ABOUT THE WRITER

  hello!   If you're reading this, you likely know me somewhere on the internet under one of various bat-themed noms de plume. I've spent the better part of two decades wedded to the pen and, later, the keyboard, using writing and roleplaying to explore different facets of human experience. For as long as I've been able to set words down, storytelling has been my go-to creative pastime, no matter the medium. When I'm not enjoying creating stories together with others over text, I'm more than likely doing it around the proverbial tabletop, with the help of a handful of dice.  pronouns .   they/he/she
  time zone .    central standard time (gmt-6)
  timeframe .   daytime, evening; my schedule is erratic, so please ask when I am next available.
  writing format .   currently unavailable for longform writing. available to write in "sprint" sessions within FFXIV or in another medium.
  availability .    currently limited — dependent on interest/energy level.
  messaging .    at my discretion; please ask.

WRITING THEMES

CREDITS

RULES FOR INTERACTING

ON CONTENT WARNINGS

There's very little subject matter I shy away from as a writer. I'm comfortable with, and thrive in, exploring most dark and taboo subjects, including (and especially) where they intersect with the erotic. In the unlikely event that something comes up with which I am personally uncomfortable, I will let you know. As a matter of course, I prefer not to see warnings ahead of material shared with me.On the other hand, I will generally err on the safe side at first until I'm better acquainted with you, and typically default to offering warnings of my own for what may generally be deemed uncomfortable subjects.I'm aware that general warnings don't account for everything, and that what arouses our old pains doesn't always look like an aversion to things like gore or noncon. If there are specific things (no matter how seemingly inconsequential) you would like to avoid, please tell me and I will accommodate you. You need never go into any detail beyond telling me what to avoid.

SOCIAL CONNECTIONS

  HOUSE VAUNTELAIRE    —  details
noble patronage ; contracted for research & family medical care  CARBUNCLE CREATIONS    — proprietor
apothecary, trade partner ; contracted for exchange of skills & wares  THE PELAGIO    —  details
favoured lounge ; frequent patron, acquainted with a majority of staff  HOUSE BLACK    —  details
checkered history ; regarded unfavourably, mutual dislike

  MORRACIA DE VAUNTELAIRE    —  carrd
ex-inquisitor, viscountess ; personal ally, confidant  VELITAS NOIRTEREL    —  carrd
astrologer, host ; lover and guardian  WALKELIN ARAIGNEUT    —  carrd
apothecary, perfumer ; colleague, chirurgeon, ???  R.C. GORGAGNE    — 
erotic author ; confidant and writing muse  NIK-O-MONOA    —  carrd
first frostseer ; friend and protector  THÉODULE MOLISOUIX    —  carrd
midwife ; colleague and bitter rival

  NAME    Navrys Quilarain*
  GENDER & PRONOUNS    cis* man; he/him
 ORIENTATIONS    all's fair in love & war
  OCCUPATION    chirurgeon, alchemist, hearer
  PLACE OF RESIDENCE    Ishgard (Empyreum)
  PLACE OF ORIGIN    The Black Shroud
 LANGUAGES   Eorzean Common, Old Ishgardian, Hingan (spoken only)
  AFFILIATIONS   
 - House Vauntelaire (contractual)
 - Stillglade Fane (tenuous, correspondence only)
  NOTABLE FEATURES   
 - grey eyes paler than any natural shade
 - a fringe of long, thick silver hair draped over one side of his face, with the faint edges of pale scars underneath
 - a scent of medicinal herbs and conifers underlaid by unmistakable notes of tuberose

 IMPRESSIONS & TESTIMONIALS .  

 "Ever the ephemeral mystery — one many have longed to solve that stays tantalizingly out of reach. Ever a gentleman with a smile smooth and sharp in equal measure, he cloaks his conversations in silver and honey, ever pleased to leave his partners wanting more in ways they'd not consider in polite company. In short, a sharp-dressed fiend of the highest order — and a dear friend." —  Renardine Colbernoux. 

 "The man is nothing less than a villain." —   Karilan Black. 

 "A man with a cunning and precise hand upon his scalpel. Were his affiliations as clean, and his tongue as direct." —   Théodule Molisouix. 

 "Master Brother always takes care of me!" —   Nik-O-Monoa. 

signed, n.q.

  A man of rakish charms   silver of eye and tongue alike, Navrys has spent the better part of his practising years weaving his way deep into the fabric of Ishgardian society — high and low. His is a name heavy with rumour even upon the tongues of those who may claim to know him; yet in their imaginings one might hope to find as much substance as in asking the man himself, and be equally disappointed.

  More of rumour than verified fact   surrounds this man who, in a remarkably brief span of years, positioned himself among Ishgard's preeminent chirurgeons, making himself virtually indispensable despite whispers surrounding his allegiance. It is said that in his ascent through the bloody stones of the Holy See he amassed wealth comparable to a baronet’s, and faint whispers tell of coffers flung open behind closed doors to receive of his mastery with the knife — or other, more esoteric exchanges made to win his ear.

  His endeavours keep him close   at the edges of highborn society, yet the years he has spent on their periphery have seen him spurn offers of patronage from all but one. On the brink of collapse after the frost of calamity nearly wiped out its Coerthan medicinal gardens, House Vauntelaire saw the opportunity for renewal in his skills, and he a unique chance at new research in the use of their remaining facilities. The House itself has undergone dramatic change since the decease and disappearance of many of its leadership, leaving a single, sickly young Lady its sole heir under the stewardship of her aunt.

  Why such a man might choose   to maintain such tenuous ties is unclear; as with all else not generally known (or supposed) about him, he has declined to elucidate. Interest surrounding his origins, his connections, and the matter of what affairs he tends behind closed doors all seem to slide from his back, if they fall short of entertaining him.

  Little is known of him   that can be said to be true with any certainty, and not raise the flicker of doubt in an attending gaze. No city-born Ishgardian alive will deceive themselves that a man of his like could be their countryman by birth; yet to observe him from afar little of his speech and comportment would betray his roots in the Twelveswood. It is only by making his acquaintance oneself that it is possible to discern those habits and proclivities that distinguish him from his fellows, ill hidden as they are by the veneer of cultivated manners.

current storylines

  A SERPENT IN THE SPIDER'S WEB .      —  Main quest. 
Moons spent overseas in the lands far west at long last came to their conclusion with his return to familiar shores bearing the fruits of his endeavours. Those bequeathed to another's more delicate hands found new purpose in the chirurgeon's theatre, and thereafter found recompense in company and service. The mind and body of a healer must, after all, be of sound condition if one is to weather coming plague — and match step with the dance of the spidery hands attendant upon him.
  HIS SAVIOUR, HIS ENEMY .    —   Sidequest. 
An ill-fated endeavour at new acquaintance once made enemies of men who should otherwise be colleagues, feeding one fuel for old resentments and inspiring quiet contempt in the other. Fate, however, is capricious. A man determined to cling to his hate soon found himsef forced by circumstance to seek his salvation in those hands he should least want laid upon him, and the chirurgeon, quietly pleased at this turn of events, obliged him, though at no small price. In taking certain deadly specimens as his due, he believes he may find answers to mysteries that yet plague medicine.
  SEEDS OF MEMORY .    —   Sidequest. 
Long years since Calamity struck have seen the ruin and unsteady rebirth of a House once renowned. In those quiet days secrets once kept silent in the roots of its gardens were released to the frigid winds of the highlands, carrying with them the ghosts of a legacy nourished in blood. Yet the same frozen soil holds still the seeds of renewal, and so it is that the House's chirurgeon joins his lady upon her venture to bring peace to the unquiet dead left behind.

POINTS OF INTEREST

on first acquaintance

for new acquaintances and polite strangers...  BY THE SAINTS' GRACE    —  healers , those seeking healing ,  Ishgardians
Tucked away in Ishgard's rebuilt streets sits a humble healing practise, whose doors, it is said, are open to all at a fair fee. Though it may be recognised by the likeness of St Mocianne upon its sign and seal, local tongues will talk of it by way of "the saints' grace", as if all the Twelve's blessed smiled on its establishment.  HER LADYSHIP'S CONFIDANT    —  nobility ,  in a noble's service
After having established himself as indispensable across the layers of Ishgardian society, it may seem curious that he has since aligned himself with a minor House on the cusp of collapse. Yet its fortunes have waxed, not dwindled, since this alliance was formed, and those with a propensity for gossip may notice in him a friendliness with the viscountess somewhat exceeeding professional courtesy.  A HEARER IN COERTHAS    —  conjurers ,  clergy
Years spent in Ishgard during the War have taught this outsider well the art of appearing a pious man of the Fury where he pleases. Yet those who remember the state of the Fane after the Calamity may recall his presence there — and also recall his unshakable faith in the elementals, before his abrupt departure. What might have led such a devout man so far from home, he does not seem inclined to tell.  ACROSS THE STAR    —  adventurers ,  frequent travellers ,  merchants ,  scholars
Though evidently content to be settled in Ishgard, a faded glimmer of the adventuring spirit lingers in the frequency with which this man finds himself drawn to nearly all corners of the map. Those restless sorts whose travels lead them to cross his path may well recognise him from their journeys; some may find him amenable to offering an ear, or advice — if they have no bones to pick with him.

rumours & gossip

for those sharp of ear and idle of tongue...  A CURIOUS SENSE OF CHARITY    —  in tune with gossip ,  sharp-eyed ,  Brume connections
'By the Saints' grace' is it said that a chirurgeon lives in Ishgard who will set a fair fee for his services, even to those who might otherwise never afford them. Yet his offices wear all the signs of a man well compensated, and not a word escapes them of the coin — or aught else — that buys his care. Even to particularly clever eyes, the sole clue is the occasional appearance of poorly-clad youth at his door, offering services or, sometimes, delivering letters.  SALACIOUS WHISPERS    —  Ishgard , gossip
In truth it is hardly secret, though it is certainly hushed: in some circles a different reputation than that of the good-natured healer precedes his name, and not without reason. On these lips one could be persuaded to believe he climbed up from the Brume's rubble upon a ladder of secret trysts, bought in coin and sweat. If this much can be believed, one must wonder what else might serve him in trade, when gil is wanting. . .  CLOAKED IN MYSTERY    —  deep digging
For all the interest his name inspires when it comes up in conversation, precious little of even the most ordinary facts of his life reveals itself after closer examination. Under what circumstances did such a man find his way to Ishgard? By whose charity — or by what manner of clandestine arrangement — does he remain? What family carries his name? Absent the truth from his own tongue, conjecture flows as freely as wine.  UNDISCLOSED FUNDS    —  gossip , sharp eyes , deep digging
A chirurgeon of this gentleman's calibre may well have earned a measure of the luxury he seems to possess, even despite his persistent charity. Yet such a simple attempt at explanation leaves much to be desired — much as he might like society to bury the memory of his origins. If the quietest whispers tell it true, more than his own endeavours may have led him to his present position.