Lady Philomena posseses a subtly probing sense of magnetism wherever she finds herself. The woman suits her age well, with smooth, fair tanned, freckled skin and sharp, angular features. Situated at an equitable height of five feet and nine inches, she fancies herself with a slim yet athletic build. Elegance finds itself continuing to persue itself in the toned muscles of her arms, legs, and abdominal regions. She isn't made for basking around in kingdom pedestals and lounging spaces, often finding herself sneaking in a training session with the lower warriors when she could. The Lady carries herself with a confident poise, back straight, shoulders back, head held high. She knows her worth and its evident in the way she walks into a room.

With the facial demeanor she was so lucky to be blessed with, the young woman finds it easy to get what she wants. Her large, siren-like eyes are framed with thick lashes that are perfect to bat adoringly up at a certain warrior to get the training session she desires. Their iris's are an eye-catching light amber - nearly gold - with the center around her pupils being a dark brownish hazel. Philomena endows herself with a fine cut jaw and high cheekbones that dip in slightly, not enough to appear gaunt or hollowed, but enough to draw an eye. With a straight, pointed nose and plush lips, her facial structure is neatly completed.

Hair. And lord, does she have a lot of it. Extravegant battles with thick, "bushy" hair as a child and into her early teens earned her quite a role in both her mother's and her maids eyes. She grew into it... for the most part. A bad hair day may happen every so often, like it does for everyone, but Philomena has a reputation for showing up to classes clean and properly furbished. Her hair, a waterfall of caramel colored waves is often styled half-up half-down, a braided bun in the back with gold ringlets strewn neatly throughout her head. Its length reaches just past her shoulder blades, not too long and not too short either. Her brows are a similar color and similarly taken care of.

Smooth and sultry. Lady Caddel's voice carries with it a sort of persuasive, nearly seductive tone with it. She's well experienced in the ability to get her point across in slow, deliberat words without seeming to pose too much of a threat. A thick spanish accent can be heard, especially when the woman gets worked up about something - only for it to get more agitated when its pointed out. Usually very well-thought-out, it can get squeaky and a bit annoying when shes annoyed with something as well.

Gold is a statement that is often depicted in this womans wardrobe. That, and dark, forest green. The colors combined remind her of the freeing times she was able to sneak in during her otherwise strict upbringing as a noble. Philomena's attire isn't raunchy at all, that doesn't mean she dislikes showing a bit of skin though. She's proud of her body, why not show it off? Silk is her main go-to fabric-wise, expensive and durable, just like her. Gold rings, hair accessories, necklaces, and peircings are shown quite a bit throughout her everyday life as well.

Shrewd | Cunning | Highly Intillegent | Persuasive | Hardheaded | Stubborn | Silver Tongued | Impulsive | Wholehearted | Delicate

Lady Philomena is a perceptive and astute young woman, adept at utilizing her beauty to her advantage and thriving on the admiration of others. She possesses a deep appreciation for literature, often dedicating considerable time to the library. She exhibits a gentle nature and takes great joy in caring for the wounded and nurturing younger individuals, particularly her siblings. However, her inclination towards vanity has occasionally fostered a sense of arrogance that has not endeared her to everyone in her company. Despite this, she possesses the capacity for sweetness towards those she appreciates and can be an immensely loyal and affectionate friend. Her confidence is matched by her earnestness, as she continuously strives to engage meaningfully with individuals she considers deserving of her attention. One of her principal objectives is to acquire knowledge about her kingdom, equipping herself to become a just follower who comprehends the needs and lifestyles of her fellow followers. From time to time, she ventures into the streets of her kingdom to converse with her populace, including merchants and traders, as well as spending time with those less fortunate. Additionally, she enjoys participating in discussions with her parents as they listen to the petitions of their subjects, eager to learn from their wisdom and experience.

Nonetheless, Philomena is also characterized by her resolute and stubborn disposition. This unwavering nature can create an impression of aloofness and an unwillingness to engage in compromise. She may exhibit arrogance towards individuals she holds in low regard and is not above engaging in duplicity if it serves her kingdom’s interests. Philomena has been known to convey half-truths or outright fabrications, disregarding them quickly as if they had never been uttered. Her humor tends to be dark and cutting, and her sharp tongue can be perceived as overly blunt or abrasive. While she does not intend to be harsh, her response to perceived threats often involves utilizing whatever means necessary for her own comfort. Philomena exhibits a propensity for jealousy and can be manipulative when she deems it necessary. Her stubbornness frequently leads to recklessness and inflexibility, prompting her to make impulsive decisions in retaliation against those who have displeased her. She tends to form quick judgments, but her opinions can shift just as rapidly. Her attraction to the aesthetically pleasing can also lend her an air of shallowness.

In matters of love, Philomena embodies a wholehearted and tender spirit. She prioritizes her partner’s needs above her own and strives to ensure their comfort at all times. She would willingly sacrifice nearly anything to maintain her beloved’s happiness, although her devotion to her subjects takes precedence, leading, on occasion, to the deterioration of personal relationships. As she regards the contentment of her people as her foremost obligation, she sometimes neglects her partner in the presence of individuals in positions of power. However, should she find herself deeply infatuated, she may temporarily set aside her vigilance regarding her kingdom to focus on her affection.

Kaihanu is accepted. Cereal, I'm literally in love. He's adorable. Oh my god. Welcome back to RPing as well <3

Philomena is accepted as well, welcome Fernweh <3

MossyPawz, I'll add that reservation now!

Scriv

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Name:
Scriv

Pronunciation:
/skrɪv/

Name Meaning:
Scriv is created by her own terms. It has no true meaning, but it does have potential echoes. Rooted in “scribe” or “scrivener” – historically, a scrivener was a writer or clerk, someone who recorded truths, contracts, or secrets; as thus, Scriv could be a name earned for her memory, her ability to “record” street lore, and her knack for decoding glyphs.

Or, just or...it sounds like "shiv"-a hidden blade, a survival tool. Simple, but cool. Simply cool.

Nicknames:
Scorchlet, Inkfang, Raggle, Grinblade, Flick, Patch, Sootie, Skiv

Titles:
The Gutter Phoenix, The Charred Quill, Inkborne Scion, Scriv of the Ash Ledger

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Age:
21

Gender:
Female

Sexualities:
Survival Mask-Pansexual Charmcraft
Scriv uses attraction like a lockpick—fluid, adaptive, and strategic. She flirts with men, women, and anyone in between, not out of desire but out of necessity. Her pansexual presentation is performative, a street-learned magic that lets her slip through danger, gather secrets, and manipulate power.

Hidden Truth-Demisexual Core
Beneath the mask, Scriv’s true affection is slow-burning and sacred. She doesn’t feel genuine desire unless deep emotional trust is built-something she’s never had the luxury to cultivate. Her demisexuality is a locked vault, guarded by trauma and soot.

Previous Role(s):
The Whisper Broker
She traded secrets like coins. Her charm was currency, her memory a vault. She ran with informant rings, collecting gossip, blackmail, and coded truths. Her nickname, "Scriv" came from her habit of scribbing intel in soot or ash.

The Runner of the Alleys
Courier, thief, and shadow. She knew every rooftop, every sewer gate. She delivers forbidden texts, stolen dragon scales, and illegal glyphs. Her agility and charm let her slip past guards and enchantments alike.

Current Status:
Unbonded Rider

Magic:
TBD

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Appearance:

[Image (c) to The Lady of Hera 2 on Picrew.com]
Scriv’s body is a paradox, compact but commanding, graceful but grounded. She’s built not for brute force, but for precision, escape, and emotional warfare. Her frame tells the story of someone who’s climbed rooftops, dodged blades, and danced through fire. She's 5'5", but she carries herself like she’s taller; shoulders squared, chin tilted, daring anyone to underestimate her. Her frame is lean and wiry, with limbs for her height; having a build that favors agility, speed, and stealth. Her muscles are ropey and defined, not bulky, earned through motion, not training. Her back and shoulders bear the subtle asymmetry of someone who’s favored one side for climbing, dodging, or drawing blades. She stands like a coiled spring—never relaxed, always ready. Her stillness is ritualized, a form of control. When she moves, it’s with intent, like every step is a spell.

Her skin tone is a light brown, with undertones of bronze and ash; a hue that catches firelight and moonlight in equal measure. Her skin bears the faint shimmer of alchemical residue from street rituals. A jagged scar runs from her left brow down to her cheek, like a lightning bolt carved in flesh. It’s raised and pale, a stark contrast against her skin; not hidden, not explained. Some say it was earned in a dragon’s breath, others say she carved it herself during a rite of truth. It pulls slightly at her expression, giving her smile a haunted asymmetry-half charm, half challenge. Her scar is a sigil-not of weakness, but of survival. It marks her as seen and scorched, but never broken.

She has a black dragon tattoo that coils across her chest, with its head near her heart, its tail vanishing beneath her ribs. It shifts subtly with her emotions; flaring when she's angry, fading when she's vulnerable. The ink is alchemical, possibly bonded to her dragon or her trials.

Scriv doesn’t enter a room-she infiltrates it. Her presence is magnetically unsettling, like a whisper that makes everyone stop talking. Her aura is smoky, silver-threaded, with a scent of metal, ink, and something faintly scorched. People feel her before they see her; a pressure behind the eyes, a prickle at the nape. She walks like she’s dodging ghosts: fluid, reactive, and always watching. Her steps are silent but deliberate, like each one is a test of the ground beneath her. he rarely gestures wide-everything is tight, controlled, ritualized. When she does reach out, it’s with the grace of a predator or a priestess: slow, intentional, and emotionally loaded.

Scriv's hair is ash-blade with ember undertones. The primary hue is ash-black, like soot scraped from dragon-forged stone or the remnants of a burned ledger. In certain light, especially firelight or moonlight, faint ember glints shimmer through, hinting at a dormant flame or alchemical residue. Her hair color echoes her duality: shadow and flame, mask and truth, street and academy. The length is short to medium, with the longest strands brushing just past her jawline. The sides are uneven—not shaved, but jagged, like they were cut with a stolen blade or burned away in a trial. The back is slightly longer, often tied or braided into a ritual knot when she prepares for combat or deception. Her hair is deliberately tousled, with layers that fall like feathers scorched at the tips. Her fringe is asymmetrical, often falling over her eyepatch like a curtain; a veil between her and the world. Some describe the texture as smoke-touched silk, soft but coarse, like dragged through ash. It resists taming-always slightly wild, always moving with her mood. When touched, it feels charged, like static or latent magic. Two to three thin braids, woven behind her left ear or along her temple. Each braid is tied with thread, wire, or scale fragments-tokens from allies, trials, or fallen rivals. One braid contains a hidden glyph, a spell woven into hair-a ward, a tracker, or a truth-seal (she doesn't know, she just finds it cool).

As for the eyepatch itself, black leather, stitched with a silver thread, worn over her right eye. It’s not just concealment-it’s a sigil of defiance, a ward against truth or a seal over power. Rumors say it hides a dragonbrand, a cursed eye, or a glyph that sees lies. Her only eye, the left one that actually works and is not hidden, is a steel silver with emotional precision, like moonlight on a blade or the glint of a dragon's fang. It shimmers faintly when she lies, when her dragon stirs, or when she's on the edge of truth. In a certain light, her eye reflects ghosts of flame-a flicker of the fire she survived. The eye shape itself is almond with a downward tilt at the outer corners. This tilt gives her a resting sorrow, a gaze that always looks like it's remembering something painful, or watching for betrayal. Her lashes are long, uneven, singed at the tips—a relic of a fire she never speaks of, perhaps the one that earned her the name “Scorch.” Her left eye (the visible one) is always calculating, never blinking too long, never revealing too much. It’s the kind of eye that makes people confess things they didn’t mean to say, or hesitate before lying.

Her nose is straight with a subtle aquiline curve. Not delicate, but regal and sharp, like a crest carved in obisidan or a dagger forged for ceremony. The bridge is high, giving her profile a statuesque silhouette, especially in shadow. A faint scar crosses the bridge: not enough to mar her beauty, but enough to mark her myth. Some say it was earned in a duel, others say it was self-inflicted during a street rite of passage.

Her lip shape is a full lower lip with a thinner upper lip with a defined cupid's bow. Her smile is asymmetrical-one side lifts in charm, the other in challenge. When she speaks, her lips move with ritual precision, like each word is a spell, a test, or a trap. The color is naturally pale, but often painted in plum, rust, or blood-red. She chooses shades that echo her mood or her intent-never for vanity, always for ritual. Blood-red when she’s hunting truth. Plum when she’s hiding it. Rust when she’s ready to burn it all down.

Finally, her jawline is angular, but not harsh, with a subtle curve that softens her silhouette just enough to make her dangerous. It’s the kind of jaw that looks noble when she’s silent, lethal when she speaks. Her jaw is often clenched; not in anger, but in ritual restraint. Her chin is slightly pointed, with a faint cleft, a mark of duality, echoing her mask and her truth. It’s the kind of chin that tilts up when challenged, tilts down when she’s about to lie, and tilts sideways when she’s about to seduce.

Voice:
Scriv’s voice is low, deliberate, and emotionally charged. It’s not loud; it doesn’t need to be. People lean in when she speaks, not because they can’t hear her, but because they want to. Her tone carries the weight of someone who’s learned to make every word count. The pitch is a low-alto, with a smoky resonance, like coals still glowing beneath ash. There’s a subtle rasp, not from damage, but from ritual restraint; as if she’s burned through too many truths to speak freely. The cadence is measured and intentional, like she’s reciting a spell or testing your reaction. She pauses often, not out of hesitation, but to watch what her silence does to you. Her rhythm shifts depending on the mask she wears: Quick and playful when charming, slow and surgical when interrogating, and soft and fractured when vulnerable. Her accent is a blend of street slang and academic polish; a hybrid dialect, sharpened by survival and softened by ritual. She drops formalities when she wants to unsettle, and adopts them when she wants to seduce. Her voice tightens when she lies, softens when she mourns, and cracks, just slightly, when she loves. In rare moments of truth, her voice becomes almost melodic, like a lullaby sung in a forgotten tongue.

Scent:
Scriv’s scent is subtle but unforgettable. It doesn’t announce her-it haunts. It clings to rooms long after she’s gone, like a secret waiting to be remembered. The base notes are charred cedar and dragon ash; a smoky, ancient aroma that evokes burned scrolls and scorched ritual chambers. There’s a faint metallic tang, like silver dust or blood on steel-not unpleasant, but emotionally charged. The middle notes are ink and leather, the scent of old ledgers, stolen books, and worn jackets. These notes speak of memory, secrecy, and survival, a life lived in shadow and archives. Finally, the top notes, black plum and burnt sage, a hint of sweetness wrapped in ritual smoke. This is the scent that draws people in, makes them curious, makes them want to know. Her scent intensifies when she’s angry, fades when she’s grieving, and shifts subtly when she’s in love, and her dragon responds to her emotions, altering the alchemical balance. Some say her scent is enchanted, tied to her trials or her dragon bond—others say it’s just the smell of someone who’s survived too much to smell like anything ordinary.

Dominant Hand:
Left-handed, but not exclusively. Her dominant hand is her left, honed through years of street survival: lockpicking, blade work, and sleight-of-hand all favor her left side. It’s the hand she writes with, fights with, and casts with when she’s not hiding her strength. But she’s also ambidextrous by necessity, not by nature. Her right hand is trained for deception—used when she wants to appear weaker, more vulnerable, or more “normal.” She switches hands in combat to confuse opponents, often feinting with her right before striking with her left.

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Personality:
Flirty ⋆ Emotionally Masked ⋆ Playful ⋆ Manipulative (for survival) ⋆ Loyal (when earned) ⋆ Chill ⋆ Trickster ⋆ Morally Selective ⋆ Affectionate ⋆ Best-Friend Vibes ⋆ Sacredly Silly ⋆ Follower ⋆ Empathetic (in disguise) ⋆ Comforting (when cornered) ⋆ Expressive ⋆ Shadow-Dancer ⋆ Peacekeeper (through chaos)

Scriv is the ember’s grin incarnate; a trickster soul wrapped in soot and silver, whose laughter flickers before the flame ever catches. She’s the kind of companion who’ll flirt with danger, charm the enemy, and steal the map while everyone’s still arguing over directions. Her presence is a ritual of contradiction: playful but guarded, affectionate but unreadable, loyal but never tame.

She’s the shadow-heart of any dragonbound ensemble; the one who defuses tension with a smirk, a sarcastic quip, or a mock duel using stolen spoons. Her emotional choreography is layered: she’ll tease you, test you, and laugh first before helping you up. Her affection is sacred comedy, ritualized in mimicry, nicknames, and dramatic reenactments of your worst decisions.

Scriv’s loyalty is earned through fire and fracture. She doesn’t follow orders, she follows people. She’s never the leader, never the voice of reason, but always the one who knows where the bodies are buried and how to make you laugh about it. Her moral code is flexible, but not absent; she won’t betray you unless you deserve it, and she’ll never let you fall unless you asked her to.

Her emotional rhythm is masked but attuned. She senses moods like shifts in alley wind—responding with a joke, a distraction, or a sudden change of subject. She’s the one who’ll sit beside you in silence, then steal a flower from a noble’s garden just to make you smile. Her empathy is hidden behind charm, her comfort wrapped in chaos.

Despite her lightness, Scriv is deeply bonded to those who see past the mask. She’s not just playful: she’s protective, intuitive, and emotionally resonant. Her titles, The Charred Quill, Scorchlet of Hollowfang, reflect not just her street-forged nature, but her role as the emotional saboteur of the group. She’s the one who reminds others to laugh, to lie when needed, and to never let the truth ruin a good story.

Scriv’s Personality Strengths & Weaknesses

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Scriv’s Skill Ledger

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Crush:
Open, PM Me

Partner:
Is Seeing Someone, But Complicated and Awkward (PM Me)

Exes:
cough, cough,

Kin:
Open, PM Me

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Affiliations:
Open, PM Me

Other:
Bleh, human rider in case we need more. <3

Scriv is accepted <3