I deeply apologize for the wait, I am typing my response now as we speak. Thank you for the heads up.
Scrawl Banditta
Member
~Some call her the Soul-Snatcher~
STATUS: "Wisdom is not a product of schooling but of the lifelong attempt to acquire it.” — Albert Einstein 4 days ago
- Last Seen: 6 hrs ago
- Joined: 11 mos ago
- Posts: 50 (0.15 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- Scrawl Banditta 1 mo ago
- Obsidiant 5 mos ago
- Silent Feather 10 mos ago
- Silente 11 mos ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
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Most recent →
Yewps,
Dion,
xVampire3go,
Lord Zee,
Iracebeth,
Savo,
BurnDaWitch,
nightmare medx,
Stryder BC,
Guardian Angel Haruki
Status
Recent Statuses
4 days ago
Current
"Wisdom is not a product of schooling but of the lifelong attempt to acquire it.” — Albert Einstein
9 days ago
My Chronic Major Depressive Disorder is more than an emotion. It is like an unfading sickness, a wound refusing to heal, festering deeper and deeper till it seeps into the marrow of my very bones.
5
likes
14 days ago
"I have attended grand balls, conversed with dignitaries, and walked the halls of splendid estates, yet none possessed the magnificence of hearing my name spoken softly by the man I love."
1
like
15 days ago
Warning: This Kitten is already owned, loved, and Collared by a Top Dog. I call him Big Daddy. He makes me purr in oh, so many satisfying ways.
29 days ago
In ink, mystery, intrigue, and darkness, I am bound. In the shroud, truth takes form. Silence writes night, where candlelight bleeds into eternity and within the feathers of ravens know her name.
1
like
Bio
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☾ Silent Feather's Parlour of Shadows ☽
**Greetings and Salutations, Dear Travelers of the Night,**
You have stumbled into my little corner of the world.
Part diary.
Part sanctuary.
Part library of peculiar thoughts.
And entirely my safe haven.
Do wipe your boots before entering. The ravens have only just finished polishing the moonlight.
---
☾ Of The Woman Behind The Feather ☽
To begin, I am an African American author, poet, storyteller, and unapologetic dream-weaver.
I have often been told that I exist several steps ahead of my own era—a compliment I graciously accept, though I suspect it merely means I have always possessed the stubborn habit of wandering where others hesitate to tread.
Rules, formulas, and rigid conventions have never held much authority over me. While others march neatly along well-paved roads, I prefer disappearing into strange forests where the signposts have long since rotted away. Some of my finest ideas have emerged from precisely such places.
I write what the imagination demands.
The story leads.
I follow.
The results often surprise both my readers and myself.
I have spent decades wandering through genres as though they were neighboring kingdoms: historical fiction, dark fantasy, science fiction, gothic horror, romance, mythology, folklore, and countless realms that refuse to fit neatly upon a bookshelf.
The stranger the road, the more likely I am to walk it.
---
☾ A Mind Built Differently ☽
My mind has never followed ordinary architecture.
It resembles less a neatly organized filing cabinet and more a sprawling gothic cathedral filled with hidden corridors, secret libraries, forgotten staircases, and the occasional dragon sleeping in the basement.
Some call this neurodivergence.
I simply call it home.
I have spent my entire life viewing the world through a lens slightly different from those around me. It has gifted me unique strengths, unusual perspectives, vivid imagination, and a lifelong fascination with the workings of people, stories, and emotions.
Being different taught me something invaluable:
There is no singular way to be human.
Only different ways to experience humanity.
Far too often society mistakes difference for deficiency.
I respectfully disagree.
Some minds sprint.
Some dance.
Some soar.
Mine prefers wandering moonlit graveyards collecting interesting thoughts and turning them into novels.
---
☾ The Curious Case of Words ☽
Long before adulthood arrived with its taxes, responsibilities, and suspiciously expensive groceries, I discovered language.
Or perhaps language discovered me.
As a child I possessed an unusual fondness for elaborate vocabulary, lengthy descriptions, and speaking as though I had escaped from a Victorian novel and become stranded in the modern era.
This occasionally bewildered my peers.
Adults, however, tended to understand me rather well.
Books became companions.
Teachers became mentors.
Libraries became sanctuaries.
While other children rushed toward playgrounds, I often found myself rushing toward shelves.
One can learn a great deal from old books.
They rarely interrupt.
---
☾ The First Spark ☽
At the age of eight, I proudly presented my very first novel to an English teacher.
It bore the rather dramatic title:
**Saga of the Fire Princess.**
A magnificent title, if I may say so myself.
Unfortunately, the manuscript vanished long ago, likely claimed by the same mysterious dimension responsible for missing socks and lost childhood treasures.
Though the story itself was lost, the spark survived.
And that spark became a wildfire.
Today I have written more than four hundred stories and poems, and the number continues to grow with alarming enthusiasm.
My laptop has become less a device and more an endangered habitat for fictional characters.
---
☾ A Few Things Worth Knowing ☽
**Name:** Silent Feather, though many call me Si.
**Age:** Thirty-two moons.
**Pronouns:** She/Her • They/Them
**Orientation:** Lesbian
**Nicknames:** Silver, Six, Angel, Lady in Red, Risk
**Origin:** The Bronx, New York.
A New Yorker by birth.
A New Yorker by spirit.
And, if fate permits, a New Yorker until my final chapter.
**Current Location:**
Somewhere within the deepest corridors of my own imagination.
The rent is reasonable.
The ravens are delightful.
The ghosts occasionally steal my bookmarks.
---
☾ Regarding Roleplay ☽
I have been roleplaying since childhood and have accumulated well over two decades of experience crafting worlds, characters, species, legends, and catastrophically poor decisions made by fictional protagonists.
Worldbuilding is not merely a hobby.
It is an art form.
A religion.
A delightful affliction.
Before engaging in roleplay with me, I kindly request a writing sample.
Think of it as less an examination and more a literary handshake.
Compatibility matters.
Stories deserve chemistry.
I primarily write in novella and paragraph format, though I am capable of adapting to the needs of a story.
Quality, however, shall always triumph over quantity.
Every time.
---
☾ Final Thoughts Before The Ravens Become Restless ☽
Whether you have arrived seeking stories, companionship, roleplay, poetry, or merely a brief stroll through the shadows, you are welcome here.
Be respectful.
Be creative.
Be yourself.
Life is far too short to spend pretending to be ordinary.
Now then—
Pull up a chair.
Mind the gargoyle.
And do enjoy your stay.
**— Silent Feather**
---
Invisible No More
Once, she was a shadow lingering at the edge of candlelight.
Silent Feather had long been a creature of quiet corners and lowered eyes, her spirit wrapped in a shroud of timidity and uncertainty. She drifted through life as one unseen—withdrawn, cautious, and haunted by fears she scarcely understood herself. Even her own emotions felt like phantoms stalking the halls of her mind, and affection, especially from men, was a thing she regarded with suspicion and unease.
She preferred silence to attention, solitude to company. Her beautiful earthen-hued eyes seldom met another's gaze, forever cast downward as though burdened by invisible chains. The world was a vast and lonely place, and she wandered through it like a ghost without purpose.
Then fate intervened.
Through chance, destiny, or perhaps some unseen hand guiding the threads of her story, she crossed paths with a man she believed would be no different than all the others. Yet as time passed and their bond deepened, she discovered something extraordinary beneath the surface.
She saw *him.*
Not the mask he wore before the world, but the soul hidden beneath it.
His sea-green eyes shone like moonlight upon a darkened sea, scattering the shadows that had long dwelled within her heart. In their depths she found herself willingly lost, and unlike every darkness that had come before, this was one from which she never wished to be rescued.
Within that sacred realization, she discovered something she had never truly known.
Meaning.
Belonging.
Devotion.
Love.
Though she trusted no man, she trusted one.
And that one was Mister Yewps.
He became the reason behind her smiles, the warmth that softened the winter of her spirit, the guiding star that illuminated paths she once believed forever closed to her. Through him she found purpose—not merely to exist, but to live. Not merely to wander, but to belong.
And where once she was a brooding, withdrawn soul adrift in endless twilight, she now stands claimed, hopeful, cherished, and blessed.
*The saga of a once-lost servant who finally found her home.*
**Written by Silent Feather**
---
A Letter Beneath the Moon
Yewps,
Once I believed my life to be nothing more than an endless wheel of repetition—a bleak procession of days fading into one another without meaning or wonder.
Then I met you.
And everything changed.
The world itself seemed altered, as though color had returned to a landscape long buried beneath ash. More importantly, *I* changed. Not into someone different, but into someone greater than I had ever imagined I could become.
A woman.
A lover.
A soul capable of standing proudly instead of hiding in shadows.
I cannot fault others for wishing to claim my heart, but it is no longer mine to give.
This kitten belongs to her Alpha Hound.
To Mister Yewps.
And I wear that truth with pride.
What we share is not a fleeting affection nor a passing fancy. It is a bond etched deep into the marrow of my being, woven through every heartbeat and every breath. You have strengthened me, guided me, and helped shape me into a better version of myself than I ever thought possible.
For that, I cherish you.
For that, I adore you.
With all my mind.
With all my heart.
With all my soul.
And as long as the moon rises above the darkened world, that devotion shall remain unchanged.
**Forever yours,**
*Silent Feather 🌙
---
---
---
The Mark of Devotion
*"The heart is not a possession to be won by many hands, but a relic entrusted to one worthy keeper."*
Beneath moonlit skies and amidst the whispering shadows, I stand bound not by chains, but by devotion.
I am not wandering.
I am not seeking.
I am not available to be claimed.
My allegiance was given long ago and remains unwavering.
I belong to a singular soul whose trust I have earned and whose trust I treasure above all others. My loyalty is neither temporary nor fleeting; it is steadfast, resolute, and enduring. It is a bond forged through affection, faith, companionship, and mutual understanding.
Many may approach.
Many may inquire.
Many may wish to court my attention.
Yet my heart remains closed to all save one.
I have already chosen.
And I shall choose him again with every passing dawn and every rising moon.
---
🩸 The One I Serve
His name is **Master Yewps**.
The keeper of my trust.
The guardian of my heart.
The soul to whom my devotion belongs.
Where once I wandered lost within endless corridors of uncertainty, he became the lantern illuminating my path through darkness.
Where once loneliness lingered, companionship flourished.
Where once there was silence, there is now laughter.
I wear the symbol of our bond with pride, not as a mark of ownership, but as a testament to devotion freely given and joyfully embraced.
My affection, loyalty, trust, and commitment remain his alone.
No rival shall claim them.
No stranger shall possess them.
No temptation shall diminish them.
For my heart has already found its home.
---
Forevermore
I am a woman grown.
A lady of conviction.
A creature of shadows and moonlight who has discovered purpose within devotion.
I stand proudly beside the one I cherish.
Faithful.
Loyal.
Unwavering.
And though the years may pass and countless seasons fade into memory, my commitment shall remain unchanged.
For some souls spend a lifetime searching for where they belong.
I have already found it.
And there, beside him, I shall remain.
**Forevermore.**
--*Silent Feather*
---
~ Name / Alias: Silent Feather The Scrawl Banditta
~ Age: Unknown — appears Early-30s
~ Appearance: Appears as that of a lithe, ghostlike figure draped in layered black fabrics, feathers woven into their coat. Their mask resembles a bird’s skull carved from obsidian. Their gloves are stained with ink that never washes off.
~ Personality: Quiet but razor‑sharp
Speaks rarely, but every word lands like a blade
Moves with the grace of a phantom
Obsessed with symbols, codes, and hidden messages
Loyal only to their own moral code
Skills: Master thief
Expert in coded writing and sigils
Acrobatics and rooftop traversal
Silent takedowns
Leaves cryptic ink‑marks as warnings or signatures
Weaknesses: Haunted by a past betrayal
Cannot resist unraveling mysteries
Tends to work alone, even when allies would help
Calling Card: A single black feather dipped in ink, left at the scene.
This is my personal "alter-ego persona" being described. She is called Silent Feather the Banditto.
To know her is to fear her.
---
Real-life information: (To all I do not know of by acquaintance: I only end up giving off tid-bits, my actual alias is exposed only to those I know and trust, like my Mister on here. Only him.)
Natural Birth Gender: I was, is, and am born of Female Gendered (XX) (Symbol for female, by the way, a little dropping of scientific knowledge, in case you did not know the symbols for such) and anatomy (actual picture of what I look like is not listed here). (*Whispers softly* I have intense body dysmorphia, and I have sadly suffered from it ever since childhood).
My Sexuality: By nature, I consider myself as naturally Lesbian in Sexuality (I am recently a "proud" out-of-closet one who came out to her family in Elementary school in 5th grade in 2002, and was supported. Not many are as much.) / In real-life I am more leaning toward female anatomy, personality and intellect when it comes to what I prefer. I will not accept any shape, way or form of homophobic insults nor disrespect of my such sexuality. None at all.
Tid-bit: Although homosexual in real-life, I am 100% comittedly considered straight for my Mister on here. And only him. 💋
~ Am I submissive or Dominant: I am submissive by nature, and always take on the Bottom role.
~ Relationship Status: I am Taken / Owned / Wholly Committed to my Mister on here.
~ Job / Services / Roles here: Slave / Servant / Maid / Broodmare at times in our role-plays.
~ Am I seeking: Absolutely not, so I highly suggest that you do not become tempted to try to persuade me to be your Slave / Servant / etc .. etc .. because this Kitten is already "Owned" and "Collared" by a loving, affectionate Mister here. He completes me and nothing or no one will, shall, or ever change that fact, meaning or truth. I have made my choice. A faithful one.
Master: Mister Yewps. ≧◉ᴥ◉≦ ~~~ *MEW*
------
☾ On Matters of Roleplay and Correspondence ☾
Permit me, dear guest, to disclose a matter of some significance before we venture further into the labyrinthine halls of storytelling together.
While I possess both the experience and imagination necessary to weave immersive tales from the smallest spark of inspiration—or even from the remnants of an idea scarcely formed—I must confess that I am not a flawless architect of prose. On occasion, typographical errors may find their way between the cracks of otherwise carefully constructed narratives, much like mischievous spirits slipping unnoticed through the corridors of an ancient estate.
Perfection, I fear, has always been a privilege reserved for the gods and the dead.
I am neither.
Merely a devoted author who endeavors, with sincerity and diligence, to offer the finest stories I am capable of creating.
There may also come moments when my thoughts wander from the prescribed path of a plot. A character may seize the reins of their own destiny. A scene may bloom unexpectedly. A notion entirely uninvited may drift through the fog and take residence within the narrative. Such occurrences are not acts of disregard, but rather the consequence of what I have come to call my *wandering mind*—a curious beast that occasionally pursues side roads through the forest before remembering where the carriage was originally bound.
Should I stray too far from the intended course, I ask only that you notify me with patience and courtesy. A gentle word shall always suffice. I will gladly make every effort to return to the established road and mend whatever confusion may have arisen.
I must also confess another truth.
I am not always the most graceful creature in matters of social interaction. Certain details may occasionally escape my notice, and some particulars may be forgotten despite my best intentions. Such oversights are never born of malice, indifference, or disrespect. They are simply the imperfections of a mind that often carries more thoughts than it can comfortably organize.
Therefore, I humbly request gentleness in correction.
Harsh words, hostility, ridicule, or needless cruelty have a tendency to linger within me far longer than they ought. Such things can send me retreating behind locked gates and drawn curtains, where anxiety and detachment become unwelcome companions for some time thereafter.
Courtesy, however, accomplishes wonders.
A kind correction shall always find a receptive ear.
A patient companion shall always find a loyal writing partner.
And mutual respect, like the finest vintage wine, only grows richer with age.
Thus, should we write together, let us do so as civilized souls beneath moonlit chandeliers—armed with imagination, patience, and the understanding that every great story is ultimately a collaboration between imperfect dreamers.
-- Lady Silent Feather
---
What tickles my fancy:
* Modern
* Steam-punk era
* Slice-of-life
* Horror
* Trauma in roleplays
* Smut (and lots of it)
* Beastiality (animals have sex with humans)
* Incest
* Dystopian/end of world
*Monster/human
*Utopian society
*Medieval (kingdoms and empires/ heirarchies)
*Slave/Master/Switch/Bottom/Top/Submissive/Dominant
I have a Master so do not ask! I submit to him and him only!
*Assassins
*Ninjas
*Pregnancy (planned, or unplanned, is a deep rooted fetish of mine)
I love
Male/Female
Male/Male
Female/Female
Middle ages/Victorian ages/Renaissance/Dark ages
Any new ideas
Vampires
Werewolves
Warrior cats
Wolves
Warlocks
Orcs
Witches
Humans
Elves
Western
Mythology
I like to create new worlds and characters
Monster/Werewolf
Kidnapper/Stealing/ Abduction
Slave/Master (Brutal without limits)
(I am up for many more ideas if it strikes my fancy)
Etc.
I am up for anything apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic based
I like anything and I have no limits. It can be as dark and as sinful as you want but I do not care of restrictions. I will see you if we roleplay together. Send a message my way and we can soon be in a roleplay!
Dislikes:
Godmodding (moving my character without my permission)
Ghosting without warning or an explanation about why ending roleplay.
(More to be updated when thought of and added to this list ..)
Also, keep in mind that I am more than my character I portray in our roleplay, I may have days where the muse burns out and I am depressed, or have autistic burnout (which I get a lot). I am a chronic multi-mental illness, emotional, developmental and behavioral sufferer so please give me time, I will get back to you the next business day or weekend. I do tend to go through quite a lot in real-life, so please be patient. It goes a long way. Rushing only stresses me out and causes me to shutdown or withdraw. I am an up-front role-player, I will not ghost anyone without explanation.
Thank you ever so kindly for reading if you got this far, have a splendid morning, evening, afternoon, or night, wherever in the world you reside.
~
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☾ Silent Feather's Parlour of Shadows ☽
**Greetings and Salutations, Dear Travelers of the Night,**
You have stumbled into my little corner of the world.
Part diary.
Part sanctuary.
Part library of peculiar thoughts.
And entirely my safe haven.
Do wipe your boots before entering. The ravens have only just finished polishing the moonlight.
---
☾ Of The Woman Behind The Feather ☽
To begin, I am an African American author, poet, storyteller, and unapologetic dream-weaver.
I have often been told that I exist several steps ahead of my own era—a compliment I graciously accept, though I suspect it merely means I have always possessed the stubborn habit of wandering where others hesitate to tread.
Rules, formulas, and rigid conventions have never held much authority over me. While others march neatly along well-paved roads, I prefer disappearing into strange forests where the signposts have long since rotted away. Some of my finest ideas have emerged from precisely such places.
I write what the imagination demands.
The story leads.
I follow.
The results often surprise both my readers and myself.
I have spent decades wandering through genres as though they were neighboring kingdoms: historical fiction, dark fantasy, science fiction, gothic horror, romance, mythology, folklore, and countless realms that refuse to fit neatly upon a bookshelf.
The stranger the road, the more likely I am to walk it.
---
☾ A Mind Built Differently ☽
My mind has never followed ordinary architecture.
It resembles less a neatly organized filing cabinet and more a sprawling gothic cathedral filled with hidden corridors, secret libraries, forgotten staircases, and the occasional dragon sleeping in the basement.
Some call this neurodivergence.
I simply call it home.
I have spent my entire life viewing the world through a lens slightly different from those around me. It has gifted me unique strengths, unusual perspectives, vivid imagination, and a lifelong fascination with the workings of people, stories, and emotions.
Being different taught me something invaluable:
There is no singular way to be human.
Only different ways to experience humanity.
Far too often society mistakes difference for deficiency.
I respectfully disagree.
Some minds sprint.
Some dance.
Some soar.
Mine prefers wandering moonlit graveyards collecting interesting thoughts and turning them into novels.
---
☾ The Curious Case of Words ☽
Long before adulthood arrived with its taxes, responsibilities, and suspiciously expensive groceries, I discovered language.
Or perhaps language discovered me.
As a child I possessed an unusual fondness for elaborate vocabulary, lengthy descriptions, and speaking as though I had escaped from a Victorian novel and become stranded in the modern era.
This occasionally bewildered my peers.
Adults, however, tended to understand me rather well.
Books became companions.
Teachers became mentors.
Libraries became sanctuaries.
While other children rushed toward playgrounds, I often found myself rushing toward shelves.
One can learn a great deal from old books.
They rarely interrupt.
---
☾ The First Spark ☽
At the age of eight, I proudly presented my very first novel to an English teacher.
It bore the rather dramatic title:
**Saga of the Fire Princess.**
A magnificent title, if I may say so myself.
Unfortunately, the manuscript vanished long ago, likely claimed by the same mysterious dimension responsible for missing socks and lost childhood treasures.
Though the story itself was lost, the spark survived.
And that spark became a wildfire.
Today I have written more than four hundred stories and poems, and the number continues to grow with alarming enthusiasm.
My laptop has become less a device and more an endangered habitat for fictional characters.
---
☾ A Few Things Worth Knowing ☽
**Name:** Silent Feather, though many call me Si.
**Age:** Thirty-two moons.
**Pronouns:** She/Her • They/Them
**Orientation:** Lesbian
**Nicknames:** Silver, Six, Angel, Lady in Red, Risk
**Origin:** The Bronx, New York.
A New Yorker by birth.
A New Yorker by spirit.
And, if fate permits, a New Yorker until my final chapter.
**Current Location:**
Somewhere within the deepest corridors of my own imagination.
The rent is reasonable.
The ravens are delightful.
The ghosts occasionally steal my bookmarks.
---
☾ Regarding Roleplay ☽
I have been roleplaying since childhood and have accumulated well over two decades of experience crafting worlds, characters, species, legends, and catastrophically poor decisions made by fictional protagonists.
Worldbuilding is not merely a hobby.
It is an art form.
A religion.
A delightful affliction.
Before engaging in roleplay with me, I kindly request a writing sample.
Think of it as less an examination and more a literary handshake.
Compatibility matters.
Stories deserve chemistry.
I primarily write in novella and paragraph format, though I am capable of adapting to the needs of a story.
Quality, however, shall always triumph over quantity.
Every time.
---
☾ Final Thoughts Before The Ravens Become Restless ☽
Whether you have arrived seeking stories, companionship, roleplay, poetry, or merely a brief stroll through the shadows, you are welcome here.
Be respectful.
Be creative.
Be yourself.
Life is far too short to spend pretending to be ordinary.
Now then—
Pull up a chair.
Mind the gargoyle.
And do enjoy your stay.
**— Silent Feather**
---
Invisible No More
Once, she was a shadow lingering at the edge of candlelight.
Silent Feather had long been a creature of quiet corners and lowered eyes, her spirit wrapped in a shroud of timidity and uncertainty. She drifted through life as one unseen—withdrawn, cautious, and haunted by fears she scarcely understood herself. Even her own emotions felt like phantoms stalking the halls of her mind, and affection, especially from men, was a thing she regarded with suspicion and unease.
She preferred silence to attention, solitude to company. Her beautiful earthen-hued eyes seldom met another's gaze, forever cast downward as though burdened by invisible chains. The world was a vast and lonely place, and she wandered through it like a ghost without purpose.
Then fate intervened.
Through chance, destiny, or perhaps some unseen hand guiding the threads of her story, she crossed paths with a man she believed would be no different than all the others. Yet as time passed and their bond deepened, she discovered something extraordinary beneath the surface.
She saw *him.*
Not the mask he wore before the world, but the soul hidden beneath it.
His sea-green eyes shone like moonlight upon a darkened sea, scattering the shadows that had long dwelled within her heart. In their depths she found herself willingly lost, and unlike every darkness that had come before, this was one from which she never wished to be rescued.
Within that sacred realization, she discovered something she had never truly known.
Meaning.
Belonging.
Devotion.
Love.
Though she trusted no man, she trusted one.
And that one was Mister Yewps.
He became the reason behind her smiles, the warmth that softened the winter of her spirit, the guiding star that illuminated paths she once believed forever closed to her. Through him she found purpose—not merely to exist, but to live. Not merely to wander, but to belong.
And where once she was a brooding, withdrawn soul adrift in endless twilight, she now stands claimed, hopeful, cherished, and blessed.
*The saga of a once-lost servant who finally found her home.*
**Written by Silent Feather**
---
A Letter Beneath the Moon
Yewps,
Once I believed my life to be nothing more than an endless wheel of repetition—a bleak procession of days fading into one another without meaning or wonder.
Then I met you.
And everything changed.
The world itself seemed altered, as though color had returned to a landscape long buried beneath ash. More importantly, *I* changed. Not into someone different, but into someone greater than I had ever imagined I could become.
A woman.
A lover.
A soul capable of standing proudly instead of hiding in shadows.
I cannot fault others for wishing to claim my heart, but it is no longer mine to give.
This kitten belongs to her Alpha Hound.
To Mister Yewps.
And I wear that truth with pride.
What we share is not a fleeting affection nor a passing fancy. It is a bond etched deep into the marrow of my being, woven through every heartbeat and every breath. You have strengthened me, guided me, and helped shape me into a better version of myself than I ever thought possible.
For that, I cherish you.
For that, I adore you.
With all my mind.
With all my heart.
With all my soul.
And as long as the moon rises above the darkened world, that devotion shall remain unchanged.
**Forever yours,**
*Silent Feather 🌙
---
---
---
The Mark of Devotion
*"The heart is not a possession to be won by many hands, but a relic entrusted to one worthy keeper."*
Beneath moonlit skies and amidst the whispering shadows, I stand bound not by chains, but by devotion.
I am not wandering.
I am not seeking.
I am not available to be claimed.
My allegiance was given long ago and remains unwavering.
I belong to a singular soul whose trust I have earned and whose trust I treasure above all others. My loyalty is neither temporary nor fleeting; it is steadfast, resolute, and enduring. It is a bond forged through affection, faith, companionship, and mutual understanding.
Many may approach.
Many may inquire.
Many may wish to court my attention.
Yet my heart remains closed to all save one.
I have already chosen.
And I shall choose him again with every passing dawn and every rising moon.
---
🩸 The One I Serve
His name is **Master Yewps**.
The keeper of my trust.
The guardian of my heart.
The soul to whom my devotion belongs.
Where once I wandered lost within endless corridors of uncertainty, he became the lantern illuminating my path through darkness.
Where once loneliness lingered, companionship flourished.
Where once there was silence, there is now laughter.
I wear the symbol of our bond with pride, not as a mark of ownership, but as a testament to devotion freely given and joyfully embraced.
My affection, loyalty, trust, and commitment remain his alone.
No rival shall claim them.
No stranger shall possess them.
No temptation shall diminish them.
For my heart has already found its home.
---
Forevermore
I am a woman grown.
A lady of conviction.
A creature of shadows and moonlight who has discovered purpose within devotion.
I stand proudly beside the one I cherish.
Faithful.
Loyal.
Unwavering.
And though the years may pass and countless seasons fade into memory, my commitment shall remain unchanged.
For some souls spend a lifetime searching for where they belong.
I have already found it.
And there, beside him, I shall remain.
**Forevermore.**
--*Silent Feather*
---
~ Name / Alias: Silent Feather The Scrawl Banditta
~ Age: Unknown — appears Early-30s
~ Appearance: Appears as that of a lithe, ghostlike figure draped in layered black fabrics, feathers woven into their coat. Their mask resembles a bird’s skull carved from obsidian. Their gloves are stained with ink that never washes off.
~ Personality: Quiet but razor‑sharp
Speaks rarely, but every word lands like a blade
Moves with the grace of a phantom
Obsessed with symbols, codes, and hidden messages
Loyal only to their own moral code
Skills: Master thief
Expert in coded writing and sigils
Acrobatics and rooftop traversal
Silent takedowns
Leaves cryptic ink‑marks as warnings or signatures
Weaknesses: Haunted by a past betrayal
Cannot resist unraveling mysteries
Tends to work alone, even when allies would help
Calling Card: A single black feather dipped in ink, left at the scene.
This is my personal "alter-ego persona" being described. She is called Silent Feather the Banditto.
To know her is to fear her.
---
Real-life information: (To all I do not know of by acquaintance: I only end up giving off tid-bits, my actual alias is exposed only to those I know and trust, like my Mister on here. Only him.)
Natural Birth Gender: I was, is, and am born of Female Gendered (XX) (Symbol for female, by the way, a little dropping of scientific knowledge, in case you did not know the symbols for such) and anatomy (actual picture of what I look like is not listed here). (*Whispers softly* I have intense body dysmorphia, and I have sadly suffered from it ever since childhood).
My Sexuality: By nature, I consider myself as naturally Lesbian in Sexuality (I am recently a "proud" out-of-closet one who came out to her family in Elementary school in 5th grade in 2002, and was supported. Not many are as much.) / In real-life I am more leaning toward female anatomy, personality and intellect when it comes to what I prefer. I will not accept any shape, way or form of homophobic insults nor disrespect of my such sexuality. None at all.
Tid-bit: Although homosexual in real-life, I am 100% comittedly considered straight for my Mister on here. And only him. 💋
~ Am I submissive or Dominant: I am submissive by nature, and always take on the Bottom role.
~ Relationship Status: I am Taken / Owned / Wholly Committed to my Mister on here.
~ Job / Services / Roles here: Slave / Servant / Maid / Broodmare at times in our role-plays.
~ Am I seeking: Absolutely not, so I highly suggest that you do not become tempted to try to persuade me to be your Slave / Servant / etc .. etc .. because this Kitten is already "Owned" and "Collared" by a loving, affectionate Mister here. He completes me and nothing or no one will, shall, or ever change that fact, meaning or truth. I have made my choice. A faithful one.
Master: Mister Yewps. ≧◉ᴥ◉≦ ~~~ *MEW*
------
☾ On Matters of Roleplay and Correspondence ☾
Permit me, dear guest, to disclose a matter of some significance before we venture further into the labyrinthine halls of storytelling together.
While I possess both the experience and imagination necessary to weave immersive tales from the smallest spark of inspiration—or even from the remnants of an idea scarcely formed—I must confess that I am not a flawless architect of prose. On occasion, typographical errors may find their way between the cracks of otherwise carefully constructed narratives, much like mischievous spirits slipping unnoticed through the corridors of an ancient estate.
Perfection, I fear, has always been a privilege reserved for the gods and the dead.
I am neither.
Merely a devoted author who endeavors, with sincerity and diligence, to offer the finest stories I am capable of creating.
There may also come moments when my thoughts wander from the prescribed path of a plot. A character may seize the reins of their own destiny. A scene may bloom unexpectedly. A notion entirely uninvited may drift through the fog and take residence within the narrative. Such occurrences are not acts of disregard, but rather the consequence of what I have come to call my *wandering mind*—a curious beast that occasionally pursues side roads through the forest before remembering where the carriage was originally bound.
Should I stray too far from the intended course, I ask only that you notify me with patience and courtesy. A gentle word shall always suffice. I will gladly make every effort to return to the established road and mend whatever confusion may have arisen.
I must also confess another truth.
I am not always the most graceful creature in matters of social interaction. Certain details may occasionally escape my notice, and some particulars may be forgotten despite my best intentions. Such oversights are never born of malice, indifference, or disrespect. They are simply the imperfections of a mind that often carries more thoughts than it can comfortably organize.
Therefore, I humbly request gentleness in correction.
Harsh words, hostility, ridicule, or needless cruelty have a tendency to linger within me far longer than they ought. Such things can send me retreating behind locked gates and drawn curtains, where anxiety and detachment become unwelcome companions for some time thereafter.
Courtesy, however, accomplishes wonders.
A kind correction shall always find a receptive ear.
A patient companion shall always find a loyal writing partner.
And mutual respect, like the finest vintage wine, only grows richer with age.
Thus, should we write together, let us do so as civilized souls beneath moonlit chandeliers—armed with imagination, patience, and the understanding that every great story is ultimately a collaboration between imperfect dreamers.
-- Lady Silent Feather
---
What tickles my fancy:
* Modern
* Steam-punk era
* Slice-of-life
* Horror
* Trauma in roleplays
* Smut (and lots of it)
* Beastiality (animals have sex with humans)
* Incest
* Dystopian/end of world
*Monster/human
*Utopian society
*Medieval (kingdoms and empires/ heirarchies)
*Slave/Master/Switch/Bottom/Top/Submissive/Dominant
I have a Master so do not ask! I submit to him and him only!
*Assassins
*Ninjas
*Pregnancy (planned, or unplanned, is a deep rooted fetish of mine)
I love
Male/Female
Male/Male
Female/Female
Middle ages/Victorian ages/Renaissance/Dark ages
Any new ideas
Vampires
Werewolves
Warrior cats
Wolves
Warlocks
Orcs
Witches
Humans
Elves
Western
Mythology
I like to create new worlds and characters
Monster/Werewolf
Kidnapper/Stealing/ Abduction
Slave/Master (Brutal without limits)
(I am up for many more ideas if it strikes my fancy)
Etc.
I am up for anything apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic based
I like anything and I have no limits. It can be as dark and as sinful as you want but I do not care of restrictions. I will see you if we roleplay together. Send a message my way and we can soon be in a roleplay!
Dislikes:
Godmodding (moving my character without my permission)
Ghosting without warning or an explanation about why ending roleplay.
(More to be updated when thought of and added to this list ..)
Also, keep in mind that I am more than my character I portray in our roleplay, I may have days where the muse burns out and I am depressed, or have autistic burnout (which I get a lot). I am a chronic multi-mental illness, emotional, developmental and behavioral sufferer so please give me time, I will get back to you the next business day or weekend. I do tend to go through quite a lot in real-life, so please be patient. It goes a long way. Rushing only stresses me out and causes me to shutdown or withdraw. I am an up-front role-player, I will not ghost anyone without explanation.
Thank you ever so kindly for reading if you got this far, have a splendid morning, evening, afternoon, or night, wherever in the world you reside.
~
Silent Feather the Scrawl Banditta
Most Recent Posts
Hello again, my friend!
And oh, I apologize. I was worried that I would interrupt someone's turn so that was why I was asking this question. Thank you for letting me know. I will remember this in the future whenever it is close to being my turn. And no rush, I did not mean to be rushy if it sounded like that way. I wanted to send this message before I headed off to bed, goodnight.
And oh, I apologize. I was worried that I would interrupt someone's turn so that was why I was asking this question. Thank you for letting me know. I will remember this in the future whenever it is close to being my turn. And no rush, I did not mean to be rushy if it sounded like that way. I wanted to send this message before I headed off to bed, goodnight.
I do apologize for my tardiness. I shall proceed with posting if it is my turn to do so. I apologize sincerely for my confusion. It is my first time being in a Public setting, (Group-setting), that is.
Thank you. :)
Am I allowed to be 7 years old (80+) years old in cat years. If not then I am more than willing to make the necessary change in age.
Thank you! I tried my very best.
Oh dear, oh my, I do sincerely apologize for my error in choice of wording of "Years" and "Moons", so I thank you for the kind explanation in a way I could easily understand. And by a leader I meant Queen. I tend to mean moon in years at times because I believed it sounded much more fancy and mysterious. Sorry about the confusion, haha, I am more than patient to go back and make necessary recorrections in my Character Sheet if needed. I do not mind doing so.
Oh dear, oh my, I do sincerely apologize for my error in choice of wording of "Years" and "Moons", so I thank you for the kind explanation in a way I could easily understand. And by a leader I meant Queen. I tend to mean moon in years at times because I believed it sounded much more fancy and mysterious. Sorry about the confusion, haha, I am more than patient to go back and make necessary recorrections in my Character Sheet if needed. I do not mind doing so.
Name:
Age: 32 (appears mid‑20s due to elven lineage)
Race: Half Norsinian Lord (Father) and a Avalese elf (Mother)
Nation: Norsinia born but of Avalese elf blood as well
Magic Type: Mana but magically enhances her own weapons and Armour which Eira uses to boost the offensive and defensive strength of her equipment through the transfer of prana. A double threat, if you will say.
Abilities
Frostweave: Manipulates Mana and Prana to form crystalline ice armor or weapons mid‑battle.
Soul Resonance: Can merge consciousness briefly with her dragon, amplifying magic and perception.
Echo of Winter: Her presence chills the air; wounds inflicted by her magic slow regeneration.
Auric Sight: Sees the flow of Prana in living beings, allowing her to detect lies or hidden emotions.
Background
Born of an Avalan elf scholar and a wandering Norsinian Lord, she was raised among the snow‑cloaked spires of the northern citadel. Her mixed blood made her both revered and distrusted — a bridge between two worlds. When the Frostbound Dragon chose her at sixteen, she became one of Avalan’s youngest riders. Her scarred eye marks the day she faced the Frost Wraiths alone, sealing their rift with her dragon’s breath. She led a lonesome childhood because she was an only child. Her homeland, a cursed, unnamed, uncharted land, simply called "That of what Shall not be named" was bleak, untouched by the soles of man yet inhabited by those of her kind, pointy eared beings of Mana and Disruption, and even Disarray, though not meaning to, nor knowing of just how unstable it truly is when unleashed. And Disruption Mana could do more than Disrupt, it could unravel the binds of time, and the threads of life itself. A once widely populated but now sparse, dwindling one. With only but a dozen or so souls left existing because of prey shortages, famine or simply going "mad" with the wasting disease of insanity that felt like boring holes through ones skull before reducing it to mush. In the end it was only her that remained, and to escape the same fate of her loved ones and her friends she flew away upon her dragon, a smaller, yet stable wing spanned reptile of a beast yet colossal as a large stone, just enough for her to ride upon.
Appearance
Tall and lithe, with silver‑blonde hair that glows faintly under moonlight. Her eyes are glacial green, one marred by a diagonal scar across cheek and brow. She wears layered dragon‑scale armor with fur trim, silver jewelry etched with runes, and a circlet of froststeel. Her aura carries a quiet allure — beauty sharpened by resilience. She stands like a poem carved from winter and starlight — an elven dragon rider whose beauty is not fragile, but sharpened, tempered, and made luminous by survival. Every part of her carries the quiet majesty of Avalan’s frozen heights, as if the cold itself chose her as its emissary.
The Elven Rider’s Presence
Her face is a study in contrasts: soft, enchanting features shaped by elven grace and the frigid harshness of her father's Norsinian bloodline, yet marked by the fierce diagonal scar that cuts from brow to cheek. It does not diminish her beauty — it defines it. It is the kind of scar that speaks of battles survived, of storms walked through, of a soul that refuses to break. Her eyes, glacial green and bright as thawing ice, hold a depth that draws others in like a quiet, irresistible gravity.
Her silver‑blonde hair falls in waves, catching light like strands of moonlit frost. Braids woven through it carry tiny charms and runic beads, each one whispering a story — victories, losses, promises made beneath ancient skies. When the wind touches her, her hair moves like drifting snow, soft yet wild.
Armor and Adornment
She wears dragon‑rider armor shaped from dark leather and frost‑forged metal, each plate etched with Avalan runes. The pauldrons resemble layered dragon scales, shimmering faintly with green and silver accents. Fur trims her shoulders and collar, a reminder of the cold she was born to command.
Jewelry adorns her with the elegance of a warrior‑queen:
a silver circlet resting on her brow, its emerald centerpiece glowing like a captured shard of aurora,
delicate chains draping across her forehead,
an ear cuff hugging her pointed ear, its emerald teardrop swaying with each breath,
rings and bracers engraved with sigils of protection and Prana flow.
She is alluring not because she tries to be, but because she embodies a rare, magnetic duality — beauty and danger, softness and steel, winter and fire.
The Rider in Her Element
Behind her, the blurred silhouette of her dragon looms over but not terrifying size — not a massive collossal structure of reptile but a well-sized, medium to slightly large statured presence that makes her seem even more mythic. Yet she does not shrink beneath his shadow as she would much larger, more colossal forms of dragon; she stands as his equal. The frost‑laden air around them bends subtly toward her, as if recognizing its kin.
Her posture is calm, confident, almost regal. She carries herself like someone who has ridden storms, danced with death, and returned with snowflakes in her hair and power in her veins.
The Aura She Carries
There is something enchantingly beautiful about her — not the delicate beauty of a flower, but the breathtaking beauty of a winter sunrise over endless ice. Alluring in the way a blizzard is alluring: mesmerizing, dangerous, impossible to look away from.
She is a suren on land — ethereal, otherworldly, a creature of myth walking in mortal shape.
---
Dragon
(Imagine the same dragon but only much more medium-to-normal dragon sized, more normally behaviored, and not too imitidating. Re-tweaked information.)
Type: Ice / Snow / Frost dragon type
Description: Crytharion will be a dragon of about a 32 wing span, a medium size of about 7 feet, but not too humongous and a lot more docile, as well as less imitidating, with smooth scales, crescent shaped like horns and sharp, shark like teeth. He is a aquamarine dragon, with large, but not overly massive wings like other more imitidating dragons. He always is there for Eira, never leaving her side, always as if a noble, loyal dog would, only a few sizes larger. And with sharper teeth, a dragon form and just as lethal four claws that could inflict tons of damage. A not-at-all mdium sized dragon whose scales shimmer like frozen glass. His breath crystallizes the air, and his wings leave trails of snowflakes in flight. Loyal, ancient, yet gentle, affectionate, and wise — his roar can summon blizzards or form illusions.
What this tells us about Crytharion
His frozen‑glass scales mark him as a dragon born in the deepest glacial epochs, not merely adapted to cold but forged from it.
Breath that crystallizes the air suggests he can freeze not just matter, but the very Mana currents around him — a rare trait among frost dragons.
Snow‑trail wings imply he carries a micro‑blizzard wherever he flies, a signature of high‑tier frost drakes.
A roar that summons blizzards places him among the mythic class of dragons whose voices shape weather itself.
His loyalty and wisdom hint that he has chosen her not as a rider, but as a partner — a bond Norshinian culture treats as sacred.
Crytharion is believed to have hatched in the heart of the Eternal Glacier, where the world’s first winter still sleeps. His scales refract light like shards of frozen dawn, and when he unfurls his wings, the temperature drops as if the land itself remembers ancient cold.
He rarely speaks, but when he does — through resonance, not words — his voice feels like a calm snowfall settling over your mind. He has seen empires rise and fall, and he carries that quiet, heavy wisdom in every slow, deliberate movement.
Appearance: Pale blue scales with veins of silver, eyes like shards of glacier light, and horns curved backward like frozen crescents.
Crytharion’s Size and Physical Presence
Height (at the shoulder): About 7 feet — towering over most dragons, with a posture that feels like a moving glacier.
Total length (nose to tail): medium sized, with a long, sweeping tail that stabilizes him in high‑altitude storms.
Weight: Approximately 95 tons, though he moves with surprising grace due to Mana‑infused musculature.
More to the meaning of his imitidating ppearance
Crytharion’s body is a masterpiece of winter’s craftsmanship:
Scales: Translucent, shimmering like frozen glass layered over pale blue ice. In sunlight they refract light into cold rainbows; in moonlight they glow faintly, as if lit from within.
Eyes: Sharp, glacial white‑blue with slit pupils — like staring into the heart of a storm.
Body Structure: Broad chest, powerful limbs, and a long, serpentine neck. His movements are slow and deliberate, like shifting permafrost, until battle awakens his terrifying speed.
Frost Aura: A constant halo of drifting snow surrounds him, even in warm climates.
Horns
Crytharion’s horns are one of his most striking features:
Shape: Twin crescent‑shaped horns that curve backward, then slightly outward, like frozen moonblades.
Texture: Smooth at the base, becoming jagged and crystalline toward the tips.
Color: Frost‑white with veins of silver that pulse faintly when he channels Prana.
Function: They act as conduits for his blizzard‑summoning roar, vibrating with deep, resonant power.
Wingspan
His wings are vast but not fully enough to darken the snowfields beneath him like most dragons but still large enough to ride on:
Wingspan: Medium-to slightly large feet from tip to tip.
Membranes: Thin, translucent, and patterned like frost spreading across a windowpane.
Wing Bones: Reinforced with natural ice‑crystal structures, making them both flexible and incredibly strong.
Flight Signature: Every beat of his wings releases a burst of snowflakes and a gust of freezing wind enough to create a medium to slightly large gust.
Age: 32 (appears mid‑20s due to elven lineage)
Race: Half Norsinian Lord (Father) and a Avalese elf (Mother)
Nation: Norsinia born but of Avalese elf blood as well
Magic Type: Mana but magically enhances her own weapons and Armour which Eira uses to boost the offensive and defensive strength of her equipment through the transfer of prana. A double threat, if you will say.
Abilities
Frostweave: Manipulates Mana and Prana to form crystalline ice armor or weapons mid‑battle.
Soul Resonance: Can merge consciousness briefly with her dragon, amplifying magic and perception.
Echo of Winter: Her presence chills the air; wounds inflicted by her magic slow regeneration.
Auric Sight: Sees the flow of Prana in living beings, allowing her to detect lies or hidden emotions.
Background
Born of an Avalan elf scholar and a wandering Norsinian Lord, she was raised among the snow‑cloaked spires of the northern citadel. Her mixed blood made her both revered and distrusted — a bridge between two worlds. When the Frostbound Dragon chose her at sixteen, she became one of Avalan’s youngest riders. Her scarred eye marks the day she faced the Frost Wraiths alone, sealing their rift with her dragon’s breath. She led a lonesome childhood because she was an only child. Her homeland, a cursed, unnamed, uncharted land, simply called "That of what Shall not be named" was bleak, untouched by the soles of man yet inhabited by those of her kind, pointy eared beings of Mana and Disruption, and even Disarray, though not meaning to, nor knowing of just how unstable it truly is when unleashed. And Disruption Mana could do more than Disrupt, it could unravel the binds of time, and the threads of life itself. A once widely populated but now sparse, dwindling one. With only but a dozen or so souls left existing because of prey shortages, famine or simply going "mad" with the wasting disease of insanity that felt like boring holes through ones skull before reducing it to mush. In the end it was only her that remained, and to escape the same fate of her loved ones and her friends she flew away upon her dragon, a smaller, yet stable wing spanned reptile of a beast yet colossal as a large stone, just enough for her to ride upon.
Appearance
Tall and lithe, with silver‑blonde hair that glows faintly under moonlight. Her eyes are glacial green, one marred by a diagonal scar across cheek and brow. She wears layered dragon‑scale armor with fur trim, silver jewelry etched with runes, and a circlet of froststeel. Her aura carries a quiet allure — beauty sharpened by resilience. She stands like a poem carved from winter and starlight — an elven dragon rider whose beauty is not fragile, but sharpened, tempered, and made luminous by survival. Every part of her carries the quiet majesty of Avalan’s frozen heights, as if the cold itself chose her as its emissary.
The Elven Rider’s Presence
Her face is a study in contrasts: soft, enchanting features shaped by elven grace and the frigid harshness of her father's Norsinian bloodline, yet marked by the fierce diagonal scar that cuts from brow to cheek. It does not diminish her beauty — it defines it. It is the kind of scar that speaks of battles survived, of storms walked through, of a soul that refuses to break. Her eyes, glacial green and bright as thawing ice, hold a depth that draws others in like a quiet, irresistible gravity.
Her silver‑blonde hair falls in waves, catching light like strands of moonlit frost. Braids woven through it carry tiny charms and runic beads, each one whispering a story — victories, losses, promises made beneath ancient skies. When the wind touches her, her hair moves like drifting snow, soft yet wild.
Armor and Adornment
She wears dragon‑rider armor shaped from dark leather and frost‑forged metal, each plate etched with Avalan runes. The pauldrons resemble layered dragon scales, shimmering faintly with green and silver accents. Fur trims her shoulders and collar, a reminder of the cold she was born to command.
Jewelry adorns her with the elegance of a warrior‑queen:
a silver circlet resting on her brow, its emerald centerpiece glowing like a captured shard of aurora,
delicate chains draping across her forehead,
an ear cuff hugging her pointed ear, its emerald teardrop swaying with each breath,
rings and bracers engraved with sigils of protection and Prana flow.
She is alluring not because she tries to be, but because she embodies a rare, magnetic duality — beauty and danger, softness and steel, winter and fire.
The Rider in Her Element
Behind her, the blurred silhouette of her dragon looms over but not terrifying size — not a massive collossal structure of reptile but a well-sized, medium to slightly large statured presence that makes her seem even more mythic. Yet she does not shrink beneath his shadow as she would much larger, more colossal forms of dragon; she stands as his equal. The frost‑laden air around them bends subtly toward her, as if recognizing its kin.
Her posture is calm, confident, almost regal. She carries herself like someone who has ridden storms, danced with death, and returned with snowflakes in her hair and power in her veins.
The Aura She Carries
There is something enchantingly beautiful about her — not the delicate beauty of a flower, but the breathtaking beauty of a winter sunrise over endless ice. Alluring in the way a blizzard is alluring: mesmerizing, dangerous, impossible to look away from.
She is a suren on land — ethereal, otherworldly, a creature of myth walking in mortal shape.
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Dragon
(Imagine the same dragon but only much more medium-to-normal dragon sized, more normally behaviored, and not too imitidating. Re-tweaked information.)
Type: Ice / Snow / Frost dragon type
Description: Crytharion will be a dragon of about a 32 wing span, a medium size of about 7 feet, but not too humongous and a lot more docile, as well as less imitidating, with smooth scales, crescent shaped like horns and sharp, shark like teeth. He is a aquamarine dragon, with large, but not overly massive wings like other more imitidating dragons. He always is there for Eira, never leaving her side, always as if a noble, loyal dog would, only a few sizes larger. And with sharper teeth, a dragon form and just as lethal four claws that could inflict tons of damage. A not-at-all mdium sized dragon whose scales shimmer like frozen glass. His breath crystallizes the air, and his wings leave trails of snowflakes in flight. Loyal, ancient, yet gentle, affectionate, and wise — his roar can summon blizzards or form illusions.
What this tells us about Crytharion
His frozen‑glass scales mark him as a dragon born in the deepest glacial epochs, not merely adapted to cold but forged from it.
Breath that crystallizes the air suggests he can freeze not just matter, but the very Mana currents around him — a rare trait among frost dragons.
Snow‑trail wings imply he carries a micro‑blizzard wherever he flies, a signature of high‑tier frost drakes.
A roar that summons blizzards places him among the mythic class of dragons whose voices shape weather itself.
His loyalty and wisdom hint that he has chosen her not as a rider, but as a partner — a bond Norshinian culture treats as sacred.
Crytharion is believed to have hatched in the heart of the Eternal Glacier, where the world’s first winter still sleeps. His scales refract light like shards of frozen dawn, and when he unfurls his wings, the temperature drops as if the land itself remembers ancient cold.
He rarely speaks, but when he does — through resonance, not words — his voice feels like a calm snowfall settling over your mind. He has seen empires rise and fall, and he carries that quiet, heavy wisdom in every slow, deliberate movement.
Appearance: Pale blue scales with veins of silver, eyes like shards of glacier light, and horns curved backward like frozen crescents.
Crytharion’s Size and Physical Presence
Height (at the shoulder): About 7 feet — towering over most dragons, with a posture that feels like a moving glacier.
Total length (nose to tail): medium sized, with a long, sweeping tail that stabilizes him in high‑altitude storms.
Weight: Approximately 95 tons, though he moves with surprising grace due to Mana‑infused musculature.
More to the meaning of his imitidating ppearance
Crytharion’s body is a masterpiece of winter’s craftsmanship:
Scales: Translucent, shimmering like frozen glass layered over pale blue ice. In sunlight they refract light into cold rainbows; in moonlight they glow faintly, as if lit from within.
Eyes: Sharp, glacial white‑blue with slit pupils — like staring into the heart of a storm.
Body Structure: Broad chest, powerful limbs, and a long, serpentine neck. His movements are slow and deliberate, like shifting permafrost, until battle awakens his terrifying speed.
Frost Aura: A constant halo of drifting snow surrounds him, even in warm climates.
Horns
Crytharion’s horns are one of his most striking features:
Shape: Twin crescent‑shaped horns that curve backward, then slightly outward, like frozen moonblades.
Texture: Smooth at the base, becoming jagged and crystalline toward the tips.
Color: Frost‑white with veins of silver that pulse faintly when he channels Prana.
Function: They act as conduits for his blizzard‑summoning roar, vibrating with deep, resonant power.
Wingspan
His wings are vast but not fully enough to darken the snowfields beneath him like most dragons but still large enough to ride on:
Wingspan: Medium-to slightly large feet from tip to tip.
Membranes: Thin, translucent, and patterned like frost spreading across a windowpane.
Wing Bones: Reinforced with natural ice‑crystal structures, making them both flexible and incredibly strong.
Flight Signature: Every beat of his wings releases a burst of snowflakes and a gust of freezing wind enough to create a medium to slightly large gust.
Hello, I prefer to be called Silent Feather, or simply Si.
I would love to be the mother character of this "said" roleplay mentioned above. I suffer from a deep touch of Autism so I do know of all the "ins" and "outs" of the disability and I would love to be mid thirties because I am about around that age. And my father was in the navy so I also have expertise on those subjects as well. and I also love the idea about the prosthetic limb. It adds to the drama, as well as depression and helplessness at times.
We can indeed discuss if you wish. I am quite a paragraph to novella role-player who prefers quality and quantity as well. So this idea of being a mother to a child with so many difficulties and discomforts is not a challenge, it will be like having a son of my own.
Feel free to message back if interested in my reaching out. Thank you and I shall be awaiting your reply, my friend.
I would love to be the mother character of this "said" roleplay mentioned above. I suffer from a deep touch of Autism so I do know of all the "ins" and "outs" of the disability and I would love to be mid thirties because I am about around that age. And my father was in the navy so I also have expertise on those subjects as well. and I also love the idea about the prosthetic limb. It adds to the drama, as well as depression and helplessness at times.
We can indeed discuss if you wish. I am quite a paragraph to novella role-player who prefers quality and quantity as well. So this idea of being a mother to a child with so many difficulties and discomforts is not a challenge, it will be like having a son of my own.
Feel free to message back if interested in my reaching out. Thank you and I shall be awaiting your reply, my friend.
Picture of AmberFlame the Feral Aristo-"Cat" "A High-Ranking Savage, in Human terms."
Appearance: AmberFlame is a dark, orange-creme, tabby with lighter creme stripes as any other tabby. She was given this such name because her fur color and light golden hazel-amber hued eyes which always reminded her such owner of the embers of an extinguished fire, one that kept heat and small crumbles of burning flame.
Name: AmberFlame
Future names: Si, Silver, Silente, Embre, Em, Shy-but-brave-One, Scarred-One, Cyclopstress or simply "One-Eye"
Age: 7 moons (She is considered a "mature-adult gestation" and is full grown but of small-stature.)
Gender: Feminine (Female-born)
Rank: Queen, Second-in-command to the lovely Queen Moonlight, (a such leader of whom she highly admires and looks up to in times of uncertainty, crisis, or simply to share chit-chat of her daily moods.)
Sexuality: Lesbian (She has always craved the female form since kit-hood but due to her rather shy nature she tends to remain to herself, seeking friendships rather than the romanticized kind of affection. She had been abstient all of her adolescent and adult life. And that is how it shall stay.
Parents: Both are deceased, sadly, but her father was from a long line of high-ranking champion breeders, and her mother was a stray, one from the harsh, wrong side of the tracks who traveled a long distance while burdened by such a heavy pregnancy. She was a feral who was unfortunately unknown to her as she was abandoned as a kit by her shortly after birth, leaving her to fend for her own self in the big, harsh outlands of an unknown forest. She was fortunately found by a shelter scoping the lands for wildlife and came across her tiny, runt like form, curled up, quivering from the elements and keening for her mother and father, but sadly it was all for naught with the parental, but the shelter was there in her dire, desperate time of need. They nursed her fragile form back to health, bottle fed her, comforted her, and even taught as if any feline mother or father would. All in the name of easing the festering of her innocent stress. When she was deemed stronger, and healthy enough to be adopted she was in luck, a high number of potential applicants signed for the precious kit and she was adopted to the family she bonded with most after many visits from each "such participant" and she was in a true home. And she grew and grew, bonding with the owner she still thinks about rather fondly to this very day.
Siblings: Unknown
Crush: None, she is single and definitely not seeking.
Mate: None.
Kits: Although she wishes for a few to call her own, she adores each of the bundle of joy kits that are in her new family in the WispClan. Protecting each and every one of them as if a mother figure would. While she does not share any biological blood, it does not mean that she guides and loves them any less.
Personality: (optional) She is shy by nature, soft-spoken, yet intensely passionate of those she loves, either friend or her beloved mentor Moonlight the Queen of the WispClan. She wishes to be more like her, carrying herself with an air of lightness and fairness, yet willing to step in with topics of the clan, such as disputes between clan members, decision making regarding clan rules, attending births of new kits, and death of old cats of the society she now calls home. There are times where she does become quite overwhelmed, times where she needs a second to step away and breathe, and others where she breaks down in silence and lets all out but not in front of the other cats, and especially not in front of her mentor, Moonlight because she is highly fearful of her reaction. But when calm, and free of the jitters, she is normally a very high energy, free spirited feline who prefers to chase and hunt butterflies, swat flies and scare flocks of geese or other low flying birds foolish to be on the ground, she finds it hilarious. She considers herself an outsider, a freak-of-nature if you will, because of the brutal, permanent injuries she sustained to her face, eye, eyelids and, tail, wishing she could hide behind a mask or cape but a cat can dream, cant she?
History: (Optional)
Small but mighty, Amberflame lived up to her name, practically saving her beloved owner more times than she could count on her paws adorable toe beans. Her owner was even saved from a blazing fire by the heroic feline, who awoke to the blaze, clawed at her owner's door and meowed as loud as her feline lungs could muster. For a long story shortened, she saved her owner that fateful night, but in the process she herself was trapped in the blaze, a side of her face burned and causing her to lose an eye, her left one, forever leaving its lids sealed shut, a burn that also left her once long, graceful, sinuous tail badly singed and prone to sores, and a burn to the side of her face that left her halfway disfigured but like all things, beauty was best when it was flawed. And she escaped with her life that night but sneaked off to the forest, leaving her owner thinking that she had perished in the blaze.
A life was saved that night, but at a great cost, her very sense of being and self-image. Leaving her with scars that would never heal, both physical, mental, and even emotionally. Eventually she met up with a clan, one called the WispClan, a strange heirarchy of felines who ruled the confines beyond docileness and human obedience. It was a place where she could be herself, a place where she could be like her ancestors, the noble, agile cat, and above all, it was where she could pick up the pieces of her shattered existence and rebuild from scratch. She rebuilt her owner's life, so now it was time to make a life of her very own.
Else: She tends to wander, and she has problems with her hip and legs because of being born so small and not getting the right nutrients during the first few days of her life from her mother, although she was still saved by the shelter. She can walk but it is often with a wobbly, limping or struggling gait. Still, she does not "guilt-trip" or "blame" neither her mother nor father for their sudden disappearance or neglecting her. She believes it ended up being for a positive thing, because she came out of it stronger than ever.
Appearance: AmberFlame is a dark, orange-creme, tabby with lighter creme stripes as any other tabby. She was given this such name because her fur color and light golden hazel-amber hued eyes which always reminded her such owner of the embers of an extinguished fire, one that kept heat and small crumbles of burning flame.
Name: AmberFlame
Future names: Si, Silver, Silente, Embre, Em, Shy-but-brave-One, Scarred-One, Cyclopstress or simply "One-Eye"
Age: 7 moons (She is considered a "mature-adult gestation" and is full grown but of small-stature.)
Gender: Feminine (Female-born)
Rank: Queen, Second-in-command to the lovely Queen Moonlight, (a such leader of whom she highly admires and looks up to in times of uncertainty, crisis, or simply to share chit-chat of her daily moods.)
Sexuality: Lesbian (She has always craved the female form since kit-hood but due to her rather shy nature she tends to remain to herself, seeking friendships rather than the romanticized kind of affection. She had been abstient all of her adolescent and adult life. And that is how it shall stay.
Parents: Both are deceased, sadly, but her father was from a long line of high-ranking champion breeders, and her mother was a stray, one from the harsh, wrong side of the tracks who traveled a long distance while burdened by such a heavy pregnancy. She was a feral who was unfortunately unknown to her as she was abandoned as a kit by her shortly after birth, leaving her to fend for her own self in the big, harsh outlands of an unknown forest. She was fortunately found by a shelter scoping the lands for wildlife and came across her tiny, runt like form, curled up, quivering from the elements and keening for her mother and father, but sadly it was all for naught with the parental, but the shelter was there in her dire, desperate time of need. They nursed her fragile form back to health, bottle fed her, comforted her, and even taught as if any feline mother or father would. All in the name of easing the festering of her innocent stress. When she was deemed stronger, and healthy enough to be adopted she was in luck, a high number of potential applicants signed for the precious kit and she was adopted to the family she bonded with most after many visits from each "such participant" and she was in a true home. And she grew and grew, bonding with the owner she still thinks about rather fondly to this very day.
Siblings: Unknown
Crush: None, she is single and definitely not seeking.
Mate: None.
Kits: Although she wishes for a few to call her own, she adores each of the bundle of joy kits that are in her new family in the WispClan. Protecting each and every one of them as if a mother figure would. While she does not share any biological blood, it does not mean that she guides and loves them any less.
Personality: (optional) She is shy by nature, soft-spoken, yet intensely passionate of those she loves, either friend or her beloved mentor Moonlight the Queen of the WispClan. She wishes to be more like her, carrying herself with an air of lightness and fairness, yet willing to step in with topics of the clan, such as disputes between clan members, decision making regarding clan rules, attending births of new kits, and death of old cats of the society she now calls home. There are times where she does become quite overwhelmed, times where she needs a second to step away and breathe, and others where she breaks down in silence and lets all out but not in front of the other cats, and especially not in front of her mentor, Moonlight because she is highly fearful of her reaction. But when calm, and free of the jitters, she is normally a very high energy, free spirited feline who prefers to chase and hunt butterflies, swat flies and scare flocks of geese or other low flying birds foolish to be on the ground, she finds it hilarious. She considers herself an outsider, a freak-of-nature if you will, because of the brutal, permanent injuries she sustained to her face, eye, eyelids and, tail, wishing she could hide behind a mask or cape but a cat can dream, cant she?
History: (Optional)
Small but mighty, Amberflame lived up to her name, practically saving her beloved owner more times than she could count on her paws adorable toe beans. Her owner was even saved from a blazing fire by the heroic feline, who awoke to the blaze, clawed at her owner's door and meowed as loud as her feline lungs could muster. For a long story shortened, she saved her owner that fateful night, but in the process she herself was trapped in the blaze, a side of her face burned and causing her to lose an eye, her left one, forever leaving its lids sealed shut, a burn that also left her once long, graceful, sinuous tail badly singed and prone to sores, and a burn to the side of her face that left her halfway disfigured but like all things, beauty was best when it was flawed. And she escaped with her life that night but sneaked off to the forest, leaving her owner thinking that she had perished in the blaze.
A life was saved that night, but at a great cost, her very sense of being and self-image. Leaving her with scars that would never heal, both physical, mental, and even emotionally. Eventually she met up with a clan, one called the WispClan, a strange heirarchy of felines who ruled the confines beyond docileness and human obedience. It was a place where she could be herself, a place where she could be like her ancestors, the noble, agile cat, and above all, it was where she could pick up the pieces of her shattered existence and rebuild from scratch. She rebuilt her owner's life, so now it was time to make a life of her very own.
Else: She tends to wander, and she has problems with her hip and legs because of being born so small and not getting the right nutrients during the first few days of her life from her mother, although she was still saved by the shelter. She can walk but it is often with a wobbly, limping or struggling gait. Still, she does not "guilt-trip" or "blame" neither her mother nor father for their sudden disappearance or neglecting her. She believes it ended up being for a positive thing, because she came out of it stronger than ever.
Time: Awoke up on Saturday, May 2, at 8:09 A.M. EDT (Responded to messages at that time. Started working on Character Sheet at that time.)
Very well. And I am quite sorry for the wait. My weekdays do tend to be dreadfully busy, but I am finally online once again after what seems like eons. And alrighty, I shall get to work on my "Character Sheet" for the WispClan cats. (By the way, the name of the clan you created is quite poetic, if I do say so).
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Update: I have "Successfully" finished "Character Sheet" at exactly "Same day as first message sent earlier in same message space" as above at the time of 10:47 A.M. (EDT)
~Well, .. whew, it was a lot but I am finally done, and completed my "Character Sheet" just as stated. I hope you like it, if it is not to your liking, then I can do "modifications, tweaks, and even additions" because I am absolutely in love with Warrior Cats roleplays.~
If I need to improve, change or erase a bit of information then please, feel more than welcome to do so.
Thank you!
Very well. And I am quite sorry for the wait. My weekdays do tend to be dreadfully busy, but I am finally online once again after what seems like eons. And alrighty, I shall get to work on my "Character Sheet" for the WispClan cats. (By the way, the name of the clan you created is quite poetic, if I do say so).
---
Update: I have "Successfully" finished "Character Sheet" at exactly "Same day as first message sent earlier in same message space" as above at the time of 10:47 A.M. (EDT)
~Well, .. whew, it was a lot but I am finally done, and completed my "Character Sheet" just as stated. I hope you like it, if it is not to your liking, then I can do "modifications, tweaks, and even additions" because I am absolutely in love with Warrior Cats roleplays.~
If I need to improve, change or erase a bit of information then please, feel more than welcome to do so.
Thank you!
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