A Closer Look
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"She wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes."
– Arundhati Roy
A E L I N
Feminine | "Moon halo" | IrishE V A I N E
Feminine | "Life" | HebrewB A R A T H E O N
Masculine/feminine | "Strength" | Greek
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BASICS
⎨NAME⎬
Her full name is Aelin Evaine Baratheon, a name that lingers like a forgotten song – both a blessing and a burden.
⎨ALIAS(ES)⎬
In childhood she was cruelly called Malice, a name that stung her gentle heart and shadowed her laughter. She has long since cast it aside, choosing to walk the world simply as Aelin.
⎨AGE⎬
She is twenty-one years old; not yet seasoned by the span of centuries, yet her soul carries the weight of one far older.
X which makes her an X.
⎨NATIONALITY⎬
She is of Perranthian blood, born beneath Erila's ancient boughs and raised in the secretive embrace of the Corvidae Coven.
⎨RACE⎬
She is a winged Fae, her great feathered wings an unmistakable mark of her lineage.
⎨RESIDENCE⎬
She dwells in a small woodland cottage, hidden deep within the forests surrounding Rifthold, where ivy creeps across her windows and the roots of great trees entwine to guard her solitude.
⎨OCCUPATION⎬
She lives as a keeper of the wilds; a healer of beasts, a whisperer of roots and rivers, and, though she does not name it, a fugitive.
⎨BUILD⎬
Her frame is slender and lithe, delicate at first glance, yet honed by survival. She carries herself with unearthly grace, each step softened by the earth as though it bends to balance her tread.
⎨COMPLEXION⎬
Her skin is pale ivory brushed with the glow of champagne, catching the light as though spun from dawn itself. A dusting of freckles crowns her cheeks, blooming richer with each turn of summer.
⎨HEIGHT⎬
She stands at 165 centimetres, though her unfurled wings lend her a presence far taller.
⎨EYES⎬
Her eyes are a mosaic of walnut and amber, flecked with shards of gold that shimmer when her magic stirs. Framed by sweeping lashes and unyielding brows, her gaze is both a question and a command, difficult to endure for long.
⎨HAIR⎬
Her mahogany hair falls in tumbling curls to her mid-back, rich and gleaming as if threaded with copper. Most days, she binds it with a ribbon to keep it from her face, though unbound it moves like water in the wind.
⎨TRADEMARKS⎬
A thin silver scar cuts across her throat. The cruel reminder of the night her family sought to sacrifice her to their ambition.
⎨QUIRKS⎬
Her emotions unfurl into the earth itself: Flowers sprout at her feet when she lingers too long, their hues betraying the secrets of her heart.
⎨SEXUALITY⎬
She names herself heterosexual, though her heart knows little of love and even less of its safety.
⎨STRENGTHS⎬
An elemental bond to the wild, the freedom of her wings, and a resilience born of surviving the unthinkable.
⎨WEAKNESSES⎬
A heart that fears betrayal, powers that burn beyond her command, and solitude that gnaws at her resolve.
⎨LIKES⎬
She treasures the silence of twilight flights, the loyal company of her wild creatures, and the music of rivers, the rustle of leaves, the sigh of roots shifting beneath her feet.
⎨DISLIKES⎬
She recoils from the cadence of ritual chanting, which recalls the night she was nearly slain; feeling cornered or trapped, a reminder of her coven's relentless pursuit, and betrayal masked as tenderness – the sweetest poison she has known.
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BACKGROUND
"Unlike most other naturalists, [she] doesn't make requests of nature
– nature is compulsively drawn towards her, begging for her permission to flourish."
– Olivie Blake
D AU G H T E Rx OF
T H Ex F O R E S T
SUB HEADLINE
Aelin Evaine Baratheon was born beneath a blood-red dawn in Perranth, the only child of Trystane and Melisandre Baratheon, leaders of the Corvidae Coven, a secretive brotherhood of winged Fae whose feathered wings whispered of ancient, storm-blooded origins. Their wings were black as crow-feathers, their eyes alight with elemental flame, their bloodline bound to the oldest roots of the earth. Where other covens turned to harmony, living in harmony with river and root, the Corvidae twisted it to ambition. They bowed to no one, not even the forest they claimed as home. For them, nature was not a companion but a weapon to be wielded.
From her earliest days, Aelin stood apart. With her bright, searching eyes and the quiet, questioning tilt of her head, she was too curious, too soft for the sharp-edged family she was born into. Yet she possessed the bloodline's traits: Great wings that could carry her far and wide, the flame of elemental magic simmering in her veins. She had her mother's hair, burnished and dark, and her father's solemn gaze, but there was kindness in her smile that unsettled them, a quiet defiance in the way she questioned why power must always come at another's cost. She was cherished, yes, but not as a daughter. Rather, she was an heirloom – a vessel waiting to be used when the time was right. What they truly saw in her was not a daughter, but a key. One they would one day use to unlock greater dominion.
That time came when Aelin was sixteen. The coven prepared the ancient rite known as The Severing of the Vein. Old as the forest itself, whispered in their lore, it demanded blood not of enemy or beast, but of one's own bloodline. The chosen sacrifice became the vessel: All of the coven's strength poured into their body, only to be released back to the earth in death. It was said that the spirits of the wood – the nameless, watchful forces in bark and stone – would grant dominion in return. For Trystane and Melisandre, it was the only path to supremacy.
Aelin knew nothing of it until the night came. She woke to hands gripping her wrists. Familiar hands. Her cousin's, her aunt's, her mother's. Confusion swelled into terror as she was dragged from her bed, her bare feet scraping across the dirt floor, her nightgown clinging to her skin in the chill. She begged them to stop, at first with laughter, thinking it a cruel jest, then with sharp cries as she realized no one answered, no one smiled. The forest clearing was waiting, lit by torches that guttered in a wind that smelled of iron. At its heart stood the ritual stone, smoothed with age and stained with what she swore was not moss but something darker. She fought, wings flaring, nails clawing, but she was nothing against them. Silver chains, cold and biting, locked around her wrists and ankles, pinning her down. Her cheek pressed against the stone, and she felt it... How the slab throbbed faintly beneath her, as though alive, as though eager. They circled her. Twenty winged shadows, their feathers catching the firelight like oil. Their voices rose in chant, low and unearthly, harmonizing with the hiss of the flames. It was not language as she knew it but a keening of power, old syllables that made the trees bow, that made the animals flee. She screamed their names. Her father. Her mother. The friends she had laughed with, hunted with. They did not answer, did not falter. Faces she had trusted were void, eyes glassy with hunger for the promise of what was to come. When her father leaned down and kissed her brow, his lips were cool, his gaze already turned away as though she were nothing but the knife's edge they would soon wield against their enemies. The silver blade gleamed as her mother raised it. Aelin sobbed, pleaded, her voice breaking as she begged them not to do this, not to leave her alone in the dark. She promised anything, everything. For the briefest moment, Melisandre's eyes flickered – not with doubt, but with something worse. Exaltation. The knife pressed to her throat. The sting of it tore a cry from her lips as blood welled in a thin scarlet line. She felt it then, deep inside – The magic of her kin surging into her, flooding her veins, burning like liquid fire beneath her skin. It was suffocating, overwhelming, filling every hollow space until she thought she would break apart. She knew: She was becoming the vessel. Death was the only release.
But the gods had not finished with her. The ground shook with a sound like thunder as the forest itself ruptured. From the shadows burst the White Hart – The stag of legend, vast and silver as moonlight made flesh, antlers crowned with light. The coven's chant faltered into shrieks as the beast charged into their circle, scattering wings and torches. Fire toppled, sparks rained, and the trees seemed to roar in unison. Her chains shattered as if they had never been, the Hart's hooves cleaving through metal. He lowered his crown of antlers for her, breath steaming in the night, and Aelin – bloodied, trembling, sobbing – pressed her hand to his muzzle. Without thought, without hesitation, she pulled herself onto his back. The forest parted before him as he carried her away, her nightgown whipping around her like a banner of defeat and defiance, her tears trailing into the wind.
Behind her, the ritual lay unfinished. The power remained within her. And the Corvidae would never stop hunting her until her blood was spilled and their magic reclaimed.
"She wanted to exist only as a conscious flower, prolonging and preserving herself."
– F. Scott Fitzgerald
Only later, hiding in the quiet places of the forest, did Aelin come to understand the truth: The Severing had gone awry. Through the ritual's kiss, her coven had poured every drop of their power into her body. But before her death could release it, the Hart's intervention severed the final act. The magic – wild, untamed, and vaster than anything she could have imagined – remained within her. She had become both vessel and thief, the unwilling keeper of her entire coven's strength.
Now she was the hunted. To reclaim their power, the Corvidae needed only her blood spilled across stone. Their pursuit was relentless; she could feel it in the trembling of the earth, in the whispers of the wind that carried her family's fury. Yet the same powers that made her quarry and gave her sanctuary. The forests of Adarlan took her in, roots curling to cradle her, rivers singing her to sleep. Plants bent to her will, blossoming at her call, weaving homes of living wood and flowering boughs. Animals came to her as companions and sentinels, their hearts beating in rhythm with her own. She could taste the sorrow of a wounded sparrow, feel the joy of a wolf running free, shape the stones beneath her hands into shields and blades. Still, fear was her shadow. She did not fly by day, for her wings would mark her. When she soared at night, it was high above the treetops, silent and swift, where only the moon bore witness. But dread gnawed her still: The knowledge that her parents would never cease their hunt, that one day the dark wings of the Corvidae would blot out the sun above her sanctuary.
That day nearly came sooner than expected. On one rare evening when hunger drove her beyond her borders, the snap of a bowstring broke the air. Pain seared through her wing as an arrow struck, and the sky collapsed beneath her. She tumbled from the heavens, feathers stained with blood, into the arms of the man who had felled her. Siôn Caerwynn Ithell. A huntsman with eyes like storm-lit steel, a bow steady as fate, and secrets buried as deep as her own. For though he wore the guise of a simple forester, he was no mere mortal, but the hidden heir to Adarlan's throne. In that instant of ruin, when their gazes met through the haze of her pain, Aelin's story turned upon itself. What began as betrayal and blood became the first spark of something neither had expected – something that might yet rival the power she had been forced to bear, and the curse of her name.
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CORE TRAITS
"The sound of her footsteps was like a stream
falling gently downhill over cool stones in the quiet of night."
– J.R.R. Tolkien
◌ TRAIT #1
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1. Coming soon...
◌ TRAIT #2
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1. Coming soon...
◌ TRAIT #3
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1. Coming soon...◌ TRAIT #4
adj. | x | x
1. Coming soon...
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ASTROLOGY
V I R G O
August 23rd – Semtember 22nd
Virgo is the sixth astrological sign in the Zodiac. Lying between Leo to the west and Libra to the east, it is the second largest constellation in the sky (after Hydra). It can be easily located through its brightest star, Spica. Individuals born under the Virgo sign may be called Virgos or Virgoans. The symbol of the maiden is based on Astraea. She was the last mortal to abandon Earth after the Silver Age, when the gods fled to Olympus – Hence the sign's association with the element of Earth.
M E R C U R Y
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Mercury represents the principles of communication, mentality, thinking patterns, rationality, reasoning, adaptability and variability. Mercury also governs education.
Greek deity: Hermes.E A R T H
Each sign is associated with one of four classical elements. Virgo's element is Earth, associated with practicality, caution, and the material world. Earth signs are also considered to be negative or introverted female signs.M A I D E N
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Virgos often keep their integrity throughout their lives. The Virgo symbol, the maiden, is sometimes depicted as a young woman carrying a sheaf of wisdom, representing the harvesting of wheat at the time of year of the Virgo.
"She was incomprehensible, for, in her, soul and spirit were one - the beauty of her body was the essence of her soul. She was that unity sought for by philosophers through many centuries. In this outdoor waiting room of winds and stars she had been sitting for a hundred years, at peace in the contemplation of herself."
– F. Scott Fitzgerald
Keen mind ⋄ Naturally intuitive ⋄ Sharp-minded ⋄ Pays attention to detail ⋄ Meticulous ⋄ Great achiever, yet still humble ⋄ Well-spoken ⋄ Great understanding of human nature ⋄ Wise.
She teaches us to serve, do impeccable work and prioritise ourselves and our loved ones. She is dedicated. She is resourceful. She is helpful and hardworking. Virgo energy focuses on organization and focuses on health and wellness. She is motivated and strong. She needs reminding that she can be hard on loved ones, but even harder on herself. She is powerful and full of magic. She is determined. She is in a league of her own, intelligent and precise, she is a masterpiece. This woman is something else.
'She is water. Powerful enough to drown you, soft enough to cleanse you, deep enough to save you'. A wise woman knows her limits, a Virgo woman knows she has none. This woman is not to be underestimated. She will live fearlessly and with compassion. Her critical eye is perfect for her ability to multitask and check things off her list. She is not bored when she is alone, she is creative and thoughtful. Her title as The Healer means she is intuitive and conscious, drawn to being of service to others and their well-being. She loves genuinely and passionately. She is a giver with a heart made from gold.
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POWERS & ABILITIES
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SUB HEADLINE
"You will find the way, daughter of the forest. Through grief and pain, through many trials,
through betrayal and loss, your feet will walk a straight path."
– Juliet Marillier
Coming soon...
|CHLOROKINESIS|Aelin has inherited the ability to control organic matter from her mother, whom was a renowned botanist before her untimely death. This enables her to control plant matters such as herbs, trees and grass in order to manipulate their growth and structure. The skill serves many purposes which are beneficial to the plants, whilst some effects may even be used for her own gain. The overall ability allows her to make plants thrive; even at the brink of death, she can bestow life back upon the leaves, reversing ailments and withering like they were never even there. Moreover she can induce induce the sprouting of blooms and saplings, control the release of spores and pollen as well as manipulating the ripening of fruits.
She is able to make barren fields bloom with all but a single seed to guide her, summon vines from deep below the ground and can generate springtime before it is due with a brush of her hand.
|GEOKINESIS|The earthly power that flows in her veins allows Aelin to manipulate all geological matters and bend them to her will. This includes, but is not limited to, soil, minerals and stone, all of which she is able to move, alter and otherwise shape as she pleases. This ability enables her to set off earthquakes, tear holes in the ground and carve slabs of stone rock from geological sources like mountains, crags and walls with the tips of her fingers. Alltogether she is able to shift the terrain around her, crumbling and reimagining landscapes like she was the Creator itself.
Furthermore she is able to sense earthly matters, making her extremely aware and hypersensitive to her surroundings. A mere touch is all it takes for her to detect the life history of a geode, and the rare minerals and gemstones sing her to sleep from where they rest beneath the Earth's surface.
|WINGED FORM|Aelin was born with the ability to fly, which is manifested in the magnificent pair of wings that arch from her back like a concave reflection of her otherwise lithe silhouette. It wasn't until she was older she learnt to disguise them with a glamour, which she does most days now for practical reasons. The feathered limbs allow her to take off in flight and stay soaring aboveground until her muscles tire out, but she can also cover immense distances in short amounts of time by cutting through the air like an arrow set on its target. The wings also serve offensive and defensive purposes if need be, enabling her to disarm her enemies with little effort or topple and send a dozen men flying with a powerful gust of wind.
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SIGNATURE
"She was dazzling - alight; it was agony to comprehend her beauty in a glance."
– F. Scott Fitzgerald
