☕️ Alice’s Mad Tea Party Presents: Storytime
✨ Alice Spills the Tea on: The Hidden Blood of Elvenkind
Are you ready for some juicy old-world lore, darling. The kind whispered behind spell-woven curtains and written in ink that only reveals itself in moonlight. Buckle your boots and fluff your pointy ears, because I am about to spill some scandalous ancient tea.
Long ago - before enchanted ink flowed through quills, before humans could even comprehend what magic truly was - there existed a creed, etched in silver leaves and bound by the gods themselves:
“Elven blood shall remain untainted, lest the stars weep and the earth fracture.”
Dramatic, right?
Elves were regal, aloof, divine beings. Their blood sang with moonlight and starlore. To even suggest mingling it with mortal flesh was considered heresy. Dangerous. Fatal. Mortals were too fragile. The union would kill them both, they said.
They were wrong.
Enter: The Clan of Sorellien - an Elven lineage so old their ancestors danced with stardust and dined with the first flame-born dragons. But where most elves stayed aloof in their crystal towers, the Sorellien were… curious. Brave. Slightly scandalous.
They wandered the wilds. They watched humanity. And in time… they loved.
The first to defy the stars was Elyrielle Sorellien, a warrior-scholar with eyes like winter fire and a voice that could command thunder. She fell for a mortal king - not because of power, but because he saw her, not just her lineage. He offered no crown. Just wildflowers and wonder.
They said she would die in the embrace. That her magic would unravel and his soul would shatter.
But when their lips met beneath the Moonstone Eclipse?
The stars did not weep.
They sang.
And nine months later, the impossible was born.
Caelin Starveined.
The first of the Elven-Mortal kin.
He did not falter. He did not fade. His blood pulsed with both starlight and storm. He was stronger, faster, and whispers say even the gods paused to look twice when he passed.
And then… more were born.
Dozens. Hundreds.
The Sorellien secret spread like fire through moon-grass. Other elves dared. Other humans dreamed. And unlike the doom-tales of old, these unions thrived.
The children were called many things, depending on who spoke their name:
- Starveined - by those who loved them
- Vaelkin - in old elven court records
- The Lunarae - in half-burned temple texts
- Godmarked - by priests who feared them
- Unwritten Ones - by the gods themselves, when no better word would stick
The gods tried to intervene. Quietly. Furiously.
But even they could not tell the Starveined apart from full-blooded fae once they came of age. Their magic folded so seamlessly into elven auras that no divine gaze could untangle it.
The Sorellien became more than a clan.
They became a movement.
A truth hidden in plain sight.
To this day, darling, there are whispers of the Starveined among us - those with laughter like windchimes, who never seem to age, who can speak to trees and disappear into shadows with a wink.
You’ve probably met one.
Maybe you are one.
They walk every elven realm. They move between star and stone. And not even the gods know just how many exist.
I’ve met a few. Maybe even danced with one or two beneath a whispering willow. Let’s just say… they live up to their legend.
So next time someone tells you a thing can’t be done?
Tell them to go read a little Sorellien history. Preferably by candlelight. Preferably while clutching a charm of protection.
You never know who’s listening.
Starlight and scandal,
- Alice, Queen of Ink & Lore
Bearer of Forbidden Kisses & Half-Elven Gossip
P.S. Before you start checking your ears in every reflective surface - don’t bother. Not all Starveined have those elegantly pointy tips, darling. Some are blessed - or cursed, depending on the gossip circle - with perfectly mortal ears. No shimmer. No glow.
They blend into mortal society like butter in a warm biscuit.
So that mysterious someone who never ages, always finds your lost keys, and swears they can feel a storm before it arrives?
Mmhmm.
Keep an eye on them.
Or kiss them.
I’m not judging.
✒ Pip’s Editorial Note
Editorial Desk, Alice’s Mad Tea Party
For the sake of the archives and what remains of divine decorum, a clarification.
The term Starveined does not appear in official elven doctrine, temple registries, or celestial law. This absence is notable. Repeatedly. Suspiciously.
Earlier records reference hybrid bloodlines under alternative names, most of which were later struck through, renamed, or lost to “ritual fire.” The Sorellien themselves are cited often, then abruptly vanish from formal histories, which tends to happen when a truth proves inconvenient to gods who prefer tidy narratives.
Key points for the attentive reader:
- Prohibitions against elven-mortal unions were theological, not natural law.
- Survival rates among the Starveined contradict every recorded divine warning.
- Claims that gods cannot distinguish Starveined from full-blooded elves appear across multiple fragmented sources.
- Attempts to eradicate or isolate these bloodlines consistently failed.
Alice presents this story with charm and scandal, but the underlying pattern is clear. The doctrine broke. The blood endured. And history was rewritten quietly enough that most never noticed.
As usual, the most dangerous truths are not hunted.
They are ignored.
And
This is a Alice's original story.
- Pip
Editorial Desk, Alice’s Mad Tea Party
