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Ravenna Vex is a half-elf bard from the College of Whispers, known more through rumor than record. She travels the Realms with a bone-white lute and a voice that feels less like music and more like memory—something familiar, intimate, and deeply unsettling. Though she appears to be in her late twenties, paintings and fragmented accounts place her existence across centuries, unchanged.
            
            Once a member of a vanished performance cult called The Choir of the Hollow Moon, Ravenna survived—or returned from—their final forbidden performance, which left no audience, no bodies, and no explanation. Since then, she wanders from taverns to tombs, battlefield ruins to crumbling cathedrals, collecting stories, secrets, final breaths, and emotions as though they were notes in a score only she understands.
            
            Ravenna is charismatic, soft-spoken, and unnervingly calm, with beauty that feels a little too perfect and shadows that cling too close. Her magic manipulates fear, memory, and identity, turning vulnerability into a weapon and silence into stagecraft. She can steal a dying person’s voice, mimic a stranger’s life flawlessly, or plant nightmares with a single whispered verse.
            
            People who meet her rarely forget her—yet she remembers everyone.
            
            She seeks something she refuses to name: a forgotten final verse, a perfect performance, or perhaps a moment of meaning she missed long ago. Whatever her purpose, one truth remains:
            
            Where Ravenna sings, the world listens.
            Whether it wants to or not.
            

♘【 @stressedesigns 】♘
            
            Tony glanced up from where he was crouched under the hood of one of his cars — sleeves rolled, smudge of oil across his forearm, a half-finished wrench job balanced precariously on the edge of genius and disaster.
            
            He arched an eyebrow, that familiar Stark smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
            
            “Relax, kid. I’ve only voided the warranty on / half / the car so far.”
            
            He wiped his hands on a rag, straightened up, and pointed the wrench at her like a teacher with a ruler.
            
            “And don’t threaten me with Pepper. That’s low. Besides, she’s the reason I’m fixing this myself — she said I ‘wasn’t allowed to hire a pit crew for personal projects.’”
            
            He tilted his head, mock offense in his tone.
            
            “You doubting me, or just looking for an excuse to snitch?”