Her affinity for wind magic is more, perhaps, than just a simple twist of fate. Like the gales that gust at her command, Emmeryn's being seems to exist within a tornado, just as wild and unpredictable. She's been flying free since her youth, those tremendous adventures and explorations as unsupervised and unnoticed as the breezes that whipped at her hair, whispered secrets through the rustling of the green leaves they shook. Even before she could practice magic, she believed in it, innately, as more than just a whispered spell and powerful reaction, wasn't willing to boil it down to a mere equation. Magic, to her, was a coursing and spiritual thing, as alive as she was. She believed it led her down the paths she took, and in some ways, she still believes that. She is, as a whole, not entirely different from who she was a child. She still retains her inquisitive nature, a curiosity that might very well lead her into death someday. But she'll go laughing if she must, when she must. Childish, she knows, she's heard, but it doesn't bother her. Not much, anyway. Enough, maybe, that she'd pull a prank or two, sure, but never anything malicious. That wouldn't be right. She's a little petty, can be little selfish without realizing, but she's also a righteous person. Perhaps a little sentimental, but certainly full of empathy, Emm is just righteous enough to pursue justice when she sees fit, but not righteous enough to stick around and see any consequences of her intervention through. Those who know her, though, don't expect much more from her. She is a tornado after all—all the winds centered around the "I" of the storm. Like her. Self-centered and blinded by it, she is often oblivious to the true emotions of those around her, can impose her wishes perhaps just a touch forcefully.

It's refreshing at times, like a cool breeze in the midst of summer; the honesty, the lack of posturing. Her kindness, when it can be called that, has no agenda, is fiercely and purely hers. She's prepared to give her life the cause she's chosen, and not just because she's stubborn as hell—though she can't deny that might be a small part of it—but also because she's chosen to see the possibility of a better tomorrow in the bleakness of today. She may be easily distracted, but she's just as easily drawn into things, takes her work as seriously as anything. It's a shock, she's been told, the way her voice takes on a ferocity on the battlefield, her gaze turned from a lighted joy to a cutting focus. Her dedication to studying military strategy and practicing her magic is impressive, but, then again, the admirable aspects of her are not always the ones on display. They're not even often the ones on display. Tornadoes are not beautiful until they're seen from a distance.

For at least some of her childhood, Emm firmly believed she existed in a world outside of the country she'd known as a toddler. She didn't know where, just knew that the staggeringly endless fields broken only by the sight lines of the trees at edge of the forest, that the uninterrupted azure of the sky extending to the far off horizon were unoccupied by anybody but herself and the fairies, and so it could not have been Reskaea proper. Not without the bustling city streets and markets she recalled, not without the looming buildings and people she'd seen from her vantage point. Her illusion would shatter on the rare occasions she'd see her grandparents, which, somehow, seemed more lonely, so she preferred the isolated realm theory anyway.

The next time reality barged in, it came in the form of a young boy, just a year or so younger than her. This intrusion did not seem as lonely. Soon, the two were attached at the hip, torn apart only by the boy's frequent visits to the castle, and shortly after their meeting, not even that. When she accompanied him to the castle, a brand new wave of curiosity overtook her, her naturally inquisitive nature spurred on by the brand new sights and smells and sounds, all so vivid and different from what she had come to expect from the farmlands.

As her friend stumbled into a friendship with the prince, she too was allowed to accompany them to their training. She was never entirely willing to pick up the sword or the lance, found it brutish and jarring. But she loved to watch the spars. Loved to see them, really see them, see each movement of each player, how they shifted and flowed and eventually resulted in one fighter's defeat. When she was in a good mood, she'd give Neal tips on how to defeat opponents far larger and stronger than he. It was during one such instance that she caught the eye of the Court Magician, one of the King's most trusted advisors and top strategists. Intrigued by her natural inclination towards military tactics, he took her under his wing as her pupil and subjected her to truly excruciating lessons on military strategies and magic. But she thrived, and the strange old man, as he appeared to her, planned to name her his successor.

His plan was thwarted, of course. An equal combination of Emmeryn's restless nature and Neal's personal issues took her from the castle to the outside world, and as mercenaries no less. It was exciting. The few years they spent as free-lancing warriors saw them rise to relative fame in the world of mercenaries, known for their youth as well as their skill as sharpshooter and tactician. And then, a simple coincidence—or perhaps a touch of destiny—caused all she'd known to become upended.

They were no strangers, the people they met, which was perhaps what made it so amusing. The prince and his loyal retainer waltzed their way back into her life, and she welcomed them, and the excitement they brought, with open arms. She came up with the name. Seemed mystical, just the way she liked it. Fighting for the people of Reskaea was more fulfilling than she'd expected, yes, but more importantly, for the first time in Emmeryn's life, she'd found herself with a family to call her own.

While she is no doubt a talented mage, her key role in the brigade is not as a warrior, but rather as a tactician. As a mercenary, what made her particularly valuable was her practically unparalleled gift for strategy, and it is that same asset that allows the brigade to function as it does. With their obvious disadvantage in terms of sheer numbers despite the raw talent of each member, the brigade relies on Emm to draw up battle plans that allow each member to utilize their strength in the most effective manner. On the battlefield, Emm uses wind magic to carry her voice to other members of the brigade should she need to give orders.

Due to her weak constitution and subpar defense, Emm often rides into battle alongside a member of the brigade who is physically sturdy should she, at any point in time, need to hide behind a wall of defense. Additionally, since magic is best utilized as a mid-range weapon, she attacks from behind the front lines of close-range attackers. In these situations, she is partial to using Forseti, a wind tome given to her as a gift by her teacher. Its incantation is longer and more complicated, but the resulting vicious blades of wind make it worth the time. Should she find herself in close combat, she makes the switch to Elwind or Fire, tomes which allow her to cast far quicker. In these scenarios, she relies on her agility and speed to help her finish her enemy before they can land a truly devastating blow. Her cloak also helps her avoid enemy attacks by providing a false target. This minor visual trick really only makes a significant impact, though, when the attacker is already a fair distance away and is liable to miss.