the ivory viper

The Ivory Viper, they call her. A brutality to the namesake that does not inherently define the young woman who’s spent over a decade enduring it. Having long since fled from the Sharlayan isle under mysterious circumstances, Una has specifically crafted an atmosphere about her like a knight might adorn armor. Wielding the hope that a scrutinizing gaze would be unable to penetrate it. Cryptic, cautious, and calculating; her aloof nature, as well as her serpent-like appearance, has made her somewhat of a desired interest amid her chosen peers. A weakness she quickly took advantage of in order to establish herself among the wealthy elite and Ishgardian nobility. But it is her fascination with fables and folklore that has drawn the white-scaled Raen across the globe, and to many others, as she eagerly seeks knowledge as one might want for treasure or fame. Her means are subtle, patient; keeping to her small alleyway apothecary near the high-seat of Ishgard as she satiates curiosity through her study of ancient tomes and artifacts, awaiting the shopkeeper's bell to ring true to a new lead.

Do's

Do Not's

❝ how curious you are, little thing. with your eyes of gold and your heart of rot. ❞

Though small in stature, Anurael has a rather considerable presence that is not often missed by most who meet her. The picture of quiet reservation and stoic intrigue, the woman’s more aloof nature and inquisitive mind have merited her the luck of deftly navigating the intricate network of Ishgardian nobility without necessarily the wealth or stature that would have afforded her easier access to it. She prides herself on this fact, as it is because of this gift of wit and wile, that is so inherent to her character, that the young woman is able to sustain the more privileged life of seeking her true passions and curiosities of long lost fables and folklore. An affection for the world of the olde and forgotten she inherited from her father, that has long since been both her greatest legacy and equal grief.

  At first impression:   the Raen is a quiet woman, withdrawn somewhat from most and reserved in nature, but not outwardly unkind or cruel. Nor does she appear in any way so. Though often mocked in whispers for the more unfamiliar features among her peers, it is often noted that despite the draconic similarities with her scaling and horns, there is a softness and kindness to the Raen that does not go unnoted.Anurael is adorned with a short crop of curly blonde hair that frames a small round face, beset with two gilded eyes that glow nearly incandescently in soft lighting, and are half hidden under a feline sharpness to their shape and heavy lashes. Her lips are full, pouty even; painted in stark contrast to her pale skin and softly flushed features, in a flash of sanguine ichor that gives her an air of wickedness that her countenance does everything to dissuade from.The portrait of innocence, the woman stands just shy of five fulms, with a lithe frame rounded only gently at her chest and more fully around her waistline. Most notable though is the ivory scaling that covers the majority of her body, highlighted by white ink that curls and thrives, much like the vine, but in a language most would find unfamiliar. With such scaling, her elongated canines and claws, and the serpentine tail often adorned in gilded jewelry, Una’s AuRa heritage is undeniable and something she does not shy from, and will more often than not wear clothing that highlights or accentuates such features over attempting to disguise them.

Revels

Woes

Hobbies

introverted

cold

selfish

skeptical

serious

logical

disciplined

suspicious

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extroverted

warm

generous

open-minded

playful

emotional

hedonistic

trusting

She was the moon, marvelous and bright in all the darkness surrounding. Born upon a cold dusk, deep into the long nights of fall, Anurael was a shrieking brightness of warmth and light to two vagrant souls who had yearned for such a gift for a very, very long while. A daughter of porcelain scale, a trademark to the clan Eyra left far behind to much younger years, Arnek and Nefeli welcomed the babe to their new home upon the isle of Sharlayan and into a life that would offer nothing but love for the little one. A gleaner by trade, Una’s Father had a fondness for adventure and experience that was hard not to nurture in his child, just as the Mother’s own talent and knowledge of flora and its marvelous mixtures would be an inherited gift of equal measure. The two spent much of her childhood reading to her tales of far-away lands and the incredible beasts and heroes that lived within them. Stories of great and terrible evils, or unfathomable powers of mystical relics, that were only sought after or vanquished by the greatest of goods. This devotion to daydreams took root, as it was intended, and nurtured a hope unwavering in their daughter.Though this hope, however small and growing, sustained its first test of might at an age much younger than any should endure. By five years old Anurael’s mother had fallen gravely ill with a sickness none could name and, though everything was done to care for the woman, she had passed by the following spring. Her presence was a notable absence in the first few months after, and the grief became a palpable presence in its stead. But a father’s love is nothing if not enduring; and though the heartache was still very present, he sought only to continue nurturing that fondness for the great, wide world and all of its possibilities.

The years persisted, in spite of whatever heartache had sought to rattle them from their path, and the Eyra’s endured. Una spent every day she could beside her father, lost on whatever adventure stole him from the shores of Sharlayan. And in turn he nurtured her fondness for flora and fauna, teaching her everything he knew about the world and all its nuance. As a gleaner, his work took them both many places and there wasn’t ever a moment he considered leaving her behind. Not in her childhood, and certainly not as the dreams of her future became more defined. Her compassion and interest now wholly aligned with all that he had raised her to be. Their love of fables and folktales were often shared around campfires and among cultures that freely spoke of their own, and that passion for history and culture drove Anurael to apply to the Academy in hopes to position herself someday among those of the Forum she so idolized. With all her worldly experience, it didn’t take long for the Raen to hear back about her application from the head of mythical antiquities and ancient folklore, Calix Moreau.For the better part of her teen years Anurael was a devoted and faithful student. Finally having fully settled themselves within their original homestead, she pursued her learnings with full focus and determination. So much so, in fact, that it often alienated her from her fellow classmates and peers. Because of this, it was easy for the girl to find favor with her mentor, and eventually was given access to care for and study some of his more prized collections. It was this grant of access, however, that would change the little one's life forever. All because of a simple black stone embedded into a gnarled mass of iron branches, no bigger than her palm to hold it, that beckoned the raen from her books and lured her to speak the enchantments that had kept its power sealed for centuries.

However promising her life might have once been, solitude and regret became the foundation of Anurael’s adulthood. Hope left somewhere searching on the far shores of Sharlayan, with all that the woman had left behind on that fateful night in Moreau’s study. Marked a murderer and a thief, even if still a minor at the time, and with the very real fear of destroying her father’s legacy had she stayed to contest such, the raen made off into the night without a word to anyone she knew. Carrying herself as far as her feet could take her upon will alone. A decade having come to pass, the remote cold of Ishgard became Una’s new home and a sanctuary far from the aching pain of the bright future that had been all too quickly snuffed out by misfortune’s cruel hand. The woman spent her years navigating and solidifying her standing among the wealthy political elites, even in spite of how poorly they often treated her in return. In time, she had established herself as somewhat of a mystic and the most reliable apothecarist in town.With the business in full bloom and an influx of unique and affluent clientele, the woman utilized her success to continue the pursuit of her passions in fables and folklore. Though, admittedly, not entirely as altruistic in intent as it had once been to her. Her establishment of the free company The Ebon Gate, and her growing network of buyers, informants and investors, while often marketed as a means to pursue and preserve ancient artifacts and tomes of power, has become merely a woman’s last desperate attempt to find answers for the curse she harbors before it kills her. Especially now that, despite all of the sadness and solitude she has suffered because of that relic, the shimmering light of hope has eroded her defenses and begun to flicker in the form of a love and family she had been all too eager to deny herself from ever deserving again.