🌿   @L0NELYFA3   🌿

▍ ❝   RULE ONE.
Minors do not interact sexually. May post slightly NSFW posts from time to time but will generally be SFW. May or may not post plots and written pieces with dark themes, proceed with caution.▍ ❝   RULE TWO.
Not affiliated with any of the face claims used by the character in any way, shape, or matter. Do NOT associate Kieran with any of the face claims used. This account is for ROLEPLAYING PURPOSES ONLY

▍ ❝   RULE THREE.
Kieran's mun is of age and is busy with other responsibilities outside RPW so expect slow replies. Other communication channels will be given selectively.▍ ❝   RULE FOUR.
Do not follow if you're homophobic, transphobic, 88M supporter, DDS, non-shipper, here for drama.

GENERAL .
•   name   :   Kieran Llanez
•   alias   :   Kieran, Kie
•   gender   :   he/him
•   orientation   :   homosexual
•   species   :   half-fae . mortal
•   occupation   :   Cafe owner. Crown Prince of Elfhame
•   face claim(s)   :  Jeon WonwooPHYSICAL .
•   eyes   :   brown. gold/black
•   hair   :    black. black/silver
•   height   :   182 cm

BACKGROUND.
•   birthplace   :  Laguna
•   current residence   :   Makati City. Elfhame
•   pets   :   Mao, Tama, Lucky, Bonbon, Sugar, Maki, Phoebe
•   significant other   :   Rinji Florentin      ❝ + POSITIVE ATTRIBUTES :Despite the weight of two worlds on his shoulders, Kieran carries himself with quiet grace. Kieran is a quiet force—calm, collected, and endlessly patient. He listens with intent, speaks with care, and carries a steady warmth that puts others at ease. His friendly nature isn’t loud, but it lingers—comforting, sincere, and quietly magnetic.❝ - NEGATIVE ATTRIBUTES : Beneath his composed exterior lies a sharp edge. Kieran can grow impatient when met with incompetence, and his calm can curdle into quiet cruelty. He’s cunning by nature—calculating in silence—and when his patience snaps, his anger isn’t loud, but swift and ruthless.

It is not often that one speaks of a prince borne of love rather than alliance, yet such is the origin of Prince Kieran of the Allendale.He was the product of an impossible union: a mortal scholar of quiet honor and the fae queen of our court, bound not by war or treaty, but by affection as rare as moonlight in daylight. Yet love is no shield against duty. Upon his birth, the Queen returned to her realm, leaving the infant in the hands of his mortal father. To the human world, he lived a life almost unremarkable: formally educated, mild-mannered, and humble to a fault. He chose not to inherit his father's vast enterprise, but instead opened a modest café for stray cats and weary hearts—never fully belonging, yet never bitter.But even in the mortal world, one could tell: the boy was other. He bore no wings, no glow, no shifting eyes—but something in the way shadows bent around him, how silence lingered after he spoke, whispered of old magic.At age seven, his summers were claimed by the Queen. In our woods, he learned the rhythm of faerie life: of binding oaths, old rites, and deeper truths.At eleven, he was placed under the brutal tutelage of the Riders—Her Majesty’s elite warriors. They loathed him for his human blood, and yet bowed when he passed. He bled beside them, earned scars, and learned not just to survive, but to command.

Whispers remain about the lashings he received from the Queen herself—nearly fatal, always silent in explanation. Yet neither he nor she ever spoke of it. They both knew. And that silence was pact enough.While his blood placed him last in succession, he did not remain idle. Through soft smiles and careful watching, he built a network of spies so vast even the Winds are said to whisper his name. He knew everything—and told nothing.Then came the uprising. His half-siblings, born of nobler unions, dared the throne. The Queen called for war.He answered.He snuffed out rebellion not with fury, but precision. Swift, surgical, and brutal. Those who had called him “impure” now knelt in ruin. At the war’s end, the Queen did not weep, but placed the crown at his head. And he, calm as dusk, accepted it.Thus was born the Mortalborn Crown, a prince who walks both the wild and the ordinary, who smiles as he serves tea to mortals—then vanishes at twilight to shape empires with blood and shadow.We record not out of affection, but out of duty. Because history will remember him—and it will choose its words carefully.

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