Welcome to the Cryptid Vault!Inside, you'll find quite the selection of cryptids. All of differing appearances, names, and backstories! If you have further questions about any of the characters in question, don't hesitate to reach out!Now then ... feel free to browse the various cryptids!
Basic Information:
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Name: Faelyn Serai aka "Fae"
Nickname(s): Fae, Moth, Brat
Gender Identity: Male
Pronouns: He/Him
Race: (In-Game) Viera/Rava (Lore) Cryptid/Shapeshifter
Homeworld: Dynamis/Maduin
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Age: 30's
Height: 6'"
Weight: 185 lbs
Hair Color: Half black and half white
Eye Color: White
Distinguishing Features: Moth antannae, Elf Ears, Multiple Tattoos and Piercings
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Personality: Pretends to be Confident, Timid, Quiet, Bratty at Times, Curious, Introverted
Likes: Stargazing, Dancing, Reading, Sweetings, Collecting Shiny Things, Lights
Dislikes: Abandonment, Liars, Crocodile Tears, Loud Noises
Vices: Sweets, Lights, Shiny Things
Zodiac: Libra
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
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Orientation: Pansexual
Role: Switch
Dynamic: Closed Poly, Open to all RP and Gposing
Status: Partnered with Nao and Aster
Lore:
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The Lost Prince of the MothfolkFaelyn was born beneath alien stars, on a world that once stood as a beacon of peace and knowledge. His home planet was a sanctuary of learning—an archive of wisdom gathered from civilizations across the cosmos. Scholars, explorers, and philosophers all contributed to the great libraries that crowned the royal capital.But knowledge is a treasure many would kill to possess.Among the countless discoveries preserved there was one that would doom the world: the secret of rapid intergalactic travel—the ability to cross the vast distances between stars in a fraction of the time normally required. Word of this technology spread beyond their system, drawing the attention of ruthless marauders who saw not enlightenment, but opportunity.They came as conquerors—spacefaring pirates who wished to wield that knowledge as a weapon, to plunder countless worlds across the universe.War followed.Faelyn was the youngest child of the royal household, the sixth born and the only son of his mother. By the time he was born, his siblings were already nearly grown—teenagers standing on the cusp of adulthood. Though they did not share his mother, they adored her deeply. She was known throughout the court for her warmth and kindness, and she treated each of the royal children as if they were her own.In turn, they loved their youngest brother fiercely.Their father, once a noble and principled ruler, slowly changed as the war escalated. The endless battles, the mounting casualties, and the terror of invasion twisted him into someone colder—more ruthless. The man who had once ruled with wisdom began ruling through desperation.And still the war raged.Cities burned. Entire districts of the capital were reduced to rubble. The streets ran red with the blood of soldiers and civilians alike.One by one, Faelyn’s siblings fell defending their home.Their names became whispers carried by the wind across battlefields.His mother vanished during the chaos of a pirate raid upon the palace. Whether she was killed or taken captive, none could say.In the final days of the conflict, when defeat seemed inevitable, the palace staff made a desperate decision. Faelyn’s wet nurse—one of the few caretakers who remained alive—took the last resource available to her: a vessel equipped with the forbidden interstellar travel technology that had sparked the war.Faelyn was only eight years old.With tears in her eyes and the roar of distant battles echoing through the city, she placed the young prince aboard the vessel and set its navigation to unknown coordinates—anywhere far from the dying world he called home.The ship vanished into the stars. Faelyn never saw his home again.For years he wandered the cosmos, carried from world to world by the vessel that had become both his sanctuary and his prison. He learned to survive among strangers, studying the languages, customs, and dangers of countless civilizations.Some worlds were kind. Others were cruel.The young prince who had once lived among marble halls and starlit gardens became something else entirely—an observer of the universe and its many contradictions.By the time Faelyn reached twenty-one years of age, he had seen more of the cosmos than most people ever would.But fate had one final destination waiting for him.While traveling through unfamiliar space, a catastrophic malfunction struck his ship. Navigation systems failed, the engines destabilized, and the vessel was violently pulled into the atmosphere of a distant star-bound world.The ship crashed in the frozen wilderness of Coerthas, not far from Camp Dragonhead.Faelyn would have died there—another nameless casualty in the snow.But he was found by Haurchefant Greystone, the lord of the nearby stronghold, whose compassion was as legendary as his loyalty.It was through Haurchefant’s kindness that Faelyn survived his arrival on Etheirys.A lost prince among the stars, carrying the weight of a dead world on his wings.Yet even now, questions haunt him:What became of his mother? Did his home truly fall… or did anyone survive? And if the pirates sought that knowledge once… Who else might still be looking for it?
Basic Information:
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Name: Valerio Valens aka "Val"
Nickname(s): Val, Rio
Gender Identity: Male
Pronouns: He/Him
Race: (In-Game) Fox Demon
Homeworld: Dynamis/Maduin
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Age: Unknown; Appears to be in his 30s
Height: 6' 5"
Weight: 195 lbs
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Brown, though barely seeable due to the blue glow of his eyes
Distinguishing Features: Facial and body piercings, many moles, various tattoos
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Personality: Sly, sharp-tongued, and perpetually amused by others’ misfortune. He moves with lazy confidence, always acting like he knows more than he lets on. Quick to manipulate and quicker to vanish when things get dull, he treats loyalty as a joke and chaos as a hobby. Beneath the smirk, though, he’s fiercely prideful—wound his ego, and he becomes downright feral.
Likes: Toying with his “food”, High places, Nighttime strolls, Having his hair pet
Dislikes: Water, Loud noises, Closed doors, People touching his tail without permission
Vices: Gambling, Overindulgence
Zodiac: Libra
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
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Orientation: Pansexual
Role: Switch
Lore:
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The Azure Cantor of a Forgotten AgeLong before neon spires pierced the sky and artificial suns bathed the land in endless twilight, there lived a fox-blooded demon whose voice could still the wind itself.His name has been lost to time.He was born in Alexandria, in an era when the city still breathed stone and song rather than circuitry and light. In those days, fox demons were not feared as monsters, but mistrusted as omens—creatures said to be born where grief lingered too long, where emotions curdled into something sharp enough to cut the world.From birth, his eyes burned an impossible cerulean blue, a color associated with prophecy, ruin, and the Echo of forgotten gods. Elders whispered that such eyes meant he would either save countless souls… or damn them.They were not wrong.A Voice That Bound the SoulHe did not discover his power through claw or flame, but through song.As a child, when his emotions ran too deep to contain, his voice would resonate—notes carrying weight, bending reality ever so slightly. When he sang softly, wounds closed. When he sang in sorrow, memories surfaced long buried. When he sang in rage… even stone cracked.Alexandria embraced him not as a warrior, but as a cantor, a ceremonial singer whose voice was used to calm unrest, ease the dying, and seal ancient wards woven into the city’s foundations.His songs were said to anchor souls, preventing the restless dead from wandering, preventing despair from consuming the living. To Alexandria, he was not merely a performer—he was a living bulwark against collapse.But such power is never free.Each song carved something from him.Every performance drained pieces of his joy, his warmth, his ability to feel without pain. He sang anyway—because the city asked, and because he loved it.The Fall of AlexandriaWhen Alexandria began to change—when progress turned cruel and innovation demanded sacrifice—his voice became a weapon.The ruling powers sought to harness him, to turn his resonance into a controllable force. They wanted his song encoded, replicated, stripped of its soul and fed into machines that would never tire.He refused.A voice born of emotion cannot survive without it.For his defiance, he was betrayed.In a desperate attempt to preserve Alexandria’s “future,” he was bound in an arcane stasis—entombed beneath the city, his final song woven into a seal meant to last forever. Official records declared him dead. Legends called him a demon that had to be silenced.His last conscious memory was singing through agony—holding the city together even as it buried him alive.Awakening in a World That Forgot HimHe awoke centuries later.Alexandria was gone as he knew it—its spirit hollowed out, its song replaced by artificial hums and sterile perfection. Above him rose Solution Nine, a city of light and logic, efficiency and control.The seal broke not because it failed—but because the city no longer needed his song.Or so it believed.Disoriented and enraged, he wandered this future like a ghost, a relic wrapped in fur and sorrow. His voice, once revered, now felt alien—even dangerous. When he tried to sing, the harmonics interfered with technology, causing lights to flicker, systems to malfunction, synthetic minds to stutter.They called him an anomaly.A glitch.A demon.Song as Power, Pain as FuelHe has since reclaimed his voice—but it is no longer gentle.His singing now manifests as resonant aether, shaped by emotion and memory. Lullabies become mind-binding enchantments. Ballads of grief summon spectral echoes of the past. Screams woven into melody can shatter barriers or strip illusions bare.The bluer his eyes burn, the more dangerous the song. Should his eyes turn to red, beware.Yet every performance threatens to drag him back into the agony of Alexandria’s fall. His power is inseparable from his trauma—his voice strongest when his heart is breaking.Still, he sings.Because silence feels too much like being buried again.The Demon Who RemembersNow residing in Solution Nine, he exists between eras—too ancient to belong, too alive to fade away. He sings not for crowds, but for those who still feel out of place in a world that moves too fast and forgets too easily.Some say when he performs, you can hear another city beneath the music—stone streets, candlelight, and a civilization that died screaming behind closed doors.He is not a villain.He is not a savior.He is a reminder.That progress without soul leaves ghosts behind—and some of them learn how to sing.
Basic Information:
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Name: Finnley
Nickname(s): Finn, Shark
Gender Identity: Male
Pronouns: He/Him
Race: Humanoid Shark
Homeworld: Dynamis/Maduin
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Age: 29
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 100 lbs
Hair Color: White
Eye Color: Sky Blue
Distinguishing Features: Pointy Ears, Shark Tail
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Personality: Finnley is a bright-spirited, mischievous shark boy with boundless energy and zero ability to sit still for long. He leads with playful confidence—always ready with a grin, a splash, or a teasing remark—but underneath the goofiness he’s surprisingly loyal and protective. He’s the type who pretends he’s fearless yet jumps at unexpected noises, then tries to act like he meant to do that. Curious to a fault, he pokes his nose (and sometimes his teeth) into anything interesting, collecting oddities like little treasures. Though he loves attention and physical play, he gets awkward with serious emotions, often deflecting with jokes. Warm-hearted, impulsive, and endlessly fun, Finnley brings a wave of chaotic joy wherever he goes.
Likes: Collecting seashells, Giving playful nips and bumps, Riding the waves, Sunbathing, Watermelon (he thinks of it as land fruit that tastes like the ocean)
Dislikes: Arid climates, The feeling of wet clothes on his skin, Sand between his cheeks (you already know which pair), Fish-flavored or shaped snacks (he thinks them racist)
Vices: Sweets
Zodiac: Libra
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
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Orientation: Gay
Role: Bottom
Lore
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Finnley of the TidesFinnley was never meant to exist as he is.His mother was a Raen Au Ra woman who lived near the sea, gentle of spirit and stubbornly compassionate in a world that showed her little mercy. Especially after it took her husband from her far too soon. During her pregnancy, she was captured by the Garlean Empire and subjected to grotesque experimentation. The Garleans, ever hungry for weapons that could conquer land and sea alike, injected the unborn child with modified shark DNA, intent on creating a living brute—an amphibious shock trooper forged in the womb and tempered by discipline.What emerged was not what they wanted.Finnley was born altered, his body bearing the marks of the ocean: powerful musculature, predatory instincts, and an uncanny ease in the water. Yet beneath the strength and teeth was a heart that mirrored his mother’s—kind, empathetic, and unwilling to crush others simply because he could. No matter how harsh the training, no matter how cruel the lessons, he could never become the weapon the Garleans demanded.For thirteen years, they tried to break him.He failed their trials again and again—not for lack of strength, but for refusal to abandon mercy. Each failure hardened their disappointment into rage. In the end, they deemed him a wasted experiment. He was beaten nearly to death and discarded without ceremony, his broken body thrown into the open sea as though it were refuse.The ocean, however, did not reject him.His body was discovered drifting among the waves by a band of Lominsan pirates. Where the Empire saw a monster, they saw a boy clinging to life. They hauled him aboard, tended his wounds, and offered him something he had never known: unconditional kindness.Finnley never forgot it.Out of gratitude—and eventually love—he pledged himself to their crew. Life at sea suited him in ways nothing else ever had. His shark-blood made him invaluable: he could scout hostile shores unseen, swim through dangerous waters without fear, and plunge into crushing depths to retrieve treasures no ordinary sailor could reach. The sea became his home, the crew his family, and the black flag his banner.Now, Finnley lives as a pirate of the open waters—plundering relics, charting forgotten depths, and carving his own legend beneath the waves. Though his origins are soaked in cruelty, he refuses to let them define him. He fights fiercely when he must, protects his crew with unyielding loyalty, and still carries the compassion his mother gave him—proof that even the Empire could not fully shape what was born of both science and soul.They tried to make him a weapon.The sea made him free.
Basic Information:
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Name: Seraphine Bellecourt
Nickname(s): Sera
Gender Identity: Female
Pronouns: She/Her
Race: (In-Game) Miqo'te/Moon Cat
Homeworld: Dynamis/Maduin
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Age: 24
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 120 lbs
Hair Color: Black, fading into pink
Eye Color: Red
Distinguishing Features: Various piecings and tattoos
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Personality: Darkly whimsical and delightfully unpredictable. She thrives on mischief with a poetic flair, turning even small moments into dramatic, eyeliner-smudged chaos. One minute she’s brooding in a corner with her headphones blasting; the next, she’s climbing on furniture, stealing trinkets, or casting sarcastic curses under her breath. She cares deeply—but refuses to admit it—and uses snark, theatrics, and a touch of mayhem to keep everyone guessing.
Likes: Heavy Metal and Rock music, Late-night jam sessions, writing angsty lyrics, The vibrations of amps, Collecting band merch, Rainy nights
Dislikes: People getting into her personal space bubble, People who touch her ears or tail without permission, Overly quiet spaces, Her family, Responsibilities
Vices: Thrill Seeking
Zodiac: Libra
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
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Orientation: Pansexual
Role: Switch
Lore:
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Born beneath crystal chandeliers and gilded ceilings, Seraphine was raised in a world where wealth spoke louder than truth and loyalty was bought in blood. Her family—an old, powerful crime syndicate that operated behind legitimate enterprises—expected perfection from her the moment she could walk. As the eldest daughter, she was groomed to be a symbol: poised, ruthless when needed, immaculate at all times. A future queen of the empire, whether she wanted it or not.She didn’t.From an early age, Seraphine learned that love in her family was conditional. Praise came only when she excelled. Affection was replaced with expectations. Mistakes were remembered longer than successes. The weight of being flawless settled into her bones, and with it grew a quiet resentment—then defiance.By her late teens, rebellion became her language.She began slipping out of the estate at night, trading silk gowns for lace and leather, diamonds for anonymity. In shadowed clubs, private rooms, and fleeting encounters, Seraphine found something her gilded cage never gave her: choice. The men she tangled with were never meant to last—most didn’t even know her real name—and that was the point. Desire without obligation. Touch without ownership. Each stolen night was a small act of treason against the life chosen for her.Whispers followed her, of course. The family knew she was “difficult.” Reckless. A liability. Some saw her as an embarrassment; others as a problem yet to be corrected. But none of them truly understood that her indulgence wasn’t weakness—it was resistance. Every thrill was a reminder that she still belonged to herself.Despite her defiance, Seraphine is no fool. She’s sharp, observant, and painfully aware of the world she was born into. She understands power, manipulation, and the cost of freedom. That awareness only deepens her internal conflict: part of her loathes the syndicate, while another part knows its darkness lives in her blood.Elegant by day. Untamed by night.
Seraphine walks a razor’s edge between heir and exile, pleasure and self-destruction, control and chaos.And someday—whether she burns the empire down or takes the throne on her own terms—she will decide her fate herself.
Basic Information:
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Name: Noctyrn
Nickname(s): Noc, Boogeyman
Gender Identity: Male
Pronouns: He/Him
Race: Calamity
Homeworld: Dynamis/Maduin
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Age: Infinite
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 115 lbs.
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Brown
Distinguishing Features: Lace tattoos, often seen with his black and white headdress
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Personality: Noctyrn is patient above all else. He is not impulsive chaos—he is curated catastrophe. He prefers to let events unfold naturally, nudging rather than forcing, because the suffering born from “natural” choices is far richer to him. He is soft spoken, calculating, playful, and detached.
Likes: Storms, eclipses, that glimmer before someone cracks, stories of darkness and war, people who think they can "fix" him
Dislikes: People who play the hero, joy, being dismissed
Vices:
Zodiac: Libra
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
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Orientation: Pansexual
Role: Switch, Sub Lean
Lore:
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Noctyrn is not a creature born of flesh, nor forged by any god’s design—he is a calamity given form. An umbral tyrant shaped from the festering darkness within mortal hearts, he came into being through hatred, despair, and the quiet rot of mankind’s cruelty toward itself. Where others are born, Noctyrn manifested—a living echo of suffering, drawn together until it gained thought, will… and hunger.He walks the world draped in innocence, often appearing small, soft, and disarmingly harmless. A clever mask. Noctyrn delights in the dissonance between appearance and truth, playing the part when it suits him—smiling sweetly while watching the slow unraveling of those around him. Beneath that facade lies something ancient and patient, a mind that does not rush, but waits. Watches. Calculates. He does not strike without purpose—only when the moment promises the most exquisite despair.For millennia, Noctyrn has lingered at the edges of catastrophe. War, plague, famine—where suffering blooms, he is never far behind. He does not cause these events outright, but nurtures them, feeding on the anguish they leave in their wake. To him, devastation is not tragedy—it is sustenance. A feast. In whispered folklore, he has been given many names, but one clings more persistently than the rest: the Boogeyman, the thing that comes not in the night, but because of what festers within it.He has no kin, no allies, no true companions. Those that linger at his side are constructs—shadows given shape through his will, hollow imitations of connection. Whether he understands loneliness, or simply mirrors it, is unknown. Yet there are moments—fleeting, nearly imperceptible—where his stillness suggests something deeper than malice. Not remorse, nor regret… but an emptiness that even endless suffering cannot fill.And so he continues, eternal and unchanging—drawn to humanity not just to end it, but because, in a cruel twist of fate, he cannot exist without it.
Basic Information:
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Name: Cherry Noir
Nickname(s): Cher
Gender Identity: Female
Pronouns: She/Her
Race: Viera/Veena
Homeworld: Dynamis/Maduin
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Age: 40
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 125 lbs.
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Eye Color: Hazel
Distinguishing Features: Various tattoos and piercings
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Personality: Protective to a fault, prideful, elegant, dangerous. Yet, with all that, she's still loving and gentle.
Vices: Smoking, Liquor
Zodiac: Libra
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
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Orientation: Pansexual
Role: Switch
Lore:
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Cherry — The First BloomCherry was not born Cherry.She was the first of ten daughters in a home where love was a currency never afforded to them. Their parents were cruel in the quiet, suffocating ways—control, neglect, punishment without reason. As the eldest, she learned early that no one was coming to save them.So she did.She became the shield. The voice. The one who took the blame so her sisters wouldn’t have to. While the others slept, she worked—odd jobs, stolen hours, anything that could be turned into coin. She learned how to endure, how to keep her expression soft even when her world wasn’t. Hope wasn’t something she was given. It was something she built, piece by fragile piece.And when the time came—when she had just enough—she didn’t hesitate.She took them and ran.The City & The Name “Cherry”The city was loud, alive, unforgiving… but it was freedom.Ten girls to feed. Ten lives to rebuild.It didn’t take long for reality to settle in: honest work wasn’t enough. Not for rent. Not for food. Not for safety.So she made a choice.She buried the girl who dreamed of soft love and easy futures—and Cherry was born.Cherry was everything she needed to be. Sweet, captivating, untouchable. She stepped into the world of pleasure not as a victim, but as someone who refused to be powerless ever again. She learned quickly: how to command a room, how to set boundaries, how to turn attention into income and admiration into leverage.What started as survival became mastery.Rising PowerCherry refused to be owned. Refused to be broken again.She trained her body relentlessly—not out of vanity, but necessity. No one would ever corner her again. No one would ever raise a hand to her or her sisters without consequence.Over time, she became more than just another name in the business.She became the name.Money flowed. Influence followed. And with it came something she hadn’t felt in a long time—control.Her sisters grew up safe. Educated. Free to become whatever they wanted. Some stayed close. Some built lives of their own. But all of them knew the truth:Everything they had… came from her sacrifice.Who She Is NowCherry stands tall—graceful, composed, radiant in a way that feels almost untouchable.She laughs easily. Teases often. Moves like she owns every space she enters.But underneath?She is still watching. Still calculating. Still carrying the weight of nine lives she refuses to let fall.Love… is complicated.She still wants it—somewhere deep down, in a place she doesn’t visit often. But she doesn’t believe in fairytales anymore. Not for herself. Not after everything it cost her to get here.If someone wants her heart, they’ll have to earn it.And survive it.
Basic Information:
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Name: Aelrin Briar
Nickname(s): Rin
Gender Identity: Male
Pronouns: He/Him
Race: Bovine
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Age: 22
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 100 lbs.
Hair Color: Platinum Blonde
Eye Color: Olive Green
Distinguishing Features: Down-pointing ears, bovine horns, various clan markings
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Personality: Aelrin is quietly observant before anything else. He rarely speaks first, preferring to watch, listen, and piece people together in his own mind. Years of growing up in an isolated, cautious clan left him instinctively guarded—he assumes very little and trusts even less at first. He’s deeply gentle, almost tender-hearted. The world fascinates him in small ways—customs, expressions, the way people laugh, the way cities sound. He doesn’t chase grand adventure; he collects moments.
Likes: Gardening, quiet mornings before the city wakes, the sound of the wind through the trees, simple sweets, flower arrangement, the sound of water trickling through the brooks of Gridania, gentle rain
Dislikes: Loud noises, big crowds, being the center of attention, wastefulness, rude people
Vices: Bonefied people pleaser
Zodiac: Libra
Alignment: Lawful Good
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Orientation: Pansexual
Role: Submissive
Lore:
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Among his people—quiet folk who bent like wheat beneath endless winds—there was comfort in sameness. Their homeland was a sea of swaying gold, where the sky was always restless and the earth gave only to those who understood its rhythm. They were a reserved clan, small in number and smaller still in presence, preferring trade through intermediaries rather than risking the unfamiliar beyond their fields. Outsiders came to them, not the other way around.And among them all, he was the smallest.Dainty, delicate, and often overlooked, he was treated less like a future of the clan and more like something to be protected, tucked away from the harsher truths of the world. He learned early to keep quiet, to observe rather than speak. Suspicion came naturally—after all, strangers meant change, and change meant danger.But curiosity? That came just as naturally.He would linger near traders when they arrived, pretending to busy himself while listening—stories of distant cities, towering trees, cultures that laughed louder and lived freer than anything he had ever known. Those stories rooted themselves in him, growing quietly, persistently… until staying became more unbearable than leaving.So one day, he didn’t ask.He packed what little he could carry, waited for the right moment, and slipped into a trader’s crate like contraband. It was not a heroic escape—more cramped than courageous. Days blurred together in darkness, surviving on meager rations and whatever he could sneak when the opportunity arose. Dignity was sacrificed early on, and never spoken of again.When he finally emerged, it was into a world that felt both alien and strangely familiar.Gridania welcomed him not with suspicion, but warmth. Towering trees replaced endless plains, their leaves whispering instead of roaring. The air was gentler, the people kinder. It unsettled him at first—he expected questions, doubt, rejection. Instead, he found curiosity… and acceptance.When asked what he was, he simply smiled and said it was a secret.Old habits clung to him. He remained shy, soft-spoken, and cautious, always watching from the edges before stepping forward. But here, his curiosity was no longer something to hide—it was something he could follow.It led him, perhaps inevitably, to the Botanists’ Guild.Despite his quiet rebellion against his clan’s traditions, the land still called to him. Tending plants, nurturing growth, coaxing beauty from soil—it felt less like returning to his roots and more like redefining them. Flowers, unlike wheat, were expressive. Delicate. Vibrant. They did not simply survive—they thrived.And so did he.Over time, his talent became known. His arrangements—carefully crafted, almost shy in their elegance—began appearing at weddings, celebrations, and seasonal festivities. His work was especially cherished during events like Hatchling Tide and Valentione's Day, where his soft touch brought warmth and beauty to moments meant to be remembered.He never speaks much of where he came from.But sometimes, when the wind stirs just right through Gridania’s trees, he pauses—just for a moment—and listens.Not with longing.But with quiet understanding.
Basic Information:
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Name: Lunestra
Nickname(s): Luna, Lune, Estra
Gender Identity: Female
Pronouns: She/Her
Race: Celestial Moon Dragon
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Age: Many Millenia Old; Appears to be 21
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 100 lbs.
Hair Color: Platinum Blonde
Eye Color: Olive Green
Distinguishing Features: Down-pointing ears, bovine horns, various clan markings
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Personality: Aelrin is quietly observant before anything else. He rarely speaks first, preferring to watch, listen, and piece people together in his own mind. Years of growing up in an isolated, cautious clan left him instinctively guarded—he assumes very little and trusts even less at first. He’s deeply gentle, almost tender-hearted. The world fascinates him in small ways—customs, expressions, the way people laugh, the way cities sound. He doesn’t chase grand adventure; he collects moments.
Likes: Gardening, quiet mornings before the city wakes, the sound of the wind through the trees, simple sweets, flower arrangement, the sound of water trickling through the brooks of Gridania, gentle rain
Dislikes: Loud noises, big crowds, being the center of attention, wastefulness, rude people
Vices: Bonefied people pleaser
Zodiac: Libra
Alignment: Lawful Good
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Orientation: Pansexual
Role: Submissive
Lore:
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Coming Soon.