Airevel

Dedicated Airevel, Shadow's Touch of Eylhaar, a Rakash

Airevel
Status	Active
Race	Rakash
Gender	Male
Guild	Empath
Instance	Prime

aire (noun) — happiness; joy; serenity
velet (verb) — wish; desire; soul's yearning

Appearance

Softskin
He has an oval face, tilted violet eyes and a classical nose. His red hair is short and thick, and is worn in a careless, windblown arrangement. He has copper skin and a curvaceous build.
He is average height for a Rakash.

He is wearing a bronze-bladed fan with a linen wrapped handle, an anloral jackal pin, a softly flowing gown of burnished copper silk and rich honey-hued jaspe, and a polished gold ring inlaid in diamonds with the crest of the Empaths' Guild.

Moonskin
He has a pointy-eared face, tilted violet eyes and an elegant muzzle. He has a white and grey coat, a thick tail and a curvaceous build.
He is average height for a Rakash.

He is wearing an anloral jackal pin, a pleated moonsilk toga with one end draped over the shoulder, and a polished gold ring inlaid in diamonds with the crest of the Empaths' Guild.

Guardian Spirit

You also see a solemn alfar warrior.

A solemn alfar warrior is tall and fair of face, with clear eyes and white skin that gleams like ceramic. Its features are all sharp angles, with oblique cat-slitted eyes that survey its surroundings with an untouchable serenity. Its pointed ears sweep upward, accentuating the eagle-like hauteur of its mien. Its lips are tinted blue, the color of a bruise, and are set in a grim line. Flat black clasps gather its colorless hair, binding it into a severe, warlike queue that brushes its waist. Thin and attenuated, though with a wiry strength, this warrior of the alfar is not obviously male or female.

The warrior hovers near Airevel protectively, giving you an assessing glance when it notices you looking its way.

Alteration Idea
Name: Aurivane
You also see a pearlescent alfar warrior with leporine ears.
A pearlescent alfar warrior stands tall and austere, its skin shimmering like moon shell. Its features are fine and remote, with pale, opalescent eyes that regard the world in tranquil detachment. Its leporine ears arch skyward, framing a profile of improbable courtliness. Sleek black hair is bound into a severe queue, interspersed with small pearl beads of many colors, that brushes the floor. Its slender frame moves with quiet, measured grace and is neither wholly masculine nor feminine.

Psychology

Airevel is soft‑spoken but unyielding, his calm presence both comforting and disquieting. He carries himself with the quiet confidence of someone who has already made peace with his own mortality. Though deeply loyal to those he considers pack, he does not hesitate to walk alone when the path demands it. He gravitates toward liminal spaces—graveyards at dusk, moonlit fields, the hush of a sickroom just before dawn—places where life and death overlap. His serenity in the face of suffering can be unnerving, and his honesty is often sharper than a blade, but those who earn his trust find him steadfast, protective, and willing to bear any pain on their behalf.

Background

Airevel was born beneath the brooding glow of Katamba, his first breath taken under a sky that seemed to watch him with a quiet, knowing stillness. Even among the Rakash - whose lives are shaped by exile, survival, and the memory of loss - he carried an uncanny calm that unsettled the elders. While other pups tumbled and sparred, Airevel lingered at the edges of the firelight, listening to the stories of death and return with a solemn fascination far beyond his years. His pack whispered that Eylhaar had paused to look upon him the night he was born, and as he grew, that shadowed blessing only deepened. He moved through childhood with a strange serenity, unafraid of blood, suffering, or silence. It was as if he had already made peace with the darker half of life.

When Airevel’s Empathic gift first manifested, it did so with a clarity that left no room for doubt. He felt the wounds of others as though they were his own, but instead of recoiling, he embraced the pain with a frightening steadiness. Sent east to train with the Empath Guild, he learned the disciplines of healing, transference, and restraint—but he never adopted the fear his peers held toward Empathic shock. Where others saw it as a catastrophic failure, Airevel treated shock as a threshold, a sacred boundary between life and death that he alone was willing to cross. He took on agony deliberately, again and again, as if each brush with the brink brought him closer to understanding the Immortal whose presence he felt in every quiet moment. His instructors found him brilliant, unnerving, and impossible to categorize, a healer who walked willingly into the fire that others fled.

Airevel’s devotion to Eylhaar grew not from doctrine, but from experience. In the stillness after shock, when his body trembled and his breath came thin, he felt a presence—cool, patient, and impossibly gentle. He came to believe that Eylhaar did not merely watch him; the Immortal guided his hand, teaching him that mercy had two faces. Healing was one, a gift that restored the living. Death was the other, a release that spared the suffering. Airevel began to weave small rituals into his work: crushed pearls hidden in his pockets, whispered prayers over the dying, and silent offerings left in moonlit places. He did not claim to be a Cleric, nor did he seek the authority of one. Instead, he walked a private path, convinced that Eylhaar had chosen him to be a quiet blade. One that cut away pain or severed the final thread when mercy demanded it.

Airevel believes that every touch carries power, and that the one who wields it must choose its purpose with absolute clarity. To him, life and death are not opposites but companions, each necessary, each sacred. He sees pain as a message rather than a punishment, and shock as a toll paid for stepping into Eylhaar’s domain. He does not hasten death without cause, but he does not fear it, and when he stands beside someone whose suffering has become unbearable, he offers a serenity that unsettles even seasoned Clerics. Airevel’s philosophy is simple and terrifying: mercy is not always healing, and healing is not always mercy.

Airevel moves through the world like a shadowed blessing, his presence quiet but unmistakable. In bustling cities he is the healer who arrives without fanfare, restoring the wounded with a touch that feels like cool moonlight. In lonely outposts he is the one who sits vigil through the night, guiding the dying with a calm that makes their final breaths peaceful. Rumors follow him wherever he goes—stories of criminals who collapsed after he laid a hand on their chest, of warriors who begged for his presence when their wounds were beyond saving, of necromancers who mistook his serenity for kinship and paid dearly for the error. Whether these tales are truth or embellishment, Airevel never corrects them. He simply continues her work, offering life or release as Eylhaar wills.