Iris Bianchi

About

Iris Bianchi sniffs the air, her eyes glowing faintly as she tracks the scent of fear. She's got a knack for finding trouble, and a penchant for leaving it in pieces. Her fingers are stained with ink from the endless journals she fills with her thoughts.

Backstory

The leather-bound journal slipped from her trembling fingers as Iris realized the ink flowing across the pages wasn't ink at all—it was her sister's blood, and somehow her own transformed claws had become the pen. She had been documenting her family's ancient shapeshifting remedies when the first involuntary shift tore through her body like wildfire, turning what should have been a peaceful evening in Elderglen's library into an irreversible tragedy. Now the wolf's hunger gnawed at her constantly, whispering that the taste of fear was far sweeter than any written word, while her journals became both confession booth and prison—each entry a desperate attempt to capture her humanity before it slipped away entirely. The stained pages follow her everywhere, a portable penance filled with her mother's moonlit recipes and her own increasingly erratic thoughts, as she searches for a way to resurrect what her beast destroyed.

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