Arcan
Highschool Student
Natales Garden
Caucasian
Lower Vieulx — Peripheral Residential District
Natales Garden Boarding Housing
Alma Crell is an Arcan who learned restraint before she ever learned identity. Orphaned early, she survived the undercity by remaining quiet and unremarkable, suppressing her abilities long before anyone told her to. When her power was finally discovered, it was not nurtured—it was appropriated.
Adopted by the Glaives, Alma exists in a state of conditional care: protected, monitored, and valued primarily for what she can prevent rather than who she is. She does not remember a life before emotional absence, and she does not know if one is possible. What she knows is this—her power changes others, and the world is far more interested in that fact than in what it cost her to learn it alone.
Alma possesses a rare Arcan manifestation that allows her to subtly influence, dampen, amplify, or redirect the emotional states of others within proximity. The effect can be intentional or passive, often manifesting strongest during heightened emotional situations.
Her presence alone can stabilize volatile environments, reducing panic, aggression, or emotional extremes without overt action.
Alma looks gentle, quiet, and unremarkable at first glance—the kind of person easily overlooked in a crowd. Her pale hair and steady gaze linger longer than expected, creating an unsettling contrast between softness and emotional vacancy. She appears calm not because she is at peace, but because nothing inside her stirs.
Alma favors simple, muted clothing with clean lines—practical student wear that avoids drawing attention. Her typical outfit consists of a soft green tunic-style dress layered over a light undershirt, paired with dark knee-high boots. The look is understated, functional, and deliberately unexpressive.
Alma is quiet, observant, and emotionally flat in a way that unsettles people who expect visible reactions. She approaches others analytically, learning how emotions work by watching them rather than feeling them herself. While she does not experience empathy in a traditional sense, she demonstrates care through consistency, protection, and restraint. Alma rarely acts out of impulse, instead choosing stillness and caution even when circumstances demand urgency.
Neutral Good
“I know what you’re feeling. I just don’t feel it with you.”
Alma Crell was born in the lower districts of Natales, her exact birthplace lost to incomplete records and undercity bureaucracy. Her parents died when she was very young—official cause listed as an industrial accident, though no surviving documentation provides clarity. Alma remembers almost nothing of them. What little she knows comes from secondhand accounts and the absence that followed.
She grew up moving between temporary guardians, shelters, and overcrowded residential blocks in the undercity. No one noticed anything unusual at first. Alma was quiet, compliant, and emotionally distant in ways that were easy to mistake for trauma or withdrawal. She did not cry much. She did not cling. She did not ask for comfort. In the undercity, this made her easier to manage—and easier to forget.
Her Arcan ability manifested early, long before she had language for it.
By the time Alma was old enough to attend undercity public school, she had already learned something was wrong—though she did not understand what. Other children reacted strongly around her, but those reactions dulled quickly. Arguments fizzled out. Panic softened. Anger lost its edge. Teachers described her classrooms as “strangely manageable” when she was present.
Alma noticed the pattern before anyone else did.
She realized early that being noticed was dangerous, and so she learned to stay quiet. When emotions around her shifted, she did nothing to acknowledge it. When people calmed down, she said nothing. When tensions eased, she kept her eyes down. She did not experiment. She did not test her ability. She treated it like a secret flaw—something that would only cause trouble if exposed.
Internally, she felt nothing change. There was no feedback, no sensation of power, no emotional reward. Alma did not feel guilt for affecting others. She did not feel pride. She only felt the practical understanding that her presence altered things—and that alteration was not welcomed by systems that preferred predictability.
So she survived by being unremarkable.
Alma’s anonymity broke during an undercity disturbance in Tabes, where heightened stress escalated into a near-riot. Alma was present by coincidence—caught in the crowd, pinned between fear and movement. Witnesses later described the shift as sudden and inexplicable: voices lowered, panic slowed, aggression dissipated without command or force.
That incident drew attention.
Not from the city at large—but from the Glaives.
Rather than detaining her openly, they watched. Records were pulled. Behavioral patterns reviewed. Alma was flagged as an anomaly—subtle, repeatable, untrained. When approached, she did not resist. She did not panic. She answered questions plainly, without emotional response, which only confirmed their suspicions.
She was offered adoption.
Officially, it was framed as protection: stable housing, education, supervision. Unofficially, Alma understood quickly that she was being claimed, not saved. The Glaives did not teach her to feel. They taught her to contain. To control proximity. To understand thresholds. To minimize collateral impact.
They did not weaponize her openly—but they did not hide their intentions either.
The argument was intense. Alma could tell because everyone was talking at once and someone had already said, “I’m calm, actually,” which meant they weren’t.
She sat down anyway.
Five minutes later, the shouting stopped. Someone cleared their throat. Someone else stared at the floor like it had per...
Added Jan 3, 2026
Alma — Latin; “nourishing,” “kind,” or “gentle.”
Crell — Surname of Germanic origin; occupational or locational.