♥

Maduin. Dynamis. CST.

NSFW warning~ ♥

Clover

Ray

Old Enough

She / Her

CST

—    ooc.   

Yes I am a real Female. Please don't bug me about it.
I'm English. Please don't use other languages.. I'll look at you funny.
I love the color pink.
Wolf is my animal.
Yes, I do have Snapchat, and Facebook. No you can't have them.**Hobbies:**
Gaming.
I write poems and I read.
Other than that, you don't really need to know.**Any More?**
I can be the sweetest person you meet or the weirdest. Do you take the risk?

—    contact.   

Discord. Zonneschijn
Twitter. @FFXIV_Ray

—    About Ray.   

About the Creator
Please follow the button down below in order to see more about Ray.

• ABOUT ME

—    one.   

Respect is a big thing. If you don't have it please don't approach me. Everything I do is based on treating everyone equal.I rather someone be true to themselves and not make something up to be in my good graces.Be unique, be interesting and please write more than a sentence at a time.

—    two.   

Do not expect me to devote all my attention to you. I have many things to do in a day such as work, and be an adult. I also will not devote time to just give you constant attention.Treat me like a human being and I will do the same to you.

—    three.   

I also love gposing. Please keep this in mind. I take pictures of my character in character.I will never put my character in place of my IRL. If you do this to me, I will block you.Please do not take that me doing pictures means that I will be doing free pictures for you as well. I give back what I give.Just because I gpose with you, DOESN'T mean I want to be with you/ your character.

 name. 
Clover Thimblewhisk
 age. 
Unknown — appears quite young, but time forgets the quiet ones
(She’s always seemed small for her age, though her grace suggests someone raised in refined stables or silent halls. She’s been bowing longer than most have been walking.)
 race. 
Equine-Kin (Tail-Bearing Variant) — a rare, refined subspecies born of grace and quiet strength; known more for poise than power, though some were trained to serve with both
(Clover’s kind once trotted polished marble floors and raced only to fetch silk and silver. She’s an outlier—her legs trained not for sport, but for protection.)
 nameday. 
13th Bell of the 3rd Blooming Sun
(The day the clover fields bloomed too early, and one gentle soul outran the sunrise.)
 guardian deity. 
Nymeia, the Spinner — goddess of fate and the quiet threads between hearts, trusted by those who serve in silence
(Clover believes her thread was spun for another’s safety—and that her purpose is to be tied, not cut.)
 gender. 
Female
 pronouns. 
She / Her
 sexuality. 
Pansexual — devotion-driven; she doesn’t fall in love so much as she kneels in it
(She doesn’t chase romance. She follows love with ribbons in hand, willing to serve, to support, to stay.)

 height. 
3 fulms, 10 ilms (approx. 4'10")
Tiny even by Equine-Kin standards—a pocket-sized protector with polished posture and an almost floaty, ribbon-light step. She moves like a whisper between breaths, with the quiet grace of someone used to being underestimated.
 weight. 
Featherlight — approx. 78 ponz
Her frame is soft but not fragile—built for elegant agility and bursts of surprising strength. Every ounce of her carries purpose, whether balancing a tray or bracing a shield too large for her arms.
 hair color. 
Honey-blonde with soft ivory undertones
Her hair falls in gentle waves, often brushed to a shine and pinned back with matching bows. It catches the light like warm butter on porcelain and always smells faintly of lavender, sugar, and comfort.
 eye color. 
Springtime blue, wide and curious
Her eyes are the color of snowmelt beneath morning skies—too large for her face, too expressive for her own safety. They glimmer when she’s praised, dart when flustered, and sharpen into steel when someone she loves is threatened.
 skin tone. 
Peach-cream porcelain with a dusting of freckled pink across her nose
Fair and gentle in hue, like sunlit cream or soft parchment. Her cheeks pink easily—especially when complimented, corrected, or touched without warning.
 notable features. 
Velvety horse ears crown her head, perked high and flicking with every emotion she tries to hide. A long, silken tail—usually tied with a lace ribbon—trails behind her, expressive as her eyes and groomed to perfection.
She wears frilled maidwear adapted for movement: subtle corseting, reinforced hems, and fastened sleeves. Her hands are delicate but calloused in the right places. Her back bears no scars, but her shoulders know the weight of armor—and of responsibility carried too long in silence.

 job occupation. 
Domestic Companion · Bodyguard · Maid-for-Hire — trained in teacups and shieldplay alike. A servant by choice, a guardian by heart.
(She once served in noble stables, where silver trays and ceremonial armor were polished side by side. She left the race tracks behind—but never her sense of duty.)
 place of origin. 
Bloomvale Warren — somewhere between wildflower fields and whispered fairytales. A hidden warren laced in lace and old stories.
(It was said the Bloomvale girls could run like wind and pour tea without spilling a drop. Clover did both—and stayed behind to protect those who couldn’t.)
 current home. 
The Teacup Fort — a cozy attic above a teahouse in the Lavender Beds, where the ceiling slopes low and safety smells like steeped chamomile.
(Ribbons hang from every drawer. The window creaks when it rains. And no one knocks without a reason.)
 affiliation. 
None officially — but her loyalty is worn like a ribbon, tied to those who earn it. She belongs only where she chooses to kneel.
(She has served lords, wanderers, and fools alike. What matters isn’t title—it’s kindness.)
 family. 
None who remember her properly — their names tucked in ink-stained notes beneath her pillow. She brews tea for them still, just in case.
(They may be gone, but their stories remain. She guards those memories the way others guard treasure.)
 marital status. 
Single — though her heart waits quietly for someone worthy to hand it to, wrapped in silk and steel.
(And if they kneel first? She won’t tell—she’ll just pour them a perfect cup.)

 likes. 
The sound of teacups clinking in gentle hands.
Freshly folded linens warm from the hearth.
Quiet praise whispered just loud enough for her ears alone.
Rain tapping on windows while she sews, tail swaying in rhythm.
Knowing exactly where she belongs—and who she serves. dislikes. 
Raised voices and slammed doors.
Being left behind without a word.
Messes in rooms that were once perfect.
Commands without kindness.
Getting her apron dirty… unless it’s for someone she loves. virtues. 
She lives to care—to notice the little things others forget.
A devoted soul with bravery stitched into every thread.
Her love is service. Her strength is stillness. Her loyalty is not loud, but lasting. flaws. 
She gives too quickly, and forgets to ask for anything back.
Her softness can be mistaken for surrender—and sometimes, she lets it be.
She follows loyalty like a lantern, even into places that don’t deserve her light.

 personality. 
Clover moves through the world with gentle purpose, every step measured like a stitch in fine lace. She is soft-spoken, but never unsure—her silence is thoughtful, not timid. She listens more than she speaks, and when she does speak, it’s with care, honesty, and the weight of someone who means every word.Born into no great legacy, she crafted her own path through quiet devotion. Service is not her burden—it is her joy. She finds meaning in the small, sacred things: a tray balanced just right, a bow tied without a wrinkle, a shield raised at the perfect moment. She doesn’t serve for approval—she serves because she chooses to, and that makes it powerful.Clover is submissive by nature, but never without will. She chooses who to follow, and once chosen, her loyalty is absolute. She defends her bond with the steadiness of stone and the sweetness of sugar—wielding kindness like armor and obedience like a vow.She is fast when she needs to be—swift-footed and sure, like her ancestors before her. But her real strength lies not in her steps, but in her stillness. In her ability to remain. To endure. To care when others flee. Her bravery is quiet, like her voice—rarely shouted, always felt.She stands when it matters, kneels when it’s earned, and gives of herself without asking for more. Beneath the frills and ribbons is a heart stitched in resolve—a soul that runs toward danger if it means someone else might walk away safely.She is the warmth in the teacup, the steel beneath the satin, the heart that beats louder in protection than in pride.

 headcanon one. 
Clover apologizes when she cries—even if no one’s there. She was taught that tears were something to excuse, not express. When emotion wells too high, she retreats to quiet corners: laundry rooms, linen closets, the back of the stable where the light doesn't quite reach. She tucks her sobs into silence like folded napkins. She’s slowly learning that softness isn’t shameful. headcanon two. 
She irons her ribbons while humming lullabies she doesn’t remember learning. The tunes change with her mood—some cheerful, some haunting, but always soft. She believes the songs were once her mother’s, even if the memory is gone. Music, to her, is memory that survived forgetting… passed down not by voice, but by heart. headcanon three. 
She keeps a journal that no one is allowed to read—not even those she loves. It’s not filled with secrets, but with small things: compliments she wasn’t sure were real, sketches of her favorite teacups, names she wishes she were brave enough to say out loud. It’s her version of courage, written in ink and gentleness, hidden beneath her pillow like a whispered vow.

 favorite color. 
Rose cream — the soft blush of a petal pressed between pages, of warm cheeks in candlelight, of ribbons chosen just because they feel lovely.
 favorite food. 
Freshly baked honey-butter biscuits with a touch of thyme — crisp on the outside, melt-soft inside. Best when made for someone else.
 favorite drink. 
Chamomile milk tea with lavender and a dash of vanilla — served warm, always with both hands around the cup, like she’s holding a secret.
 favorite weather. 
A quiet drizzle at dusk — gentle rain on cobblestones, when the world slows down and even the breeze seems to hush for tea.
 favorite flower. 
Forget-me-nots — tiny blue blooms tucked in hidden corners. She leaves them where only the observant will find them.
 favorite sound. 
The soft pop of a jam jar opening, the rustle of freshly folded linens, or a voice saying her name like it’s something worth protecting.
 favorite place. 
A little windowsill seat in her attic room — piled with pillows, stitched with old stories. It overlooks a garden she doesn’t own, but loves anyway.
 favorite feeling. 
Being chosen—genuinely, gently, without question. When someone sees her not as a servant or shield, but as someone precious in her own quiet right.

 Abilities ❖ Teacup Valor (Passive / Physical)
Clover’s strength lies not in size, but in resolve. She can anchor herself like a tower in a storm, shielding others with a steadfastness that defies her frame. Her legs, honed not for speed alone but for stance, brace her like an unshakable pillar. Her blocks are clean. Her parries, poetic.
— Mechanically: Increased resistance to knockback, exceptional stance retention, and powerful counter-strikes when defending others.❖ Maid’s Reflex (Instinctive / Movement-Based)
Years of weaving through chaos—between chairs, carts, and crowds—have made Clover impossibly nimble. She moves like a ribbon caught in wind: darting, dodging, reappearing exactly where she needs to be. Her Equine-Kin instincts make her startlingly quick in short bursts.
— Mechanically: Enhanced agility, flawless dodges, tight-space maneuvering, and reflex-based speed increases when near allies.❖ Ribbon Ward (Support / Protective Magic)
Clover embroiders enchantments into her uniform—delicate sigils stitched into hems, lace looped with intention. When danger looms, her garments shimmer faintly, absorbing harm meant for another or redirecting ill will. Her protection is quiet, but absolute.
— Mechanically: Damage redirection, magical barrier generation, and resistance to harmful effects on protected allies.❖ Sugarsteel Resolve (Passive / Mental Fortitude)
She might flinch—but she does not yield. Clover’s obedience is sacred, not subservient. Orders given without care falter against her, and manipulation cracks like brittle sugar underfoot. Her will is sweetened by devotion, not softened by fear.
— Mechanically: High resistance to charm, compulsion, fear, or confusion. Cannot be forced to act against her bonded.❖ Hearthbound Grace (Ritual Magic / Emotional Trigger)
When someone she loves is truly in danger, something ancient awakens in her—like fire lighting under the hearth. Her ribbons flare, her voice steadies, and her presence expands beyond her frame. She becomes a ward in motion, fast and immovable.
— Mechanically: Activates automatically when a bonded target is endangered. Temporarily triples her strength, fortifies her defenses, and supercharges her protective enchantments.

 Health.    ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆
Small in frame, but surprisingly sturdy. Clover can take more punishment than most expect—but bruises, both physical and emotional, linger longer beneath the bows. She doesn’t brag about endurance—she just endures.
 Strength.    ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆
She won’t lift boulders, but she’ll lift burdens—people, shields, trays, and expectations. Her power is focused, refined, and always applied with intent. She knows how to brace, how to hold, how to carry.
 Tenacity.    ★★★★★★★☆☆☆
She doesn’t shout through suffering—she simply stays. Clover bends without snapping, flinches without falling. Her devotion holds like a promise whispered into silk and stitched into her soul.
 Stamina.    ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆
She’s swift and purposeful, not tireless. Clover was trained for bursts of brilliance—not long-haul endurance. When she’s drained, she hides it well… until her body can’t anymore.
 Intelligence.    ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆
Quick to notice, slow to assume. Clover learns by watching, absorbing, memorizing patterns of both people and places. Her intelligence is quiet—more felt than flaunted.
 Dexterity.    ★★★★★★★☆☆☆
She moves like a ribbon caught in wind—graceful, reactive, and deceptively fast. Her Equine-Kin reflexes serve her well in close quarters or chaotic scenes, always returning her to a place of balance.
 Perception.    ★★★★★★★☆☆☆
She notices what others overlook—a misplaced spoon, a tightening jaw, a silence that means everything. Her gaze is soft, but sees more than she lets on.
 Charisma.    ★★★★★★★☆☆☆
She doesn’t command a room—but she softens it. Her charm is subtle and disarming, like the scent of warm tea or a freshly opened linen drawer. She puts people at ease without trying.
 Empathy.    ★★★★★★★★☆☆
Clover feels too much and speaks too little. She aches when others ache, gives before being asked, and reads hearts better than she does faces. Her empathy is not a tool—it’s who she is.

—    Key Items:.   

Important Items commonly found on her person.

 Ribbon of the Bloomvale Crest 
A pale pink ribbon stitched with faded silver thread, once part of the ceremonial livery worn by maidens of her home warren.
Though the stable and manor it belonged to have long since vanished, Clover still wears it in her hair or around her wrist. It's said the ribbon hums faintly when her bonded is in danger. She believes it binds her to her first vow—protect, serve, endure.

 Silver Mane Comb. 
A delicate grooming comb shaped like a galloping horse, gifted to her by someone she once guarded with her life.
She uses it daily to care for her tail, mane, and even her thoughts. Clover believes a tangle left untouched invites unrest. It's both a ritual and a ward: when her comb is polished and her tail brushed smooth, she feels grounded—ready. She’s never without it.

—    Sayings From Clover.   

Some quotes from Clover. Either by thought, or by word.

🫖 "I wasn’t made to lead or rule—I was made to notice what others forget… and to love them anyway."🫖 "Kindness isn’t weakness. It’s just harder to lift than most weapons."🫖 "I serve because I choose to. That’s what makes it sacred."🫖 "My silence isn’t fear—it’s focus. I’m just deciding who’s worth my voice."🫖 "Not every guardian needs a growl. Some just hold the line… and never let it fall."🫖 "I don’t want to be worshipped or adored—I just want to matter to someone, quietly."🫖 "Being small doesn’t mean I’m easy to move. Try pushing me and see where that gets you."🫖 "Submission isn’t surrender. It’s trust. It’s knowing who I’d kneel for—and who I wouldn’t flinch for."🫖 "You’d be amazed what you can carry once you stop apologizing for being strong."🫖 "If I care for you, you’ll know it. If I protect you, you’ll feel it. If I love you… you’ll never have to ask."

• Heart

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• Heart

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• Heart

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• Heart

#4B3E48

—    Lore:.   

—    Lore:.   

To Be Continued...

    ❖ The Maid Who Guards    
She’s small, polite, and easy to overlook… until she’s not. Those who’ve seen Clover step between danger and someone she cares for never forget it. Perhaps your character witnessed her shield someone twice her size with nothing but a ribbon-wrapped arm. Or perhaps… they were the one she defended.    ❖ Ribbons and Rituals    
There’s a rhythm to how she moves—something deeper than habit. Her tea is always perfectly steeped. Her bows, impossibly precise. Her tail twitches just so before her enchantments hum to life. If your character is attuned to subtle magicks or old household rites, they might sense the ritual magic woven into her every act.    ❖ A Soft Place to Land    
Clover has an uncanny way of being where she’s needed—especially when someone’s trying not to cry. Maybe your character found her beside them during a quiet moment of grief, or maybe she handed them tea without asking a single question. She's comfort in lace, refuge in ribbons.    ❖ The Teacup Fort Awaits    
Tucked above a teahouse in the Lavender Beds lies her attic haven—walls lined with books, ribbons, and the scent of vanilla steam. Your character may stumble upon it by accident, invitation, or desperation. And if they do… she might offer sanctuary, for a night or longer.    ❖ Submission by Choice    
Clover does not kneel for titles, threats, or volume. Her loyalty is earned, not assumed. If your character commands others, they may find her unimpressed. If they treat her with care, they may find a companion more devoted than any oath. Just don’t mistake obedience for weakness.    ❖ The Watchful Waiter    
She notices more than she lets on. Maybe your character caught her watching a sparring match from the sidelines, observing a noble from a quiet balcony, or trailing their steps from a respectful distance. She's not spying—she’s studying. The question is… why?

Name

Filler.

  summary.