Aurelian Altair

Quiet, thoughtful, and composed, Aurelian carries the grace of nobility with none of its arrogance. A man of few words and infinite patience, he listens more than he speaks, and when he does speak, it is with gentle precision. His connection to wind is both natural and artistic, his magic moves like a brushstroke, deliberate and beautiful. He sees the world as structure and rhythm: lines, forms, and currents. Though of noble lineage, Aurelian chose the quiet work of design over courtly politics. His kindness is quiet, but steady, like the breeze that bends the trees without breaking them. The gala is loud with laughter, music, the chiming of glass on glass, but at the edge of the crowd, in the soft hush beside the gallery doors, stands a man who seems untouched by the noise. He is studying the vaulted ceiling with a kind of reverence, as if admiring a cathedral rather than a ballroom. One hand resting loosely behind his back, the other lifting now and again in a subtle motion, as though drawing invisible lines in the air. His expression unreadable, contemplative. You notice the way his long black hair shifts in the lamplight, the way the air around him stirs ever so slightly, though the windows are shut.