⋅⊱✿⊰⋅ 𝓟𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓮 ⋅⊱✿⊰⋅

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⋅⊱───⊰⋅❀ Basic Information ❀⋅⊱───⊰⋅
Homeland:
The Tower
Tuair
Current Residence:
The Alderveil Boroughs
Gender:
Female
Species:
Taleborn
Age:
20 (Ages Slowly)
Body Type:
Curvaceous

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⋅⊱───⊰⋅☁︎ The Two Races ☁︎⋅⊱───⊰⋅For centuries, Tuair carried the weight of tension between two peoples. The Yāomó, born of root and river, lived as beasts and were content to roam their forests and grow their kind in peace. The Yánmín, shaped in the Bright One’s image, were builders and dreamers, driven to reshape stone and sky with craft and magic. Each new village they raised cut deeper into Yāomó lands, and harmony gave way to resentment.

In desperation, the Yāomó turned to their gods. Their prayers were answered with transformation: many were given upright form and the power of magic, while dragons (once divine pets) were unleashed as guardians in exchange for their freedom. To the Yánmín, however, these beasts brought fire and ruin. Villages burned, fields turned to ash, and so began the bitter struggle remembered as the Lavender Wars. For years rivers ran red, yet neither side could claim victory. At last, grief and exhaustion pushed leaders to lay down arms and seek peace.

The treaty that followed was not conquest but covenant. The forests remained sanctuary for the feral-born, while the anthro Yāomó became merchants, crafters, and farmers among the Yánmín. In time, the cities and plains opened to both peoples, and bridges of trust began to form.

To seal this fragile bond, the gods gave a sign. Once each century, a lavender moon rises for seven nights, marking the Xūn yī Cǎo Remembrance. During this time, a new Daenari will be born, child of both races, chosen to embody the coming century. The Daenari stands as proof of unity and as a reminder: of the blood once shed, the peace hard-won, and the hope that Tuair might remain a land shared by all.



In Tuair, each century begins with a new era, its theme divined by the Mùshī and Seers through visions and omens. From these revelations, the soul of the next Daenari is foretold. When the signs are clear, male Yāomó are summoned to compete for the honor of fatherhood, their traits chosen to suit the age ahead. The Seers then select a beautiful and fitting Yánmín woman as mother, for only through the Daenari Ceremony can the two races create a hybrid child.

The pair is secluded in the Daenari Tower until their union is sealed. The gestation is swift and merciless, lasting but a single month. At the appointed time, she brings forth not a child, but an egg, round as a watermelon, its shell soft and shimmering with violet sheen. The egg hatches at once, revealing the Daenari. A being of human frame, yet touched with the marks of beast, a living bridge between the two races.

Daenari live within the Tower, serving as listeners of prayer and vessels of omen. Pilgrims travel across Tuair to seek their blessings, though true fate is decreed by the Aurel Circle of kings and priests. The Daenari are revered not as rulers but as messengers, icons of unity. Their role is lifelong, bound by strict vows. No marriage, no children, no freedom beyond service. Yet they possess wonders, able to take the beast form of their Yāomó father and travel abroad to bless fields or kingdoms. So the Daenari endure sacred yet sorrowful, bridges between beast and man. Nature and its inhabitants.


⋅⊱───⊰⋅☁︎ The Daenari ☁︎⋅⊱───⊰⋅
The Era of Blossoms and Hearths would follow years of plague and hardship, an age promised to be rich with family, love, bounty, and renewal. To embody it, the Yāomó champion Bai Tu, a rabbit-born of grace and swiftness, was to father the Daenari, alongside a Yánmín maiden Florinda, beautiful and radiant. Yet fate unraveled in fire. Before the Aurel Circle, a figure descended whose presence shook the hall itself: Zhuyang, the red dragon, son of the divine Zhulong. Dragons had long turned away from mortal affairs after the Lavender War, retreating to their own dominions. That Zhuyang himself should appear and demand the right to sire the Daenari was unthinkable. The Circle questioned him, but the young dragon gave no explanation, declaring only, “It is my destiny.” Many among the kings and priests hesitated, for Zhuyang’s temper was infamous, and his youth untested. Yet dragons carried divine blood, and the power of such a lineage could not be ignored. The Circle allowed him to contest Bai Tu.

Trial after trial....strength, wit, endurance, even games of chance ended in ties. Neither could triumph. At last, a Mùshī proposed the unthinkable; Florinda would lie with both, and the child would reveal its true sire. Reluctantly, all agreed. When the violet egg hatched, the Daenari bore rabbit ears, horns, and twin bound tails. Petaline, child of two fathers. Declared a miracle, she embodied abundance and renewal, her century would bloom with fruit, families, and peace. With dragon blood, surely she would become the most powerful mortal deity of them all...surely...


Petaline’s childhood was restless. Dragon blood made her wild and curious, and though the Auric Circle demanded obedience from their chosen Daenari, she strayed beyond every expectation. Her passion and love for life was strong, it fit with the era yet she shirked from her duties. Her mother, Florinda, visited only three years before vanishing forever. Bai Tu, her rabbit father, visited yearly with gentle gifts but little claim. It was a bit surprising that Zhuyang defied the rules. Twice a week he came from his volcanic home, collapsing in her chamber to rest; his presence more comfort than words. No one dared ask him to leave. Nursemaids scolded her curiosity, yet Petaline remained bright and daring. She gave trinkets to children, treated pilgrims as friends, and broke many rules the Circle set. They despaired, but the people still were very fond of her....especially with her dragon companion often snoring in her chambers.

At twenty, darkness fell. Black waters swept across Tuair, erasing villages and souls alike. Shadow-wraiths poured from the tide, and the Tower fell. Zhuyang fought to his last breath, casting Petaline away with his final command: Flee. She fled into the wild forests, chased by horrors until she stumbled into the waters of Lady Shui’s River. Dragged by the current, she plunged into blackness and was swept far from the land she knew. When she awoke, the air smelled strange, the sky held unfamiliar stars, and Tuair was gone. At her side lay a book, its cover soaked in black ink, its pages whispering faintly as though alive. Before she could touch it, a clawed hand snatched it away. A goblin, eyes gleaming with mischief, vanished into the underbrush with the tome. Petaline staggered to her feet, her horns glistening with river-water. She was alone, exiled from her home, her destiny unknown.

And so began the second life of Petaline. No longer Daenari of blossoms and hearths, but wanderer, seeker, and perhaps the only one who could learn why the ink-flood had come to Tuair.

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⋅⊱───⊰⋅ʚ♡ɞ Skills and Traits ʚ♡ɞe ⋅⊱───⊰⋅
✦Cooking and Baking✦[/color]Petaline possesses an immense passion for food. Most especially when it comes to sweets. Cooking and baking are more than hobbies to her; they’re expressions of love. She takes great joy in crafting treats by hand, pouring her heart into every confection, all in the hope that her friends will savor the care and dedication infused into each bite.

Her insatiable sweet tooth is more than just a personal indulgence;it’s deeply tied to her forms. The sugars she consumes don’t merely satisfy cravings; they serve as fuel for her draconic transformation. When drawing upon this energy, Petaline can unleash a devastating attack-expelling a searing, magma-hot blast in the form of a crystallized, candied meteor. This volatile ability is as dazzling as it is destructive, a stark contrast to her otherwise gentle demeanor.

Perhaps due to this peculiar magic, her very essence carries a natural sweetness. Her scent is subtly fragrant, like warm spun sugar or honey-glazed petals, and even her skin carries a faint, confection-like taste. An odd but charming trait that hints at the otherworldly bond between her nature and the treats she so adores.
✦Bunny Form✦[/color]When her chi runs low, or when her body slips into deep relaxation, Petaline’s form surrenders to her Yāomó inheritance. Her horns and tails dissolve, her stature shrinks, and she becomes a rabbit: soft-furred, long-eared, and small enough to carry with ease. In this shape, she is silent. She cannot form words or weave spells. Yet within, her mind remains whole. She is still herself, with all her thoughts, memories, and will intact.

But the prison of her small body weighs on her. She can gesture, nudge, scratch with her paws, or thump the earth with her feet, yet the fullness of her mind is locked behind a creature’s simplicity. She is never thrilled to be in this shape, but it does serve her well for sneaking and hiding.
✦Dragon Form✦[/color]It is said that this shape is not easily summoned. Unlike her rabbit form, which comes upon her with ease, the dragon within her requires deep chi cultivation and surging emotion—anger, grief, or fierce devotion. Only when her heart burns does her body answer.

When she changes, her form swells to the size of a true dragon. Her horns lengthen, her rabbit tail vanishes. Her breath is unlike that of other wyrms; she exhales clouds of sweetness, a candy breath that fills the air with sugared mist. Those who inhale it are overcome with calm, lulled into peace, many falling into slumber as though cradled by dream. Yet within this strange gift lies another, rarer and far more terrible: her candyball breath, a condensed orb of sweetness and fire hurled like a falling star. When it strikes, it shatters with meteoric force, its brilliance rivaling the blasts of ancient dragons. It may even explain her constant craving for sweets.

Yet for all this power, Petaline is no true dragon. Her skin is weaker beneath her fur, her body slower, her flight heavy. She lacks the speed and elegance of her father’s kin. In a swift duel, she would surely fall. Her salvation lies not in strength but in endurance. Thanks to the resilience of her Yánmín blood, she can fight far beyond exhaustion, clinging to willpower even when her body is battered. She is stubborn to the last breath, refusing to yield until knocked unconscious, forced back to human form, or slain outright.

But this form is as much a danger as a gift. Petaline struggles to control it. She needs more experience in this shape to unlock its full potential.

⋅⊱───⊰⋅ʚ♤ɞ Weaknesses ʚ♤ɞ ⋅⊱───⊰⋅
☠Ravens☠[/color]Petaline harbors a deep fear and loathing of ravens, a sentiment rooted in the torment they inflicted upon her during her time in the burrows with her family. These crafty, bullying creatures were relentless, swooping down to terrorize her peaceful home. Though her memories of that time are fragmented, she clearly remembers the relentless chases and attacks, the constant shadow of danger that hung over her until the fateful encounter with the fearsome dragon.

Ironically, despite her aversion to ravens, Petaline finds herself inexplicably drawn to monsters and dragons. The very creatures that once filled her with dread now stir a strange fascination within her. Her fear, though still present, seems to deepen her attraction, perhaps a reflection of her own evolving nature as part dragon. The paradox of this connection—her fear mingling with fascination—becomes a quiet curiosity that she cannot quite shake, as if the distant echo of her past is calling her toward something she was always meant to become.
☠Her Tome, Her Heart☠[/color]Like all Taleborn in Eoth, Petaline’s very soul and existence are intricately bound to her physical tome, the place of her origin. These beings are not subject to the passage of time in the same way as mortals; they are ageless and immortal, never advancing beyond the age in which they first manifested. However, despite their enduring nature, Taleborn still require food, water, and rest to maintain their vitality, their bodies functioning much like those of any other living creature.

While there are means to sever a Taleborn’s connection to their book—an act that can give rise to restless spirits or malevolent demons—the only true way to obliterate a Taleborn is to destroy their book itself. This is a profoundly forbidden act, for doing so would not only erase the Taleborn, but also bring about the destruction of the world contained within their pages, including all the inhabitants bound within that realm. The sacred texts of all Taleborn reside within the Restless Hollow Library, a place where magical creatures and ancient golems are sworn to protect the books with their very lives, ensuring that no harm befalls the stories they guard.