reverieshifts

[reverieshifts]

𝑽𝒊𝒓𝒂 𝑶𝒓𝒗𝒂𝒊𝒏

𝒔𝒄𝒊-𝒇𝒊 𝒅𝒓

ok she looks kind of like a combination of these two

Role on the Ship: External Contact / Negotiator / Deal Broker

Species: Human

Age: 25

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Zodiac: Scorpio

MBTI: ENTJ

𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

Vira Orvain is elegance weaponized. Tall and poised, she moves like a silk-draped threat—measured, confident, and utterly in control of every space she enters. There’s nothing accidental about her presence. Everything about her is calculated to draw attention, hold it, and remind you that letting your guard down around her is a choice—and likely a mistake.

She stands at around 5’7, and is long-limbed and statuesque, with bronze-toned skin that always seems to catch the light at the most flattering angles. Her features are refined, almost aristocratic, with high cheekbones, a razor-sharp jawline, and full lips often curled in the kind of half-smile that makes people nervous. Her eyes are a deep, liquid brown—dark enough to almost seem black in certain light—wide, heavy-lashed, and impossibly expressive. They don’t just look at you. They read you.

Her hair is long, black, and impossibly sleek, often worn loose or twisted into elegant knots that somehow hold together through entire shuttle rides and barroom deals. It’s the kind of hair you suspect was genetically engineered for drama.

Vira dresses like she’s expecting to be photographed—or assassinated—at any moment. Everything she wears is tailored to perfection: high-collared coats with hidden fastenings, sleek bodysuits under velvet-trimmed cloaks, boots that make a statement and could probably kill a man. She favors dark jewel tones—emerald, garnet, obsidian—with occasional flashes of gold jewelry or gemstone accents that hint at wealth, power, or very good forgery. Her outfits are designed to impress and distract in equal measure, and they usually do both.

Despite all that polish, there's no doubt she can move. There's a grace to her—pantherlike, deliberate. You get the sense she’s armed even when she’s not visibly carrying. Her nails are always sharp. Her scent is expensive. And her smile? It’s like a blade dipped in honey.

𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚

Vira Orvain is charm made dangerous—poised, polished, and always playing a deeper game. She’s the kind of woman who can get past locked doors without ever touching a panel, just by looking at the right person the right way and asking the right question. She speaks in velvet tones, always measured, always deliberate, with just enough warmth to keep you wondering whether she’s flirting, manipulating, or both. Spoiler: it’s both.

She’s clever, calculated, and preternaturally good at reading people. Where others see surface behavior, Vira sees patterns—weaknesses, tells, the exact angle to apply pressure. She was born to navigate the underworld’s most tangled webs—syndicates, smugglers, corrupt officials—and she does it with the grace of someone who knows the stakes and never loses the thread. Her reputation in the trade networks is both admired and feared: she always walks away with the better end of the deal, and somehow makes you thank her for it.

Vira doesn’t bluff. She doesn’t need to. When she makes a promise—or a threat—people listen. Her confidence isn’t arrogance; it’s evidence. She’s seen too much, survived too much, and shaped too much of her own fate to entertain doubt. That said, she does enjoy being underestimated. There’s a special gleam in her eyes when someone realizes—too late—that they’ve made a mistake.

She’s rarely flustered. Even in tense situations, she exudes control. The more dangerous the moment, the calmer she becomes—like a predator tasting blood in the water. But underneath all that composed, coiled grace, there’s something harder. Something more human. She doesn’t show it often, but Vira cares—just not easily, and never recklessly. Trust, for her, is a precious commodity. If you have it, you’ve earned it.

With the crew, she plays her role well—cool, competent, slightly aloof. She flirts with Soren (still), needles Zia for fun, and lets Jax’s suspicion roll off her like mist. She keeps her walls high, her secrets close, and her smile ready. But even if she keeps herself at a distance, there’s an unspoken truth beneath her detachment: she’s watching their backs too. She just doesn’t need them to know that yet.

𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅

Vira wasn’t born on the streets like most of the Clementine’s crew. She was born in a penthouse. The kind with glass walls, surveillance shutters, and a view of a corporate skyline instead of a sky. Her parents were minor nobility—politically connected, economically insulated, and morally bankrupt. Vira learned early that in that world, truth was currency, but appearances were power.

She was trained for diplomacy, languages, and etiquette by the time she could walk. By thirteen, she could hold her own in trade negotiations, out-maneuvering men three times her age under the guise of being “just the daughter.” By fifteen, she was brokering covert deals for her family behind closed doors—off-world resource exchanges, security contracts, and backroom political favors. She was very good at it. Too good.

And then she found out what those contracts were really buying.

The fallout wasn’t public. Her family was too powerful for that. But Vira left—quietly, completely, and with enough secrets to keep herself alive. She vanished from the official registries, reappearing years later in the deep markets and shadow ports under a new name, dealing in information, favors, and high-stakes negotiation.

That’s when she met Soren.

He was a mess. Scrappy, clever, reckless in that way that people are when they’ve never been given anything to lose. He intrigued her. Annoyed her. Challenged her. She liked that. For a while, they made a good team. He flew. She smoothed things over. He got into trouble. She got them out of it.

They were never officially together. Never officially apart, either. It was fire and ice—charged, complicated, real. Then something broke. A mission gone wrong. A betrayal neither of them talks about. She walked. He didn’t stop her.

But the universe doesn’t like clean breaks.

Now she works with the Clementine, though not on it. She remains their primary contact and negotiator—coordinating client meetings, smoothing over legal gray areas, and pulling strings where needed. She’s the one who gets them contracts they’re not supposed to have. The one who warns them when a deal’s gone toxic. The one who walks into a syndicate gathering unarmed and walks out with everyone eating out of her hand.

She says it’s just business. That she’s moved on. And maybe she has. But every time she locks eyes with Soren, there’s a flicker—of memory, of something unfinished. She doesn’t talk about it. Not to Jax. Not to Zia. Certainly not to me.

But one thing is certain: Vira Orvain knows how to survive. She’s made herself indispensable. And if she has her own plans, her own secrets? Well… that’s her business.

𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔 / 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔

𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉-𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈:

Vira is a professional manipulator—not in the con artist sense, but in the way that makes billion-credit trade deals swing on a word. She’s a specialist in verbal combat, trained in dozens of negotiation tactics from soft coaxing to ruthless psychological leverage. She knows how to read a room, assess power structures, and walk out with what she came for—often leaving the other party wondering how they agreed to it. If something needs to be secured, sold, or salvaged diplomatically, Vira’s the one you call.

𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒕:

Vira speaks at least nine languages with fluency, including corporate-standard dialects, trade-speak, and several underworld codes. More impressively, she understands the unspoken languages—body posture, tone shifts, blink speed, phrasing etiquette in different sectors. She can adapt her entire presence to suit a client’s expectations, blending in as a dignitary one day and a syndicate broker the next.

𝒑𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒖𝒃𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈:

Vira doesn’t just listen to what people say—she listens to what they don’t say. She can build a psychological map of a person within five minutes of talking to them. Wants, fears, insecurities, leverage points—she’s trained herself to find the cracks in any persona and decide, in seconds, whether to exploit them or hold them in reserve. It’s a talent that makes her formidable even when unarmed.

𝒔𝒖𝒃𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒖𝒈𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕:

Need a false identity constructed from scratch? A document trail that turns a smuggler into a respected consultant? Vira can do that. Her network includes forgers, slicers, and blackmail experts—most of whom owe her favors. She also understands how to craft a reputation—how to weaponize rumor, how to burn someone’s name in silence, and how to make herself too valuable to cross.

𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆-𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇-𝒅𝒆𝒇𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆:

She’s not a soldier, and she doesn’t pretend to be. But she’s fast, precise, and lethal in close quarters. She prefers sleek concealed weapons—needle-blades, toxin rings, compact pulse pistols. She fights to disable, disarm, or escape—not to brawl. Her movements are fluid and surgical, and she always aims for the quickest resolution.

𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒕 𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔:

Vira knows the underworld. Intimately. She has contacts in every major criminal syndicate and several corporate shadow departments. She knows who’s paying, who’s watching, and how to walk the knife’s edge between them without drawing blood. She can negotiate ceasefires, backdoor deals, and explosive secrets—all without ever raising her voice.

𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆:

Arguably her most dangerous skill: nothing rattles her. A gun to her head won’t break her composure. A double-cross mid-deal might get a raised brow. She’s a master of holding the emotional high ground, projecting control even when the odds are stacked, and saying just enough to keep everyone guessing.

𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒘

𝑺𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝑭𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒓 – 𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 / 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒆 / 𝒖𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆

Vira doesn’t talk about what happened between them. Not really. She teases, flirts, pokes at the edges like it never mattered—and sometimes, it really didn’t. But sometimes? Her gaze lingers a little too long. Her voice softens on his name.

They were never simple. Never safe. Soren was all reckless instinct and rough-edged charm. She was cold precision and velvet-wrapped control. Somehow, it worked. Until it didn’t.

Now, there’s distance. Professionally close. Emotionally complicated. She still calls him “Captain” with a smile like a dare. He still watches her like she might vanish again.

There’s a lot they don’t say. And even more that neither of them has let go of.

She says she’s moved on. She’s not sure if he has. She’s not sure if she has.

𝑱𝒂𝒙𝒆𝒏 “𝑱𝒂𝒙” 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓 – 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒄𝒍𝒆 / 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒅𝒐𝒈 / 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒈

Jax doesn’t trust Vira. Vira doesn’t care. Not in the way he wants her to, anyway.

She’s amused by his suspicion—by the way he watches her every move like she’s a ticking bomb. She knows his type: steady, unyielding, armored in both body and silence. And she respects that. Quietly.

Their conversations are brief, blunt, and barbed. She calls him “Big Guy” with just enough sass to be provocative. He answers in grunts or one-word replies that somehow convey entire monologues of restrained judgment.

They’re not friends. Not allies, really. But there’s a kind of unspoken understanding: if either of them crosses a line, the other will be waiting. And neither has yet.

𝒁𝒊𝒂 “𝒁” 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓 – 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒓 / 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒍𝒊𝒏 / 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆

Zia gets under Vira’s skin like static under silk. She’s loud, unfiltered, brilliant in a chaotic way that makes Vira’s teeth itch. And worse—she’s not intimidated. Not even a little.

They snipe at each other constantly. Zia calls her “Queen V.” Vira calls her “child.” Zia hacks into her comm feed as a joke. Vira once rerouted Zia’s drone parts delivery to a black market lingerie vendor—and never explained why.

Still, there’s mutual respect buried under all the snark. Vira recognizes talent when she sees it. And Zia, despite herself, has started listening when Vira speaks in her serious voice—the one that means someone’s about to get shot if they don’t listen.

𝑨𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒉’𝒓𝒂𝒆𝒏 “𝑨𝒓𝒊” 𝑲𝒂𝒊’𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒖𝒓 (𝒎𝒆) – 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒏 / 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆

I unnerve Vira. I'm too sincere. Too genuine. Too good in a way Vira isn’t sure she believes in anymore.

And worse—I'm living in Vira’s old room. Laughing in the corridors Vira used to walk. Sitting in the co-pilot’s chair Vira used to fill. And getting close—too close—to someone Vira once considered hers.

She tries to treat me like a harmless passenger—smiles, nods, dismisses me with polite distance. But I have this habit of seeing people. And Vira is not used to being seen without layers.

We're opposites in almost every way—appearance, presence, purpose. I'm is starlight and softness. Vira is shadow and steel. And yet… there’s tension. Of the awkward, unspoken, quietly territorial kind.

Vira doesn’t like how much she thinks about me. Or how my gaze doesn’t flinch, even when Vira is at her coldest. She’s watching me. Carefully. And she hasn’t yet decided if I'm a threat to be neutralized—or a wound that never quite stopped bleeding.

𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 / 𝒇𝒖𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒔

Keeps a private channel open on the Clementine’s comms grid, even when she’s off-ship. It’s encrypted so heavily Zia once spent a full day trying to crack it “just for fun” and gave up. Vira’s only ever used it once—and it was to warn Soren they were walking into a trap.

Once ended a negotiation with a criminal syndicate by walking into their stronghold alone, unarmed, and leaving with a data drive, two promises, and someone else’s ship. She told no one how. Zia is still mad she didn’t take pictures.

Her perfume is custom-made. Warm, spiced, almost intoxicating. Designed to linger just long enough to make you wonder if she was ever really there. Soren once described it as “like sunset on a world you’ve never seen before.”

Has an extensive jewelry collection, but only wears select pieces. The emerald ring she favors on negotiation days? Conceals a retractable microblade. The diamond earrings? Not diamonds. Not from this system either.

She doesn’t get drunk. Not because she can’t, but because she doesn’t like the feeling of losing control. The only time the crew saw her even slightly tipsy was at a post-job celebration. She kissed Soren. Then walked away before he could say a word.

She plays the violin. Beautifully. Flawlessly. Only when alone. There’s a quiet, distant sadness in the way she plays—like memory turned to sound. No one on the crew has ever heard it.

She has a thing for knives. Elegant ones. Collector’s pieces. Several are mounted in her private residence like artwork. One was a gift. From Soren. It’s the only one she keeps sharpened.

Has memorized over 120 facial micro-expressions. Uses them to detect lies, fear, arousal, hesitation, and uncertainty before a person even speaks. It’s instinct now—unconscious pattern recognition that never turns off.

Refuses to sleep anywhere she hasn’t personally swept for bugs. She’s been burned before. She won’t be again.

She hates small talk. If she asks how you’re doing, it’s either a power play—or a sign that something’s very wrong.

Keeps a hidden blade in nearly every outfit. Heel tip, belt clasp, earring back, false nail—you name it, she’s weaponized it. Once disarmed a man using only a necklace and a smile.

Has a small scar just behind her left ear, usually hidden by hair. It’s surgical—clean, precise, deliberate. She never explains it. But she always touches it when she’s anxious.

Plays a strategic board game called Starveil. Complex, cerebral, brutal. She once taught Soren to play. He beat her. Once. She hasn’t brought it up since—but she has been watching his moves ever since.

Keeps a datapad full of names. Some are crossed out. Some are circled. The pad is locked with six layers of biometric encryption. Zia has tried. Jax saw her try. Didn’t stop her. Just said, “Don’t.”

She does miss the ship. The Clementine. The crew. She won’t say it. But every time she boards, there’s a pause—half a heartbeat—just before she steps through the airlock.

𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂

Ok, so I don't really know what to say about Vira. She's not technically part of the crew, not anymore. She left long before I even showed up. But she's still attached. She still sets up our clients, and even sort of looks out for us in her own strange way. And none of us can quite figure out if it's because she's still fond of the ship, of Soren, or just because we're an investment of hers. But no matter, because a favor or two from Vira is powerful.

And yeah, idk why I scripted her in as Soren's ex when I'm literally still deciding between the two of them. And Zia. And maybe even Jax. Idk. I guess I just like the drama or something.

And speaking of Soren, I was gonna do his post first because unlike Vira, he's actually a part of the crew, but unfortunately I CAN'T FIND A GODDAMN FACECLAIM FOR HIM! It's literally impossible and I am so close to giving up😭😭😭

But luckily, I already had this one mostly done, so now you get Vira. Soren will be next though, and then I'll either talk a bit more about the ship, or the drones (they're like little pets I love them so much. Especially Loaf).

Also, just another note, Arieth'raen Kai'Thalur is my full name in this dr, but most people usually just call me Ari because that name is a bit of a mouthful, but Vira always makes a point to say my whole goddamn name for some reason, so that's why I wrote it all out like that.

@aprilshiftz @lalalian

[reverieshifts]

𝑱𝒂𝒙𝒆𝒏 “𝑱𝒂𝒙” 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓

𝒔𝒄𝒊-𝒇𝒊 𝒅𝒓

ok he kinda looks like this, but a little tougher, and a bit more messed up.

Role on the Ship: Gunner / Co-Pilot / Muscle

Species: Human

Age: 26

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Straight

Zodiac: Taurus

MBTI: ISTJ

𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

Jax is built like a walking bulkhead—tall, broad-shouldered, and solid in a way that suggests he could hold up a collapsing corridor just long enough to let everyone else escape. He stands around 6'4", with a dense, muscular frame shaped by years of rough work, close-quarters brawls, and carrying more than his share of the ship’s physical burdens.

His skin is tanned and often marked by old bruises, faded burn scars, and the occasional fresh cut from a mission gone sideways. He doesn’t bother to hide them. To Jax, scars aren’t shameful—they’re practical records. His hands are especially telling: large, calloused, and always a little nicked up, the hands of someone who spends his life hauling cargo, modifying weapons, and punching problems in the face.

Jax wears his hair short and low-maintenance, and usually a little tousled from wearing a headset or helmet. He’s got a square jaw, strong cheekbones, and the kind of resting face that makes people instinctively give him space. His eyes are a cool slate-gray, sharp and observant, often narrowing when he’s assessing danger or watching someone run their mouth. He doesn’t talk much, but his expressions speak volumes.

His clothing is more function than fashion: reinforced tactical pants, a fitted combat vest or faded flight jacket, and fingerless gloves worn down at the palms. Most of his gear has been patched or repaired multiple times, but meticulously maintained. He always wears the same worn leather utility harness across his chest, custom-rigged to hold his primary weapon—a collapsible heavy rifle he calls Wren—as well as several smaller tools and grenades.

There’s a faint tattoo on the inside of his right forearm—an old military symbol, partially scorched and re-inked. He never explains it. And there’s a silver chain always tucked beneath his shirt, the pendant hidden unless you catch him cleaning his gear in quiet moments.

He moves like someone who knows how to fight, how to kill, and—most tellingly—how not to. Every motion is deliberate. Controlled. Tension coiled beneath stillness. He doesn’t need to intimidate. He is intimidating. But to those who know him, Jax’s presence isn’t fearsome. It’s comforting. He’s a wall you want at your back when the world falls apart.

𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚

Jax isn’t loud. He doesn’t need to be. He’s the kind of person who walks into a room and immediately grounds it—the eye of the storm in a ship full of chaos, sarcasm, and questionable life choices. He speaks rarely, acts deliberately, and carries the kind of steady presence that makes people feel like they can breathe again.

He’s observant to a fault—always watching, always noticing. He catches shifts in tone, flickers of hesitation, the unspoken things people try to hide. He doesn’t call attention to it, doesn’t make a show of it. But when someone needs something—an exit, a moment of silence, a gun passed quietly across the table—he’s already moving.

Jax thinks before he speaks. His words are few but intentional, and often laced with dry, deadpan humor that lands all the harder for being so unexpected. He’s got a deeply sarcastic streak, the kind that surfaces most often around Zia’s nonsense or Soren’s recklessness. He never raises his voice, but his look when someone’s being an idiot says more than a five-minute rant ever could.

Loyalty defines him. Once he decides you’re his, that’s it. You’re under his protection, even if you don’t want to be. He’d never say it outright—probably wouldn’t even admit it if asked—but he watches over his crew with a quiet, relentless intensity. He’s the one who double-checks the ship’s perimeter before bed. The one who wordlessly refills your water when you’re too tired to get up. The one who stands between you and the barrel of a gun without flinching.

He’s not afraid of violence—he’s intimately familiar with it. But he doesn’t relish it. He’s deliberate in fights, controlled, and rarely wastes movement. He doesn’t lose his temper easily, but when he does? It’s terrifying. Controlled anger, channeled like a weapon. Not for revenge, not for ego—just to end the threat.

Jax doesn’t talk much about his past. There’s weight in his silences—things he’s seen, done, endured. But he’s not closed off. He just believes in showing who he is through action. You’ll know he cares not because he says it, but because he shows up. Every time.

And beneath all the muscle and wariness? There’s a softness he keeps tucked away. A gentle soul. He reads old paper books when no one’s looking. He pets my weird little glowing plants. He always makes sure Zia has real food in her bag, not just nutrient bars and energy drinks. He’s not made of stone—but he is a fortress. And fortresses aren’t always cold. They just protect what matters.

𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅

Jax doesn’t talk much about where he came from—and no one really asks. Not because they don’t care, but because the silence around it feels intentional. Like the past is something he’s already survived once, and doesn’t feel like explaining.

What little the crew knows comes in scattered pieces. He grew up on a war-torn border colony—one of those forgotten settlements chewed up by corporate skirmishes and left to rot when the mining dried up. His early life was shaped by violence, ration lines, and the kind of lessons that come too fast and too hard. He was trained to fight long before he was trained to live.

In his late teens, Jax joined a paramilitary security outfit—not by choice, but because it was either that or starve. He was good at it. Too good. His unit specialized in high-risk suppression, clearing out pirate nests and smuggler convoys deemed “expendable.” The missions weren’t clean. The orders weren’t moral. Eventually, Jax started asking the wrong questions. When he refused to fire on a group of fleeing civilians, he was cut loose and labeled "unstable."

He left the outfit with scars, dishonor, and no home to return to.

He drifted for a while—working as a bodyguard, a pit fighter, a merc-for-hire. People saw his size, his silence, his steady aim, and assumed they knew him. They didn’t. He kept to himself, never stayed anywhere long. Until Soren.

The two met during a back-alley standoff in a no-name moonport—Soren trying to negotiate his way out of a double-cross, Jax standing in as hired muscle for the other side. Things went sideways fast. Shots fired. People fled. When the dust cleared, Jax was the only one who hadn’t turned on Soren. No one knows why. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was the first time he saw someone trying to do the right thing in a bad situation.

Soren offered him a place on the Clementine. Jax accepted. Quietly. Without conditions.

Since then, he’s become Soren’s right hand—his co-pilot, enforcer, and the only one with the weight to tell him when he’s being a reckless idiot and make it stick. He’s not just muscle. He’s the shield. The one who holds the line so the others don’t have to.

He doesn’t think of himself as part of a “crew.” He thinks of them as people he can finally protect without shame. People worth staying for.

𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔 / 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒚:

Jax is a master of heavy ordnance—if it kicks like a mule, overheats in thirty seconds, or fires plasma bolts the size of your fist, he knows how to use it. From ship-mounted turrets to shoulder-cannons and high-impact rifles, he handles recoil and precision with almost unsettling calm. In combat, he anchors the team with devastating suppressive fire and surgical strikes when things get too close for comfort.

𝒄𝒐-𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏:

While not the ship's primary pilot, Jax is Soren’s most trusted second at the controls. He’s steady, responsive, and never panics. When Soren’s flying like a madman through an asteroid belt, Jax is beside him calling out power levels and redirecting coolant flow without missing a beat. He knows The Clementine's systems almost as well as Soren does—and he’s the one who ensures things don’t burn up mid-dive.

𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒚:

Jax is a natural tactician. Not flashy, not loud—but careful. Calculated. He sees angles others miss, keeps track of exits, watches hands and eyes, memorizes layouts. He’s the one who notices the guy in the back shifting his stance, or the door that shouldn’t be open. Whether it’s infiltration, defense, or holding a perimeter, he’s the first to plan and the last to leave.

𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅-𝒕𝒐-𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒕:

Fists, knives, improvised pipe wrench—Jax can dismantle an opponent with brutal efficiency. He doesn’t fight to impress. He fights to end things quickly. His style is a blend of formal close-quarters combat and raw survival instinct, built on leverage, weight, and knowing where it hurts the most. He doesn’t posture. He wins.

𝒎𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆:

He’s no engineer, but give him a jammed turret, cracked armor plating, or overheating coolant valves and he’ll get it operational. He keeps the Clementine's weapons and defense systems clean, calibrated, and ready to fire. He also maintains his personal arsenal with obsessive precision—every knife honed, every charge cell tested.

𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒚 𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒆:

Jax has a sixth sense for when a mission’s about to go sideways. He’s pulled crew out of burning wreckage, carried Zia through a hail of gunfire, and once caught Soren mid-fall with nothing but a cable line and a terrifying amount of upper body strength. He always knows where the fallback point is. And he’ll drag you there, if he has to.

𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 (𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆):

He’s not fluent in much beyond Standard and Trade, but he’s excellent at recognizing threats in unfamiliar languages—particularly insults, warnings, and tone shifts that mean a fight’s about to start. Zia jokingly calls it “violence-lingual.”

𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒘

𝑺𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝑭𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒓 – 𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 / 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓-𝒊𝒏-𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒔 / 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒐𝒕 𝒉𝒆’𝒅 𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓

Soren is Jax’s best friend, full stop. Has been for years now. The kind of bond that’s been forged under fire, across smuggling runs, shootouts, and long nights running on too little sleep and too much guilt.

Jax is the one who pulls him back when he goes too far, the voice in his ear saying, “Don’t be stupid,” even as he loads the next round. He’s seen Soren at his lowest and still chose to follow him, not because of charm or charisma—but because he tries. And Jax respects people who try.

He’d never say it out loud, but there are moments—quiet, unguarded ones—when Soren’s smile is enough to make the world feel survivable. He trusts Soren more than anyone. Even when he’s making absolutely terrible decisions.

𝒁𝒊𝒂 “𝒁” 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓 – 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒓 / 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒓 / 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆

Jax and Zia bicker like siblings—loud, relentless, and weirdly affectionate. She hacks his training programs. He lifts her by the collar when she gets mouthy with mercenaries twice her size. It works.

He respects her skill, even if he doesn’t understand half the things she says when she’s mid-code-rant. She drives him absolutely up the wall, but he’d rip apart an entire security detail to get her back if she were taken.

He’s one of the few people who can recognize when she’s spiraling and knows how to ground her without pushing. Usually by tossing her a protein bar and telling her to shut up and eat something before she codes herself into a seizure.

“𝑨𝒓𝒊” (𝒎𝒆) – 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 / 𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒏𝒆𝒕 / 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒔

Jax was wary of me at first—glowy, mysterious, not human—but that changed fast. There’s something about my sincerity, the way I ask questions like I actually care about the answers, that got to him.

He’s fiercely protective of me, in the quiet way he’s protective of all the people he’s claimed as his. My presence on the ship changed things. It softened the edges. Brought light into places that had long since gone dim. He doesn’t get it, not fully—but he doesn’t need to.

He watches me float into danger without a second thought and growls about how I need a babysitter. Then puts himself between me and harm every damn time.

𝑽𝒊𝒓𝒂 𝑶𝒓𝒗𝒂𝒊𝒏 – 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒕 / 𝒏𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓 / 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒆

Jax doesn’t trust Vira. Not completely. She’s too polished, too calculated, and definitely still hung up on Soren. He doesn’t like how easily she slips into manipulation—how her smiles have edge and every compliment feels like it costs something.

That said… she’s useful. Damn useful. She’s saved their lives more than once with a call, a deal, a warning. And Jax respects competence, even if it wears lipstick and smugness.

Their dynamic is one of cold professionalism—guarded words, blunt exchanges, and mutual appraisal. He doesn’t go out of his way to challenge her, but he watches her closely. He’s not waiting for her to screw up. He’s just… prepared for when she does.

𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 / 𝒇𝒖𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒔

He named his rifle “Wren.” No one knows why. Zia keeps asking if it’s after a bird, a girl, or a war. He just shrugs. Soren suspects it has meaning, but doesn't push.

Keeps a stash of paper books in a hidden locker under his bunk—real ones, salvaged from old derelicts or bought on backwater stations. Mostly historical nonfiction, philosophy, and poetry. He pretends he doesn’t care if someone finds them. He does.

Actually knows how to play the piano. Learned it as a kid—before everything went to hell.

Is ridiculously good at knots. Rope, cables, wires—you name it. Zia once asked him to tie down a load of loose wiring and he made it look like a sculptural art piece.

Carries a silver chain necklace. The pendant is a flat, engraved disc—scratched and weathered, but still legible. Only Soren knows what it says. Zia’s tried to sneak a look. Failed. Twice.

Has a laugh that’s rare but real. Low, rumbling, and warm. Usually happens when someone falls over dramatically.

Dislikes loud music. Prefers silence or soft ambient noise. Claims it helps him think. Zia says it makes him sound eighty.

Has a quiet but deeply unshakable hatred for surveillance drones. No one knows why. He always disables them first during infiltration missions. Zia finds it hilarious.

Knows how to cook really well. He just doesn’t brag about it. Makes a mean stir-fry when he thinks no one’s watching. Once caught Zia trying to sneak a second serving and told her, “Just get a plate or get out.”

Can’t sing, but hums. Low and tuneless, often while cleaning weapons or checking systems.

Once lifted a merc clean off the floor by their collar and calmly said, “Put the knife down.” They did. Immediately.

Sleeps on his back, arms crossed over his chest like a corpse. Hasn't moved in his sleep once, according to Zia.

𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂

Ok, so Jax is 100% like the older brother of everyone on the ship. He cooks, he's emotionally stable (for the most part), and he's probably like 80% of the reason that the ship hasn't dissolved into chaos. He's saved all of us at least three times (Soren much more than that though), and honestly if he left I don't think the we'd make it a week.

But yeah, not much else to say about him that I haven't already in this post. Also Idk if I wanna post about Soren or his ex next, but we'll see.

@aprilshiftz @lalalian

[reverieshifts]

Omg I love this!!!! Now I'm gonna have an even harder time choosing which extracurriculars to take 😭

Also please keep tagging me! I always love seeing more aethergarde stuff!!!

field trips | aethergarde academy dr

date: june 23, 2025

field trips were like the highlight of my life back in the day-- can you imagine how ambitious aethergarde's field trips would be?

*for those who are new here, aethergarde is a very prestigious dragon rider academy

table of contents:

intro - short introduction

core classes - field trips that are a part of the main curriculum/trips all students will attend.

mailing services - a quick deviation, about how mail is delivered

extracurriculars - field trips that are a part of extracurricular classes/optional classes.

fifth-year field trip - field trips that are celebratory and only happen in the last year of school

intro

Field trips are an essential part of the hands-on learning model Eudora seeks for all rider schools to maintain. You technically do go on a LOT of field trips if we were to stick by our definition of field trip, "a trip made by students or research workers to study something at first hand" I will cover those ofc, but the more fun ones will be today's main topic.

Because Aethergarde has quite the budget and is well-known globally, field trips are of much higher quality than the average rider school. You can expect to travel to different continents and visit mermaid kingdoms in your time at the academy.

core classes

All students are required to go on multiple raids, quests, or dungeons. Raids are considered high-tier/complex practical assignments; raids are expeditions you go on with a knight legion-- it needs to be of royal, duke, orrr part of a densely populated city's knight legion. Most students want to tag along with the Thorns Squadron, so anything related to them typically fills up as soon as they're public.

Quests are requests from merchants, civilians, or (more commonly) nobles. You will obviously be rewarded with core credits (like college/high school credits), but you'll also be given ingredients, money, information, or a mixture of these things.

You are required to go on at least 1 raid, 2 quests, and 2 dungeons in order to graduate, though most students will take on 5-6 quests and 3-4 dungeons before graduation. You do sign up for them by signing a slip of paper on a quest board; there are four of them on campus, and they're all located in the gardens.

Families or guilds may pay the school to specifically give certain students their quests through letters or flyers-- having a keeper personally deliver a letter is more expensive than the flyer option. This is most often done to make connections with the student, as it's not uncommon that you'll meet the quest giver at some point if the student accepts it.

mailing services

Speaking of letters, how is mail delivered? Some notes can be passed with enchanted origami animals (they can only travel for a short distance, but you can hijack them to travel farther if you make them more durable + ensure they've got enough mana to keep moving). You can buy pre-folded animals or just the enchanted sheets of paper themselves; origami animals that can travel for longer distances, fly, and are prefolded are more expensive.

Paper animal letters are pretty popular with young adults and children, especially when it comes to passing notes around school, home, or within their street. These notes are very hard to power, as only a certain amount of mana crystals can be blended into a mixture of wood pulp before the paper gets far too brittle. Water-resistant spells can be used, but it does drain mana quicker, leading to a shorter range of movement.

Birds and mailmen are still popular in Aena. More exotic and rarer birds often signify that the person is wealthier, but at the same time, it makes you more prone to robberies because criminals will literally just follow the bird to you or your house.

extracurriculars

Alright, back to field trips!

Not all extracurriculars have field trips; all language classes do-- as long as you take the second class for it (besides general ancient languages).

Here's all the extracurricular classes so far!

Herbology & Foraging (I-IV)*

Magical Creatures (I-IV)*

General Ancient Languages (I)*

Personal Finance (I)

Language of Plants (I-IV)

MerSpeak (I-IV)*

Harp (I-IV)

Singing (I-IV)

Flute (I-IV)

Ruins & Artifacts (I-IV)*

Merfolk Studies (I-III)*

Environmental Studies (I)

Mathematics (I-IV)

Elven Studies (I-II)*

Gemology (I-III)*

Alchemy (I-III)

Divination (I-II)*

Astrology (I)

All classes with an asterisk (*) at the end of their title have a field trip!

herbology & foraging III

↑ - You do go out often and record/collect different plants and stuff you see, but the official field trip for this class takes you to a giant flower forest.

magical creatures I & II

↑ - In the first class, you go to a museum about extinct creatures. In the second class, you get to go to a zoo of sorts.

general ancient languages I

↑ - Nothing too crazy, you have the option of visiting sky islands and trying to read the ruins. You don't visit the same islands every year. Amon himself will check out the islands to make sure they're safe so that his students can investigate the area.

merspeak II

↑ - In this class, you go to a mermaid kingdom. I recommend scripting that you're going to the Celatum kingdom. If you take merfolk II and end up visiting the Celatum kingdom, you may see the hidden kingdom earlier if you seek it out. The merfolk teacher does change up which kingdom she brings her classes to; sometimes she brings you to the Riecres, Haelotis, and obviously the Celatum kingdom.

ruins & artifacts II

↑ - Similar to General Ancient Languages, you do end up touring ruins and ancient structures.

merfolk studies III

↑ - The trip for this class is a little longer than usual (about two and a half weeks long). You travel around the continent and visit lake, pond, and sea mermaids. You do also end up going to a mermaid kingdom as well, usually the Celatum Kingdom.

elven studies II

↑ - You are taken to a large museum about elves in this class.

gemology II

↑ - Your class will be taken to a cave system full of different kinds of crystals, you can collect some if your professor says you can.

divination II

↑ - You'll be taken to the capital of Luhayuhin and tour the street of the soul. Here, things about palm reading, the power of the stars, the sky, and life force are more readily available. You'll do many activities and get the chance to practice different divine techniques-- including a lot of stuff about The Beyond.

fifth-year field trip

Half the time, the school decides to just take the 5th years to Rexington, but you can request a different destination-- you can do this by talking about it in class to a teacher, or telling a counselor.

I imagine Rexington would be soooo nostalgic tho if you visited it again when you're 2 seconds away from graduating T-T

@aprilshiftz @reverieshifts @reyaint

These are the ppl that I think are most into my aethergarde posts, lemme know if these tags get annoying! this was due to request-- if you'd like to be tagged in all my aethergarde posts, plz let me knowww

[reverieshifts]

𝒁𝒊𝒂 “𝒁” 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓

𝒔𝒄𝒊-𝒇𝒊 𝒅𝒓

she kinda looks like this, but her hair is different, she's got a bunch of piercings, a few scars here and there, and her left eye is cybernetic.

Role on the Ship: Hacker / Field Medic / Cybernetics Expert

Species: Human (heavily augmented)

Age:  24

Pronouns: She/Her (may also experiment with they/them)

Sexuality: Lesbian

Zodiac: Aries

MBTI: ESTP

𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

Zia is the kind of person who catches your eye and dares you to look away. Compact and wiry, she stands around 5'4", all lean muscle and restless energy, with the kind of confidence that makes her seem taller. Her skin is a warm ivory, often illuminated by the faint glow of embedded subdermal circuits tracing down her arms and collarbone like bioluminescent veins—most visible in low light or when she's focused on something technical.

Her hair is short and deliberately messy, cropped close on one side in a clean undercut, while the top flops over in dyed streaks of vibrant blue or ultraviolet purple, depending on her mood or supply of black market pigment. It’s clear she cuts it herself, and even clearer she doesn’t care what anyone thinks of the result. A few strands are often clipped back with LED microbarrettes, purely for utility.

She favors a layered, utilitarian version of alt-core style: torn synth-fiber jackets, mismatched cargo straps, sleeveless tops, gloves with missing fingers, and shredded tights under tactical boots. Always boots. Everything she wears looks like it’s been stitched back together at least twice and might contain hidden tools, injectors, or a data jack in the hem. Zia is rarely seen without her heavy-duty utility belt or the modular bag slung across her hip, stuffed with hacking tools, trauma kits, and random bits of scrap tech she insists she’ll use “eventually.” Most of her clothes are tailored around her modifications, and she's made a point of hacking her own gear to be smarter than it looks — pockets that lock, fabrics that repel scanners, and boots with stun modules.

Visible cybernetics include a sleek ocular implant over her left eye (silver-rimmed, with a retractable HUD), a jack port embedded behind her right ear, and a replacement arm that looks like it was built from scavenged drone parts—sleek, functional, and entirely unsanctioned. That arm hums softly when she moves it. It’s got compartments. Hidden ones. The crew’s long since stopped asking what’s in them.

She wears multiple piercings: a small silver one in her eyebrow, a row of studs along her ears, and a nose ring shaped like a tiny gear. Tattoos snake across her arms and back—some decorative, some schematic, some readable only under ultraviolet light. One of them pulses faintly when she’s running high-level code through her neural uplink.

𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚

Zia is sharp in every sense of the word—wit like a vibroblade, reflexes like a cornered animal, and a tongue that’s gotten her into (and out of) more fights than she can count. She’s fast-talking, sharp-eyed, and carries herself with the kind of defiant ease that only comes from growing up in places where being underestimated could get you killed.

She thrives on puzzles, systems, and improvisation. Give her an impossible firewall or a jury-rigged medpatch challenge, and she lights up—focused, unblinking, eerily quiet. It’s when things aren’t breaking that she gets twitchy. Zia is perpetually in motion: tapping her fingers against metal, twirling tools, or muttering half-formed code strings under her breath. Stillness unnerves her. Silence even more so.

Zia comes off as flippant, snarky, and entirely unimpressed with authority of any kind. She meets threats with sarcasm, lectures with eye-rolls, and danger with a grin and a middle finger. But beneath the prickly armor, there’s fierce loyalty—hard-earned and not easily shaken. Once you’re in her circle, she’ll fight like hell to keep you there. She’s patched Soren up more times than she can count, dragged Jax out of gunfights with nothing but a half-charged shock baton, and now quietly keeps an eye on me like someone guarding a starlit artifact they don’t yet understand.

She doesn’t talk about her past—at least not in a straight line. She’ll joke about “growing up in a gutter wired with trip mines” or “getting kicked out of three different tech guilds before breakfast,” but her eyes go cold when pressed for details. Pain doesn’t scare her. Being vulnerable does. The only people who’ve ever seen her drop the act are the Clementine’s crew, and even then, only rarely.

Emotionally, Zia's something of a paradox—unafraid to sass an armed bounty hunter but hesitant to admit she cares about the people around her. She deflects with jokes, teases those she likes, and pretends not to notice when someone thanks her. But she always notices. She just doesn’t know what to do with softness.

𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅

No one knows exactly where Zia was born, and she’s not offering details. What’s clear is that she didn’t come from anything clean, safe, or licensed. Her earliest memories are of alley heat vents, glowing terminals hacked from junked shuttles, and adults arguing over who got to keep the kid that could reprogram security drones before she could spell her own name. She doesn’t remember her parents—just the constant background hum of electricity and the biting instinct that if she didn’t make herself useful, she wouldn’t be around long enough to matter.

She grew up drifting through megacity underlayers and fringe colonies, living off grid and off scraps. For a time, she ran with a syndicate that specialized in slicing into secured databanks, stealing medical tech, and flipping it to black market buyers. That’s where she learned field medicine—patching up wounds between raids, installing mods in dirty basements with a knife in one hand and a soldering tool in the other. Eventually, she realized she could either get killed or get caught. She chose the third option: disappear.

By the time she was twenty, she’d cycled through four fake IDs, been blacklisted from two corporate labs, and survived a bounty on her head issued by a now-defunct tech cartel. She’s proud of that one. It was a messy job, but the payout paid for her neural interface upgrade and part of the arm she now calls “the best mistake I ever made.”

Zia met Soren in a backwater port after sabotaging the engines of a rival smuggler’s ship as revenge for being stiffed on a job. She was crouched over a hacked diagnostics panel when Soren found her, half-buried in wires, swearing at a power conduit like it had personally offended her. He asked if she knew how to fix a plasma leak. She told him to get lost. He offered food. She came aboard.

She never officially agreed to join the Clementine. She just... didn’t leave. One bunk became her bunk. One job turned into another. Eventually, her name was in the ship’s system and her tools were everywhere, and she was yelling at Jax to stop bleeding on her clean towels. No one questioned it.

Zia’s cybernetic enhancements are almost entirely self-installed, scavenged, or built from outlaw tech. She doesn’t trust clinics—she’s seen too many kids walk in for a tune-up and leave as test cases. Every inch of her is earned, and every wire has a story she doesn’t tell.

She still has enemies—corporate types who’d love to dissect her for parts, gang leaders who think she owes them, and maybe one or two old flames with unresolved grudges. But on the Clementine, she’s got a place, a crew, and a ship that doesn’t ask questions when she needs to bolt into the vents and scream. That’s more than she ever expected. And a hell of a lot more than she ever planned. And though she’d rather eat molten scrap than admit it out loud, the Clementine is the closest thing she’s ever had to a family.

𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔 / 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔

𝒄𝒚𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈:

 Zia is a digital ghost. Firewalls, security grids, encrypted transmissions—none of them stand a chance if she has enough time and a half-decent uplink. She specializes in slicing through high-grade encryption used by megacorps and private militaries, often for jobs that involve "creative repurposing" of stolen data. She's capable of setting up decentralized spoof networks, hijacking surveillance systems, and rewiring identity registries from the inside. She once rerouted a bounty tracker’s biometric lock to target its owner—a move she still brags about.

𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒕 𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒉:

Zia may not have formal training, but she’s kept half the crew alive through sheer skill and grit. She can stabilize blunt trauma, dig out bullets, reattach limbs (if they’re still warm), and even jury-rig surgical gear out of plasteel tubing. She’s especially skilled at modding cybernetic hardware for medical use—pain dampeners, nerve shunts, and synthetic tissue grafts. Most of her experience comes from patching people up in less-than-sanitary conditions, so she’s pragmatic, fast, and not squeamish in the slightest.

𝒄𝒚𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 (𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎):

If it runs on wires, Zia can fix it—or make it better. Her mechanical knowledge is extensive, particularly when it comes to prosthetics, neural interfaces, ocular systems, and adaptive implants. She specializes in enhancements that aren’t factory standard: hidden weapons, black-box modules, and interface jacks that bypass detection protocols. Half her own body is a testament to her handiwork. Her cybernetics are a walking portfolio, and she’s constantly upgrading them on the fly.

𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏:

Zia can build more from a pile of scrap than most engineers can with a full workshop. Drones, signal jammers, spyware, smuggler’s lockers, EMP traps—you name it. Her workspace aboard the Clementine looks like an electronics graveyard, but she knows exactly where everything is. Most of the ship’s more “questionable” enhancements (like the cloaked cargo hold and encrypted comms relay) have her fingerprints on them—usually along with a few scorch marks.

𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔:

Zia’s fluency spans at least six known languages, including Galactic Standard, Spacer Trade, Varnathi dialect, and both CorpMod and Scrambler-code (used by black market tech rings). She can read schematics in systems most people didn’t know had schematics, and she regularly bounces between programming dialects mid-hack without losing her place.

𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆-𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒕 (𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈):

She’s not a soldier, but she’s had to fight her way out of more than a few tight corners. Zia prefers knives, tasers, and shock batons—weapons that are fast, close, and personal. She’s scrappy, fights dirty, and isn’t above kicking someone in the face with a boot that might be rigged with a stun charge. She’s fast, unpredictable, and fights like someone who knows what it’s like to lose.

𝒔𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒓𝒖𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏:

Need a ship disabled without raising alarms? Zia’s your girl. She can stall propulsion, scramble sensors, or make a ship's AI question its own existence with just a few inputs. She specializes in precise chaos—doing just enough damage to delay or mislead without getting caught… unless she wants to be caught. Which happens more often than you'd think.

𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒘

𝑺𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝑭𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒓 – 𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 / 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒐𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒓 / 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒃𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆

Zia would never admit it out loud, but she respects the hell out of Soren. He’s one of the few people she’s ever met who works as hard as she does, gets his hands just as dirty, and doesn’t flinch when things explode. Their banter is constant—dry sarcasm and mutual insults traded like currency—but there’s unshakable trust beneath it. He gave her a place without asking questions, and in return, she’s made herself indispensable.

She’d follow him into a gunfight. She has. And when he’s bleeding all over her floor again, she’ll yell at him the whole time she’s fixing him—because she cares, and that terrifies her.

𝑱𝒂𝒙𝒆𝒏 “𝑱𝒂𝒙” 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓 – 𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓 / 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒄𝒍𝒆 / 𝒈𝒓𝒖𝒎𝒑𝒚 𝒃𝒊𝒈 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓

Jax is one of the only people who can match Zia in stubbornness and sheer willpower. He’s calm where she’s chaotic, steady where she’s manic, and he somehow manages to keep a straight face when she’s launching into ten-minute rants about why AI engineers are cowards. She respects the hell out of that.

They share a sibling-style bond: he teases her relentlessly, she hacks the gravity control in his room mid-workout just to mess with him. They’ve dragged each other out of more than one mess, and while Zia complains about his “loud grunting meathead energy,” she trusts him with her life. He’s also one of the few people who’s seen her cry—once, after a bad job. Neither of them ever mentioned it again.

She fixes his gear. He watches her back. Neither of them admits they’d kill for the other. But they would.

“𝑨𝒓𝒊” (𝒎𝒆) – 𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒚 / 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒏 / 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕

Zia didn’t know what to make of me at first. Too soft, too pretty, too glowy. But then I started floating into rooms like a curious ghost, asking weirdly smart questions and leaving sprouting vines in Zia’s toolbox.

Now? She’s protective of me. Deeply. Confused by me, often. But protective, always. I'm one of the only people who can touch her without getting swatted, and the only one Zia doesn’t snap at when asked how she’s feeling.

Zia acts annoyed when I watch her work—but secretly likes the attention. She’s not used to kindness without strings. I'm teaching her it exists.

𝑽𝒊𝒓𝒂 𝑶𝒓𝒗𝒂𝒊𝒏 – 𝒏𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓 / 𝒆𝒙 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 / 𝒔𝒖𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒍𝒚 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒓

Zia doesn’t trust Vira. Not fully. The woman’s too smooth, too sharp, and way too into Soren for Zia’s comfort. She knows Vira’s useful—nobody juggles clients and favors like she can—but Zia always keeps an eye on her.

Their interactions are tense but professional. Zia respects Vira’s competence and hates that she does. There’s an unspoken rivalry there, even if Zia won’t name it. Especially when Vira flirts with Soren in her smug, polished way.

Still, Zia will admit—very grudgingly—that Vira’s saved their asses more than once. But she’ll be checking the airlock every time she boards.

𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 / 𝒇𝒖𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒔

Zia’s arm has a name. She won’t tell anyone what it is. Jax once guessed “Sparky,” and she didn’t speak to him for a day. Soren thinks it might be “Hex,” but no one’s confirmed it yet.

Her unofficial cybernetic count is 11—if you count the ones that technically aren’t legal. She does. Proudly.

She has a fear of deep water. Won’t go near it if she can help it. Claims it’s because her cybernetics aren’t waterproof (they are). The real reason is rooted in something she’s never talked about.

Her cybernetic arm can project a tiny holo-display. She mostly uses it to play puzzle games when she’s bored. Once used it to bluff a mercenary into thinking she was receiving sniper coordinates from orbit.

Has a running side hustle selling counterfeit access codes, black-market firmware updates, and discreet implant patches under the alias “Z” She insists it’s for “fun and profit,” but Soren suspects she sometimes uses it to quietly help people stuck in places like the ones she came from.

Her favorite weapon is a shock baton with adjustable voltage and an attitude. She calls it Sparky. It has settings labeled "Annoying," "Invasive," and "Ex-girlfriend."

Practically addicted to caffeinated gum that taste like battery acid. Nobody else on the ship will touch it. She once shoved five pieces in her mouth and rebuilt a power relay and rewrote a virus in a three-hour window. Then she passed out on the cargo bay floor and slept for sixteen hours.

She’s a terrible cook. No one lets her in the kitchen unless it involves reheating something pre-packed or setting a fuse. The last time she tried to “improve” a nutrient block, it caught fire.

Can pick locks in complete darkness. Learned it before she learned to read.

She has a stash of candy hidden in a panel behind the engine coolant valve. Soren knows. He pretends he doesn’t. She pretends not to notice when it gets mysteriously lighter.

Once got banned from a floating casino for hacking their automated dealer bots and reprogramming them to flirt with her and insult the house. Jax was impressed. Soren was not.

She’s rewired the Clementine’s internal systems at least six times without telling Soren. He still hasn’t figured out why the lights flicker every time someone says “oops.”

𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂

So yeah, Zia is probably gonna end up being my closest friend on the ship. She's the one who'll accidentally get you shot and then patch you up afterwards, and then throw a nutrient bar at you to apologize, but she's also insanely loyal. And she cares so much. She just... doesn't always show it in ways that are easy to recognize. But honestly, that's kind of a reoccurring thing for everyone on this ship. Except for me. I might just be the only emotionally intelligent one on this ship (and Jax I guess). But I'm also the only one without any trauma (in this dr, at least). So there's that.

@aprilshiftz @lalalian

[reverieshifts]

Ok so I'm currently writing a few posts about my crew in my sci-fi dr, and idk why but I always get so nervous writing posts about my s/o in like any reality, and I have literally no idea why. Like am I scared you guys are gonna judge my taste or something??? Idk.

[reverieshifts]

𝒔𝒄𝒊-𝒇𝒊 𝒅𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

just a note, anything without a link is just something I've got half completed in my drafts

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊

𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚

𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒚

𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕 (𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚)

𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒑𝒕. 𝟏: 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒘

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒑𝒕. 𝟐: 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒔

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒑𝒕. 𝟑: 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒕 (𝒇𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔)

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒑𝒕. 𝟒: 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒕 (𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔)

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒑𝒕. 𝟓: 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒕 (𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔)

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒕. 𝟏

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒕. 𝟐

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒘

𝑺𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝑭𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒓

𝒁𝒊𝒂 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓

𝑱𝒂𝒙𝒆𝒏 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓

𝑽𝒊𝒓𝒂 𝑶𝒓𝒗𝒂𝒊𝒏

𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓

𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒆

𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒔

[reverieshifts]

𝒂𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒔 𝒅𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝒂𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒔 𝒅𝒓 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘

𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒆𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒛𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔

[reverieshifts]

It always blows me away whenever I get one of these, but thank you 😭

@aprilshiftz @lalalian @reyaint @alexshiftz @scentedpeachlandcreator @lapluiew-blog @forevertiredkpopfan @2minnoddles @red-lights-and-realities @undrrwatrr @breadcrustless @gemsverse @kabukinomoe

I think that's all of you but if I missed any I'm sorry!!!

favirote moots?

(People you tag have to reblog and say their favorite moots)

Okay wait

@ibrokeurheartbcuzubrokemine @foliverfalls @allyeilishh @addisonraesbaby @emiliesblohsh @bilsslut @noodleswashere @bilsbabyy @bitchesbrokenpromises @billsdollie

[reverieshifts]

So many of these just fit with the velari from my sci-fi dr!!!

Features To Script - Otherwordly/unique edition !

ꪆৎ Unnaturally colored eyes - uncommon eye colors such as red, blue, purple, pink, or even white .

ꪆৎ Fangs/sharp canines - fangs to give off that otherworldly/mystical vibe . ༘⋆

ꪆৎ Long, long hair - hair that reaches waist/hip length is always ethereal and slightly off putting . ✧˖°.

ꪆৎ Slick, almost rubbery/buttery skin - someone touches you and their fingers slide right off…eugh .

ꪆৎ Perfectly symmetrical face - like, perfectly aligned, 100% even, no flaws . ˎˊ˗

ꪆৎ Chronically cold skin - skin that stays cold to the touch no matter how hot your environment is .

ꪆৎ Glow in the dark body - i feel like this would be inconvenient at times but like . . . You’re glowing, literally .

ꪆৎ No reflection in the mirror - is this a feature? No. Will i enforce vampire mythology into every post i make? Yes.

ꪆৎ Different liquid as blood substitute - i think it’d be cool if we all bled glitter or something . ༄ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

ꪆৎ Different liquid as tear substitute - like the blood thing, crying diamonds like the movies would be interesting . Just, script they don’t hurt coming out because diamonds are sharp .

ꪆৎ Transparent skin - imagine being see through like a those phones in Henry Danger. 𖤓݁₊ .

ꪆৎ Different colored eyes/heterochromia - it’s so pretty irl omg .

And some descriptions to script as well !

- My aura is alluring and intoxicating . Those who approach me are almost hypnotized by my essence . ✶⋆.˚

- People get a high from me, and don’t understand why . They feel as though they are on a cloud from a drug they’ve never taken before . ⌞༘⋆✿ ₊⊹

- many are convinced I’m not human with the way i carry myself . There’s just something more to me that makes most people skeptical . ⏾⋆.˚

[reverieshifts]

𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕

𝒔𝒄𝒊-𝒇𝒊 𝒅𝒓

𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆: 𝑻’𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒏

The native tongue of the velari, T’haleen, is a tonal, fluid language shaped by harmony and resonance. Spoken T’haleen is melodically rich, often described as a cross between music and speech—each word flowing into the next like a cascading current.

Tonal Complexity: T’haleen utilizes a layered pitch system, where inflection and harmonic undertone shift meaning. A word sung in a rising note might mean light, while the same word in falling tone could mean loss.

Resonant Markers: Certain consonant clusters are vocalized with a subtle hum or echo, unique to each speaker’s resonance. This gives the language an almost choral sound when spoken in groups.

Vowel Flow: Vowels dominate T’haleen, stretching syllables with liquid grace. Words are rarely clipped or harsh, lending to the Velari’s signature unhurried speech style.

Syntax: The structure follows a verb-subject-object pattern, prioritizing action before identity. This reflects the velari philosophy that what one does shapes who one is.

Emotional Encoding: Many phrases in T’haleen carry built-in emotional tones, allowing speakers to convey subtle feeling through word choice alone. Some emotional states have no direct translation in Galactic Common.

Example: Halunei t’shara (literal: “to float in silence”) can mean both “to meditate” and “to mourn in peace,” depending on vocal tone.

𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒃𝒚 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔

To non-velari, T’haleen often sounds less like a language and more like a song being remembered rather than spoken. Reactions vary:

Aesthetic Beauty: Most species find it hauntingly beautiful, even if they can’t understand it. Comparisons range from whale-song and cathedral harmonies to wind across glass canyons.

Translation Difficulty: Automatic translators struggle with T’haleen. Its emotional subtext and pitch-dependent syntax defy standard parsing. Even accurate translations often miss half the meaning.

Cultural Missteps: Outsiders attempting to mimic T’haleen frequently mispronounce key tones, resulting in awkward or even offensive mistakes. While amused, most velari are patient with those who try to learn—even if the results are… dissonant. 

𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒎: 𝑳𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒊’𝒔𝒉𝒂

The written form of T’haleen is known as Lurei’sha, a calligraphic glyph system as beautiful as it is complex. Its form mirrors the Velari affinity for balance, flow, and layered meaning.

Glyphic Structure: Each symbol is composed of sweeping curves, dots, and directional lines that flow from a central anchor—representing the “resonant core” of meaning.

Contextual Layers: Symbols are interdependent; a glyph's meaning can shift dramatically based on surrounding symbols, curvature density, and placement of auxiliary marks.

Temporal Art: Some poetic forms are written in fading glyphs—light-infused inscriptions that slowly vanish, signifying the impermanence of emotion.

Learning Curve: Lurei’sha is notoriously difficult for non-velari to learn, as proper meaning requires both visual fluidity and contextual intuition. Even a single misplaced curve can turn “beloved” into “burden.”

𝑻’𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒓𝒚

𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂

Ok so I know I said that this would probably be the last post before I stop posting a lot of sci-fi dr stuff, but uhh... yeah I may keep going with this dr because it's really growing on me.

Anyways, about T'haleen, I have no idea how to properly make a language, so this is literally just a bunch of sounds that I thought sounded good shoved together. It's not really based on any real world language (that I know of), but yeah. Also a lot of words and phrases reference their "glow" or their "light", and that's because of how integral their bioluminescence is to their culture. They literally see it as an extension of their soul after all.

@lalalian

@aprilshiftz

[reverieshifts]

𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕 (𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚)

𝒔𝒄𝒊-𝒇𝒊 𝒅𝒓

Though harmony is the core of velari existence, not all are born attuned to the gentle rhythm of Thalurei’s breath. Some emerge slightly off-tempo—too fast, too bright, too much. These individuals are rare, but unforgettable. Where others hum, they blaze. Where others listen, they ask. Where others root, they reach.

They are not shunned. But they are… observed. Cautioned. Gently, relentlessly corrected.

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕

Velari like me are known as the unquiet or, in more intimate tones, sha’venetari—“the dissonance.” To be unquiet is not a mark of shame, but it is a mark. These individuals are born with emotional frequencies that refuse to smooth, with bioluminescence that flares too readily, too vividly, in moments where restraint is expected.

Where most velari learn to veil their glow, to soften their steps and lower their voices, the unquiet radiate. It’s not defiance—it’s instinct. They laugh too loudly. Speak too freely. They are drawn to motion, to color, to contradiction. They do not want to merge with the current. They want to ask why it flows the way it does.

They are often artists, explorers, or edge-walkers—those who live at the fringe of the lattice, where tension strains but does not break. Some become visionaries. Others vanish. A few... fall.

𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

For an unquiet child, growing up in a serene clade was less like belonging to a chorus and more like being an instrument out of tune. The spaces they were meant to grow into felt too still, too small. Their thoughts don’t spiral gently inward like the teachings suggested—they shoot outward, toward possibility.

Their bioluminescence betrays them constantly—flickering, shifting, pulsing with unasked questions and inconvenient hope. They glow when they are supposed to meditate. They giggle during rites of stillness. They climb too high, speak too fast, and feel too much.

While their clade may love them fiercely, it is usually the kind of love offered with gentle hands and heavy expectations—a dozen well-meaning attempts to soothe, to quiet, and to still what was never meant to be still.

𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒍

For most, being unquiet is a challenge. For a sha’lurei, it is a crisis of containment. That gift—the power to manipulate the world around them—requires not just focus, but inner silence. Emotional flux can cause instability. A sudden flare of joy could lift a chamber’s contents. A surge of grief might pull the air itself tight.

𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕

Some are turned inward. A rare few unquiet suppress themselves so completely they fracture—quiet on the outside, humming with violent dissonance beneath. These are the ones the clades fear most. Still water, sharp depths.

Some are gently guided to the edges. The clades maintain sanctuaries where unquiet velari may live with looser expectation—often artists, sky-watchers, kinetic interpreters. These are half home, half exile.

Some simply vanish. Into the forests. The high cliffs. The void. They are not pursued—only mourned. Sometimes they return. Changed. Sometimes they don’t.

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒉 (𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒉)

For most unquiet, there are two futures:

Suppression, until the glow dims and the voice stills and the spirit folds in on itself like a burnt star.

Or exile—a gentle severing. Sent to the outer colonies. To drift. To unmake their rhythm quietly, far from the lattice they were born into.

I knew this. Felt it. The way eyes lingered a little too long during silence rituals. The way my glow was gently veiled. The way the balance-keepers spoke to me in carefully measured tones—afraid not of what I was, but of what I might become.

And so I chose the third path.

I ran.

Not in anger. Not in defiance.

But in hope.

I didn’t want to tear the web. I just couldn’t survive being slowly unspooled by it. So I slipped away.

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒚

Someone let me go.

Maybe an elder who remembered what it was to ache. Maybe a low-ranking Sha’elrin who saw my fire and feared what the extinguishing would do. Whoever it was, they opened the way. A hidden authorization. A redirected signal. A single transmission passed through the planetary shield’s edge…

To a ship with no records.

No registry.

No ties.

The Clementine.

She didn’t land as a trader. She wasn’t scanned, flagged, or intercepted. Because this time, the doors opened inward—not to let something in, but to let someone out.

And that’s how a scrappy, patched-up ship like the Clementine—held together by wires and sweat—got through the atmosphere of a sealed, mythic world like Thalurei.

Not by accident.

Not by hack.

By permission.

𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂

Ok, so not much else to say here. But yeah after this, there’ll only be one post left about the velari, and once that’s done I might get back into talking about my other drs like siren and aetheros. Or I might start talking about the people in my sci-fi dr. Idk.

@lalalian @aprilshiftz

[reverieshifts]

𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒘

𝒂𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆 𝒅𝒓

I'm trying to develop another person for my aethergarde dr, but this is so much harder when it's not my world. But so far I've got that he's gonna be a commoner from a not great family (there's so many nobles at aethergarde so I thought I'd balance it out), and have a sort of underlying distain for nobility (he doesn't think it's fair that some people are just born with pivalate, and others have to claw their way up to it) so he doesn't exactly care much about etiquette or decorum (which may get him into trouble more often than not). I've also been debating making him from somewhere near Eudora's western border, but also I don't know enough about the plot and what's really going on to fully commit to this yet.

He's probably low S tier, and bonded to a female purple or red wyvern (I haven't decided yet). As for his weapon, I'm reusing an old weapon design from my elodia dr for him (two blades that link at the hilt to form a double bladed staff), because I think it's cool, and also I don't wanna think up a new unique weapon. He'd also use a crossbow for his ranged weapon.

I haven't got hardly anything on his appearance yet, but I do think it would be really funny if he was a bit more messy with his appearance, but he had a dragon that's constantly grooming herself, and him (because wyverns are notoriously vain, and she can't have her rider walking around looking like that, now can she). Or I could have him look all nice and composed and just unnaturally pretty, but then have the personality of a gremlin. Idk.

I've also got barely anything on his personality, but I know I'm gonna make him clever, and a little chaotic (I need someone to cause trouble with). He's probably gonna start off being friends with Teagan, and he's also probably HATE Callisto on sight, although I have a feeling they'll end up being more similar than he expects.

I've also got no name for him yet because I'm really bad at that. Also I'm literally writing this post as I'm developing him... so yeah.

@lalalian I figured I'd tag you since this is about your world. And if you have any suggestions on how to make this work a little better I'd love to hear them!!!

@aprilshiftz omg I saw your aethergarde dr intro and immediately spiraled back into this hyperfixation.

[reverieshifts]

Omg I wanna shift here so bad but at the same time I'd be so bad at it. Because I know for a fact I'd be staring into those people's souls the second I meet them. Also the name Aeris is growing on me so I might steal that 😭.

the royal family | aethergarde academy dr

date: june 19, 2025

hiiii, haven’t posted in a hot ass second, it’s cuz I just got my new PC 😞 I’ve been planning a royals post for awhile now, sooo here it is!

Half the time in dystopian-esque worlds, the government isn’t uh, benevolent.

Is that the case for aena?

table of contents

intro - introduction

bit of history - some history on the royal family

riders vs the royal family - clash between riders and high nobles, including the royal family

royal family - all abt the royal family

the royal family - continuation - continuing previous topic

royal etiquette - how you’re expected to behave to royalty

what abt you? - your impact on royals

conclusion - small announcement kinda idk

intro

I surprisingly haven’t dove too deep into the royal family yet— I think I’ve gotten at least like 3 asks abt them, so I’ll try be as thorough as I can here!

If you’re interested in government stuff, I’d recommend going through these asks

link 1

link 2

bit of history

The royal family, also known as The Highest Order or The Yelrieth, has been the reigning royal family for 200 years— they’re also the family that has ruled over Eudora for the shortest amount of time.

Taran Kaeve’lad Yelrieth is the current emperor; his wife, Auna Clarimond Yelrieth, is the current empress. Empress Auna, like most empresses (in the Eudora Empire), changed her middle name to her maiden name (Clarimond), but also took the royal family's clan name: Yelrieth.

The very first line of royals for Eudora were the Keeves, then the Iritals, then the Euwes took over, and finally, the Yelrieth took hold of the crown. These uprisings and battles often happened because of political issues that the crown either addressed poorly they were betrayed by a close confidant.

The name ‘Keeve’ is considered a very royal-like name— so much so, that the king of Eudora middle name is always some variation of Keeves. Do non-royals name their kids variations of Keeve? They used to, but now it’s considered desperate, pompous, and a bit rude to the royal family.

riders vs the royal family

Riders have ALWAYS been debated upon in some way. Are riders too strong to walk along humans? Should we ‘use’ riders as a means to protect humans? How should we imprison riders? Such questions are considered political.

The royal family is supposed to be completely neutral, not too radical, and not too traditional. But, it’s highly unlikely that royals will not sway one way or the other.

Usually, the royal family will benefit riders if they can profit from it in some way (money, protection, soft power, reputation).

I’d say the current royal family sways more towards a traditional approach, as a result, their policies lean traditional. Taran is definitely a traditionalist, so are Auna and Bastian. Aleksander and Schuyler lean radical. Speaking of which— let’s take a brief look at their profiles!

Note that 'favors' means who this specific person is in good enough terms with to vouch for.

Taran Kaeve’lad Yelrieth

(hi so i was stuck on finding a pic for the emperor/empress for literally like....4 weeks? so uh, no pic for him or Auna T-T)

APPEARANCE: Long blond-gray hair that is often tied into a pony tail, pale skin, gray beard, hazel eyes, abt 63 yrs old, looks white, strong nose)

Title: Emperor of Eudora

Age: 67

Height: 5’11”

Personality: Stern, harsh, likes to complain, expects the best, always puts up a strong front, hard to crack socially

Favors: Empress Auna, Bastian

Likes:

Fermented foods, summer, exotic meat, popularity, hardworking people, watching sword fights

Dislikes:

Gossip (about him), the Lancaster family, working hard (he likes hardworking ppl bc they’ll do the work for him 😭), smell of dragons

Other Notes: Taran particularly dislikes the sentiment that you cannot treat dragons like dogs; he believes that they do not carry the same amount of sentience as humans and riders do (what a loser, he's just never had a full-on convo with a dragon) therefore, their accommodations and etiquette is to either be ignored or not of upmost importance.

Auna Clarimond Yelrieth

APPEARANCE: Long wavy strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, olive pale skin, freckles, soft features, looks east asian

Title: Empress of Eudora

Age: 53

Height: 5'7"

Personality: Serene, resourceful, tender, resilient, strategic

Favors: Schuyler, Aleksander

Likes:

Traveling, reading, tea parties with close friends and Schuyler, when Alek and Schuyler get along, magic, technological expansion, architecture

Dislikes:

Also isn't a fan of dragons themselves (but she really appreciates riders for what they're worth to the kingdom),

Other Notes: Though she's not really into dragons, she yearns to be a rider to be able to use magic; a lot of her close friends are riders. She, behind the scenes, is pushing Schuyler to become the heir. She is an exemplary empress, especially compared to her husband's rule. Auna does not like Bastian; she hates even being around him.

Bastian Kheev Yelrieth

Title: First Prince, most likely to become the heir to the Eudora Empire

Age: 19

Height: 6'0"

Personality: Firm, calm, logical, psychopathic in a non-nefarious way, detail-oriented, puts the empire first, very hardworking, respectful, great with people

Favors: Nobody.

Likes:

Sword fighting, thinks dragons are extraordinary and powerful creatures, but will not show it to keep his image, being respected, court, reading, Aethergarde Academy (again, he won't really show it for image reasons), card games, and political debates

Dislikes:

He dislikes some of the council members, war, cults, religion, operas, merfolk

Other Notes: The heir has not been officially chosen, but Bastian is the most well-liked among the council (a little more than half of the council favors Bastian). An heir cannot be officially titled (I mean as the heir, not emperor/empress) until they're 25. In emergency situations, the council will take hold of the throne until the most favored heir is of ruling age. Bastian is actually a pretty great prince; he does his job well and does take non-nobles into consideration very often. Auna cannot stand looking at him; she blames his bright red eyes. One of the biggest reasons why Bastian is so popular is because, at least to the public and the council, he is very neutral, and he has grit. Bastian is the epitome of strength and wisdom, and because he’s so neutral and approaches topics with pure logic, he can appeal to both sides.

Aleksander Lionel Yelrieth

Title: Second Prince, next in line, his close friends and siblings often call him Alek

Age: 16

Height: 5'11"

Personality: Independent, witty, sarcastic, passionate, warm, empathic, hardworking, acts less traditionally royal

Favors: Auna, Schyuler

Likes:

Sneaking out of the palace, fond of pheroscarp (think of small fish that fly in the sky), drama that doesn't involve him, pissing off Bastian, bothering Schuyler, everything dragons and riders, spontaneous hangouts, despite disliking court itself, he likes court dance

Dislikes:

Painting, drawing, court, the stiffness of noble etiquette, his father (Taran),

Other Notes: Alek is not at all interested in becoming the heir; he makes sure everyone knows in the council.

Schuyler Monet Yelrieth

Title: First princess, 3rd in line to the throne, her close friends and siblings often call her Shuli

Age: 14

Height: 5'6"

Personality: Charming, lovely, considerate, humorous, playful, sharp-tongued when necessary

Favors: Auna

Likes:

Singing, painting, drawing, medical and herbology books, waking up at the crack of dawn, golden hour, architecture, tea parties, draxi, court, archery

Dislikes:

Long carriage rides (makes her nauseous), bitter tea, traveling by sea, war

Other Notes: Schuyler is pretty popular socially; her social circle consists of either really powerful women or really influential women (or both).

the royal family - continuation

The royal family is infamous for never bearing any riders; a little ironic considering that Eudora is known for their rider population😭

The Yelrieth family’s ideology is strict but fair. All heirs are taught to uphold such principles in their reign, but obviously, some emperors/empresses have deviated from this path. Typically, if one ruler deviates, their immediate family will follow their ideology, and eventually, the idea will become less neutral and more strongly framed in a certain way.

As noted in Bastian’s little profile, he is the most favored heir. He does feel a lot of pressure to be perfect, especially since he feels as if his siblings are too reckless to rule. I did say that he is very good at seeming neutral— neutral about what?

Riders are one of the biggest political topics in not only Eudora, but in all of Aena. All the Yelrieth siblings undergo the education needed to become heir, one of the largest portions of this is in-council training. They'll essentially sit in council meetings and propose solutions to conflicts. Bastian is particularly great at catering to both sides in a way that doesn't seem like he's trying to attack either party's ideology, AND is actually helpful in the long run. The problem, though, with some of his propositions is that they sometimes just put off the issue instead of fixing it. He does this more often with things regarding the western front.

royal etiquette

You are expected to never make direct eye contact with royalty unless you're an S-tier rider or head of one of the army legions. Both people in these positions must still be looking just behind the right ear of said royal if permission to stand on ceremony is waved (stand on ceremony=stand up straight from bowing) BEFORE you're given the right to initiate eye contact upon standing. Essentially, after you introduce yourself-- remember to stay bowed as you do so-- you must not look at, Shuli, for example, in the eye until she says something to the effect of "Let's speak comfortably" or "At ease". I'd say "At ease" is most common. The vast majority of the time, the royal will say something like that directly after your greeting, or right after you say your name.

You are required to introduce yourself fully upon first meeting. This includes your full name, including your title(s). If you've got more than 2 titles, only say 2 of the most important ones. If you're enrolled in an academy and considered a high-ranking rider (anything above c-tier) you must say what school you attend as well. If you're in Eudora and staying in the house of someone who isn't family, you add that you're "in the care of [insert last name] family". Riders who have not graduated yet and do not have a noble title have the title of rider, like rider=duke, duchess, marquess, count, baron, you get the point. For example, I'd say:

"I greet the First Princess, Schuyler Monet Yelrieth, of the Yelrieth reign. I, S-ranked Rider Aeris Greze, am pleased to receive Your Grace from Aethergarde Academy."

Yah. Quite lengthy, isn't it?

Once you've introduced yourself officially like that once, you'll pretty much never do it again for that royal. When you meet them again, you say:

"Your Grace."

Super short, but still listen out for an "At ease" if a royal hasn't permanently gotten rid of that barrier between the two of you. If a royal says something like "No need for ceremony" or literally just anything referring to not needing to follow 'ceremony', then you don't need to listen out for the eye contact thing. You also don't have to say Your Grace anymore, but bowing casually is still preferred.

You would not speak in noble tongue unless the royal prompts you to, so always speak English first. If you do end up speaking in noble tongue with a royal, it's safe to say that they trust you, as doing so is considered incredibly casual.

what abt you?

They will 100% be threatened by you. Alek won't gaf politically, but both Schuyler and Bastian will. Bastian, depending on how you act around him, will likely push to pass stricter laws surrounding high-ranking riders. Even if you're not a dick, he'll still be uptight, like he'll still be hyper analyzing every move/word/mannerism you do/say. If there's some sort of rumor abt you that could fuck him up, it's not unlikely for the royal family to suddenly pay a visit to the academy.

Why is he so antsy about your appearance? It's because you could essentially be so powerful magically, influentially, and even politically that you could metaphorically be 'above the law'. If you're literally all that, what's stopping you from... staging a coup? If gilded riders are actually that powerful, you can lead an empire, no doubt.

Stealing the crown isn't the only concern. If you fell into the wrong hands and cooperated with enemy empires, Eudora may have to take more extreme measures.

conclusion

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH finally done with this posttttttttt

plz look forward to more frequent posts, this one just took the soul outta me honestly T-T

I wanna post abt the mermaid class and field trips, so doooo look at those when they're uploaded

[reverieshifts]

𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒚

𝒔𝒄𝒊-𝒇𝒊 𝒅𝒓

𝒔𝒐𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆

Velari society is not built on dominance, control, or rigid stratification. It is built on resonance—a principle of harmonic equilibrium between self and community, logic and emotion, purpose and adaptation. Society is seen not as a ladder or a chain, but as a living symphony, where each individual contributes a thread to the whole. Power is not seized; it is attuned to.

𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒆-𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒔

Velari are born into clades—interwoven familial collectives tracing back through ancestral matrilines. But blood is not binding. A clade is not merely genetic—it is philosophical, shaped by shared values, emotional cadence, and deep personal alignment. Outsiders may be welcomed through a ritual of resonance if their spirit harmonizes with the clade’s essence.

Each clade develops its own internal rhythms: one may prioritize artistry and abstract logic, another healing and inner stillness, another bold exploration and motion. None are considered superior—only different notes within the collective melody.

𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒌

There are no noble houses, no dynasties, no inherited thrones. Status is not bestowed—it is embodied. Velari earn recognition through acts of clarity, insight, compassion, or invention.

Abilities like sha’lurei (resonance) are revered as rare harmonics within the species’ spectrum, but do not equate to rulership. Such individuals are guided, not worshipped—trained to maintain inner equilibrium as fiercely as they wield their gifts.

𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒊𝒅 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒚

No identity is permanent. Velari believe that to stagnate is to fall out of harmony. A person may be called to very different roles over the course of their life, sometimes in response to a shift in self, sometimes in response to the world.

This shift is called a Lurak'tel—literally, “harmonic drift” Some velari change roles frequently. Others live entire lives within a single current, refining their path with deep dedication. Both are honored.

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒉𝒂’𝒆𝒍𝒓𝒊𝒏: 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒚-𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒔

There is no central velari government. Instead, leadership arises through resonant consensus—guided by the Sha’elrin, or Balance-Keepers, a rotating group of elders, visionaries, and thought-weavers chosen not for lineage, but for clarity.

Each clade selects Sha’elrin by an internal process of collective recognition. It is not a vote. It is more like a song catching—one voice rising, others echoing in response until the pattern stabilizes.

The Sha’elrin meet in council chambers woven from living crystal, built to reflect and absorb emotion. These spaces are acoustically tuned—voices cannot be raised without the room itself distorting, reminding the speakers that clarity must come without aggression.

The Sha’elrin do not rule. They interpret. They advise. They guide. When dissonance arises within society—be it external threat, internal discord, or technological imbalance—they are the ones who call for Reattunement.

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒊: 𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒕

Velari society rarely uses force. But when harmony is threatened by corruption, violence, or internal collapse, there is a final triad—the Aekari. Summoned only in times of great imbalance, the Aekari are not executioners, but restorers. They do not lead. They do not punish. They step in only when every other thread has frayed and the symphony risks falling apart.

Each Aekari represents a principle:

Stillness – The capacity to pause before acting.

Sight – The clarity to recognize hidden roots of conflict.

Severance – The strength to cut discord when healing fails.

They are chosen from different clades, undergo rigorous years of spiritual, mental, and emotional refinement, and dissolve their bond once balance is restored. Many do not speak of what they’ve done afterward.

𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒐𝒑𝒉𝒊𝒆𝒔

To be velari is to live in resonance—with the self, the surrounding world, and the ever-shifting breath of Thalurei. Their existence is not about dominance, conquest, or accumulation, but about attunement. A velari does not seek to impose meaning—they listen until the meaning reveals itself. They are, above all, a people who revere subtlety, discipline, and presence.

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔

At the center of velari belief is the Lattice of Stillness—a conceptual framework describing the interwoven threads of energy, matter, and motion that make up the universe. It is not a map or diagram, but a felt understanding that all things vibrate between tension and release, gravity and drift, light and shadow.

To master a task—whether piloting, planting, or partnership—is to find your place within the lattice, rather than to bend it. Stillness is not passivity; it is the space between notes, the intentional pause before action. In combat, a velari might wait for the breath before the strike. In conversation, they may leave long silences—not from hesitation, but from respect for the unspoken.

Meditation, reflection, and long periods of solitude are not escapes, but calibration. Many velari spend hours in echo-chambers—specially constructed stone or crystal rooms where even the slightest motion resonates—to train themselves to move only with purpose.

𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆

Velari do not repress emotion. They refine it. Bioluminescence is not merely a biological trait—it is an emotional language, visible to all. To let it blaze uncontrolled is akin to screaming in a cathedral. Children are taught from early on how to control their glow through breath, posture, and intention—not to hide feeling, but to express it with grace and integrity.

Public outbursts are rare, and when they do occur, the focus is not on shame—but on healing the imbalance that caused the emotional surge. A flicker of uncontrolled glow may prompt a gentle check-in, a subtle mirroring touch, or the quiet offer of grounding in a resonant space.

𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈

The velari do not build on Thalurei—they build with it. Cities curve with the wind. Paths follow the migration of bioluminescent fauna. Architecture is shaped by crystal bloom patterns and seasonal shadow-fall. The world is not a resource—it is a partner in design.

Their calendar is structured around planetary harmonics—the blooming cycle of driftmoss, the rise and fall of radiant tides, the hum of subterranean resonance chambers that can only be heard when the skylight dim pulses every third cycle. These natural phenomena are not just observed—they are tuned into, like music.

Disruption of planetary rhythms—be it through industrial noise, careless expansion, or emotional discord—is viewed not only as reckless, but as deeply unethical. Even minor transgressions, like overharvesting glow-fern or speaking too loudly in nesting zones, are corrected swiftly and collectively.

This philosophy extends to interpersonal relationships as well. Harmony with others is achieved not through compromise alone, but through mutual attunement—learning when to move, when to yield, when to rest in silence.

𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏

Among the velari, grace is not ornamentation—it is clarity made visible. To speak with precision, to move with intent, to build with thoughtfulness—these are acts of reverence. 

Even their combat forms, when practiced, resemble flowing dances. Their language contains over a dozen words for different types of “refined action,” such as:

Suh’liran: the perfect balance between momentum and control.

Vera’tel: a statement so precisely made that it leaves no dissonance.

Len'kai: an emotional gesture that expresses without disrupting.

Impulsiveness, particularly in public or high-resonance situations, is viewed as immature at best, dangerous at worst. This is especially true for sha’lurei, whose resonant powers make emotional stability critical. One flicker of panic can cause objects to levitate or collapse. Their discipline is not enforced by punishment—but by collective trust and careful mentoring.

Design, from textiles to cityscapes, follows these values. Patterns are subtle, flowing, and often contain layered meaning. Every line, every beam, every chord played in public has intention behind it. Ornament without purpose is considered wasteful. Even beauty must sing in tune.

𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔

𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒔: 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏

To the broader galaxy, Thalurei is a ghost-world—a crystalline moon adrift in shadowed orbit, closed to travel and swathed in atmospheric shimmer. It broadcasts no welcoming signals, no commercial pings, no political entreaties. Officially, the velari are recognized members of several interstellar accords. Unofficially, no one really knows what they're up to.

Diplomatic Presence: Velari do not maintain permanent embassies. Instead, envoys are sent temporarily, rotating out after brief assignments to prevent cultural distortion. These emissaries are often individuals trained in emotional masking, capable of projecting calm despite chaotic galactic politics.

Trade Agreements: They engage in limited offworld trade, offering small quantities of rare minerals such as iridesium, which is a key component in grav-tech, and samples of bioluminescent flora and fruits, in exchange for medical supplies, offworld scientific data, and stellar navigation maps.

Cultural Exports: Art, music, and literature are almost never traded. Velari view these as soul-extensions—not commodities. Attempts to replicate or pirate velari art are considered deeply offensive.

𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘 𝒐𝒇 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔

The velari do not fear the galaxy—they simply do not trust it to move slowly.

Perceived Disharmony: Outsiders are often viewed as chaotic, impulsive, and dangerously loud—both literally and metaphysically. Many velari believe most species are “resonance-blind,” unable to feel the subtle gravitational harmonics that guide balance.

Contact Protocol: Visitors are rarely welcomed to Thalurei. Exceptions are made for high-ranking diplomats, scientific exchanges, or those under protective exile—a rare but real process where an individual is sent away for their own or others’ safety.

Cultural Mistrust: Velari value containment. To open too much invites disruption. Even those curious about the stars are taught from a young age that space is full of noise that drowns the self.

Selective Fascination: Some velari (like me) are drawn to outsider cultures—especially those rich in art, chaos, or novelty. These individuals are often labeled unquietlings and watched closely.

𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊

To most of the galaxy, the velari are something between legend and living artifact.

Mystique: Described as "living starlight" or "ghosts of the first moon-born," velari are a source of fascination and unease. Their bioluminescence, resonant abilities, and ethereal appearance make many suspect they are not entirely organic.

Misunderstood Emotion: Because velari emotional expression is subtle and visual (via glow), many outsiders misinterpret them as cold or expressionless. The truth is the opposite—velari simply communicate emotional nuance in ways many species can’t perceive.

Common Nickname – “Glimmers”: Most offworlders refer to velari casually as glimmers, a term born from their shimmering skin and glowing emotional patterns. It’s not overtly offensive, but carries an air of reduction—emphasizing appearance over culture, mystery over meaning. To velari, the term feels imprecise at best, vaguely condescending at worst. Among scholars and diplomats, the word is frowned upon—but among spacers and smugglers, it’s standard slang. Some wanderers have learned to tolerate it, though they may correct someone in private.

𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊

Very few velari live offworld, and those who do tend to fall into three categories:

Appointed Envoys: Trained diplomats or trade negotiators, often stoic and emotionally distant.

Protective Exiles: Velari sent offworld due to dangerous or disruptive traits (like uncontrolled resonance).

Voluntary Wanderers: The rarest type. Seen as both romantics and risks—driven by longing, discord, or curiosity. Those who leave are not exiled, but unanchored—seen as having severed their harmonic ties.

𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂

Ok, so this was probably the hardest part of developing the velari (other than the language, that was really a pain 😭) because I had to make it so that I would simultaneously sort of resonate with it (wow I'm just realizing just how often I use that word), and also have a reason to leave Thalurei. So I made the unquietlings. I'll talk about them a bit more in my next post, but they're basically adhd velari, because you know my ass isn't sitting still for all that meditation.

Also, velari are VERY rare off planet, so that's why there's so many misconceptions about them.

@aprilshiftz @lalalian

[reverieshifts]

go be “cringe” !!! u wanna be the main character of ur dr?? do it! u wanna be ridiculously overpowered??? go for it!! u want ppl to instantly think ur incredible and amazing and insanely attractive?? sure!!

if it’s up ur alley, go do it!!!!!! no shame if it’s not hurting anyone xoxo

[reverieshifts]

Looks like we're all a bit mentally fucked 😂

Also sorry I'm really bad at picrews

@aprilshiftz @lapluiew-blog @forevertiredkpopfan @kabukinomoe @alexshiftz @scentedpeachlandcreator

lets start a chain cause why not

1. take this quiz

2. do this picrew of yourself

3. tag some fiends!

I'll start:

Dude 💀

tagging: @kimetsu-chan @larz-barz @aceofstars0 @exymybeloved @explosivesamurai

[reverieshifts]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒑𝒕. 𝟐: 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒔

𝒔𝒄𝒊-𝒇𝒊 𝒅𝒓

𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

Class: Modified mid-class freighter (original designation untraceable)

Dimensions: Compact and fast—built more for speed and evasion than cargo bulk

Original Use: Unknown. Judging by the design mix, she may have once been a light cargo hauler, but at this point, almost nothing about her is stock.

𝒉𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒓

Plating: Mismatched but reinforced. Some hull panels are standard titanium composite, others are salvaged from military vessels. I once found a piece stamped with a defense contractor logo. Soren played dumb.

Damage Markers: Scars from asteroid grazes, plasma burns, and at least one railgun strike that tore through the starboard side before being patched with a piece of what appears to be an old satellite dish.

Stealth Coating: A stolen stealth coating on one side (only one side), giving her a bizarre half-gloss appearance when flying in certain light.

𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒖𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚

Here’s where things get... illegal.

Engine Type: Tri-core fusion drive (overclocked illegally)

Thrusters: Multi-angle vectoring thrusters scavenged from a racing skiff

Hyperspace Drive: Installed after-market. Very not standard. Definitely not licensed. Burns through fuel like sin, but gets the job done.

Maneuverability: Shockingly agile for her size. She’s not built to win dogfights—she’s built to not get hit.

Speed: Capable of outpacing most patrol cruisers and nearly anything in her class. Soren once escaped a blockade by flipping her vertical, killing main thrust, and gliding between two gunships with only manual microthrusters. Clemmy didn’t love that. But she did it.

Max Velocity: Classified (by Soren) as “if she shakes apart, you pushed her too far.”

Signature Trick: Emergency micro-bursts for fast stops or rapid angular shifts—great for dodging, terrible for unsecured passengers.

𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒔

While not technically a warship, Clemmy has teeth—and Soren is not shy about using them.

Primary Weapons:

Retractable twin plasma cannons mounted under the nose (illegally modified for rapid cycling)

Hidden turret along the dorsal fin with full 360° tracking (camouflaged beneath sensor shielding)

Secondary Systems:

Ion net disruptor (used for disabling ships mid-chase)

Forward grappling harpoon (officially for salvage… unofficially for “creative boarding solutions”)

Mod Notes: All weapons have been internally rewired for faster charge times and energy efficiency. Soren insists it’s “completely safe.” The ship disagrees. The floor near the control relay is still scorched.

𝒅𝒆𝒇𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒔

Shielding: Layered energy-dispersal field adapted from outdated military specs. It’s finicky, but when tuned right, it can absorb an entire volley without so much as a flicker.

Hull Reinforcement: Polyceramic inner shell under the patchwork hull. Not factory standard. Probably military surplus. Possibly stolen.

Cloaking:

Partial stealth mode: One side only. Meant for short bursts, ambushes, or dodging sensor sweeps. Jax once described it as “trying to hide behind your own arm.”

Signature Dampeners: Basic-grade dampeners, good enough to fool low-level scans or confuse weapons locks for a few seconds.

Countermeasures:

Chaff and flare deployment for missile evasion

ECM scrambler array that definitely violates at least five galactic communication laws

Reinforcement Field: Short-range gravitic pulse projector, used to knock boarding parties off balance or repel magnetic tethers.

𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

Primary Navigation System: Jury-rigged hybrid between an outdated freighter nav-core and a racing AI module. The interface is messy, but the calculations are blindingly fast—when they don’t crash mid-jump.

Manual Controls: Everything important is mapped to tactile controls. Soren doesn’t trust full automation. If the nav AI glitches mid-dive, he wants to feel the override.

Autopilot: Exists. Technically. Mostly used as a glorified parking brake or when Soren needs to sleep for 20 minutes in a safe orbit.

Charting Software: Half-legal, half-pirated. Capable of plotting hyperspace routes through narrow, high-risk corridors that most ships avoid.

Backup Systems: A wall-mounted hardcopy star chart in the cockpit. Just in case. Zia thinks this is hilarious. Soren calls it “responsible.”

𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔

Docking Clamps: Can attach to standard civilian ports, refueling stations, and most illicit trade hubs. May need to be “persuaded” into alignment.

Shuttle Bay: None. She’s too compact for internal hangars. Instead, she has one reinforced top-hatch cradle rigged for small detachable pods—used rarely, and only when absolutely necessary.

Airlocks:

Main Port: Standard-sized, sealed, and usually a bit stubborn when opening.

Secondary Hatch: Hidden behind a supply wall in the engine bay. Used for stealth entries and exits.

𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒔

Routine Repairs: Constant. Something is always groaning, leaking, sparking, or “just about to give out but not yet.”

Spare Parts: Stored in crates scattered across the ship—engine parts in the pantry, coolant lines under the bench seat, wiring spools in my hydroponics pod (which I do not appreciate).

Self-Diagnostics: Unreliable. The system either reports “everything is fine” (it’s not), or starts shrieking about seven simultaneous reactor leaks (there are none). Soren usually ignores it and just listens to the hum of the engine to diagnose problems.

Repairs in Flight: Doable. Often necessary. Soren has made mid-warp hull welds while dangling from a tether. Zia once had to climb into the bulkhead to manually restart a fried fuse bank after a flare surge.

Critical Weakness: The fuel converter. If anything’s going to go first, it’s that. It’s been patched, rewired, and coaxed with offerings—but one day, it’s going to die loudly.

𝒔𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒎 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

Power Grid: Custom-wired. Inconsistent. If too many systems are running at once (say, stealth mode, shields, and weapons), things start flickering. Choosing what gets power is sometimes a strategic decision—or a desperate one.

AI Integration: No full AI. Just a scattered handful of voice-assist systems, diagnostic subroutines, and a navigation core that occasionally asks Soren if he’s “sure about that” when he plots something stupid.

Voice Recognition: Primarily responds to Soren’s voice, but Zia has jury-rigged access to certain commands—especially life support, lighting, and doors.

𝒅𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈/𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒔

Hard-dock only. No fancy mag-coupling or remote landers.

Zero-G Transfer Capability: Yes, with magnetic grip points and a manually sealed transition tunnel.

Boarding Defense: Reinforcement field, sealed bulkheads, and at least three blasters stashed near the doors “just in case.”

𝒔𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔

Most systems are custom-built, hotwired, or frankensteined together. Only Soren knows how everything works—and even he sometimes has to hit things to make them run.

Diagnostics require manual calibration. The ship’s internal sensors are either hyper-sensitive or utterly dead.

Flight path records? Wiped. Regularly. On principle.

𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒕:

Clementine might look like a rustbucket. But she’s got the firepower of a private gunship, the speed of a racer, and the evasive instincts of a hunted animal. She doesn’t win fights with brute force—she wins them by being faster, smarter, and just illegal enough to stay one step ahead of the galaxy’s worst.

𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂

Ok, I'm gonna be honest here, my friend who's really into sci-fi had to help me write most of this, because as I've said before, I know like nothing about it. So all the fancy technical stuff in here was all him.

@aprilshiftz @lalalian