creature
ofthewood
≫ mature / dark / occult / slice of life
≫ muse and writer are both 21+
≫ penned by @straycatte
≫ffxiv oc talvi silva on balmung
Talvi Silva
𓆩 omen of the shroud 𓆪more spirit than person, a breath of moonlight wound in red. They move like silence made flesh, and chances are—they saw you long before you looked their way.why they've left the deep-rooted veil of the forest is unknown.but fate stirs when they do.
"every name i love is written on a grave i’ve already seen."
"the forest gives life and takes life away."
| author | |
|---|---|
| name | fox / stray |
| age | 30s |
| pronouns | she/her/they/them |
| timezone | cst |
yes
mature themes
crime
horror
slice of life
comedy
plot driven rp
no
my character dying (almost like i like them-- if they die it will be up to me)
noncon/rape rp
drama
rp with underage players or characters
i have no interest in interacting if you use terms like: f#ta, F+, tr#p.
001.
while I am fine with darker themes and perma-injuries, I do prefer them to be discussed first. I also typically prefer we've had multiple interactions beforehand.
002.
Communication is key.
003.
Respect is a two way street and do not be weird towards me. I curate my spaces quietly and have no problem hitting the block button.
004.
Mare and discord given out upon request and after we've had at least a couple of interactions.
⸸ physical
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𓁺 ⸺ omen weaver
height: 5'6"
build: svelte, almost starved in appearance. Androgynous.
eyes: red
hair: white
notable features: their tattoos in red ink that stand out against their paled grey skin. several scars mark their face and body.
faceref: anya taylor-joy
voice: soft, low.
scent: moss, rain, and elder trees. flora and herbs.
clothing: thick furs, soft cloths, antlers, and bone.
family: those within the clan. a daughter: lola. a niece from their twin: vahsi.
occupation: vagrant, self-claimed shroud protector, healer when convenient.
skills.
skills: light footed, herbalist, prophetic sight. (this skill can be misleading.)
clan: silva clan, a territorial and reclusive clan. small in its numbers and always on the move. they are wary of anyone they don't call a friend. the clan is led by their mother, an elder and powerful shroud witch and talvi is one of the most trusted advisors.
APPEARANCE They don’t belong anywhere but the Shroud—and it shows.Pale, near-luminescent skin veiled in ash-dark robes, with crimson eyes that cut through the fog. Their body is etched with secrets: red tattoos coiling like warnings across their chest and face, the meanings long buried in silence.Up close, the truth begins to fracture through. Claw-mark scars frame their right eye—jagged and unforgiving. A Keeper might flinch in recognition: punishment. A wound delivered by kin.Other scars are more subtle—an old slice at the lip, a gash near the jaw—marks not of cruelty, but survival. Under their robes is much the same.They wear their past in layers: loose, traditional garb that conceals more than it reveals. Thick furs, soft cloth, bone, and antler. Trinkets whisper of ritual and memory—tarnished rings, a bone-etched talisman, and a delicate garnet chain like a crown of old blood. Their cloak is immaculate, it was never made for hunting but rather ceremonial in nature.Their voice—quiet. Unearthly. A lullaby sung in an extinct tongue.Their scent—the Shroud itself: moss, rain, elder bark... and the faint ache of crushed herbs and wildflowers long buried.
❝ now i know why i woke up here on the shoreline—coughing up blood in the twilight. everything looks thе same—
will you halt this eclipse in mе? ❞
PERSONALITY They keep their distance like it’s sacred—
as if getting too close might unravel something only they can see. Talvi speaks gently, like every word is a ripple on still water, but there’s a hush beneath it… not shyness—warning.They are careful with affection, evasive with warmth.
What they love, they dream of losing. And what they see, they carry in silence.Some spirits were never meant to be touched.Only glimpsed.
⸸ history
They have always been waiting.Talvi’s story is etched in sorrow—one not unfamiliar to the Keepers of the Wood, but no less harrowing. Born into a dwindling clan clinging to the fading threads of tradition, Talvi and their twin, Yisa, were inseparable. Alongside them was Zohri’a, their elder brother—stern, watchful, and beloved. His death was the first crack in the foundation of Talvi’s world, felled by a Wailer’s arrow. Every moon since, Talvi leaves an offering where he rests—silent prayers never meant for ears.They grew amidst the hush of branches and the damp breath of the swamp, where mist clung to moss and too many kits withered before their first spring. The stillness there was never empty—always brimming with eyes, with watching. Death did not startle them; it arrived often, quiet as rot, and just as inevitable. Talvi, already touched by foresight, knew better than to bring life into such a world. But tradition was merciless. Their mother—Matriarch and shadowed by desperation—issued an ultimatum: bear children, or be cast out. A fragile peace between clans, she claimed, might rest in fresh bloodlines.A winter later, Talvi and Yisa were sent to Kugane to gather rare herbs. There, Yisa met a Keeper who mirrored her soul: gentle, loyal, and burdened with duty. He would father her only child—Vahsi. But Talvi, cursed with sight, had already seen his end. They urged Yisa to leave him while fate still allowed it. With a heavy heart, she obeyed.Talvi did not remain untouched. In time, they were paired with Seral—a fierce, respected hunter. From their union came a daughter: Lolette. But fate was cruel, and Seral’s death soon followed. Another bond severed. Another vision fulfilled.By then, Talvi had stopped hoping. They returned home, seeking silence and familiarity beneath the trees. But peace was always brittle. One evening, while making salve, Talvi dropped a bowl of precious herbs. As it shattered, their gaze unfocused—drawn to the frayed threads of the future unraveling before them.This time, it was Yisa.No scream left their lips. Just silence. Just waiting.
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⸸ statistics
| LIKES |
|---|
| The smell of rain on moss, carved bone charms and worn jewelry, voices that whisper more than they speak, forgotten songs hummed under breath, the weight of silence after a storm, warm tea steeped too long, when someone almost touches them, watching firelight dance against stone, seeing a future no one else wants to know. |
| DISLIKES |
|---|
| The sharp clang of metal in crowded cities, being asked to explain themselves, eyes that linger too long, forced laughter and hollow conversation, dreams that bleed into waking, those who use the word "destiny" too freely, touch without permission, the sound of wailing they can’t trace back to a body. |
strengths
Seer’s Sight: Talvi’s visions are razor-sharp, often frighteningly precise. They can see fates unravel before they happen, offering power few dare to wield.
Herbal Mastery: Deep knowledge of old remedies, swamp-grown herbs, and alchemical craft. Their concoctions can heal—or curse.
Quiet Presence: They command attention through stillness. A silence that unsettles, a gaze that speaks volumes.
Spirit Sensitivity: Able to feel when spirits cling to others or places. They listen to what the world forgets.
Hunter’s Patience: Talvi can wait. And watch. And strike only when the stars favor them.
weaknesses
Isolationist by Nature: Their reluctance to form attachments weakens their ability to build trust or ask for help.
Haunted Mind: Their own visions and memories—especially those not theirs—can overwhelm or disorient.
City Discomfort: Urban spaces leave them frayed and volatile, making them vulnerable and paranoid.
Unreliable Magic: Their concoctions are tied to emotion—too much grief or fear (from themselves or the subject) can cause warped or unexpected results.
Seer’s Sight (Cursed Edge): Telling a vision can sometimes be what causes it to happen. The more they interfere, the more fate tangles. Some futures rot the moment they’re spoken.
Physically Fragile: Though a hunter, they are built lean and light. In direct conflict, they rely on cunning more than brute strength.
flaws
Fatalism: Believes some things—especially death—are unchangeable. This leads to inaction, even when intervention might help.
Cryptic to a Fault: Often refuses to speak plainly, which isolates them and creates confusion or distrust.
Self-Sacrificing: Will suffer quietly if they believe it protects someone else, even if it slowly destroys them.
Emotionally Withdrawn: Struggles to be vulnerable. They may long for connection, but actively sabotage it.
Morally Ambiguous: Bound to the balance of the Shroud, not the ethics of the world. What they protect, they may also doom.
+ ADDITIONAL DETAILS ⟡ Symbols: A cracked eye, etched in charcoal. Antlers carved with runes. Stones worn smooth by prayer. Skulls hung in trees like fruit.⟡ Sight: Their gaze lingers too long. Not cruel—just like they’re reading. Their eyes reflect light like an animal’s. Sometimes, when they stare too long, people feel remembered.⟡ Death Omen: Some believe seeing Talvi in a dream means someone nearby won’t wake up. Others say they carry a shade behind them. Talvi never confirms nor denies it.⟡ Offerings: They leave behind tokens—carved stones, antler fragments, bits of hair woven with red thread. If you find one, it means they’ve noticed you. It might be a blessing. It might be a warning.⟡ Rituals: They do not worship the gods as cities do. They speak to the old things. Trees older than time. Bones buried beneath bog-water. Blood spilled in patterns no book has ever written.
Bone Necklace: A hand-carved piece bearing protective runes on the inner curve. Smoothed with age and prayer. Taken from a creature they buried themselves.
Garnet Circlet: A polished garnet nestled in a delicate crown of blackened chains, worn low across the brow. This crimson stone serves as both an anchor for their visions and a conduit for their aether—sharp as blood in water, it stabilizes their Sight when the world begins to blur. Some say it protects them. Others believe it only amplifies what should have stayed buried.
Talisman Pouch: A hidden pouch sewn inside their cloak, filled with dried herbs, a lock of Yisa’s hair, teeth, string, and a blood-stained feather.
A single silver coin with no face: Used for crossing thresholds, both literal and spiritual. Some claim it's payment for something they owe.
A scrap of dark velvet soaked in oil of poppy and wormwood: For calming the body during visions. For dulling the noise of too many failures.
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⸸ abilities
| 🜃 Sight Beyond the Veil |
|---|
| Talvi’s most prominent and dangerous ability. Their visions are rarely linear—they come in fragments, symbols, and moments pulled from dying threads of fate. |
They can glimpse death before it comes.
Touch or proximity can trigger a vision involuntarily.
Rarely, they attempt to glimpse their own death—but it always ends with blood, static, and nothing.
If they spit into someone’s mouth, that person swap dreams for a single night with the seer. (An old legend) They fall into a fever of vivid, fragmented nightmares. It’s said the dreams are not meant to be understood, only survived. The seer wakes rested, the dreamer wakes changed.
| ✴Spirit-Tethering |
|---|
| Talvi can sense lingering spirits—of the dead, the forgotten, the forsaken. |
They may act as a medium, intentionally or not.
Sometimes a spirit attaches to someone they touch, and Talvi sees memories that aren't theirs. They belong to the spirit—a dead relative, a forgotten lover, someone who once mattered to the person Talvi touched.
Protective runes carved into bone or stone can ward off malicious spirits they’ve drawn.
| ⚘ Old Shroud Remedies |
|---|
| A master of herbalism, salves, and ritual healing. Their knowledge predates most modern city techniques. |
They heal using runic poultices, song magic, and clan rituals.
They refuse coin. Payment is made in favors, names, or truths.
Their concoctions are laced with emotion—too much grief or fear from the patient can warp the effect.
| ⟁ Fatebinding & Alchemy |
|---|
| Rare and illicit. Talvi knows how to bind threads of fate using blood, bone, and fire. |
These rituals can tie two souls together, though they often end in tragedy.
A goblet filled with someone’s blood can reveal how they die—but never how to stop it.
Some call them a harbinger for using this power; they believe love, fate, and death are intertwined.
⸸ bonds
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character name
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🜃 hooks
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shroud
Wander long enough beneath the canopy, and you may catch a glimpse—red eyes gleaming like coals through mist. Keepers know the name Silva. Whisper it, and someone will answer with a story, or a warning.Few approach. Fewer return.
cities
They don’t belong here. Their unease is palpable: ears drawn back, gaze ever-shifting. And yet, Talvi walks the stone streets, vanishing into the noise. What tether drags a spirit like this into the pulse of a city?
wanted
Gridania prefers its hunters accounted for. Their Wailers even more so. Yet patrols vanish, arrows rot in soil, and silence grows thick where footsteps once fell. Posters circulate—depicting a red-eyed miqo'te with old clan markings.Still at large.
healing
Talvi's hands are old with knowledge. Remedies of bark, bone, and whispers. A cut sealed in moss. A fever drawn out with ash. But nothing comes freely. If they choose to heal you, know a favor will one day be asked in return.
gifts
A stone in your pocket. Smooth. Etched with something unfamiliar, ancient. You didn’t put it there. You were chosen. Protected. Watched. Do not lose it.
rivals
Not all Keepers honor old blood. The Silva name carries grudges—rival clans who claim trespass, betrayal, or something deeper. If you are one of them, you'll know it when you see them. They always recognize their enemies.
⸸ art
All art was commissioned for my use and my use only. Design was bought from @amaragria
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hillectant @muchinery @paulstation
lore
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⟡ CLAN The Silva clan are a reclusive line of Keepers, thought to descend from an ancient age. Led by the Silva family, the clan is composed of many smaller familial branches. Their speech, attire, and customs reflect a lineage long preserved—and fiercely protected. Though their numbers have dwindled over time, their pride has not.
Once a formidable presence, the Silvas now walk in shadows. Watchers. Guardians. Vanishing before you can meet their eyes—though it's likely they saw you first. They are nomadic by nature, ever-moving to avoid Wailers and unwanted attention. Yet no matter how far they stray, the South Shroud remains their sacred home. ⟡ ATTIRE Garb is loose-fitting and breathable, crafted for navigating the dense humidity of the South Shroud’s swampy depths. Though they are native to the boglands, they are rarely seen within. Tattoos are awarded for accomplishments or sacred rites and are rarely explained to outsiders. Crystal jewelry is considered a gift of the Wood itself and is reserved only for those of high status ⟡ LIFESTYLE They dwell where even the bravest dare not tread. The South Shroud is merciless—the creatures, the Wood itself, will take a life without hesitation. To live here is to understand: the forest gives, and it takes. There must always be balance.When blood is spilled, an offering must be made. A kill demands recompense—typically an organ: a heart, uterus, or lungs—offered at one of their ritual altars. No death goes unpaid.As nocturnal beings, their lives unfold beneath the moon. From the earliest age, Silva children are taught to tread lightly, to keep pace—or be left behind. Life expectancy is low, and it is not uncommon for a group of kits to be reduced to just one or two survivors by season’s end.During the leanest winters, when starvation looms, the clan may ask for the ultimate sacrifice: one of their own giving their life to conserve dwindling resources. Elders nearing their final days, or those too injured to continue, often volunteer.Women are expected to bear kits young, just as men may be sent to other clans to forge alliances. A child born of two clans is a promise of peace.
FIRST HUNT
The First Hunt is a rite of passage. After moons spent observing seasoned hunters, the young are formed into a party and sent into the wild. They are expected to return with a kill. Some do not return at all. A feast is held to honor those who survive—and remember those who did not.
RELIGION
The Silva clan do not worship the Twelve. The Wood itself is their god—a vast, breathing entity, alive in every leaf and beast. To act against it is the gravest sin, punishable by death. All things taken from the forest must be repaid. If a plant is gathered, seeds or blood must be left. What cannot be used—fur, bone, antlers—is returned as totems or adornments.They are not above killing to protect the Wood. A hunter who kills for sport may be maimed—or left to rot beneath the boughs, decorated only with offerings for the forest and its beasts. Nothing from the "tainted" may be brought home.
BURIAL RITES
Each family line guards a sacred tree—ancient, immense, and hollowed by time. These trees hold the bones and ashes of their ancestors. Names are carved into the bark, roots adorned with relics and keepsakes. Notes and prayers are pressed into cracks or buried in the soil. Death is not a departure, but a return.
HEALING & MAGIC
While not forbidden, magic is rare. Only elders or shamans may use it freely. Those who leave to study magic are sometimes met with suspicion. Healing magic is reserved for dire moments—otherwise, they trust the wisdom of herbs, time, and pain.To erase a scar with magic is deeply frowned upon. Scars are sacred. Stories carved in flesh. They must remain.
⟡ PUNISHMENT
The elders judge transgressions. The matriarch alone may overrule their sentence. Facial scars are often the mark of penance, though for grave offenses, a finger—or even an eye—may be taken. Death is the final price, reserved for the most grievous betrayal: harming the Wood or breaking the sacred laws.
🜃 SACRED LAWS 1. The Wood is God.The forest is not a place—it is a living, breathing deity. To harm it without necessity is blasphemy. To take without giving is death.2. Balance Must Be Paid.All life taken must be honored with an offering. A kill made without payment invites curse or death. Blood for blood. Life for life.3. No One Leaves Without Leaving Something Behind.If you depart from the clan—by exile, by betrayal, or by death—your memory must be sealed and your mark burned or scarred. Only the matriarch may undo it.4. Secrets Are Sacred.Our rites, runes, names, and trees belong only to us. To speak of them outside the clan is a crime against blood.5. Magic is a Gift, Not a Crutch.Let pain teach and scars remain. Only in grave need may one mend with aether. Those who erase their wounds are erasing their warnings.6. Elders Speak for the Dead.When a Silva falls, it is the elders who decide what is told, what is buried, and what is left to rot. No voice may rise against them in mourning rites.7. Tainted Blood Must Not Be Taken Home.If one is killed who has sinned against the forest, their flesh is cursed. You do not eat them. You do not scavenge. You leave them for the Wood to swallow.8. The Matriarch.Her word is law. Her silence is warning. Her wrath is final.9. To Harm One’s Kin is to Harm the Forest.Blood turned against blood stains the clan tree. Punishment is decided not by justice—but by balance.