[ Basic Information ]

✦ Name: Synn Lycoris (luh-kaw-ruhs)✦ Age: Est. 5,000 - 5,300✦ Nameday: 11th Sun of the 11th Umbral Moon✦ Status: Married.✦ Species: Dragon (primarily in humanoid form)✦ Occupation: Venue Owner | Sage✦ Alignment: Neutral, with strong personal codes (morally gray)

[ Physical Traits ]

✦ Hair: Silken white, often loose or braided for convenience.✦ Eyes: Right eye a piercing crimson, left eye pale as ivory ringed with faint, violet limbals.✦ Skin: Smooth and cold as carved marble, bearing the faint gleam of scales where the light catches.✦ Stature: Strikingly small, almost frail in appearance, though strength coils beneath the surface.

[ Hooks ]

✦ Void-Touched: Blackened corruption mars her hands and feet—a lingering gift from the Void.✦ Dragon Blood: Not merely in name—she is a true dragon who walks among mortals in a humanoid guise.✦ Venue Owner: Runs an elegant, well-known venue; often found managing openings and events.✦ Celestial Adornments: Wears horn decorations etched with moons and stars, paired with a matching necklace. Perhaps symbolic, perhaps sentimental.✦ Marked by Survival: Heartless, Literally: No detectable heartbeat.✦ Chill to the Touch: Her skin carries the cold bite of stone, as if carved from marble.✦ Seasoned Slayer: Whispers follow her from the frontlines. Foes of legend bested, trials beyond mortal limits endured. Some call it luck. Others know better.

[ Notable quirks ]

✦ Reflexive Bite: Touch her without warning and you risk teeth—friend or stranger alike. Instinct, not ill intent.✦ High Perches: Prefers the tallest spot in any room. She insists it isn’t about her height.✦ Betrayed by Her Tail: No matter her composure, it wags when she’s amused or content.✦ Cards and Shadows: more for reflection than prophecy or so she claims.✦ Pride of the Dragon: Quick to bristle at perceived slights, often born of simple miscommunication.✦ A Taste of Caution: Always sniffs food and drink before partaking—a habit learned the hard way.

[ Notable Features ]

✦ Etched with tattoos and old scars, remnants of battles and bargains long past.✦ Allagan neurolinks embedded along the length of her tail. Ancient devices whose purpose she keeps to herself.✦ Subtle blackened void corruption creeping from her fingers and toes upward like ink in water.✦ Five star-shaped burns mar the skin of her neck, deliberate scars left by her husband.✦ A prominent scar crosses her chest, though what caused it and why it runs so deep, remains a mystery she keeps to herself.

[ Out of Character ]

✧ IC ≠ OOC: Roleplay is entirely separate from real life. Please respect this boundary.✧ Style Preference: Multi-paragraph roleplay (quality over speed).✧ Walk-ups Welcome: You may approach IC even if the RP tag is off.✧ Lore Alignment: Adheres closely to FFXIV lore with slight creative bends. Some aspects require post-Endwalker knowledge.✧ Communication: If something is unclear or you have questions, please ask—open to discussion and collaboration.

• Spoiler Alert; She's a Dragon.
• Venue; Midnight Echoes.
• From the Top; Home.

[ Synn Lycoris ]

She remembers the sound before the pain. A low hum, mechanical and merciless, as steel bound itself to her tail. She remembers voices speaking like gods: cold, clinical, cruel. She remembers the chains, biting deep enough to break scale.Synn was born of Azdaja’s brood, when dragons soared unchallenged and the skies burned with freedom. But freedom ended the day Allag found her. They did not want to kill her, they wanted to own her. Neurolinks imprisoned her, sigils meant to bind and command. But she was stubborn. Defiant. They could not break her will.So they broke her soul instead.No dragon was ever meant to be torn from its body. They did it anyway. They split her essence, forging a shell. A mockery of life to house what they could not tame. Unlike Vrtra’s bonded kin, there was no harmony here. Only violation.The act left her fractured. Her true body now a husk, chained in darkness. What crawled free was desperation given form: a homunculus, shaped by rage and the raw instinct to survive. It was not clean. It was not merciful. And it was not whole.Then the fall came. Allag crumbled into dust, its chains with it. But not hers. The prison held. And when the last light died, the Void took her.

There are no words for that silence. For the way hunger whispers and madness claws. She does not remember the years. Only the fight. The endless tearing and rending, the black tide pushing against her mind. When the shackles broke, they did not break gently. She clawed her way out—piece by piece, through teeth and blood and shadow.

What returned to the world was not the same dragon who left it.Black stains creep along her skin, from fingers and toes like ink blooming in water. Her scales shimmer like shattered glass, void-forged and jagged, each fracture a scar of what she endured. Her eyes, one crimson, one bone-white and haloed in violet, hold something unspoken. Something that remembers the dark.For a time, she walked alone. Feral. Distrustful. The other dragons sensed the taint and turned away. The world had forgotten her, and perhaps she wanted it that way.But solitude cannot last forever. She drifted to civilization for contracts, coin, survival. In that time she learned what it meant to live, not just endure. She built a home. A haven. A sanctuary carved from the wreckage of her old life. For a year and a half, it thrived under her care.Until she vanished.When she returned, she smiled as if nothing had changed. But everything had. Her body bore new scars, her scales refracted light like obsidian glass. Her power felt heavier, darker, like a storm swallowing the horizon. She claims her sanctuary remains sacred. No blood spilled within its walls.But beyond them?The rules are hers alone.Make no mistake: she wears silk now, but the claws remain.

• The Bones; Details.
• Venue; Midnight Echoes.
• From the Top; Home.

☾ ✦ ❖ ✦ ☽

“She is the quiet between heartbeats—the pause before the strike.”