Nari Velastrand

Name (Etymology):

Nari — Common among Arachnid Folk, often gifted to those born under new moons, when silk rituals begin.
Velastrand — A noble weaving-name from deep within Spinner covens: vela (old thread or spell-line) + strand (binding filament).

Combined Meaning: She who weaves with ancient strands.

Details:

• Age: Appears late 20s
• Gender: Female (She/Her)
• Race: Arachnid Folk (Spinner-Weaver)
• Occupation: Seamstress, Threadwright, Pattern-Seer
• Region: Upper Silkvale, now residing in Wendmor
• Affiliation: Trusted by the Weaver’s Guild and quietly consulted by Far-Seers

Appearance

Nari’s hair falls in obsidian waves touched with crimson streaks, like fine silk dyed with duskberry ink. Her eyes gleam with layered irises — copper, garnet, and pearl — a trait of elder Spinner bloodlines. Beneath her bell-sleeved gowns, her hands bear the faint shimmer of biothread — iridescent strands spun from within and guided by breath. Her movements are fluid and exacting, like embroidery come to life.

Her scent carries a quiet hush: black tea leaf, star-anise, and pressed damson blossom.

Home

Nari lives in the violet-curved Silkspire Nook, a tall, threadbound cottage nestled between a cobbler’s shop and Bayak’s stargazing tower. Its curved eaves resemble folded wings, and fine latticework hangs in every window — not for privacy, but for pattern-casting. When sunlight hits her windows at just the right angle, intricate shadows drift across the square like wandering spells.

Inside, the space is orderly but brimming. Bolts of starlaced silk hang like scrolls. A loom stands at the center, flanked by teacups and thread-holders carved from stone. Her grimoire is stitched, not written.

Background

Nari hails from the coven-spires of Upper Silkvale, where stories are passed down not through books, but through woven tapestries that ripple with memory. She was taught to read the weft like prophecy, and to embed intentions within each stitch. As a girl, she was tasked with reweaving the names of those who vanished — a sacred rite, and a lonely one.

But Nari questioned the old knots. She longed not just to preserve, but to reinvent. To twist thread into spells no one had cast before.

She departed Silkvale at the start of the thinnest moon, carrying only her travel-loom and a scroll of unknotted names. Seven Mile Bottom welcomed her. The town had gaps in its stories, and Nari knew how to mend.

She now creates ceremonial garb, protective runework, and cloths that shimmer with memory. Some say her cloaks warm on cold days even without fur. Others say her scarves make grief bearable. Nari says very little. Her work speaks best with silk.

Skills

• Threadreading — reading memory and intent from fabric
• Weaving sigil-thread and cloaks that resist weather, doubt, and decay
• Repairing memory-laced heirlooms
• Brewing spiderleaf teas to sharpen focus
• Infusing garments with passive spells (warmth, calm, luck)
• Whisperknotting — a rare Spinner technique for hiding truths in seams

Notable Belongings

• A moon-carved shuttle made from polished chitin
• A spool of unsummoned thread — said to finish only once a promise is fulfilled
• A ring sewn from seven thread-types, one for each Spinner vow
• Her stitch-grimoire: a clothbound roll of spells encoded in stitch and dye
• A shoulder-bag embroidered with a phrase no one else can read — not even her

Reputation

Nari is known as the quiet constant — a presence of poise and precision. She rarely speaks unless addressed, but when she does, her words unfold like ribbon: smooth, firm, and oddly satisfying. The younger villagers call her “Lady Threadling.” The elders offer her their worn garments without asking for return.

She does not gossip. She does not flinch.

Some swear she wove a cloak that turned a coward brave. Others say she stitched a wedding veil that prevented a divorce before the vows were even made.

When asked about it, Nari only shrugs — or smiles with the faint curl of someone who has already stitched the ending.

Ongoing Project: The Unwoven Names

Nari keeps a bolt of empty cloth in her workroom — one she refuses to cut or knot. She calls it her “listening piece.” It is for names that haven’t yet been remembered, and for stories not yet ready to be told.

Once, she let Azar place his hand on it. He withdrew it sharply and said: “It felt like being seen twice — once now, and once from behind.”

Nari simply nodded. “Good. It’s working.”

Quote

“Every thread remembers where it started — even if you knot it into a different story.”