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"𝑊𝘩𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑎𝑛𝑡. 𝑊𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝘩𝑜 𝘩𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟."
⸸ basics

✞ - [ Designation ] [ 0081 ]
✞ - [ Birth name ] aelin myraxis
✞ - [ Nicknames ] maledictus — yes, like from harry potter
✞ - [ Age ] unknown age - refused to disclose - appears to be twenty four.
✞ - [ Gender ] cisfemale | she/her/hers
✞ - [ Sexuality ] demiromantic | asexual
✞ - [ Origins ] presumed russian or british blood; white

⸸ species information

historyaelin is a wolfwalker: humans who possess the supernatural ability to shift in between human form and a feral wolf form. some say that they originated in distant ireland, although the rumors have been unproven. some call wolfwalkers shapeshifters, others werewolves. in truth, they're something in between. to put it simply; they're a wolf spirit bound to a human soul. wolfwalkers can either be born or changed. the binding of a wolf's soul to a human's soul is said to be an immensely intimate process - especially since it involves a literal joining of souls. to kill the wolf or the human is to invite disaster, for the werewolf will become feral, with the wolf taking over the human. feral wolfwalkers are extremely dangerous; they lack a conscience and are willing to kill for sport. rarely, if ever, is there a chance for rehabilitation.
historyaelin's wolf form - a beast of flowing onyx and glaring amber eyes — looks like it came from the depths of hell itself. it's much more common to see aelin in human form rather than her beast form, but a wolfish glare lingers just beneath the surface of her eyes, warning of the beast underneath.

⸸ backstory

historythere's not much to say about her life at home, only that she has been fending for herself from her adolescent years up until now. aelin was turned from human to wolfwalker after a near-death experience; after an attempted drowning in a nearby creek, she was brought back to life after a werewolf's blood dripped into the water and entered her veins. the change was excruciating - agony singing through every pore of her body as her body remade itself. there wasn't anyone around to witness her turning, not even the werewolf who had sacrificed his blood. by dawn the next morning, it wasn't a human that crawled its way to the edge of the lake, but a wolf - with pitch black fur and piercing cognac eyes. her body had been permanently changed, transformed in a way that she never would've dreamed possible. right after she resurfaced, she became acquainted with her progenitor — though not for long. needless to say, she was quite furious that she had been turned against her will; sacrificing her humanity in exchange for her life was not something she would take lightly. everything just felt 'too much.' the confrontation escalated, and soon resulted in a bloodbath. she was the one who walked away from it.
historyweeks built into months and years, with aelin mostly keeping her distance. going into a bookstore, she nearly got into another fight with another wolfwalker - icarus. thankfully, he wasn't the confrontational type - after learning of her recent change, without so much as a bat of his eye, he gave her shelter and a very thorough education in controlling her abilities. aelin never really got over the sudden change, and her initial relationship with icarus was full of argument and flare-ups. slowly but surely, the two became friends, and even lovers, the bond between their souls rigid and strong. that is, until she got the letter.
historyobviously, aelin didn't think much of it at first, and after giving a cursory glance, she threw it out without sending a reply. icarus expressed his curiosity in the study- but neither of them looked into it. the night of her abduction is a bit of a blurry one, possibly because it involved a literal split of her soul. like the many supernaturals around the world, aelin became a target. but that wasn't the worst part. aelin blames herself for allowing the situation to escalate - which resulted in icarus getting fatally shot. at first, aelin felt only a gaping emptiness, which quickly turned into unbridled rage and a lust for blood. the wolf side of her was now cut free, enveloping her senses in a red haze. within minutes, three of her captors were killed - and a fourth was seriously injured before someone managed to tase the rabid supernatural into unconsciousness. aelin becmae the scientist's attack dog; an official shredder that will put either a bullet or her fangs through anything that displeased her 'masters.' all the while, she bided her time, waiting for them to become complacent. as far as she cared, they never learned their lesson - the suffering and torment building up to a point where the scientists usually kept her in solitary confinement. the moment someone disturbed her, she would attack.
historyever since then, aelin's mental state is slipping down a steep decline. she suffers quietly in solitude, trying her best to the darkness away until the day she goes mad. her temperament is best considered 'unstable' though 'feral' or 'manic' would be a better guess. most of her emotions consist of extreme forms of aggression or stone-cold silence. she will shift and attack at the slightest provocation, and her attitude can swing between outright hatred to a dull nihilistic haze. her eyes betray a constant aura of ill-will - a warning to not push her buttons.

⸸ psychology

historyaelin is known for being two things: violent and erratic, and as one of her previous acquaintances described her; a molotov cocktail that's waiting for a match. before her entire life took a nosedive known for her razor-sharp intellect, brooding and pessimistic outlook on life, and barbed tongue - many of which are near virtues compared to her current mental state. the wolf inside of her is constantly roaring for blood - so much so that aelin isn't really sure which thoughts are hers and which ones are of the 'wolf.' to attack her is to invite a storm of fangs and blood to descend upon you. the shewolf doesn't take well to authority, believing that she should either be left alone or dominating the situation. resignation is not in her nature, but bloodlust is. once her patience runs out, you better hope that she's on your side. if she isn't, then god have mercy on you.
historydespite being a ticking time bomb in a human skin, aelin has retained a general sense of logic and pragmatism. she secretly welcomes the occasional brain-teaser, and on her best days, can usually sit down to think something out. not many of her actions are thought out beforehand, but when strung together in a list, they usually make sense. order is hard to come by in a world where anything and everything that moves has the potential to become either an opponent, a threat, or another mistake. her plans are laid out from the moment she wakes, and each step has a sense of purpose within them that most would deny. aelin is calculated but impatient. she won't take nonsense from others, and is quick to criticize. her words are harsh and biting, somehow conveying a mix general hatred of everyone she meets, as well as a disdain of their presence. even when she's trying to be nice, her sardonicism and irony are either confusing or insulting. the decades she's spent in confinement and torture have convinced her that all mortals care about is greed. the wolfwalker is not a nice person, and makes no attempt to be. if she can get it done on her own, does she really need other people to help her?
historyaelin is for the most part, antisocial and cold, but when her temper is ignited, she becomes something else entirely. her fury is as much a gift as it is a curse, a pit of molten power that both hones her senses and controls her. the severance of her soul has transformed an already short temper into a blazing inferno of fury. she is ruthless for sure, but above all things, the wolfwalker is pitiless, and even rapacious. aelin will not hesitate to take what she presumes to be hers. those that defy her meet a bloody end at her fangs, oftentimes without warning. the beast has teeth stained crimson with the blood of her enemies. each scar upon her pelt gleams with sinister pride.
historydeep down, the person that aelin used to be is festering with guilt and hate, trapped within a latticework of self-loathing and disappointment. there's nothing she can do now other than delay the inevitable, and whatever is at the bottom of this dark chasm, aelin doesn't wanna see it.

⸸ stats
historyi was trained and tortured for one purpose: to kill

statisticsstrength ★★★☆☆
statisticsstamina ★★★★☆
statisticsspeed ★★★★☆
statisticsagility ★★☆☆☆
statisticsmedical knowledge ★★★☆☆
statisticscombat knowledge ★★★★★
statisticssocial skills ★☆☆☆☆
statisticsfaith ☆☆☆☆☆
statisticspain tolerance ★★★★★
statisticsloyalty ★☆☆☆☆
statisticsmental stability ★☆☆☆☆

⸸ unrelated trivia

historyhere

The moon waxed full and plenty in the sky like a warm cup of milk, sending its silver glow down to the realm of the living. Which was very busy indeed. Like most metropolitan cities, Lyremond South - as this city was so named - had a robust nightlife, full of bedazzling neon lights and evening cafes that tempted passerby into its brightly lit depths with a warm glow and the tantalizing scent of the food on offer. Cars honked and the sound of merry chatter filled the air, warm laughs giving the dark eve a fond warmth to it. Night's thick darkness was broken by streetlights that stood like cheery sentinels, their golden ambience helping to guide those weary from a day of hard work to their warm beds. The farther you lived, the fainter the sounds of nighttime revelry became, until all that split the night was the whistle of a breeze, the voice of someone close by or the expanse of a day's recollection.

Aelin was left in the dreary company of her own thoughts, books in hand and visage somber, as usual. She wasn't the type to smile easily - her nature much too serious and her mind-space too dark to consider such folly. Beside her walked the sleek shape of her daemon - Vaermina - a rather large wolverine. Yes, Vaermina was a girl's name but there was nothing girlish about Aelin's nighttime companion - a large, brutish thing with cold amber eyes that shined force from his shadowy visage and large silver fangs that flashed whenever he opened his mouth. But that dark description fit the female well; her hair was as dark as her daemon's pelt, her skin was beautifully pale, but the cold eyes that stared out of her sage eyes warned that something else lurked beneath the beauty. She was unnatural, ethereal, more shadow than human. The compound where she was said to reside had no lamps to light up the night. No matter. They wouldn't have wanted to believe their eyes anyway - Aelin had many peculiarities that did not always endear her to the rest of the town. Those who gazed upon her and her ever-empty eyes usually turned to focus on the more corporeal world of the living. There were rumors, of course.

Most peculiarly, while Vaer did have a personality of his own - a very dark and brooding one that rivaled her own - the two did not move in any way out of sync. They were one, their souls spliced and humming together in mutual feeling. Emotions sang between their bond, two eyes stared out into the gloom with equal concentration. Their senses expanded and mingled with each other. The wolverine did not speak - part of Aelin's unnerving reputation was her equally unnerving silence. Rarely, if ever, did she utter a word -