Hello There, Guest! Register

Beautifully drawn by Sid (Erasvita@DA)!
Current Novus date and time is
... currently in progress!

 Year || 503
 Season || Fall
 Temp || 35℉ (℃) - 69℉ (℃)
 Weather || The iron grip of Summer has slowly faded into the gentler Fall embrace. The morning dew frosts over in the early morning hours and melts by the time the sun hits high in the sky. Many of the trees have traded their lush, vivid green for a more suitable array of red and orange hues. But don't blink, for Winter's cold embrace is fast upon Fall's heels.


Character of the Season

Member of the Season

Thread of the Season
r.i.p. to my youth;

Pair of the Season
Atreus and Fiona

Quote of the Season
"Are there lines she's crossing? Should she toe them or touch them with a pole and stay away wholly? But to avoid such a storm he offers, such a taste of life; to withhold herself from the chance to taste starlight, to love satin and silk and swallow pomegranate seeds not yet offered... She should be stronger." — Moira in
Small as a wish in a well

see here for nominations


Inactive Character

The Character


Age:7 [Year 495 Winter]
Gender: Female
Pronouns: She/Her/Hers
Orientation: Bisexual
Breed: Akhal Teke/Marwari X
Height:19.3 hh
Health: 4
Attack: 16
Experience: 13
Signos: 40 (Donate)

Joined: 09-10-2017
Last Visit: 12-11-2018, 06:39 PM
Total Posts: 14 (Find All Posts)
Total Threads: 5 (Find All Threads)

Send Message

Virun is an androgynous beauty, unnaturally tall and slender – her long, willowy features were gangling and awkward in her youth, but she has grown graceful and elegant over the years, though her steps are burdened by perpetual caution and uncertainty. She is a woman wandering through an endless darkness, for she is completely blind. Her pupilless, milky lilac eyes, most often obscured behind an ornate blindfold, see nothing of the world laid out in front of her, though they gleam like flames when the light hits them, as reflective as a cat’s or a deer caught in headlights. She rarely, if ever, allows others to see her eyes. Time has taught her that most find them disconcerting, the way that they stare at the world out-of-focus and incomprehensive; it pricks.

Much of Virun’s coat is obscured in a fine, downy layer of feathers; most obvious is the cape that runs from the base of her shoulders to protrude several feet off of her rump in a sheet of thick primaries, but her shoulders, cheeks, neck, and rump are coated in a softer layer, evidenced largely by their pale lilac undersides, which stick out from the iridescent, shiny blackness of her coat like a sore thumb. Much of Virun is dark as a moonless sky, but her coat holds a distinct sheen, reminiscent of the faint bluish-violet gloss of a starling. Her blackness is not a dull thing – rather, it is bold and distinct, and flickers wildly and reflectively as a mirror carved of pure obsidian in the light.

A swirl of lilac nebulas run down her throat to her hips, obscuring her belly and her neck in a mess of silver constellations, clouds of stars that fade into darkness as they travel up her skin. Silver lines her left eye and bleeds down in sharp strokes; a tuft of silver-lilac swirls up from her front-left hoof and finds its way up her leg like a cloud of smoke. Her hair, perhaps unnaturally long, twists and writhes alongside her in long, wavy tresses – where it sprouts from her skin, it grows polished silver, but tumbles down into masses of dark violet, the depths of the midnight sky. Patches of feathers grow in gentle curls just below her lilac hooves. Most are the inky darkness of her coat, but those that grow against the silver-lilac marking come out in the same, soft hue, solitary remnants of some long-forgotten ancestor.

She is a rather celestial creature, and speaks like a poet – her words twist and writhe into flowering tales, and she describes the unseen world most beautifully, the product of years of internalizing every little detail that could only ever linger in her imagination. The sweet scent of honey and lavender follows in her hoofsteps, and her voice is soft and high-pitched as the murmur of distant stars.

Positive || optimistic, kind-hearted, outgoing, passionate, brave, extremely intelligent, persistent

Negative || insecure, volatile temper, black/white morality, clingy, naïve

Somewhat unassuming at first glance, Virun is a genuinely kind-hearted creature; optimistic, so well-intentioned and believing as to be naïve, and terribly outgoing, it might at first seem that this kindness and sincerity is all that there is of her. She speaks in sweetnesses, with nary a hint of an insult, and each word that flows from her lips seems full of genuine love for the world and all those around her – a perfect, pure, near-angelic gentility and politeness, abounding with love for friends and strangers alike. She is both incredibly intelligent and terribly wise, rarely taking rash action and quick to learn any new information offered her. In many ways, she seems the perfect girl, though horribly pitiful for all of her restrictions.

But Virun is not that girl.

Try as she might to keep all of her negative qualities hidden, they sometimes rear their heads. Closer examination (of her thoughts if nothing else) will find her painfully insecure, an envious and self-deprecating creature that puts so much effort into her illusion of perfection that she has forgotten that she will inevitably be less than perfect; a girl who has spent most of her life under arrest, kept from independence, kept from her own decisions, from exploration, from the world. She has a volcanic temper, and, though she outwardly seethes when provoked, internally, she burns. Her fury is rarely on her own behalf, as she is quick to leap to the defense of others over any perceived offense, and it tends to interfere with her carefully-cultivated façade of composure and rationality. Virun is perpetually uncomfortable in social situations, and worries incessantly over whether or not her affections are reciprocated – because she loves quickly, and easily, and, worst of all, deeply. She tends to cling to those that she cares for, out of a perhaps-irrational fear of being left alone – alone in the dark, alone in her head, unloved and useless and forgotten. More than anything else, Virun wants desperately to be useful.

Without her magic, she will wonder if she is worth anything at all.

It is a small irony, but the woman who would undo the Stolthet Empire – or, at the very least, leave it without a viable heir – was born within it.

Born on a frigid winter night, Virun was sickly and frail from the moment she passed into the world; her parents, commoners both, did what they could to care for her, but it soon became obvious that their care and attention would not be enough to heal the girl, whose condition grew direr each day. It was in this initial bout of illness, one of many throughout her early years, that Virun lost her sight; she saw so little of the world before darkness that she scarcely remembers it at all, though she clings to the few images that she can recall as a fragile lifeline, a connection to who she could have been. In no position to afford the care that their daughter needed, her father spirited her across the border, to the land of Roskildar.

Virun was adopted by a gentle young healer, Ansleigh, and her lover, a scholar by the name of Maer. They adored the girl in spite of her weak constitution, and treated her as dearly as their own children, Eydis and Lief. Though beloved by her family and all those she encountered for her pleasant disposition and cheerful smiles, Virun grew into an insecure and anxious young woman. Constantly in the shadows of her older siblings, who grew into a talented warrior and diplomat, respectively, Virun was completely reliant on those around her to complete even the simplest of tasks. She was unable to so much as leave her home without someone to guide her. The restrictions were stifling; she grew impatient, fed up with constant pity and welling – overflowing – with the desire for independence, but ultimately confined in her own head. Her days were unfulfilled and lonely, and she grew hungry, even ravenous, with desire. Perhaps that was what drew Them to her in the first place.

She still remembers the night that They found her, though she didn’t realize that anything was amiss at first. In fact, she thought for a while that it was simply a dream. It was a dark night, and she could hear thunder brewing on the horizon; she curled up to sleep, as she always did, but found herself awoken by a soft squelching and the sensation of liquid, seeping tentacles brushing against her forehead, the touch of something that one familiar with the species might liken to an octopus or a squid. Virun was not familiar with the sensation, however, and she hadn’t the sight to place its source. She awoke screaming, but, when her sister – sweet, sweet Eydis – came crashing into her room, sword drawn and prepared for the slaughter, she found nothing. Though Virun was left with the distinct sensation of moisture draped across her shoulders, she dismissed the incident as little more than her imagination getting the best of her. It often did.

But after that seemingly-fateful occurrence, the darkness changed. No longer did she see the world in an endless void, because the darkness moved - in places, it flickered, shifted, swirled. Upon closer examination, Virun realized that she could touch these little ripples in the darkness, and, more importantly, she could tear them open. It was only when she showed this newfound gift to Eydis – beloved Eydis – that Virun discovered what her little tears could do; she still remembers her sister screaming and leaping back as though she were burned, raving about “a hole in the world.” They returned to her soon after, a tentacled mass that she could not see save for the ripples all about its monstrous form, and told her that they had brought a gift, blessed her with the power to rip tears in the fabric of reality itself. And what did they desire in return? Nothing more than her companionship.

Overjoyed by the prospect of both power and friendship (though, in truth, the horrors that became her companions were considered a terror and a nuisance by the rest of her family; they simply hadn’t the heart to tell her that, given the independence they afforded), Virun took eagerly to her new abilities, and quickly grew into a formidable mage. Word spread of a young woman with the power to bend the fabric of reality itself to her will, and, soon, the royal family of Roskildar took notice of her. Bolstered by the threat of invasion from the neighboring Stolthet Empire, which grew more powerful with each passing day, they began to gather magic-users to the capital – Virun was among them. (It is worth noting that Eydis was summoned to the capital as well, albeit to join the royal guard.) Under the tutelage of her bizarre companions and far more experienced mages, she blossomed, grew outwards; she gained a voice, and no longer felt so loathing and hungry. For a time, she was satisfied.

Her power grew until reality was little more than water, something to slip into and slip out of freely – there wasn’t a mage in all of Roskildar that could match her in ability or enthusiasm. And so she was sent to dispose of the heir to the Stolthet Empire, alongside of a group of guards – Eydis among them, now a captain of the guard. Though Virun was not a violent creature, she knew well of the horrors committed by the Stolthet Empire’s royal family, and she imagined that she was doing a service to all those in surrounding nations and those common people among the Empire – her roots – by helping to rid the world of their lineage. She ripped open a portal to the palace and, alongside the guards, caught the heir; and that was when the operation went horribly, horribly wrong.

Initially, her party had intended to assassinate the heir and simply slip away as they had come, but a patrol of guards forced Virun’s hand. Rather than killing the heir, she sent him tumbling into a rift intended to send him far, far away – so far that he could never return, so far that he would never return. Desperate to protect her sister and her guards, she sent them next; with guards between her and the portal, she was unable to pursue them, and so attempted to return home with another portal. However, her magic was horribly depleted, and, a creature of frail constitution to begin with, she was unable to muster the strength to correct the location – with what was left of her strength, she stumbled into the largest tear she could manage, completely unsure of where it would take her. Never mind that; she could return home when she woke.

She awoke in what she imagined that clouds would feel like – spindly, cotton-soft, fluffy. The world seemed to bounce around her, but then she became aware that she was not in the world. Rather, she was between worlds.

She walked.


How long has she been caught between? Where is the way out?

More frightening, too frightening to consider :

Is there a way out?
Active & Parvus Magic

Passive Magic


Armor, Outfit, and Accessories

BLINDFOLD : A simple black blindfold, twisting with metallic silver designs; usually worn.

Agora Items & Awards

This user has no items.
(View All Items)



HISTORY PIXEL : Are We Dancers
POSTBIT : The Day of Shadow

The Player

Player Name: Jeanne (Profile)
PM Player: Send Message
Other Accounts: Jeanne, Pandora, Seraphina, Sol,
19, Female, USA - currently in college.
Virun's Signature

and turn away from those without a crown

please tag Virun! contact is encouraged, short of violence