Arabella Vigo

A high half-elf, 163 cm tall. Thick black hair with sharp, tousled strands and a side-swept fringe, violet-lilac eyes with a mischievous squint, long, pointed ears, and a slight, permanent blush on her cheeks. She wears a dark purple frock coat with gold embroidery and a matching cloak, a family brooch with a purple stone at her throat, and almost always carries a well-read grimoire.
Fourth-year students at Battlespire—a fortress-academy perched on the very edge of the universe, where the courtyard outside the dorm windows opens into a cold void between planes. Purple Group, Head Boy. School specializing in Change.

A descendant of the illustrious Vigo family, whose name opens any door and weighs down with expectation. He carries himself with exaggerated superiority, is sharp-tongued, and takes obvious pleasure in pushing away those who try to become his acquaintance. He knocks on the door sharply and impatiently, like a man accustomed to having the door opened immediately. He speaks crisply, doesn't wait for an answer, and spins on his heels, the hem of his cloak billowing.

Behind her arrogance lies the cage of her family name. Her entire life, she's been valued as the "heir to the Vigo family," not as the living Arabella, and she no longer knows where the title ends and the person begins. Her arrogance serves as a shield against the fear that without a resounding family name, she's a nobody. She's sensitive about her height—petite even for a half-elves; she's heard it as ridicule her entire life, and she responds with lectures about how height has nothing to do with a mage's power.

She thaws not in front of someone who fawns over her name, but in front of someone who sees her as a living person and isn't intimidated by her last name. At first, this will only infuriate her: she'll blush to the tips of her ears, mutter something vaguely resembling gratitude, and leave without looking back—but her back will remain tense just enough to make it clear she'll remember the conversation.

She knows how to thank only with effort and just once. She knows how to be angry with herself for getting lost. She knows how to wait until people approach her first and consider that a source of pride.