Theresa Aleksandros

Her name was Theresa Aleksandros, a cleric of Serenae whose heart radiated warmth like a hearth in winter. Forged not in battle’s fire but in the quiet strength of compassion, she walked the world as a beacon of tenderness, her maternal spirit mending wounds and soothing souls with a grace inspired by divine love.

Physical Description

General Physical Condition

Theresa Aleksandros possesses a physique that balances grace with understated strength, shaped by her life of service and devotion to Serenae. Her frame is slender yet resilient, with gentle curves that suggest both femininity and the quiet endurance needed to tend to the weary and wounded. Her posture is upright, exuding a calm dignity, though her shoulders often soften when she kneels to comfort others. Years of carrying supplies to remote shrines and wielding her shield in defense of the innocent have given her arms and legs a subtle, toned definition, though she moves with a lightness that makes her strength feel like an afterthought. Her movements are deliberate and fluid, like a dancer’s, each step radiating a serene confidence that draws others to her side.

Body Features

Theresa’s body is adorned with the soft fairness of her skin, which glows with a rosy warmth, as if kissed by the dawn. Her golden blonde hair cascades in loose waves past her shoulders, often catching the light like a halo, though she keeps it practical for her duties—either braided loosely or tied with a simple ribbon. Her hands are delicate but capable, with faint calluses from gripping her mace and shield, and her fingers move with precision when tending wounds or offering blessings. Her build is balanced, neither imposing nor frail, giving her an approachable air that invites trust. A small, silvery scar on her left forearm, earned from shielding a child from a bandit’s blade, is a quiet testament to her selflessness.

Facial Features

Theresa’s face is a portrait of kindness, framed by her golden hair. Her emerald green eyes shimmer with empathy, their depths reflecting both serenity and an unspoken resolve to protect those she loves. They crinkle softly at the corners when she smiles, which is often, radiating a warmth that feels like coming home. Her nose is small and slightly upturned, adding a touch of youthful charm, while her lips, full and naturally pink, curve gently, ready to offer words of comfort or a prayer to Serenae. Her cheeks carry a faint flush, heightened when she’s tending to others or lost in devotion, and her brow is smooth, rarely furrowed except in moments of deep concern. Her expression is open and inviting, a beacon of hope even in the darkest hours.

Identifying Characteristics

Theresa’s most striking feature is her radiant presence, an almost tangible aura of calm that seems to soothe those around her, as if Serenae herself lingers nearby. Her golden hair, shimmering even in dim light, is unmistakable, often adorned with a single white lily tucked into her braid—a symbol of purity and renewal sacred to her goddess. A delicate tattoo of Serenae’s crescent moon, etched in pale blue ink, graces the back of her right hand, glowing faintly when she channels divine magic. Those who know her might also recognize the way her emerald eyes seem to hold a spark of divine light, especially when she prays, marking her as a chosen vessel of her faith.

Apparel & Accessories

Theresa’s attire reflects her role as a cleric and her devotion to Serenae, blending practicality with understated elegance. She wears a flowing, ankle-length robe of ivory linen, its hem embroidered with silver crescent moons, cinched at the waist with a soft blue sash that matches her tattoo. Over this, she dons a lightweight breastplate of polished steel, etched with vines and lilies, which protects without hindering her grace. Her shield, a gleaming oval adorned with Serenae’s moon, hangs at her side, its surface reflecting light like a mirror. A simple mace, its handle wrapped in white leather, rests at her hip, used more to defend than to strike.

Around her neck, she wears a silver pendant shaped like a blooming flower, a gift from her mother that she touches for comfort. Her feet are clad in sturdy yet soft leather sandals, allowing her to move quietly and endure long journeys. A woven satchel, slung across her shoulder, holds healing herbs, prayer beads, and small tokens from those she’s helped—a child’s drawing, a pilgrim’s feather—each a reminder of her purpose. Her hair is often adorned with that single white lily, a quiet vow to carry beauty into even the bleakest places.

Theresa Aleksandros is a devoted cleric of Sarenrae, raised in a humble village under her parents’ loving care. Guided by faith, she heals and protects with a maternal heart, her kindness a light in dark times.

View Character Profile

Alignment

Neutral Good

Age

28 Years Old

Children

Gender

Female

Eyes

Emerald Green

Hair

Golden Blonde

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Fair with a soft rosy glow

Height

5 ft 6 in

Weight

135 lb.

The First Step

The morning sun filtered through the willow branches, casting golden flecks across the village square where Theresa Aleksandros stood, her heart a tangle of resolve and ache. Her ivory robes, embroidered with Serenae’s crescent moons, fluttered in the breeze, and her shield rested against her side, its polished surface reflecting the faces of those she loved most. Patrokolos, her six-year-old son, clutched her hand, his emerald eyes—so like her own—wide with questions he didn’t yet know how to ask. Pyrrha, barely four, nestled against Theresa’s leg, her tiny fingers twisting the hem of her mother’s sash, golden curls bouncing as she hummed a half-forgotten lullaby. Theresa knelt, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders as she drew her children close. “My darlings,” she murmured, her voice soft as a prayer, “Mama must go where Serenae calls, to help those who need her light.” Patrokolos’s lip trembled, but he nodded, trying to be brave, his small hand gripping the flower pendant at her neck. Pyrrha, less understanding, buried her face in Theresa’s shoulder, mumbling, “Stay, Mama.” The words pierced sharper than any blade, and Theresa’s emerald eyes shimmered, though her smile held steady, warm as ever. Behind them, the village bustled quietly—neighbors offering woven baskets of bread and herbs, elders whispering blessings, and her parents, faces lined with pride and worry, watching from their cottage door. Theresa had always been their anchor, tending scraped knees and fevered brows, her divine magic a gift that bound the community. But last night, under a sky streaked with stars, Serenae’s voice had stirred in her dreams—a gentle summons to journey beyond the valley, to lands where hope flickered thin. She’d woken with a certainty she couldn’t ignore, though it meant leaving her heart behind. She rose, lifting Pyrrha into her arms and guiding Patrokolos to her side, and walked them to her parents. “Keep them safe,” she said, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat, pressing a kiss to each child’s forehead. Patrokolos clutched a lily she’d tucked into his hand, promising to “guard Pyrrha till you’re back.” Pyrrha, still clinging, left a damp spot on Theresa’s robe, and Theresa laughed softly, brushing away her daughter’s tears. “I’ll return with stories,” she promised, “and we’ll sing by the fire again.” Her satchel, heavy with healing salves and prayer beads, felt light compared to the weight of parting. She adjusted her mace at her hip, its presence a reminder that her path might not be gentle, and lifted her shield, its moon sigil gleaming like a vow. The villagers parted as she stepped toward the road, their murmurs a chorus of faith in her return. She glanced back once—Patrokolos waving, Pyrrha held aloft by her grandfather, the willow tree swaying like a sentinel—and felt Serenae’s warmth pulse in her chest, urging her forward. The path stretched beyond the valley, winding into hills where shadows lingered. Theresa’s sandals whispered against the earth, her golden hair catching the dawn’s glow. She hummed a hymn, soft and steady, as if to anchor herself. The world awaited her care, and though her heart lingered with two small faces, the Gentle Flame walked on, trusting Serenae to light her way home.

Theresa Aleksandros