your bones . you cannot let it be an accident . you cannot allow your existence to be a clerical error in the divine order of things. if adi did not mean to save you , then you will make them mean it .
so you devote yourself , wholly , fully , fervently . your piety is all-consuming, something fervid and desperate that clings to you like the scent of burning incense . you wake before dawn to pray , kneeling until you can no longer feel your legs , whispering Their name in reverence , in apology , in bargaining . you will be good . you will be holy . you will make yourself worthy .
perhaps it would have been easier if you were chosen , handpicked from the flock , granted some greater purpose because of Their mercy . but no , that is not why you devote yourself . you are not devout because you are special . you are devout because you are wrong — wrong in the way you were born , in the way you were spared , in the way you still wake up breathing when others did not . you do not serve adi because They have called to you . you serve because you must . because if you were kept alive , it could not have been a mistake . you refuse to let it be a mistake .
you have become a fixture in the church , a shadow among the pews . the priests indulge your devotion, as do your parents , though for different reasons . to the clergy, you are a pious young woman , too zealous, perhaps, but eager to serve . you are allowed to pray, to kneel, to go through the motions of the devout , but when you tell your parents you wish to belong to the church , to give yourself entirely to adi , they deny you . you are not a priestess. you are a daughter of the noble house of verkon , and daughters must be wed , must be useful , must be sacrificed for something greater .
( and you scoff . as if there is anything greater that this . )
it does not matter. you still wake before dawn to pray. you still find yourself wandering the halls of the church at night , watching the candles gutter in their sconces , wondering if this is enough . if you are enough . you tell yourself it is not a mistake that you are alive , and yet the doubt clings to you like dust , settling in the hollows of your ribs , the curve of your spine .
you were not born divine . you will never be divine . you were born a girl , and a sinner , and something adi should have forgotten .
but They didn’t ⸻ and so you will make yourself holy .
◞ ❛ 🥀 ⋮ wasn ’ t that lord aeron verkon walking the cobbled roads of coňstanja ? it ’ s nice to see the heir of aradyan out and about on such a fine day as this . i ’ ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously calculating , whilst also managing to be quite dutiful . the thirty year old is eager to explore bran keep . i heard that they themselves aren ’ t divine . it ’ s funny , whenever i think of them , i think of crisp morning air and the tolling of church bells , a goblet of deep red wine spilled over a fine tablecloth , stone corridors lit by flickering candlelight , the weight of a silver signet ring , low murmurs in an incense - filled cathedral .
friends , romans , countrymen . . . lend me your ears . i ' m robin , and i ' m super excited to be here ! you will find more info on aeron under the cut !
IDENTIFICATION .
full name : aeron of the house of verkon
title : lord verkon , and heir to aradyan
gender: cis - male
pronouns: he & him
sexuality : bisexual
age : thirty
date of birth : march 21st , 1994
place of birth : verkon castle , aradyan
nationality : valanyan
FAMILY
parents : lord pyotr verkon & lady marya verkon
siblings : liege arwen verkon , lady seraphina verkon , lady yofielys verkon
extended family : sir thayer verkon
family history : tba .
PHYSICAL EXAMINATION
face claim : philip froissant
hair : a dark auburn , thick and slightly wavy . neatly kept and styled , but prone to falling over his forehead .
eye color : warm caramel , rich and expressive -- sharp , and observant . hints of gold catch in the light .
height : 6 ' 2" ( 188 cm )
physique : lean but well - proportioned . built for grace rather than brute strength . firmly toned from training .
demeanor : calm , composed , with an air of quiet authority . he moves with purpose , every gesture measured and deliberate .
distinguishing characteristics : an easy smile , silver signet ring always on his finger . a faint scar on his left palm from a childhood accident . an ever - present , yet faint scent of incense and myrrh from time spent in the great church .
character parallels : margaery tyrell ( asoiaf ) , edmund pevensie ( the chronicles of narnia ) , thalia grace ( pjo ) , faramir ( lotr ) , lucien vanserra ( acotar ) , tethys ( the traitor baru cormorant )
STORY
aeron verkon was born into duty . as the firstborn son of house verkon , his path was laid before him from the moment he took his first breath — one day , he would inherit aradyan and rule as its warden . from childhood , he was raised in the ways of faith and governance , taught to be pious, just, and dutiful . he learned early how to speak softly and smile kindly , how to lead prayers with sincerity , how to bow his head in humility while keeping his mind sharp and alert.
but beneath the veneer of quiet devotion lies a man of deep ambition . aeron loves aradyan , but he sees beyond the simplicity of its forests and wooden chapels . he dreams of modernizing the region , of bringing wealth and influence to his people , of making aradyan not just a place of worship but a place of power . he is intelligent and strategic , careful in his words and actions, playing the long game with a patience few suspect him capable of .
his faith is a tool as much as it is a belief — he does not wholly reject the book of the divine , but neither does he abide by all of its teachings . his younger sisters, two of them divine , are living proof that power does not belong solely to the ungifted . to insist otherwise is foolishness . and aeron is not a fool .
to those who meet him , he is charming , warm, effortlessly gracious . he attends mass with the common folk , kneels beside them in prayer , and offers bread and quiet words of comfort where needed . but his mind is always working , always planning . he is a man who understands the weight of his station , and he intends to wield it well .
“ THUS STRANGELY ARE OUR SOULS CONSTRUCTED,
AND BY SLIGHT LIGAMENTS ARE WE BOUND TO
PROSPERITY AND RUIN. ”
— VICTOR FRANKENSTEIN
wasn’t that IRINA FLORESCU walking the cobbled roads of coňstanja? it’s nice to see the LADY OF HOUSE FLORESCU / MASTER SCHOLAR out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously CHOLERIC, whilst also managing to be quite CLEVER. the TWENTY EIGHT year old is eager to explore bran keep. i heard that they themselves ARE divine ( SALVATOR ). it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of the metallic tang of blood mingling with the scent of old parchment; prayers whispered under her breath, not to god but to herself; pale hands dripping with crimson hot blood.
* ˖ ♡ 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔰 . . .
NAME: irina florescu.
NICKNAMES: ira, irinka (affectionate form).
MONIKER: the red angel.
GENDER: cis woman.
PRONOUNS: she/her.
SEXUALITY: bisexual.
AGE: twenty eight years old.
RESIDENCY: the bran keep.
OCCUPATION: master scholar in the king’s small council.
CHARACTER INSPO: victor frankenstein, rasputin, lady macbeth, old lottie matthews (yellowjackets), raskolnikov (crime and punishment), kendall roy (succession).
* ˖ ♡ 𝔭𝔥𝔶𝔰𝔦𝔮𝔲𝔢 . . .
FACECLAIM: emily bader.
HEIGHT: 5’4 ft / 164 cm.
EYES: big and round hazel eyes, with a clever glint similar to those of birds; always seem to be just slightly bloodshot.
HAIR: an unassuming brunette with long hair that is normally wavy when not in a practical braid or updo.
OTHER: the distinctive coppery smell of blood clings to her no matter how much perfume she wears, how much time she spends scrubbing her hands.
* ˖ ♡ 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 . . .
POSITIVE ATTRIBUTES: brilliant, charismatic, strategic, intrepid.
NEGATIVE ATTRIBUTES: arrogant, obsessive, manipulative, emotionally and morally unstable.
TEMPERAMENT: choleric.
LIKES: mulled wine, new parchment, old books, lighting storms, the quiet of the castle at night, expensive perfume, and her black cat, who normally stays in her chambers but can be seen wandering the castle from time to time. his name is, ironically, canis.
DISLIKES: long religious sermons, the smell of decay (blood and flesh are one thing, but rot is another, too close to the memories of the battlefield), chocolate, migraines, watery ale.
SKILLS: a talented scholar, anatomist and healer. has quite an artistic vein, but is normally contained to beautiful and accurate anatomical drawings. quite good with a bow and arrow, and will never pass up a deer hunt.
𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔦. irina is brought up on her knees. she learns her first words from prayer books, takes her first steps beneath paintings of the one true god, always bathed in light filtered through stained glass and the heavy scent of incense. the florescu are traditionalists, the kind who abhor the cult of the divine, who believe in the superiority of the one true god, and of ordinary men. but even as a child, irina knows there is something inside her that does not belong. not grace. not humility. something hotter, something sharp-edged and seething.
𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔦𝔦. finding out she is a divine is not a surprise. she has always known, in the marrow of her bones, that something coils within her, twisting, waiting. the nature of her gift, however, is unexpected. with her fiery temper, she imagined herself an infern, or at the very least a corporal. but at seven years old, she tumbles down the stairs and slams her knee against stone. in a fit of madness, she grips her own leg, feels the shattered pieces shifting beneath her skin—and shoves them back into place. her screams ring through the marble halls, but when they stop, so does the pain. her knee is whole again.
at the academy, irina becomes one of the finest healers of her time. she can pull men from the brink of death with a touch, mend broken bones with a hum, stitch together torn flesh with her fingers alone. but her healing is neither beautiful nor painless. she leaves constellations of scars on the skin of the saved, and gains the moniker of the red angel, feared and revered on the battlefield, her presence as much a comfort as a curse. in time, she becomes accustomed to the smell of coppery blood, rotting flesh, all bodies, dead and alive, becoming a jumbled mass of limbs in her mind.
𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔦𝔦𝔦. when her service ends, she goes to the castle, still hungry. though for what, she cannot yet say. knowledge. power. perhaps something between the two. she devours old tomes of medicine and anatomy, learns how flesh and bone bend beneath her hands, how life clings so desperately to the body. and then, a new question takes root: if she can heal a man whose heart is beating, what should stop her from healing one whose heart has already stilled?
a dying king looks into her eyes and sees promise in the madness burning there. he keeps her close, feeds her ambition, and names her master scholar — the youngest in the council’s history. and so it begins.
* ˖ ♡ 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 . . .
people who are untrusting of irina and her role in the council
childhood friendships
her morality anchor, one last person who believes in irina’s possibility to be a good person
companions from the academy and army
political enemies and rivals
enemies and lovers: kissing with a dagger to the throat. these two match each other’s freaks and make it everyone else’s problem.
her siblings (check the wanted connections)
an ex-mentor, now political enemy (check the wanted connections)
