Remnants of the Earth

Late nights were the worst nights.

No, scratch that. Late nights that had never been intended to be late nights were the worst nights. It wasn't as if Ren had wanted to be out in the wee hours of the morning - he'd had dinner, his evening glass of wine, had even gotten all comfy under his freshly laundered comforter, the lights out and soothing noise playing from his comm.

That had been at 10pm. It was about 2:45 when he'd decided staring up into the dark of his room was doing nothing for him. It was frustrating, especially when this had been the pattern all week. Nothing seemed to help - endless playlists and meditations and lavender scented bubble baths and more wine than he was used to chugging down on a weeknight all seemed to be about as effective as a caffeine IV drip.

Because of course. Why not. It wasn't as if he had anything important to do at work, certainly nothing that required higher faculties or quick thinking or anything else closely resembling a working brain. Nah, he could get along just fine without any of that. It'd served him well the past three centuries, after all!

No, no. That wasn't how he talked to himself. Not anymore. Slow breath in, slow breath out. Insomnia happened. He'd be cranky and he'd have a headache, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He'd been at war with far less sleep before, after all.

Still, staying in the apartments wasn't going to help him get to sleep or not climb the walls. He needed out, somewhere that wasn't still up and running and humming and alive.

Which was precisely how he found himself wandering the black sand beaches Ryun was famous for. Inky darkness, the faint promise of a sky on a clear night, and the steady roar of rolling, heavily sanitized waves against the shoreline. Ren reached down and pulled off his boots, carrying the pair with one finger through the back loops. Bare feet always made it easier to move, and the sand against his bare feet felt... grounding. Like a drink of cold water on a hot day. He took a deep breath again, let it out, and commenced to wander through the night.

At least, that had been the plan. Not ten steps in and something pricked his ears beyond the crash of the waves. Ren tilted his head, trying to pinpoint and identify it - it couldn't be Pol, could it? No, he was supposed to be in a bathtub somewhere, and there wasn't nearly enough commotion for him having been on the loose and unsupervised. That tended to get noticed very quickly.

Squinting into the dark, Ren could make out a rock in the water, just far out enough to not be noticed if you weren't looking. He took a few more steps (and a little cursing at his reduced perception abilities),  and that something-sound grew, and a few steps more had him recognizing it for the music it was. Some poor bastard had climbed all the way out there and was now drunkenly serenading the sea.

As one in a long, proud line of Deis, Ren could not judge. Still, he had to grimace at the choice of venue. While the waves were filtered, they were still beholden to the motion of the tides outside the dome. And the longer whoever the fuck that was dscided to stick around, the higher the waterline was going to get.

"Hey, buddy, you're gonna wanna--Oh, fuck."

Ren watched in horror as the distant shape of a person tilted to the side, and slowly, almost majestically, flopped right into the water.

Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck.

Desperately, stupidly, Ren looked around at the empty beach as if hoping by some miracle to spot some other passing insomniac who could help. As it was, indeed, ass-crack-o-clock in the morning, however, there was not another soul to be found. Just him, a drunk, and the murky depths of a black and unforgiving sea, utterly ambivalent to the hopes and dreams of living, breathing land-dwellers.

Ren made a soft, breathy note of panic, stared at the water where the person had gone under. Turned in circles a bit, stepped to the water, panicked some more, before finally tossing his boots to the side with a sharp, almost defiant "fuck it!"

He ran to the water before his good sense and self preservation could kick in, and fought the urge to gasp as the cold of the water hit him full force. Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it. Don't at all think about how you can't see shit under the water. Don't think about how quickly the current can take you. Don't think about getting hit with waves, turned around to where you don't even know which way is up. Don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it.

He got to the rock, one hand clinging to the surface as he looked around, and cussed again before taking a deep breath and ducking under the water, mentally shrieking to the stars about what sadistic little cocksuckers they all were in blinking up there watching him die, when he managed to grab a fistful of hair (oh he hoped it was hair) and yank it up to the surface again.

After that, it was an entire blur - all those pesky self-preservation instincts now had fulk control, and adrenaline had him swimming back to the shore as hard as his long legs could kick him. He didn't even think to adjust his grip, he was still dragging the poor drunk bastard by the hair until he was firmly on sandy shores again, and only once he was free of the waves did Ren let go and let the man's head think unceremoniously onto the sand.

__________________QUICK STATS
Name Arcadia
Alias Kady
Age Unknown
DOB Unknown
Gender Agender
Species Humanoid
Ethnicity Unknown
Height Prefers 5’9”-6’2”
Occupation Tinkerer
Residence Ghoul’s Hideout


__________________IN-DEPTH STUFF

Physical Description

Their preferred form is that of a tall, slender androgynous figure with dark, reddish-brown skin and long, thick, nearly knee length, curly black hair. In this form they have no facial hair but a plethora of freckles that dot their nose and cheeks. Their eyes are a pale, pale green set in a wide, doe-eyed shape. Their nose is a little squashed and button shaped above full, pouty lips.

Their chest is flat and limbs thin and frail looking. A strong breeze would seem enough to knock them over with how delicate they appear. Arcadia tends to wear what is available as far as clothes go in the wastes but would prefer neutral colored items and to wear layered items that remain easy to move in. Form-fitting clothing isn’t as much of an issue as keeping as much of themself covered as possible is.

Beneath their clothes though regardless of form are countless scars. All viable veins for needle insertion have been mutilated and show the scars of excessive usage and placement to the point of thick scarring. Their back and chest are littered with various scars. Some areas are so scarred it is hard to tell the age of all of the overlapping healed wounds. The skin in this area such as over their heart and on their inner thighs is incredibly sensitive to touch. There is also a large, pebbled acid burn scar across their torso although it is fading as are burn marks on their legs.

Additionally they also have a variety of tattoos in various states of fading. Crude, black handprints decorate their pecs, waist, the backs of their hips, just below the inside of their knees, the upper inside of their thighs, around their ankles, and finally on their shoulders by their neck as if someone was placing hands on their shoulders from behind them. They also have three, black arrow tattoos: one on their stomach pointing down to between their legs, one on their low back also pointing down towards their backside, and a final one between their pecs pointing up to their throat. This last one is nearly indiscernible now from the excessive scarring overtop of it. There is also text around the base of each of the arrows but it is now impossible to read from other scar layers. Their last tattoo runs the length of their spine in the largest possible blocky, black letters spelling out ‘SLAG.’

Personality

• Mouse: Arcadia is bashful and reserved. They tend to fade into the background of things easily and like to avoid large, boisterous gatherings. “Make no waves and they won’t one day drown you,” is their life philosophy. They ask for no more than what they need and never for what they want if it is something they can get by without.
• Crow: They are a particularly intelligent, resourceful, and curious sort. Arcadia is uneducated but a quick learner and eager to experiment and try new things. They have a great love of puzzles and can easily get lost in thought spending hours trying to repair things or build new tools.
• Hyena: Arcadia loves a good laugh. Once comfortable, they can be very playful. A good prank is always ruined by their telltale giggle fits. Their laughter is always good-natured and innocent though. While they do tend to encourage Red’s antics, being the brain behind his mischief, they do not condone cruel tricks and play. Arcadia does enjoy mimicking others though either in appearance or voice or seeing how long it takes them to notice them changing things about their person.
• Dog: They are loyal to a fault if someone has earned it. Arcadia is eager to please and will go to the ends of the earth and bend over backwards to do something for someone if asked. Because of this their naivety has also gotten them into trouble. They do have boundaries however, and won’t do most things that would maliciously put them in harm’s way but they would be willing to sacrifice themself to help someone they cared about.

Things

• Is ALWAYS cold both in general and to the touch. Is a majestic burrito blanket roller.
• Does not curse, ever….will go out of their way to try and find a word to replace the vulgarity of a foul, inappropriate word
• Has a thing for counting things (especially steps)
• Mildly germaphobic in odd ways that don’t always make sense for what will and won’t trigger it.
• Does not like their hair being touched and can become quite hostile when this boundary is disrespected.
• Really handy and resourceful with mechanical and technological repairs despite never learning.
• Best damn marksman of the Ghouls regardless of distance or weather conditions.

Magic/Abilities

• Shapeshifter: Arcadia naturally has the capability of shapeshifting into any human or animal. While they prefer to remain in their own form, they will do whatever it takes to ensure their survival. They can mimic anyone they have met. The more time they’ve spent in someone’s presence and more they see of them, the more accurate the replication is.
  
  They can however shapeshift into an appearance of their own creation so long as they have an understanding of a realistic “template base” of the species. For example, they could appear as any randomly generated appearance of a human that they want because they understand what a human should look like. They could not however do the same for a species such as a Kulshedra without having ever encountered one and learned how they move and look.
  
  The process itself is not entirely too taxing on them although multiple shifts in a short period can be rather exhausting like running a marathon. One limitation though of their shapeshifting is that regardless of what species or form they hold, whether it be humanoid or animal, they will always have the markings on their body that have occurred to their natural body. For this reason they tend to avoid animal forms as there really isn’t much very natural about a dog with a fur pattern that spells out any of the tattoos on their back and chest.
• Healing Absorption: A great number of their scars are a result of having been forced to absorb and take on the wounds of others. Arcadia possesses the ability to heal others flawlessly of their wounds by simply taking the wounds on as their own and suffering through the long, natural healing from those injuries.
  
  They are limited by the extent and number of injuries they can heal without it causing their own death. While they could heal someone’s mortal wound for instance, it would ultimately kill them instead. They also cannot undo death no matter how fresh the body is. It is also possible for them to overuse their ability by either healing too grievous a wound that is causing death to come too quickly, or too many wounds to the point that it kills them. Their body will not stop them from reaching the danger point either. Additionally, they can only heal current, living wounds. Old scars are not possible to heal or take on as their own.
  
  This way of healing becomes even more dangerous for them given that their ability is passive. They cannot stop themselves from healing another if someone comes within prolonged contact with their hair. Therefore if they pass out or are unable to remove themselves from contact with someone it could also be the death of them.
• Accelerated Cell Regeneration: While Arcadia is incapable of healing themself immediately, they are able to do so over time. Once their wounds and ailments have closed they are able to accelerate the scar’s healing process into flawless skin. The more minor a scar, the faster it will return to normal. For this reason things such as windburn, sunburn, even mild radiation sickness or malnutrition do not affect them the way it does others. They appear and are healthier than even the people they live with. Deeper and more traumatic scars however take much longer to return to normal. The same can be said for tattoos as they are several layers deep and need time to work their way out. Their body is in a constant state of healing these days though as it attempts to recover from a turbulent history of damage.
• Planet Creation: Their strongest and most dangerous ability is that they are quite literally a DIY home planet starter kit inside a humanoid form. Arcadia can create or heal an entire planet, at the cost of their own life. They know that they are capable of this ability and have an instinctual sense on how to do it but for obvious reasons have never tried. Their ability has been researched heavily and yet still very little is known about it beyond that it is possible. Some have speculated that to do so would cost more than their own life but could destroy a planet in order to remake it. Others have speculated that the healing process would heal all on the planet as well as the land itself, or even create new life or undo mass extinction.
  
  Needless to say however, any current nation would be more than thrilled at the opportunity to get their hands on this ability and use it to their own gain, whether it be to revitalize Aedolis, expand Edanith’s terraforming to an entirely new level, or provide a paradisal planet for Libra.

Relationships

Family: Status unknown.

Red: Former leader of the Ghouls, now second in command and husband to Boss. He discovered and saved them from another raider gang, providing them with a home and safety they never knew before while asking for nothing but loyalty in return. Arcadia has thrown their all into trying to repay that favor even though it has never been asked of them. They regard him like a crazy, protective, older brother, a role he enjoys and takes seriously. Red is aware of some of what they are capable of and recognizes it as enough to be kept hidden and secret. He is fiercely protective of them for this reason.

Boss: Leader of the Ghouls and husband of Red. He is aware of some of what Arcadia is capable of and shares with his husband the protective nature towards them. He has always been firm regarding their body and their choice even if it would mean choosing between his crew members because of their choice. They are far more shy around Boss however and prefer to speak as little as possible near him out of respect. They also used to be terrified of his two dogs and has slowly warmed up over time to the massive mutts.

The Ghouls: Their new found family.

Ravage: She-devil spawn that would do the universe a favor by having the good grace to drop dead posthaste.

Iro: First person to make them feel….funny


History


By fluke or miracle or the watchful hand of an unknown force, Arcadia managed to wake up and find themselves alone and broken, crash-landed on a planet who knows where after their last memory being of them being sedated before transport to an undisclosed location. This moment of fortune would be the last good thing to happen for them in quite a long time to come, for their rescuers could hardly ever be called that.

A raider party made short work of eliminating the other crew before scavenging the wreck for parts. Ultimately they found Arcadia half-dead among the wreckage and decided they were pretty enough that if they lived they’d be plenty useful in…many ways.

When it was found that they were essentially a living battery for healing, their fate was sealed. Too bad for the group of raiders though that they were not smart enough to keep their filthy mouths shut. They crowed to anyone that would listen about their goldmine they had found and were soon easily overrun. The entirety of them were slaughtered for the little prize they possessed.

The second raider group was no better than the first but didn’t hold them for long. They used Arcadia to their advantage and sold them off to the highest bidder for much needed supplies and resources. Human life means little when palettes full of fresh water are on the line. Plenty would sell their own family members for the like let alone a stranger with the ability to heal. What good are stitched wounds if you’re dead of dehydration after all?

The third raider group was by far the worst though. Arcadia was kept chained up and hidden. Their only interactions were to be used and abused. They prayed for death even as their body fought to heal from slow-knitting wounds. They didn’t even fight back, just accepted their fate in silence, so numb to the world around them that they did not even realize battle was being waged outside their locked room’s door until it was over.

Their door opened, light bleeding into the room as a tall figure stood their peering in at them, his silhouette tinged in red. Chains were broken, and their body carried off to yet another base. There Red, their newest captor and rescuer nurtured Arcadia, earning their trust over time. Arcadia was shown their first moments of kindness and gentleness.

Leadership changed but Red kept his promise to them and kept them well protected. The secret of their healing gift is a well-guarded one among Red and Boss, the leaders of the Ghouls. They are never forced to use their gift against their will and have become a useful, contributing member same as the rest. There is no need that is left unmet, and is nothing they would ever dare ask for. They are happy…however long that may last, unknown.

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BASIC INFORMATION

Full name: Ezekiel Jada Pendergast
Alias: Zeke
Gender: Male
Age: 150+
Height: Varies
Race: Kitsune
Sexuality: Pansexual
Nationality: Aedolian
Residence: Haviah, Aedolis
Occupation: Pilot Cardinal , Research and Development Department


PHYSICAL APPEARANCE
A hard thing to pin down, since Zeke is a shape-shifter and can change his appearance at will, even fluctuating from moment to moment at times. The most common appearance is a short man with pale, piercing blue eyes, somewhat shaggy white hair, two very large white fox ears, a fluffy white fox tail, and slender build.



PERSONALITY
Insanely brilliant, or brilliantly insane, take your pick. Zeke is arguably a genius, but he is also on the crazy side. His mind is quite the tangle of twisted thoughts, a sublime jumbled mess. There is little he enjoys more than his work in the Research and Development department, the lab is his one true love.

Zeke has a razor focus when working in his lab, but outside of his workplace he is highly prone to distraction. His thoughts are often scattered to the winds, pulled in different directions at the slightest hint of a breeze. Outwardly he comes off as quite a bubbly and happy individual, albeit a very absent-minded one. At times he also seems to be extremely naïve or innocent, but at other moments it is clear just how insanely sharp his mind can actually be.



PSIONICS
Telepathy: Zeke is a surprisingly competent telepath, given how absent-minded he tends to be, he’s a surprisingly hard nut to crack. Only the stronger telepaths can truly penetrate his mental shields, and only someone with a very strong will can keep all their thoughts hidden from him. Although this applies mostly to surface thoughts, as Zeke is not particularly gifted at delving into deeper thoughts.

Precognition: Precognition is one of the rarest and most valuable abilities a Pilot can possess, and even the weakest of Precogs are often given pathways to success, which is to say, Zeke is not the strongest of Precogs. While Zeke has had premonitions that proved valuable, most of the time they are hardly impressive at all, and his drawbacks are fairly severe. Even the faintest of premonitions can result in headache, confusion, and nosebleeds, while stronger ones have gone as far as to cause seizures.

Shape-shifting: A naturally occurring species trait. Zeke can shape-shift into most any humanoid appearance he wishes, altering every feature of his being from hair and eyes down to height, weight, and even gender.



BACKSTORY
Zeke has been around a long time, and the first records of him are when he entered the Candidate Program, anything before that is a mystery. He passed through the program with relative ease, at least as far as his records would indicate, but his file is also flagged and requires special clearance to access more than the most basic of information. The Pilot is permanently stuck at Cardinal rank, with no possibility of promotion.

Given the nature of his work in R&D this isn’t seen as much of a problem, and Zeke seems perfectly content to remain at the lowest rank.

Though hard sleep came easy at first it seemed like it was destined not to last too long.

She had probably about 3 hours before her mind woke up just enough to start thinking again, overthinking. Thoughts and fleeting memories flashed by in a whirlwind, white hot pain making her eye sear and burn as it was scratched over and over again, Addie's screams shredding her ear drums.

She woke up with a gasp in a cold sweat, panting hard as she slapped her hand over her damaged eye as if that would make the throbbing go down any easier. Reaching out blindly she searched on her nightstand and found her trusty bottle of painkillers right there where she'd always left it, grabbing a few and popping them into her mouth, swallowing dry as she felt the lumps uncomfortably move down her throat.

She needed some water.

As her hand slowly slid down her face, an unsettling realization that her eye was burning so brightly it washed the whole room in its minty aqua glow made her stomach twist. Water. She just needed some water.

Hell, if there was one positive to having a glowing fire eye it meant that she never needed to turn on the lights at night again.

Like an eerie beacon on a Wastelands cryptid she moved with it slowly, quietly through the hall as she made her way into the kitchen. Trying ever so hard to be quiet and not wake Theo, she got a glass from her cupboard and filled it with water, realizing as she raised it to her lips that her hand was shaking.

After downing the whole cup she gasped again, her heart still pounding in her chest as she forced herself to take long, measured breaths like they taught her in DoSaM to get the green flame back down and under control.

See? You had some water, you're fine now. You're fine.

She repeated the thought over and over again until she finally felt calm enough to assess.

At times like these, being able to roll over and touch Addie where they sat, keeping watch, had been her biggest comfort. Knowing that she wasn't alone was a powerful enough thought to make her feel safe even when it wasn't.

She looked over to Theo's form on the couch, grinding her teeth a little as she wondered if touching him would bring the same reassurance. Would he mock her if he woke up? After all, just look at her--she was practically a child seeking out their mother after a bad dream.

But then again, he seemed understanding enough.

She quietly set the glass down, realizing that picking such a deep couch was certainly to her benefit as she came over and laid down next to him at the edge of the seat cushions, sliding her arm around his midsection and closing her eyes, instantly relaxed by his warmth.

He felt this stomach drop when he saw her eye. The faint green light emanating and igniting the room was haunting. He felt his mouth open, lips parting just enough and he said nothing as she spoke. Once she disappeared, he let out a soft breath, resuming his fixing his bed for the evening.

Being turned down for a partnered shower was a tad jarring. Theo didn’t expect her to say yes, but he also hadn’t expected her to say no. Her reasons, after everything she’d been through, were valid and he didn’t raise an argument. She’d been through hell, had come back to the world of the living. Theo wasn’t a combat Pilot and knew in the back of his mind that would be something he would never experience.

She was scarred and damaged in ways he would never understand. And once the shower was cleared and he was washed and bathed, he sat back down on the couch, staring at the neon lighting in the room. To be welcomed into her sanctuary was a privilege given to few, and he decided to appreciate it rather than to question it.

Maybe tomorrow he could hold her hand, give her a kiss on the cheek, just be there for her in ways he never had the opportunity to be for anyone else. In ways she probably never had either.  And soon he fell asleep, dropping himself into the cushions after turning down the lights.