[hider=Hugo]
[center][b]Name:[/b]
Suzuki Hugo

[b]Age:[/b]
20

[b]Appearance:[/b]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/c1q97YC.png[/img]

[b]Personality:[/b]
Regrettably, Hugo has not been able to prevent his most notable trait from defining him, which is his anxiety. Possessed of a anxious disorder, he is irritable and prone to worrying, tires easily, and is near-constantly on edge. Stressful situations can escalate this anxiety to panic, causing sweating, heart pounding, difficulty breathing, shaking, and crushing feelings of imminent doom. Naturally, he tries to avoid situations where his anxiety will come to a head, giving him an impression of aloofness, shyness, strictness, and superstition, the latter of which stems from his own personal tendency to see things as omens. Missing or failing things sets him on edge, but landing difficult attacks or other achievements provide him great relief, as does hugging things and the sensation of cool water.

However, this is not ultimately who Hugo is. Without his disorder's clutches, he's a genial and compassionate fellow, never particularly outgoing but always considerate and polite. While he doesn't have an artistic bone in his body, he likes drama and music, and is a staple figure at whatever concerts or plays crop up every now and again. A certain sense of pride in his ability to live for himself despite his disorder gives him an independent streak, prevents him from asking for help or really working well with others. This is only compounded by his tendency to cut people off that he deems unhealthy for him, leaving him a friendly if cautious loner. His aspirations are, in a roundabout way, heroic. He does, after everything, want to relieve suffering and better humanity's condition.

[b]Background:[/b]
While he believes more in nature than nurture, looking back on his early life, Hugo can pin down a solid explanation for his anxiety. His parents were, in a way, visionaries—they thought they understood the problems with the world and how to fix them. Hailing from a line blessed with extremely healthy genetics and distinctive physiological traits, they maintained the belief that their genes were best suited for the world. As such, they continued in the tradition of having lots of kids, and among all of his brothers and sisters, Hugo was simply one of many faces given from birth the purpose of strengthening humanity. 

Every sibling suffered from their parents' negligence and high expectations, given punishment and correction instead of attention and encouragement as they were made to work with constructs from an early age. This sort of treatment evoked Hugo's anxiety early, and with the pressure on, he disappointed his family severely. Many of his siblings, eager to escape their elders' wrath themselves, tormented him also. A few showed him kindness, and eventually, it was with them that Hugo ran away. With nobody to turn to and the everpresent threat of their family, the siblings found that freedom presented its own hardships, and were forced to part ways. Without a construct of his own, Hugo remained alone and endangered, living each day just to survive.

Eventually, however, a stroke of luck found its way to him. He came across another loner, a construct named Hume, and soon realized they needed one another in more ways than one. Hume, lost and heartbroken following the demise of his beloved family, found someone to love and protect. Hugo, meanwhile, found strength and reassurance, a friend who could take away his pain. The pair ended up at Geiru institute, taking advantage of its interest in duos like theirs to find a home at last.

[b]Magic:[/b]
Hugo has the ability to create magical cords, white in color, somewhat translucent, and glowing just a little. He can alter their length and manipulate them to a slight degree as long as he's touching them. While a strange magic, it's one that comes in handy, whether for binding, sealing, repair, or fighting. Specifically, he uses it with a metal hook in order to create a sort of chain-hook that he lashes out with from afar to cut or capture. Because it's a difficult weapon to use that requires a lot of finesse, he gets a great amount of satisfaction and courage from its successful application, but is quick to stress if he misses or fumbles it. He also often uses it to make bolas with rocks or or whatever else is lying around.
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[hider=Hume]
[center][b]Name:[/b]
Hume

[b]Type:[/b]
Monstrous

[b]Appearance:[/b]
[img]https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/xenoblade/images/5/5a/XC2_Boreas_Artwork.png/revision/latest?cb=20190203040018[/img]

[b]Personality:[/b]
Quiet and softspoken, Hume is a loving and caring individual. He loves to teach, to inspire, to bring hope, to make things easy, and to warm hearts. While not the most outgoing, and therefore not some exaggerated 'bringer of love to all', he can be very passionate about the wellbeing of those close to him, and he has few compunctions about bringing people closer. Hume has an eye for the suffering, sick, and restless, and aims to bring comfort to those especially. While he dislikes fighting, his passion can lead him to fight with brutal strength for the sake of others, and with a heavy heart he can bring himself to eliminate those he judges too evil to continue afflicting the world.

[b]Core:[/b]
Peace

[b]Background:[/b]
The spark that brought Hume to life was the singular wish of one on the precipice of death. 

A woman was forced to flee with her husband and their three young children from their home city. With a gang of merciless men with cruel intent never far behind, they plunged into the hateful wilderness until they left their pursuers far, far behind. Ragged and torn, exhausted and unwell, they stumbled upon a miracle: a safe haven, secreted away from the ruinous elements and hungry eyes of beasts. There they enjoyed a time of rest, free from the years of persecution—all too brief, for the ingenuity of man found a way. 

In the dead of night the escapee's dogged pursuers, guided by their conduit partners, descended upon their haven. The husband fought back, revealing his true nature in full, and though he fought with true desperation and incredible strength he was driven to the brink beneath their onslaught. Choking back tears, the wife enacted the plan they'd hoped would never need come to fruition; she assembled the conduits and allowed her life to flow through them, and as the blades fell upon her she shrieked her final plea.

“Protection!”

But in her heart of hearts, she'd already given up. In that moment, her soul wished not for protection -for the strength to withstand all comers- but for peace, an end to suffering. A construct awoke, big and round and soft, and stared at its creators and their destroyers with wide eyes. When they struck him, his snow-white flesh bled a soothing mist, and they lost their will to fight. One by one Hume embraced them, reducing them to nothingness beneath his heavy arms, wondering all the while why humans would kill one another in such a vicious world. When he turned with great sadness to meet his makers, he found them side by side, painlessly fallen asleep, and never to awaken.

Guilt plagued him the rest of his days, though even if otherwise, he would have still taken the same path. He bonded with the children, not just to preserve his own existence, but to be for them what they had lost. He cared for them over the years, taught them all he could from reason to emotion, and grew to love them dearly. As they grew, they were able to live in safety thanks to Hume, and little by little other outcasts found their home. Humans and constructs alike, adrift or in search of a rumored paradise, discovered what came to be known as the remote settlement of Foghome. There they found solace, comfort, and safety, for none who came with hatred or sword could oppose their construct protectors, with the peace-loving but firm Hume leading the way. Eventually, even the constructs who originally pursued the first family reawoke and found forgiveness. In Foghome, just as it had for that family who fled so long ago, the line between human and construct blurred. Perhaps its villagers came as close to harmony as anyone in this world ever could.

It started slow and weak, the sickness. So slow and weak that nobody noticed until its knives were at their throats. The plague ate humans up from within, numbing their minds and dimming their life forces. Within a few days, none remained free of its grip. Fear filled the construct villagers, as they knew that none of their companions would be able to make it to the nearest city. Even if they did nothing but rest, they'd be gone in less than a fortnight. Hume, strongest and heartiest among them, vowed to go alone and find help. Sustained by his reserve of life energy, he trudged tirelessly through wood and vale, through day and night, until he reached the city. “Please,” he asked them, “Bring your doctors and physicians. My friends are sick. My children are dying. I will protect you, so please, come!”

He offered the citizens everything, begging and pleading, and at last some agreed. True to his word, he protected them as he made the trek, though he could only do so much. At length he and the few remaining volunteers staggered into Foghome, and there they found peace. They were all dead—dead by their own hands, having been consumed by their fear and pain. They had chosen to kill themselves rather than waste away, watching their loved ones succumb one by one, in terror and loneliness, convinced that no rescue would come. Hume wept, and wept, and wept, and wondered why.

Eventually, he returned to the city. His broken heart remained, but he needed children to protect, pain to take away, and troubles to put at ease.

[b]Abilities:[/b]
Hume has incredible natural strength. While he's quite slow, and therefore not a good fighter, he can quite literally annihilate almost anything he gets his hands on or arms around if he so chooses. He's also pretty sturdy; while he can be cut easily, it takes a lot to really hurt him. His body circulates a cool numbing mist, which he can exhale, or bleed in large quantities if hurt. Organisms -including constructs- exposed to it find their movements slowed as their muscles loosen and relax, and it exerts a soporific effect on the mind. In small quantities it can sedate and bring peaceful sleep, but too much (particularly against already-weakened targets) can cause the body to shut down, causing comas or even death. However, if Hume releases it consciously, he can fine-tune its dosage, allowing him to blanket vast areas with what's essentially normal fog. When inside his own fog clouds, Hume has been observed disappearing and moving at unnaturally high speed, making him extremely hard to pin down; it's almost as if he can become fog himself.
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