Ophelia Eärtári

Biographical information

Birthplace Laigin Born Died Age 1,548, but who's really counting? Home Laigin Sexuality Pronouns

Physical description

Race Fae, Duanann Sub-Race Gender Female Height 6'2 Mass Slender Hair color White Eye color Red Skin color Snow white

Political information

Affiliation(s) Occupation Clan(s) Caste Domain Masters Apprentices Alias(es)

Out-of-character information

Writer Eilerias Created on 12/24/2021 Avatar https://www.deviantart.com/dopaprime/art/Princess-of-Ghouls-787582749

The Unlucky.
Ophelia. A beauty and a curse.
Death follows her like a shadow, claiming the lives of all she loves.
A slew of lovers, never making it to marriage.
A stillborn child, never taking his first breath.
The Lonely.

A noblewoman, Ophelia is almost always dressed up in magnificently detailed black dresses adorned with blood-red roses, a stark contrast to her almost albino appearance. Red lips, snowy white skin, and mascara that is seems to perpetually run down her face, she tends to scare off any suitors. It's for their own good, anyway.

• Luck, or rather a strange unluckiness that has effectively destroyed her life.
• Death. Ophelia has a natural affinity for death but has not mastered it yet, often losing control due to her wildly uncontrollable emotional states.

• Lunar

• Fire

• Death
• Rebirth
  • She is abnormally fertile for a fae, but her body has always acted as a hostile vessel never allowing her to meet her child

• Albino Crow

• Aloof
• Careful

In her earlier years, Ophelia was the snobby and materialistic only child of the Eärtári family. Her family threw lavish parties in their home for the other nobles of the Autumn Court with the goal of finding her a proper suitor. Finally, when she was in her early 400s, she met him. The man of her dreams. Sylris was his name. His family was rich, he was beautiful, and they were engaged that night. Seven months later, they shared their first kiss at the altar.

It started as a cough at the reception. No one was concerned- perhaps he was getting a cold. The coughs got more frequent and worse as the night went on, his handkerchief speckled with blood. The moments they were supposed to cherish in bed that night had instead turned into Ophelia trying to help the man who was spewing blood with every cough. He passed in the night.

Poison, they suspected. Someone must have poisoned him at the wedding. It made sense right? Must have been a servant with a grudge. No poison was found in his body. The servant was hanged anyway.

She tried again, decades later. She found a man and fell in love. The coughing fits started soon after. Hundreds of years, dozens of men. The same cough, the same fate. They dropped like flies. Their families spread rumors of the cursed beauty. They warned their sons to stay away and for the most part they did...until a few hundred years later.

Thejeon, a servant of hers that she rather enjoyed the company of confessed his feelings for her. Perhaps if we kept it secret, we would be safe. She thought, convinced it was someone else killing all of her lovers. She was right. Her and Thejeon had a blissful fifty years of courting together before they married in a private ceremony. Soon after, she was with child.

Eight months had gone by, finally the coughing started. Less than a day later, she was burying her husband and stillborn child together.

Heaven help the fool who falls in love.