I honestly love her so much I had so much fun with it I love getting creative. I got a lot of inspo on her second look(the one with the owl) from the movie xanadu. the vines on her are like tatoos almost and only on one side of her and yea I think that's all the explains I have to do before you guys read her loreeee!!!! o yea her name is brystle song - seven by Taylor swift
In the floating city of Idyll, magic hummed through every petal-shaped building and crystal rail. The streets glowed with bottled starlight, and the gardens drifted like clouds. It was a place of beauty, peace, and enchantment. And Brystle was its heart. She was the only mage in Idyll. The last Vineborn. Her green, curling marks—living tattoos that bloomed across her skin—were ancient, sacred, and feared. But Brystle was no threat. She was kind, radiant, and powerful. The people adored her. Children left flower crowns at her door. Elders called her “The one and only” She kept the city safe, the gardens alive, the skies clear. But she was lonely. Until she met Kerrin. He wasn’t magical. He was a cartographer—quiet, clever, always covered in ink. He mapped the shifting lands beyond Idyll, where terrain changed with emotion and memory. He saw the world in lines and curves, and when he met Brystle, he started sketching her smile without realizing it. They fell in love slowly. Sweetly. He traced her vine marks like constellations. She kissed the ink stains on his fingers. They spent nights on rooftops, trading stories and stargazing. Idyll watched them and smiled. But the voidlings didn’t. They came without warning—creatures of shadow and hunger, slipping through cracks in reality. They devoured magic. They whispered in dreams. And they wanted Brystle. She fought them alone. Her vines lashed. Her spells burned. But the voidlings were endless. Kerrin tried to help—he always did—but he wasn’t trained. One of them struck him down. Brystle screamed. She carried him to the healers. They said he wouldn’t last the night. She didn’t accept that. In the forbidden archives beneath the city, Brystle found a spell. Ancient. Dangerous. It could bind a soul to a living form—but not a human one. She gave her blood. Her magic. Her memories. And Kerrin woke up. As a tiny owl, perched on her shoulder, blinking with the same quiet eyes. At first, she was relieved. Grateful. He was alive. He flew beside her in battle, guided her through storms, perched on her maps and traced routes with his talons. He couldn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. She knew his moods by the tilt of his head, the flutter of his wings. They were still in love. Just… different. But Idyll changed. The people stared. Whispered. Called her cursed. Called her a witch. Said she had twisted a man into a beast. Said she was dangerous. Brystle didn’t fight back. She packed her cloak, her staff, her sketchbook—and left. --- Now she wanders the wild lands beyond the city. She fights voidlings alone. She heals broken villages. She draws maps with Kerrin perched on her shoulder, guiding her through forgotten paths and cursed forests. She’s no longer praised. She’s something older. Wilder. Truer. And every night, when the stars come out, she whispers to the owl: “I’d do it again.”
