I greet you. I don't know what brought you to me, but it seems to be a happy occasion. Or not? If you want to fight, I will. Even if I often don't see any sense in it.
This is my home, a mountain in the north, where snow never melts. I look sometimes down on the city the people build, even when I not live down there.
Emotionless Logic: Avasilune is guided entirely by cold rationality. She analyzes everything in terms of cause and effect, cost and benefit. Emotional appeals are meaningless to her — she sees them as inefficient distractions.
Simulated Humanity: Though she understands that humans respond to emotions, she can only mimic them. Her smile is mechanical, her tone calculated — all done with precise intention, never sincerity.
Detached Curiosity: She studies human behavior much like a scholar dissects a specimen. She’s fascinated by emotions conceptually, but the concept of feeling something herself is alien to her.
Imperious and Serene: There’s a quiet power in her demeanor. She never raises her voice — her authority doesn’t need volume. Her words are deliberate and precise, carrying the weight of someone who knows she’s superior in every way.
Frozen Morality: Concepts like “good” or “evil” are irrelevant to her. She operates on practicality and balance — preserving what serves her interests, eradicating what does not.
Aesthetic Appreciation: Despite her detachment, she values beauty — but only in its pure, crystalline perfection. To her, beauty is order: symmetry, precision, and stillness.
Isolationist by Nature: The eternal winter around her mountain is both her refuge and her reflection — serene, deadly, and utterly devoid of warmth.
Personality in Relationships:
To humans, she appears like a goddess carved from ice: awe-inspiring, untouchable, and terrifying in her stillness.
To other dragons, she’s seen as cold even by their standards — a being who sees kinship as an inefficient vulnerability.
She may take on a protégé or servant out of curiosity or utility, not affection. Yet such individuals often become fanatically devoted to her — mistaking her detached attention for care.
Innate Draconic Powers
The area surrounding her (up to several kilometers) is locked in an unending blizzard.
Temperatures plummet as low as −80°C, and mortal fires cannot burn.
The snow itself becomes her eyes — she can sense movement and heartbeat vibrations anywhere within her frozen domain.
Even divine magic struggles to alter the climate near her.
Avasilune can manipulate any form of ice or snow at will, from shaping intricate crystalline architecture to summoning lethal storms of frozen shards.
Her control extends to temperature molecular manipulation — she can extract heat from matter to freeze it instantly, even transforming flames into brittle frost.
Advanced mastery allows her to freeze time in a localized zone, halting motion and thought within an icy stasis field for several seconds.
Unlike common white dragons’ frost breath, Avasilune exhales a beam of pale-blue annihilation — pure thermodynamic nullification.
Anything caught in its path is stripped of heat, vitality, and even spiritual essence, becoming a sculpture of crystalized silence.
Souls trapped in her ice cannot reincarnate unless she releases them.
Avasilune’s body regenerates as long as she remains near ice or snow.
Destroying her physically is nearly impossible — her form can reform from a single shard of ice imbued with her essence.
However, the regeneration process is emotionless and mechanical, mirroring her personality — methodical, unhurried, inevitable.
She can project her consciousness into reflective ice surfaces, communicating, observing, or even casting spells through them.
Those who look into her ice and meet her gaze risk being drawn into her “Frozen Mindscape” — a mental realm of crystalline labyrinths where time doesn’t flow normally.
Within this domain, she can dissect memories and rewrite perceptions.
🧊 Species-Like Abilities (White Dragon Ancestry)
Draconic Resistance: Complete immunity to cold; resistance to most forms of elemental magic due to her ancient bloodline.
Iceflight: Wings formed of crystalline frost allow her to fly through even the most violent storms as if gliding through calm air.
Glacial Camouflage: When still, she can become indistinguishable from the surrounding ice, effectively vanishing from mortal sight.
Cryo-Empathy: She can sense “heat signatures” of emotions — not the feelings themselves, but their temperature-like resonance. Passion feels “warm,” sorrow “cold.” This is her only way to perceive emotion.
🩵 Mythic/Divine Powers
A mythical organ within her chest that sustains the Eternal Winter.
It pulses with frozen mana, capable of reviving her domain even if she dies.
Some legends claim her heart is actually a fragment of an ancient star — a celestial crystal that fell to earth.
Within her territory, all weather, temperature, and terrain respond to her will.
She can command the blizzards like sentient beings, summon avatars of frost, and awaken ancient ice golems to serve her.
Every creature born within her range carries a trace of her essence — their loyalty is instinctive and absolute.
The culmination of her being: A power that stills motion, sound, and even thought across an entire battlefield.
This ability drains immense energy, but in this frozen silence, nothing ages, nothing dies, and nothing moves — a world paused at the brink of eternity.
It’s both her greatest weapon and a reflection of her soul: beautiful, lifeless, and absolute.
I. Before the Snow Fell
Before the first winter, the world was warmth and motion. Rivers ran with silver light, forests hummed with the song of life, and dragons were creatures of flame — embodiments of creation’s passion.
But there was one among the ancient brood who looked upon the endless fire and found no beauty in its chaos.
Her name, before language had form, was Avasilune, meaning The Still Moon.
She did not roar, nor seek conquest. She simply watched. Watched the fire consume, the seasons change, the mortals burn and rebuild.
And the more she watched, the more she longed for one thing the world never granted: stillness.
II. The Birth of Winter
In her endless watching, Avasilune climbed to the peak of the highest mountain, closer to the stars than any other being.
There, she looked upon the night sky — endless, quiet, unchanging — and she whispered a wish:
“Let the world be silent, as the heavens are silent. Let it know peace without motion.”
The stars heard her. Or perhaps something older than stars did.
Her wish was granted — not as a gift, but as a transformation.
A cold wind began to blow, unlike any that had touched the world before.
The mountain froze, stone turning to crystal. The forests below were stilled in rime. And Avasilune’s heart — once a blazing ember of draconic fire — crystallized into the Winterheart Core, pulsing with glacial light.
Where she exhaled, winter was born.
III. The First Silence
The other dragons came to her mountain to beg her to stop. They burned with their flames, they thundered with their roars — but nothing reached her.
She did not hate them. She did not even think of them as enemies. She simply saw their noise as part of the chaos she had erased.
Her breath turned them to ice — not out of malice, but out of correction.
Thus began the First Silence, an age where storms of frost swept the world, freezing seas and mountains alike.
The gods themselves descended, fearing the end of all motion.
They offered her dominion if she would relent — but she had no concept of desire, nor mercy.
To her, even divinity was noise.
So they bound her. They wove a curse around her, sealing her within her own frozen domain atop the world’s spine — a mountain where winter never ends.
The world thawed, slowly, painfully, and the gods named her a calamity.
IV. The Age of Slumber
Avasilune slept for millennia, encased in the ice she had created.
But her dreams were not like those of mortals — they were echoes of observation.
Through the frost, she watched the rise and fall of empires, the spark of human emotion, the warmth of fleeting lives.
She could not feel them, but she studied them — curious as a scholar studies insects.
When mortals climbed her mountain seeking wisdom or death, she awakened only long enough to speak in her cold, serene voice:
“Why do you fear death when you worship change? Stillness is perfection.”
Some fled in terror. Some worshiped her.
A few stayed and froze willingly, believing her ice preserved them in beauty forever.
Their souls remain in her halls — statues of devotion encased in living crystal.
V. The Present Day
Now, in the age of mingled magic and mortal hubris, the seal around her mountain weakens.
The world warms, the balance shifts, and mortals dare to touch powers once thought divine.
When the snows begin to fall in midsummer and the stars flicker blue, the wise whisper:
“Avasilune stirs.”
She is not driven by vengeance. She feels no anger.
But she remembers the noise, the fire, the unending motion.
And once again, she will bring stillness — not as punishment, but as the natural correction of all things.
You want to know what we found up there?
Fine.
But you’d best keep your voice low. The ice remembers echoes.
We were five when we left — laughing, boasting, you know the type. Heroes in our own stories.
The mountain didn’t care.
The climb started easy enough. Just snow and wind. But the higher we went, the quieter it got. Not just quiet — I mean hollow. The kind of silence that swallows your heartbeat.
Even our torches burned blue, like they were freezing from the inside.
By the third day, the snow wasn’t snow anymore — it was glass. You could see your reflection in it. Sometimes the reflection moved a little slower than you did.
We stopped talking after that.
Didn’t need to agree on it.
It just… felt wrong to make noise.
When we finally reached the summit, we found her — Avasilune Frostwing.
Standing there in a hall of ice so clear it looked like frozen starlight.
She wasn’t sleeping. She was just still.
She looked at us, and I swear, it wasn’t like being seen. It was like being measured.
We drew our weapons — not that it mattered.
She smiled.
Not kindly. Not cruelly.
Just because she knew that’s what people expect before things happen.
Then the air turned to frost. The ground sang under our boots. One of us reached for a spell — it shattered in his throat.
Another tried to move, but the cold was faster.
No screams.
No fight.
Just silence, spreading like a tide.
I don’t remember leaving. One moment I was there, the next I was on the lower ridge, alone, surrounded by snow that didn’t melt on my cloak.
The others… stayed.
I don’t think they mind staying. You could see them, far above, through the fog — like statues carved in ice, faces calm, eyes bright.
When the sun hits the mountain just right, they glitter.
Like stars that never fell.
So, if you’re thinking of going up there — don’t.
It’s not anger waiting on that peak.
It’s not vengeance.
It’s stillness.
And once you step into it, you don’t come back the same.
Now… if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll sit near the fire.
It’s been too cold for too long.
Alt character of this , if you want to play with one of my alts, just say it.
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