Remnants of the Earth

“I think we have everything in order now, Mr. Chambers. Was there anything else you needed today?” Lucien DeVaan, his lawyer (and thereby even more of a twisted snake than Deacon by default), asked with a smile that was never quite pleasant.

“Nah, sorry. Sold my soul ages ago, so there’s nothing left for you to get your paws on.” Both men smirked at each other, shook hands, and then Deacon was out the door of the law office. He hated lawyers on principle, but this was the same man that had taken care of both of his parents’ business and one snake was as good as another to use for all this end of life bullshit.

The only really hard part had been composing the letters (well aside from getting away from Eit). Thank fuck he only needed two of those. Not that he supposed they were strictly necessary, but it felt wrong to leave nothing at all. Maybe Eit and Gray would even find something cathartic about reading them one day.

Just two letters.

Sure it made the work easier when there were only that many, but was that sad? Out of all the people in the world, Deacon had only felt two deserved, needed, or would want a goodbye from him. That was all he had left, honestly.

Just two.

Deacon had ambled along the streets until he found a bench. He sat down heavily and stared at nothing as he tried to even begin to sort through his thoughts and feelings. Both had been a mess since this whole thing started. Fucking Dash just had to dislocate his shoulder and send him to the hospital, which lead to finding out about the cancer. Ignorance had been absolute bliss. He would rather not know. It just made everything harder.

Two people.

They were both mad at him, and Deacon knew it. Gray was obviously far more liberal in informing him how stupid he was for refusing to undergo chemo. Eit was far more quiet, but he knew his partner and beneath all the worry and fussing he knew there was anger. He just knew it.

Maybe he was being stupid, but neither of them was dying, were they? He could spout all kinds of reasons why he refused to be treated, but there were really only two: because he was fucking scared to death of what chemo would do to him only to end up dead anyway and because what exactly did Deacon have that was worth undergoing that kind of battle?

A soft sound of disgusted frustration huffed out of him as he leaned back, letting his head fall back and his eyes close. Deacon wasn’t a deep or philosophical person. He didn’t know what the hell any of it meant and he had never believed in anything beyond the here and now that he could see, taste, touch, and hear. It wasn’t that he feared hell or some divine judgement, but what he did fear was pain – far beyond the physical pain.

He had never spoken to anyone about that night. About how deeply it had affected him to hear his mother’s voice, frail but hopeful, calling him Misha. It wasn’t something he ever wanted to happen to him, to sit at the end of his life and be desperate for someone who wasn’t there. Naively he had thought that nothing could feel lonelier than that.

Nothing until now.

Deacon had vehemently avoided attachments like that; he hadn’t sought out a significant other and had no children. He thought that would mean there would be no one to leave behind – which was possibly the only thing he was more afraid of than being left behind. It turns out it just meant that he was alone. Ultimately his life had meant nothing, hadn’t it?

The worst part was Deacon knew it was too late to try to give anything meaning. He was only twenty-five for fucks sake, that shouldn’t be too late, but it was.

He slowly rolled his head down and ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. If he didn’t go home soon Eit would probably send out a goddamn search party. His partner had been stuck to him like fresh gum on the bottom of your shoe since the night Dash had put him in the hospital. The elf had barely left his side and it was the thing he felt the guiltiest for out of everything.

Eit shouldn’t be wasting his life taking care of his stupid, worthless ass. Deacon didn’t deserve it. Part of him was glad, though, despite his grumblings of having a nanny or nursemaid. He felt bad for being glad; his best friend should be enjoying his life, not being dragged down with him in all this. Selfishly, he was glad to have him staying with him, because no matter what else, as long as Eit was with him then he wasn’t really alone and nothing (and no one) meant more to Deacon than that.

Now if he could just find the words to tell Eit that.

After a long, frustrating day of filming going out for any reason had been the last thing on Maddy’s mind, but leave it to the Aedolian chat to talk about pancakes and waffles while he was starving. A person would have had to have the willpower of a saint to resist the overwhelming craving to indulge in a late evening meal of syrupy goodness! That or be too high to move from the couch, which could have easily been Maddock Broderick on any given day, but he was depressingly not flying on any kind of euphoric high.

He didn’t know why or how, but there it was – Maddy was stone cold sober.

At least that meant he could actually do something other than wallow in a drug-induced daze. He heard doing that was bad for you. So he ignored his pills and put on something low key cute since he was going out in public. Hip-hugging jeans and a soft pink off the shoulder shirt made for super casual and very chic.

Throwing a book and his tablet into his messenger bag and putting it over his shoulder, Maddy headed out to the best place to grab waffles – AHOW.

Being an off hour for most major meals, getting shown to a table was almost immediate. Honestly there weren’t a great many people in the restaurant at all. It was kind of perfect, because that meant it was relatively quiet as well. Maddy was able to pull out his book and read without distraction while waiting on his stack of cinnamon waffles smothered with strawberry syrup and whip cream.

Almost without distraction, because there was one very interesting person just a few tables away. The man was huge, stacked as one might say, and definitely grizzled. Maddy could already imagine what a guy like that did for a living, what with the hardened battle-scarred look and muscles for days. He was perfectly happy to start inventing things about such a sexy tank. Maybe he was a Pilot? Definitely a military man with that body and those kinds of scars, nothing else was that dangerous, was it?

No, he didn’t think so.

His fantasies were put on pause when his food arrived, and Maddy busied himself with the task of reading between bites of delicious waffles. He tried to put the hunky gentleman out of his mind, because honestly, if the man was just drinking a coffee he’d be long gone by the time Maddy was finished with his meal. Except when he pushed his empty plate aside, Mr. Hunk was still sitting a few tables away like bait in a trap. A very pleasant trap, but that was still what it felt like. How was someone like him to resist trying to get a taste, however small, of that?

Maddy let his eyes flicker down to the man’s hands, they were large, strong, and calloused, but most importantly there wasn’t a ring anywhere suggesting he was taken. Good, that meant those rough hands were available for squeezing squirmy hips. It was a shame about the man’s fashion sense, ugh, flannel, really? Well, it was a good thing he didn’t need the man dressed for anything.

It was odd that he was just sitting there all alone with nothing but a coffee all this time.

Biting his lip, he picked up his com and started texting in the chat about the good-looking fellow taunting him without so much as looking in his direction or a single word spoken, and as usual the chat didn’t fail to deliver. Just go crawl under his table indeed! With a little encouragement from Aunty NIH, Maddy tucked his com and book back into his bag, slinging it casually over his shoulder as he picked up his own coffee and headed over to Mr. Hunk’s table.

“Hey there Handsome, you looked lonely sitting over here all by yourself. Want some company?” A flirtatious smile flashed as he unabashedly raked his eyes over him now that he was much closer, and nearly purred when all he saw was more of what had attracted him in the first place. Rugged, muscled, scarred and absolutely fucking edible.

Even the light, evening breeze was unbearably hot and muggy in this city as it ruffled Neeko’s silver hair, he pushed his hair back with a shaky hand; the strands had tickled and itched at his forehead. A trivial annoyance, like a gnat buzzing in your hear. What an appropriate word: buzzing. That’s all anything was anymore. Noises, faces, conversations – none of it mattered, not really, it was all just buzzing.

The Kitsuni wasn’t even sure if that was because of the alcohol or his mind breaking down. He wasn’t sure it really mattered which it was by this point. Whatever strength had been in him to endure the psychological strain of being away from his family was used up and spent.

Of course the nearly empty bottle of rum gripped loosely in his left hand hadn’t helped. It never really helped. Alcohol could numb you so much for so long, but it didn’t change anything except make you drunk and miserable instead of just miserable. Neeko knew that, but once he’d started a century ago he hadn’t been able to stop himself. The alcoholism had crept up on him and run rampant, unchecked and unnoticed.

Not entirely true. Maybe he thought himself good at hiding his problems, but Neeko knew that Nishi was aware, on some level, that he was an absolute fucking mess. She still loved him, though.

He didn’t deserve that.

Neeko felt another breeze and wobbled unsteadily, looking down – very far down. He didn’t actually remember coming up to the roof, or climbing up onto the ledge. The view made his stomach do little flip-flops. It was definitely a long fall. How easy would it be to just lean forward and drop?

Probably quite easy – he didn’t even have to do it himself. In his highly inebriated state a strong breeze could topple him right over the edge. Death would be almost certain.

There was only one thing stopping him from doing it, and that was Nishi of course. He could feel the weight of the bracelet on his wrist. Neeko hadn’t taken it off since their spontaneous marriage on Soul’s Night. As hard as he had fought marrying any of the matches arranged for him by his family, marrying Nishi had been the right decision, he had no doubt about that.

He just wondered if it was too little too late.

Neeko shook his head, dispelling the fleeting thoughts swirling around in the mire that was his mind. No, giving up really wasn’t an option here. Nishi needed him alive so that she might not suffer alone like he had for so many years. Maybe it really was too late for him, but falling could mean condemning her too and there was no way that he could ever do that.

Climbing back down to the rooftop proper was an unsteady affair, but he did make it. Thinking was hard but he could focus on a singular thought: Go home to Nishi.

Nishi would help make it better. She somehow was able to chase bad thoughts away with a simple kiss or snuggle against his chest. Having her beside him was being home, and he wanted desperately to go home suddenly.

Being both exceptionally drunk and in a hurry was a bad decision. Neeko didn’t quite catch the rail of the stairs, his foot missed the step and suddenly falling was no longer an option. At least he didn’t fall off the roof, but rolling and crashing down a steep flight of stairs wasn’t much better as the bottle shattered and bones crunched.

Ryuu sent out alerts to the closest members of the Valkyries and to the hospital before Neeko had even rolled to a stop on the landing.

Pilot Royal Reynard is down. Coordinates incoming. Emergency medical response.

[Alright kiddos, to start this lovely affair, Neeko is suffering from multiple skull fractures from his fall, as well bruised and broken rips, and there is a compound fracture on his left tibia. The poor fox is lying unconscious on the landing.]

Touching down back on Libra and unbuckling from his seat was a weird mix of emotions, almost like coming off an exhilarating high. Twenty-one years old and nothing could feel better than the rush of zipping through space in a magitech ship. Not just any ship, but one of his own design and purpose – she was beautiful and perfect. It didn’t matter if it had been a very routine and boring patrol where nothing at all interesting had actually happened. Nothing mattered except knowing that he had finally made all the boring as hell classes at academy worth it.

Part of him had never wanted to come back, and that was why it was a mix of emotion instead of pure bliss, there was the disappointment of the experience being over – even knowing there would be plenty more to come. Yet another sliver of him was glad to be home.

Deacon didn’t look torn as he stepped out of the ship; he was grinning and fixing his hair. Eugh, helmet hair was terrible. He was still running his hand through his hair when someone in an officer’s uniform approached him solemnly. The look on the man’s face was enough to make his stomach drop as he quickly snapped into a salute.

“Pilot Chambers, I’m sorry, but it’s your mother sh-“ Whatever else the man was going to say faded from existence, because Deacon dropped his flight helmet and pushed past the officer without another thought as he raced to the hospital as fast as his legs could carry him. His stomach was tied up in knots and his heart pounded in his ears. All he could do was silently beg a higher power that he didn’t actually believe in that she hadn’t left him yet.

Please not with me gone. Please whatever gods are out there, don’t let her have left alone.

It was all he could do not to slam into the nurse’s station as he entered the front doors, skidding to a stop and still running into the heavy desk. Deacon was out of breath, but he managed to half-scream words at the poor lady behind the desk. “Darla Chambers, she should be here. A cancer patient, her doctor is Malia Tornal.”

“L-let me just look for you, sir!” The sound of her keyboard clicking sounded like thunder crashing over the waves already pounding through his ears. It seemed like an eternity but was probably only thirty seconds. “Yes sir, room 1544, but you ca-“

Deacon didn’t wait to hear the rest; nothing mattered except the room number. It was the longest two minutes of his life, between the front desk and finding that room. The only reason they probably hadn’t called security on him was the flight suit he was still wearing. He undoubtedly had a wild, frantic look about him, and his pupils were contracted into thin slits as they had the nasty habit of doing when he was either angry or afraid.

Despite his rush to get there, when he actually got to the room he very nearly froze completely. For a terrible moment he was too terrified to look inside. As long as he didn’t look Deacon could pretend she was alive, but if she was already gone and he looked it became real.

Shaking off the nerves he slowly crept into room 1544 and very nearly fell to his knees with an overwhelming wave of relief. There she was, lying in her hospital bed looking pale and so very frail, but the monitor next to her bed was emitting steady beeps to announce that life still clung there desperately.

 A dying life, but life.

Forcing his legs to keep working for just a few moments longer, Deacon moved to her bedside, dragging a chair so that he could sit and hold the hand not supporting her IV. The movement and noise caused the small woman to stir in her bed, eyes slowly fluttering open as she looked up at her visitor with confused, tired green eyes.

“Misha?” She asked weakly, and the hopefulness in her voice very nearly crushed Deacon. Her mind was obviously going if she was asking for his father. If Darla couldn’t remember that her husband was long gone, then who was he to remind her of something so terrible?

“No Momma, it’s me. It’s your boy.” His voice was soft and cracking as his eyes burned, he took her thin, cold hand in both his and raised it from the bed, kissing it softly before pressing it against his warm cheek.

“Deacon, I’m sorry. You look so much like him, you know that?” She smiled at him, before grimacing softly as her eyes became hazy again. “Where is Misha?”

“I’m sure he’ll be here as soon as he can, Momma. You look so tired, why don’t you get some rest? I promise I’ll wake you as soon as he gets here.” He squeezed her hand gently, kissing it again and fighting back his tears; because the last thing she needed right now was to see him crying.

“Rest…yes. That sounds so nice. You promise you’ll wake me when your father comes?” Her voice was so weak he could barely hear it.

“Of course I promise, Momma. As soon as he gets here you’ll know, okay?” Her eyes were already closed again, she barely nodded. He didn’t know if she could even still hear him. “You know, I don’t think there’s a lot left unsaid between us, Momma. We’ve known for so long that today was coming, but I want you to know that it’s okay. I’m okay. You were a great mother, you know that? The best of the best, and I was a difficult brat, but I am going to be okay if you’re too tired to keep going. I love you so much.”

Deacon lowered his head, resting it against the side of the bed, simply holding his mother’s hand and letting quiet tears escape against the sheets as he waited. His mind wandered as he thought about his mother before she got sick. She had been a very bright, vibrant woman. That was how he wanted to always remember her, not as the frail woman lying there right now. It was almost an hour later when the sound of the monitors changed from the slow steady beats to a flat droning screech.

No one rushed in to try to save her as he raised his head and numbly observed his mother’s final moments. A doctor did enter the room without a sense of urgency to pronounce Darla Chambers’s time of death, but after unhooking the machines, he left them alone with a quite expression of his condolences for his loss.

Deacon didn’t want anyone’s condolences or pity. He turned his com off and stood up so that he could lean over his mother and gently brush a kiss to her forehead before he turned from her bedside and stumbled from the room in a bit of a daze. It was a hard reality to swallow, but he told himself that he had been prepared for this. Of course at the same time he knew how stupid is was for anyone to think they were ever actually ready for something like this.

Who the hell was ready to say goodbye to someone they loved?

“Mr. Chambers? I know this is a difficult time for you, but I need you to sign some papers regarding the disposal of your mother’s remains. Is it correct that she wished to be cremated? Have you already chosen a container for her ashes?” The man looked like he was bored but trying to seem sympathetic, Deacon wanted to punch him.

“Yeah and yeah, just give me the fucking papers. We’ve already made all the arrangements; just follow the instructions on her file.” He snatched the clipboard from the representative and scribbled his name across the dotted line hastily; all he wanted to do was get far away from here. Signature produced, he shoved it back at the man and stalked down the hall. It was easy to ignore people as he left the hospital; there was no one in the entire universe he wanted to talk to just then.

Deacon didn’t believe in some happy afterlife where his mother would see his father again or any of that stupid bullshit. She was dead and dead meant gone. It didn’t change the fact that his heart ached horribly and that he already missed her. It just meant that life was a bitch and then you died and there was nothing else he could do about it. His eyes were bloodshot, but mostly dry now.

Instead of pouring energy into crying, he focused on making it to his mother’s apartment, using his key to let himself in and slowly walking the rooms, turning on all the lights. It wasn’t really surprising that most of her belongings were already packed up into boxes with neat labels on them.

Always a practical woman thinking ahead, Deacon couldn’t help but smile sadly thinking about her sitting there sorting through her things, carefully and lovingly wrapping her little porcelain knick-knacks. He methodically started going through what hadn’t been packed away already. A note had been left for him, telling him what she wanted done with some of her things. Most of it was for him to keep, but some things, like her clothes, were being given away to some of her friends.

Everything was boxed before he stopped hours later; the boxes were sorted into piles depending on if they were going home with him or if they had other recipients in mind. Completely exhausted and drained, Deacon spent the night in his mother’s home for the last time, and that old sofa was still the most comfortable thing to lie on ever.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full name: Maddock “Maddy” Broderick
Alias: Rinkie
Gender: Male
Age: 26
D.O.B: March 15th
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 137lbs
Race: Half-Demon
Sexuality: Homosexual
Nationality: Aedolian
Residence: Margad, Aedolis

Playlist: Maddy Dance Party


PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Maddock

A wild, shaggy mess of silver hair falls into blood-red eyes, the pupils of which easily narrow into slits when agitated. Maddock has a soft, androgynous face that serves him well in his job. Actually the entirety of him is rather delicately built.

Maddy has certain demonic features that can be hidden when desired. His horns, wings, and tail are all things that he can make vanish and give himself a far more human form. Generally speaking, hiding his non-human features is the default. The wings, tail, and horns are kept hidden unless he needs to reveal them for a part in filming or if a friend just really likes seeing them and asks him to show off.



PERSONALITY

When on his own time Maddy likes to read trashy Pilot fanfiction, play video games, and is a horror movie junkie. He loves scary movies and spooky stories. His favorites always have to do with ghosts or demonic possession – do not make any stupid jokes about his species and liking that tripe, he just does, okay? Second favorite has to be any kind of monster movie. It doesn’t have to be giant unreal monsters either, give him a movie about killer stray cats. He’ll eat that shit up.

On the matter of work, well Maddy got over most of his shyness years ago. He doesn’t sugar-coat what he does for a living and doesn’t try to make it sound fancier or classier than it is. It isn’t like he’s ashamed of what he does. Everyone has to earn a living somehow, and porn is a big industry with a whole lot of consumers clamoring for it.

He is not shy about sex on film and tends to flirt a lot in his downtime. That said, he’s still gets extremely shy, embarrassed, and self-conscious when he’s receiving a lot of attention – especially positive attention.

At least when he’s sober, because when he’s drunk and high on his favorite mix of painkillers and cocktails Maddy loves to dance and be the center of attention at a club. Despite the distance he has to travel to get there, his favorite party spot is still Syn in Haviah and he regularly makes the trip to the hottest club in Aedolis.

How happy or depressed Maddy is generally correlates directly to how high he currently is – the higher the better. Always.

The biggest problem that faces Maddy is that he is very insecure and hates being alone. A long string of abusive relationships that he jumps into and clings to long after he should have left is a prominent feature of his life. He struggles with respecting himself and so often falls into the pattern of excusing people that abuse him while placing the blame firmly on himself and something he must have done.

Sex equals love and affection – Maddy is depressingly easy to get into bed because he very badly wants someone to care and doesn’t know how else to attempt to get that kind of attention in a less self-destructive way.



SKILLS

Oh boy, Maddy has porn star skills! He knows how to moan at a camera really pretty, pretending to enjoy things even when he’s not. Gobbles cocks like a champ, too.

Maddy is an extremely good dancer, but only when wasted.



RELATIONSHIPS

Maddy has a family, and they even probably care about him, but mostly superficial ones with producers, co-stars, etc.



BACKSTORY

Maddock Broderick was the epically pretentious name given to him at birth, but he much prefers to be simply known as Maddy. Demons aren’t exactly unheard of on Aedolis, given the nature of their nation they’re actually probably more common than most people realize. His mother is a demon businesswoman and his father is a civilian researcher for R&D in Havina.

Prestigious science academies were all well and in Maddock’s future, because his parents had money and because he tested extremely high on all his entrance exams. He was a very bright child and could easily have gone into a respectable career in military research.

Despite his general enjoyment of learning, Maddy allowed himself to be drawn down a completely different path. There’s some debate on just why he was lured into the adult film industry. Ironically his shy, quiet tendencies as a bit of a loner nerd may have played a huge part. Someone gave him lots and lots of very positive attention and all they wanted in return was to film it, what hormone-driven teenage boy could really resist that kind of seductive allure?

Now add getting paid into that mix. Going into porn seemed like a great idea at the time, especially when he was being fed a mixture of alcohol and painkillers to make him docile and agreeable. The major selling points on Maddy are of course his exotic looks, and a very specific set of audience members with a very specific set of kinks – people that like carefully scripted abuse. His work ranges from BDSM master-slave screenplays to ones heavily featuring dubious consent if not outright rape scenes.

Of course it is all just acting so no harm no foul, right? Not always strictly black and white. His co-workers regularly get unnecessarily rough working him, leaving him with very real bruises, rope or carpet burns, and once even a broken wrist. The pay is good and Maddy needs the money to fuel his drug dependences, so he doesn’t complain much.

Aside from the drugs and minor workplace abuse, life is good for Maddock. The work pays well and he has a comfortable apartment in Margad, one of the most beautiful cities in Aedolis.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full name: Conrad Thorne
Gender: Male
Age: 37
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 203lbs
Race: Human
Sexuality: Bisexual
Nationality: Aedolian
Residence: Havina, Aedolis


PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Overall his face has an appealing, roguish cast; a  strong, square jaw is usually shadowed with dark, scratchy stubble that doesn’t get grown out into a full beard, but also can’t seem to manage to be shaved away every day either. He has an almost elegant brow, with black hair kept neat in a military cut, short and slightly spiked. Wings of grey cut into the black hair at his temples, giving him an older, distinguished look. Conrad was graced with the beautiful emerald eyes of old Aedolian bloodlines, although some creases are starting to frame them.


A great Pilot has to have battle scars, and Conrad has plenty of those. The most prominent, and always the first to catch anyone’s attention is a very identifying slash that falls diagonally from almost his hairline to his right cheekbone, an injury that narrowly avoided taking his right eye completely. There are two long slashes across his torso that nearly disemboweled him. His dragon is an unruly bastard that gave him the scars when he chose him to be his Pilot; overall a harrowing experience. Fortunately the ladies (and gentlemen) rarely seem to complain about such a scar, and some think that it makes him look all the more wickedly good-looking.

The subtly aging man stands tall with broad shoulders and cords of lean muscle encasing his form, not in small part thanks to his years of military training and experience. His skin, for the most part, is of a clear complexion and has a healthy glow to it, being neither pale nor deeply tanned, which suits him just fine.



PERSONALITY

Cold, abrasive, calculating, and manipulative – Conrad knows what he wants and lets nothing get in his way to getting it. Some people think they’re better than you but he knows he’s better than you. It isn’t even a contest with his superior breeding, intellect, and training.



PSIONICS

Telepathy: Average at best, Conrad never was able to accomplish anything fancy with his telepathy skills. He can keep from projecting his thoughts willy-nilly and drown out the buzz from other people.

Precognition: An ability that he is both very proud of and very annoyed about. It is arguably one of the most powerful and useful abilities, but undignified in application. Conrad can’t control when he gets a premonition, only ride it out as it causes his brain to seize, leaving him a twitching, pained heap.



RELATIONSHIPS

Meredith Rollins-Thorne: Conrad’s long suffering wife. They hate each other and married very young because of pressure from their families. Being with her is a duty and nothing more.

Liam Thorne: Son, 17, and a Stage 4 Candidate.

Megan Thorne: Daughter, 13, and a Gracie.




BACKSTORY

Conrad was raised in elite society in Havina. His parents were Pilots, as were his grandparents on both sides, his aunts, uncles, and cousins are all Pilots – at least the ones still considered part of the family. It was a cold upbringing, groomed from birth to carry on the family legacy of producing useful Pilots to the Aedolian Empire.

That included marrying for wealth and status as soon as both he and his chosen bride graduated from Candidacy. Meredith is a weak telepath at best and works with the Ministry. Overall Conrad was never impressed with her and never liked her, but he dutifully produced two heirs with the woman.

During the war Conrad did not see combat, as his ability was seen as both too valuable and a liability in the field because of premonition seizures. He was assigned to the Ministry as well and it never sat right with him, but he is nothing if not competitive and proved that no minor handicap could hold him back from anything he decided to do. He rose all the way to Royal in the Ministry but has recently requested transfer to teaching at the ATC. The droll office work was too much to bear anymore. Sure, grading papers and wrangling Candidates is still beneath him, but it is at least more interesting.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full name: Abigail Finch
Aliases: Abby, Gail (mother), Aquamori (online)
Gender: Female
Age: 21
Height: 5’3”
Weight: 113lbs
Race: Human
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Nationality: Edani
Residence: Edanith Frontier


PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

What is there to say about Abigail’s appearance? Quite a lot, actually. You know that person? You know? The one that makes you do a double take while walking down the street? Yeah, that’s Abigail Finch. She was born with the most amazingly blue-grey eyes imaginable, couple that with her long cinnamon locks, a small waist, and rather appealing curves and you have the prettiest little lady you could ask for.

Abby has naturally very pale skin, but is soft and smooth and totally touchable. Ah, but what about the body that this rich, creamy skin belongs to? Well she’s got a fairly decent height for a woman, she’s not tall, but she isn’t really short either, somewhere around average. Okay, maybe just a tiny bit short, but don’t ever tell her that.

As far as build goes she’s got a petite, delicate frame. A very small girl, but don’t get me wrong, she’s got a nice rounded butt and breasts that aren’t gigantic on her frame, but rather fit quite snuggly on her body-type to balance out the curves at her hips.

Back to her hair; it is a thick, rich light red-brown that naturally spills down her back in soft waves. As for her eyes, they truly are an amazing shade of blue-grey. The best comparison for the shade that I can muster is chips of ice with flecks of flint.

Like all proper Edani mages, Abigail has two ports, one in each temple. When not on duty and in active need of her magical abilities, she wears her headband which plugs into the ports and transmits her magical energy to the closest receptive tower. It doesn’t seem to bother her that she’s essentially a human battery the majority of her time.


PERSONALITY

Abigail is a rather demure woman; quiet, observant, soft-spoken, and thanks to the events of the past year extremely distrustful and cautious. If she can’t trust her supposed best friend and her parents, well then who can she trust? Naturally she now assumes that answer to be nobody. It is a new personality trait that should server he well as she heads out to the much more dangerous frontier.

Some ignorant people would assume that demure equals weak and those people are idiots. Abigail may prefer to remain quiet or avoid confrontation where possible, but she knows when something is wrong and will fight to make it right. If she wasn’t willing to do that, she’d still be in the same mess she’s currently running away from, wouldn’t she?



SKILLS

Abigail is a water mage! She can manipulate water and stuff.



RELATIONSHIPS

Alex Marsh: Abigail’s first Mordecai handler. They are not on speaking terms any longer.

Jacob Finch: Father, alive and well in Tynova. They have a strained relationship.

Angela Finch: Mother, alive and well in Tynova. They have a strained relationship.



BACKSTORY

Abigail Finch was born and raised in Tynova. Her parents were mages; they lived in the government housing for mage families. The majority of her life was spent being groomed to also be a useful, productive mage when she became old enough, especially given her highly prized magical focus of water.

Being a well-mannered girl, and raised properly patriotic, Abigail was excited when she met her assigned Mordecai handler, Alex Marsh, for the first time. He was young, like her, and seemed to share her enthusiasm to begin their partnership in servicing Edanith. For a while everything was going exactly as she thought it should. Alex was charming, smart, and a great conversationalist. Both her parents had great friendships with their Mordecai and it made her happy that she seemed to get along so well with her own.

Things turned sour without warning when Abigail was twenty. While she’d become good friends with Alex, she viewed him as just that – a friend. She thought they had a great platonic bond, but was rudely and harshly shown the truth of that when she began dating a mage a few years older than them.

Her friend Alex suddenly became not friendly at all. Despite the fact that Abigail was free to roam the city as she pleased, she learned that going anywhere without Alex was unforgivable to him. He became possessive and controlling. The mage broke up with her a couple months later without giving a reason, and she highly suspects that Alex is to blame.

During this shift in her relationship with her handler the ones she had with her parents began to strain as well. Both of her parents couldn’t understand how she could claim horrible things about Alex when the year before she’d seemed thick as thieves with the Mordecai. Her mother had the gall to suggest that if she would only apologize for being unthoughtful and disregarding of Alex’s feelings that everything would clear right up and be right as rain again. They thought she was being dramatic and ungrateful when she told them that she had actually become afraid of her former friend.

Realizing her parents were not really on her side, encouraging her to dive deeper into the twisted relationship with Alex, Abigail did the only thing she could think of to get her life back: she put in a heartfelt plea for a transfer. She didn’t care who went or where, but she begged them to reassign her handler.

Thankfully her request for a transfer was honored, but they did not investigate her concerns. She feels that they view her as the real problem, and given her transfer out of the safety of the city and onto the frontier that is probably true.

All she can hope for is this fresh start with a new handler in a new place will turn out better. Then again, it’s not like it could be much worse.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full name: Gregori Lockmoor
Gender: Male
Age: 5000+
Height: 6’
Weight: 189lbs
Race: Fallen Angel
Sexuality: Demisexual
Nationality: Angelic?
Residence: Anywhere


PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Gregori has a messy mop of dark hair crowning his head, with very deep blue eyes looking out of a somewhat severe, if ruggedly handsome, face. His skin has a slightly rough and pale quality to it, but not unhealthily so. His height is tall, but not massive. Gregori has a chiseled body, which makes sense as he was literally carved from stone to be an impressive and imposing figure.

Around his throat and wrists are branding scars from his holy collar and shackles, which were broken when he freed himself from the will of his makers. Covering his back from shoulders to hips is also a brand, finely detailed, of feathered wings.

Those wings are made of pure flame when he actually calls upon them, but it is rare for him to show his true self.



PERSONALITY

Crushingly lonely at times, Gregori has little to rejoice about in his life currently. At heart he is still a guardian and protector, an agent of justice and vengeance once, but now his morals have shaken. After all, he isn’t an angel but a fallen one cast out of that abstract heaven – it was always an overrated place anyway.



SKILLS

Gregori has developed some very unique skills over his very long life. The first ability he gained upon being given life was Holy Fire, but whether this is a psionic or magical ability can be debated. Psychics and Aedolis’s dragons cannot detect him using it, but Mordecai also have no effect on his flames.

The second gift he has developed is interstellar teleportation. The angelic being can be standing in the Aedolian wastes one moment and the next appear on the Edanith Frontier. This of course prevents him from being captured by those that would try to use him for unsavory purposes and keeps him from losing his freedom.

Gregori can transform from his human visage into that of the avenging angel that he truly is underneath. His armor and wings appear in a halo of red-gold light.



RELATIONSHIPS

Sharlee – An elven woman that helped him when he first fell from Grace, and the greatest love of his life. They had several children together before she passed away very many years ago. He still misses her.

Living Descendants – There are a number of these and he tries to check in on his bloodline from time to time, but is not close to any of them.

Doeshe – An Aedolian dragon and his oldest, dearest living friend even though it is dangerous for him to be near him any longer. Gregori still checks up on him from time to time despite the risks.



BACKSTORY

Gregori has a very long and complicated history. He was the guardian angel of a Serenian town thousands and thousands of years ago, but destroyed the town when it fell into sin. When he became autonomous and refused to kill a lone child that survived, he was cast from Grace and banished to Earth.

He stumbled upon an elven woman named Sharlee who was in danger. After saving her she took him under her wing – he became her protector and she became his purpose. They fell in love and started a family. Gregori made the choice not to return to his former life as a guardian angel, instead choosing to remain on Earth with the woman he loved. She gave him many years of happiness before she finally passed away.

When Aedolis began its rise to power, Gregori was forced to flee Earth. He wanders the universe, only occasionally returning to his former home in order to check up on those he still loves on that planet.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full name: Ryland Rivornor
Alias: Reaver
Gender: Male
Age: 379
D.O.B:
Height: 6’4”
Build: Lean
Race:Talmi Elf
Sexuality: Yes
Nationality: Talmi; Supposedly Aedolian
Residence: The Stormreaver, The Cancer


PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

For an elf, Ryland has uncharacteristicall y strong features. Where many elven subspecies might have nearly as fine and delicate features in the men as the women, Ryland has a strong jaw, with a prominent brow, and slightly wide cheekbones –giving his face an overall square shape. With a slightly hawkish nose, deep-set emerald eyes, and thin, pursed lips he’s gotten more than his fair share of admiration for his rather attractive countenance.

Long, razor straight, blood red hair has an almost glossy crimson sheen in certain lighting and slides through the fingers like fine, silken threads. Matching eyebrows sit in finely sculpted arches above his very bright green eyes. Peeking up through his luscious locks is a pair of long, stiff, upright pointing ears.

Ryland has a narrow torso, his chest and arms are covered in streamlined, rippling muscles, his abdomen is perfectly chiseled, all fat having been chipped away by toning exertion, giving him a lean and fit core. The toned perfection slides right down his narrow hips and long, strong legs. All this perfectly designed flesh is covered in a golden bronze complexion.

On his right pinky he wears a silver ring with a ruby, and on the pointer finger of the same hand is a silver band incrusted with tiny rubies. His long elven ears are pierced four times each, with two rubies set in silver on each side mid-ear, and two silver hoops on each side closer to the tips of his ears.



PERSONALITY

Like his father before him, it falls to Ryland to keep their culture and people alive and flourishing – no matter the cost. The very core of his being revolves around this perceived burden and obligation to the Talmi people as the current Admiral of their broken and diminished society. It is a sacred duty and one he takes very seriously.

Incidentally, it may be the only thing Ryland takes very seriously.

Despite his commitment to the well-being and betterment of the Talmi, there is little else responsible or serious about him. Ryland is hedonistic in nature, always seeking out things that bring him pleasure and enjoyment. He loves to be entertained and amused, but what delivers those feelings can be varied on a day-to-day basis. When things are always the same, it just gets boring.

A bored Ryland is just about the worst thing you can have on your hands. If you don’t find a way to amuse him then he’ll amuse himself and the outcomes can be wildly unpredictable!

As a pirate, he is downright ruthless and shows no mercy to those he decides to target. Stealing precious cargo and supplies from freighter-class ships is the primary way that Ryland supplements the Talmi colony. Yes, they try to be self-sufficient as much as possible and to keep to the ways of their people, but the groups of raiding vessels that bring home things they can’t produce are invaluable and exalted. It isn’t as if they really view outsiders as real people when they need to rob and murder them.



SKILLS

Ryland can perform any job on his ship – from piloting, to navigation, to rough field medicine. Not that he does those things anymore, he’s the captain, his job is to give the orders and plan their heists. However, in a pinch he can and has jumped right into the thick of frantic activity to set things right when they’ve run into trouble.



RELATIONSHIPS

Roland Rivornor – Ryland’s father and former Admiral of the Talmi. A man he looked up to, but their relationship was cool and disciplined.

Amara Rivornor – Ryland’s mother and de facto Governess of the Talmi. He barely knows her as he was raised primarily in space by his father while his mother almost never leaves the colony.

Raleigh Tarsal – Eldest sister who he also barely knows as she does not leave the colony unless she has to and already had a family of her own before he was born as she is nearly forty years older than him.

Bastards – Oh boy, not only does he have plenty of bastard siblings floating around in space but he’s got bastard children here and there as well. Ryland has no contact and no care for any of them as they are not considered proper Talmi.



BACKSTORY

Ryland was pretty much set on his life course the moment he was born. As the oldest son of the Talmi’s revered Admiral it was expected for him to follow in those footsteps as all the first-born sons had before him. Accordingly, his childhood was full of education and training, right there on his father’s very own starship – raider class. Being groomed for leadership did provide certain advantageous privileges, but it was also full of rigid expectations and monumental pressure to meet said expectations.

It wasn’t until he was almost seventy that he was finally given command of his own ship, which he promptly named The Stormreaver, after his ancestor and a hero of their people. Ryland was captain of his ship for over a hundred years before his father’s vessel was destroyed by the Libran military. He was immediately promoted to Admiral and The Stormreaver became the Talmi’s flagship.

So far he has managed to keep the other captains rallied beneath him, all Talmi ships coordinating attacks when deemed necessary. He only returns to the colony when the cargo hold is full of goods for his family; although visits home are truly celebratory occasions.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full name: Jordan Harper
Gender: Genderqueer
Age: 24
D.O.B: May 9th
Height: 5’ 7”
Weight: 133 lbs
Race: Human
Sexuality: Pansexual
Nationality: Edani
Residence: Tynova, Edanith


PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

A willowy beauty with long, slender limbs; Jordan has a body that is straight and narrow as a ruler with no curves whatsoever and a lot of leg. If the truth was told they are a bit on the side of being too thin and looking slightly underfed. They are not starving, but probably also do not eat or sleep enough and work too much which does affect their health negatively.

Jordan has delicate hands with long, boney fingers – palms usually lightly stained from the rich dark soil and mulch they work with daily. Their skin is naturally a soft peach, and despite their love of working outside or in the greenhouse, they never develop a tan.

Their body has an obvious thinness to it, their face is not. Jordan has rounded cheeks and while their mouth is small, they possess full, glossy lips with a tiny button nose resting above them. Huge baby blue eyes are very expressive and highlighted with black eyeliner and mascara. They have a very soft, gentle air about them that you can both see and feel. 

Perhaps Jordan’s best feature, their crowning glory, is their hair. Red might culturally be an unlucky color, but they love it more than anything else about themselves. It isn’t like redheads are even terribly uncommon in Edanith – their parents were crazy fanatics that needed something to hate. They looked for anything at all to hate about them. Maybe that makes Jordan love the deep red waterfall of hair that cascades down their back, gloriously wavy with curls on the ends – if it were shorter and not weighted down it would be in natural loose spirals.

They were made for the cooler weather of Edanith. Jordan loves all things cozy and warm – sweaters, scarves, beanies, toboggans, boots, mittens – they are the best clothes! Earthy colors, mostly browns and greens, are their typical go-to on anything.


PERSONALITY

Jordan is very much the type to keep their head down, their nose clean, and not to cause waves – or even ripples if they can help it. Inquisitive, hard-working, and kind-hearted, Jordan loves to be working with their hands in the dirt, experimenting with new growing methods and showering their plants with affection. They are the closest things to friends or family they really have right now.

Most of their time is filled with running the shop and tending to their plants, at least twelve hours a day every day of the week. Late in the evenings when the shop has closed they love to spend their time reading books of every genre or taking walks around the countless gardens of Tynova.

Socially they are something of a dud. It isn’t at all that they don’t like people, but Jordan has very deep self-esteem and anxiety issues. They are different from everyone else, and even though it is impossible to simply point a finger at them and yell they are a psychic upon first meeting, they know and it makes them self-conscious.

Fun Facts:

•   Smells like orchids, which happen to be their favorite flower.

•   Has a soft, lilting voice that is great for singing, particularly lullabies.
 
•   Grows and blends the best herbal teas, essential oils, and marijuana which they sell for reasonable prices in their shop.

•   Has a small petting zoo in their apartment, with animal cages, terrariums, and aquariums taking up any space not dominated by bookshelves.

•   Hasn’t done more than trim the split ends off their hair since they were eight years old.

•   They run a gardening blog focused on providing tips for getting the most out of your garden with posts promoting their business peppered in as well.

•   Is absolutely terrified of Aedolis and anything to do with it. Their family constantly warned them that the Aedolians were going to come kidnap them and force them to be a dragon slave if they ever did anything bad. Yes, they know their family was terrible and it probably will never happen. No, that does not stop them from occasionally having vivid nightmares about it!


PSIONICS

Florapathy- This is Jordan’s greatest gift, and also the reason they will never fit in well with the rest of Edanith society. Psychics are just not trusted among the Edani. Also they are much better at communicating with plants than people. Not actual word conversations, mind you, that would require the plants to have human thought processes, but they can feel and understand each other just fine.

Faunapathy-  Like with plants, they mostly communicate with feelings and simple pictures and concepts. They can connect with some creatures much easier than others. Insects, while simple in their thoughts, are easy to communicate with, while the more intelligent the creature the harder it becomes – perhaps surprisingly.

Empathy- A fairly weak sense, but they can get feelings from people. It is little more than an uncanny ability to know when people are angry, upset, happy, or lying.


RELATIONSHIPS

The Harpers- This is their birth family; mother, father, two older brothers, two younger brothers, and two younger sisters. They moved to the frontier without them when they were just a child and to this day they have no contact with them.

Laura Dell- The older woman that took them in after their family abandoned them. She is deceased and they miss her very much.


BACKSTORY

Jordan has certainly endured their fair share of unfortunate circumstances and rotten luck in their still relatively short life, but they are grateful for the good parts of which there are enough.

From birth it seemed fate that they would not live a boring, unnoticed life. A bouncing baby born to a very conservative couple, they disapproved highly from the start of their child, the third born of seven. For starters, Jordan was born with flaming red hair, and everyone knows that red is an unlucky color. In fact, of the seven children, Jordan is the only one that inherited such deep red hair – the rest of the family is honey blonde or strawberry blonde.

Their mother kept their head shaved bald rather than look at the awful color. A fact that always deeply troubled Jordan, who loved their hair.

As if the red hair wasn’t bad enough, Jordan was always a strange child. Sure, most children are curious and like to play in the dirt, but Jordan was downright obsessed with everything to do with being outside and gardening. There is nothing wrong with wanting to nurture nature, of course, but Jordan was no mage – that would have been a fantastic honor!

It was shortly after Jordan’s seventh birthday when it became apparent that they had no ability to manipulate the growth of plants with magic, but instead that they were communicating telepathically with not only the local flora, but the fauna as well. They had spawned a psychic child with the abilities of florapathy and faunapathy; a psychic, like those imperialist Aedolians that were the enemy of everything Edanith. It was the final straw for the family, really. How could they expect to deal with the kind of shame and scrutiny a non-Mordecai psychic in the family?

They couldn’t.

Jordan was left behind in Tynova while their family took up an opportunity to move to the frontier on a government stipend. It certainly hurt to be left behind and cast aside by their family, but they had always been different and disconnected from not only their family, but everyone else too.

Psychics are not regarded very highly in Edanith unless they were Mordecai, but Jordan was just a child who had been abandoned. They were taken in by a kindly older widow who ran a herbal specialty shop and greenhouse. She had four children of her own, but they were all grown and had moved out to the frontier to help settle the planet with their own families.

The arrangement worked out wonderfully, really. Laura Dell got a new little one to fill her empty home, help with her shop and caring for the plants – uniquely gifted help – while Jordan received a home where they were loved and appreciated for what they were – imperfect but genuinely trying.

That was a lucky break for them; a turning point in their life where the unspoken dislike and resentment of their family gave way to acceptance and contentment in their new situation. Sure, everything wasn’t perfect, but it was good. They got to really embrace themselves for the first time and it was very liberating to not have their every action called into question or criticized by their parents or teased by their siblings.

Jordan was twenty when Laura, his beloved caretaker, passed away from natural causes. Her children returned for the funeral, and Jordan catered to them in her home. They were surprisingly kind to them, and when it was made known that both the shop with a small apartment above it and the greenhouse had been left to Jordan they were not angry in the slightest.

The last four years have been bittersweet for Jordan. On the one hand they still sometimes miss Laura very much, but at least the plants and insects keep them from being too lonely without her. On the other hand, they now have their own business, a reasonably successful one at that. Yes, they will never be rich, but they have what they need to get by happily. Even the regular visits by government officials and knowing they are being kept an eye on don’t get them down much.