Wasn't the Black Knight "None shall pass," though?
1
like
4 yrs ago
You ever realize that you haven't changed your status in months, go back to change it, and then wonder what the *fuck* your previous status was even talking about?
12
likes
4 yrs ago
No, no, they clearly are referring to Ohio -- which Georgia is geographically south of, so the theory is still sound.
Before the dawn had finished creeping over the horizon, and long before any of the other villagers had roused themselves from sleep, a lone figure clad in a blue kimono, a hooded white robe, and a woven mantle of tattered straw could be glimpsed walking upon the hillside road on the verge of the Mumbling Wood. She moved slowly, methodically, swaying slightly from side to side as she walked, and periodically rapping the dull butt of her brass walking staff against the path before her, causing all the various trinkets and rings trailing from its circular head to jingle in the morning breeze. The howling of the distant Yokai grew fainter, replaced by the serene chiming of bells, then by the song of birds as the maiden passed by in her walk.
It was important that Oyuki do her rounds thus, for a number of reasons. For one thing, her presence was a reminder to the Yokai of the pact, and that the village was to be protected. And, for another, it was her duty to greet the spirits in this auspicious time, and offer them gifts and her best wishes. They still didn't trust her enough to speak with her directly, of course. After all, even though she had been doing this for almost five years now, that span of time was a mere moment in the eyes of those who had roamed these forests when the mountains were still young. Indeed, it would no doubt take another decade or more before they would tell her their names, as they had once done for the one who had taught her everything she now knew, and who had once led her by the hand and walked this very path so long ago. The thought made her a little sad, to be honest - but even so, she was willing to wait. After all, the spirits had already stopped fleeing at her coming, and even now, she could almost spot a few eager eyes watching her from the other side of the trees. Silently, she stopped, then knelt by the roadside, reaching into her sleeve and withdrawing a few small rice cakes, wrapped in leaves, which she placed in a stone bowl before clapping her hands once.
"Please be sure to share them with everyone, if they're to your liking. I will bring by more in the afternoon, so please look forward to it."
Giving this address to the silent forest before her, the pale young woman smiled sheepishly under her hood, then bowed and began to walk away. As she did, she could already hear the rustling in the leaves behind her, but politely refused to look back. After all, they would show themselves when they wanted to be seen. This was what she was taught.
Her walk continued all along the perimeter of the forest, and included several other stops. Last night's rainstorm had knocked over the stones piled before the old Jizo who watched over the roads, so she made sure to stack them neatly back up again. Seeing as the kindly old statue seemed terribly cold and forlorn, and the hat she had made him had blown away, she removed her own straw mantle and draped it over the guardian's shoulders, offering a prayer as she tied it securely onto him for his continued help in watching over the village and its children. Of all the spirits, the guardian Jizo was one to whom she felt a particular sense of closeness. After all, she herself had once come down this road as a destitute orphan in need of shelter, and surely, he had been watching over her ever since. There was something in his kindly smile that seemed to tell her so, and so she always took special care to make sure he was warm and shielded from the rain.
"Please watch over me... over us, in the year to come. And thank you."
She thus diligently passed the remainder of her solitary walk, leaving an offering here, giving a prayer there, and everywhere showing that there was yet one in Heiseina who remembered the old contract. Truth be told, it was always a little sad, following this path alone, and when she would first set out in the morning retracing the footsteps of those who had gone before her, even after all these years it was hard not to cry. And yet, there was something about it that was liberating as well, reassuring her that her efforts weren't in vain -- that she wasn't alone, even if she couldn't see those who walked beside her. By the time she found herself back at the foot of the shrine's long staircase, shielding her eyes against the dawn shining through the torii gate, she would always be smiling, and she always did her best to take that smile with her through the rest of the day.
She put up her staff by the offering box, and went to draw water to cleanse her hands. After so doing, she set about her usual chores, sweeping the courtyard, cleaning the outside of the shrine, and them preparing breakfast both for herself and for any Yokai who might drop in to visit that morning. When she'd finished her own meal, she put out several extra trays by the back step, then headed to the outbuilding to take some lanterns out of storage. It was a little early, to be sure, but she'd feel more at ease once they were hung in preparation for the festival. Besides, if the shrine looked more welcoming, then maybe the villagers would feel less uneasy about the upcoming festival. Maybe... they'd trust that she could actually handle the responsibility, this time.
But such hopeful thoughts were swiftly turned to confusion as she heard the sound of skittering paws scrambling frantically up the steps. Turning to glance at the source of the sound, she found herself face to face(?) with a small white fox, which tossed down a small scroll at her feet, then began to yip and yelp with tremendous urgency. She nearly dropped the storehouse key that she was holding as it at last sank in what exactly she was looking at. Even for her dear Aunt, the once-beloved Miko of Miorochi's shrine, such a guest would be considered unfathomably rare. And though she'd have loved to call such a once-in-a-lifetime visit auspicious, judging by the creature's desperation, the circumstances were anything but.
"Please, stay a moment and rest, servant of Inari-sama. You've clearly come a long way. Erm... Then, I hope I'm not being presumptuous, but I'll look over your message at once." Giving this hasty offer of welcome - as she did not want to be disrespectful, but her guest's mannerisms clearly suggested that now was not the time for pleasantries - she wasted no time in bowing, then knelt to retrieve the scroll. Unfolding it, she cast her eyes over the message there contained... and felt a chill run up her spine. Her eyes went wide, and her blood ran cold as a chill wind swept through the shrine's courtyard like a forewarning of the storm yet to come.
Name - Tsurugamine Yuki Age - 24 Gender - Female Occupation - Seamstress and Shrine Caretaker
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Wallflower - Oyuki, while polite, is more often seen than heard. She seldom speaks, and when she does, seldom raises her voice. The source from whence her unflappable composure stems, however, is somewhat difficult to discern. Perhaps it is simply the result of a long-cultivated discipline, or perhaps she's simply somewhat oblivious by nature? Regardless, she usually seems to be paying attention to the people around her, and is polite enough to nod along with their comments; she just doesn't often chime in unless a response is specifically solicited from her, seeming more than happy just to listen in silence.
Dutiful - Due to her aforementioned tendency towards silence, one could be pardoned for not realizing the seriousness with which Oyuki treats any and all debts or obligations. The upstanding lady caretaker of the shrine lives her life by the motto of repaying any kindness she receives twofold, and if one does her a favor, then they can expect to see their generosity fully returned with gratitude. When one realizes this, the reason for her aloof and unusual lifestyle becomes more clear. After all, what sort of remuneration can one offer for a debt which can never be repaid?
Timid - Despite her outward composure and elegance, Oyuki is honestly a rather shy person. She knows only enough of the world to realize the scope of her own ignorance and powerlessness, and fears that awareness more than anything. The spirits whose wills she can neither predict nor appease, the people whose expectations she can neither meet nor shake, the knowledge that her life is empty and her own ignorance of how to fill it; all these things weigh down on her heavily, and compel her to withdraw into the comfort of her familiar home and routine. So long as she doesn't look too directly at the world beyond her own small life, perhaps she can somehow escape its notice - so she hopes, and so each and every day continues on, the same as the one before it, giving her some small measure of comfort.
S K I L L S E T
Self-Reliant Though it may not sound like much, Oyuki has grown quite used to living by herself ever since her guardian's premature death a few years ago. During her time assisting around the Heiseina Shrine, she's grown quite adept at performing the various odd jobs necessary to keep things tidy. Whether it's cooking, sweeping, dusting, cleaning, setting out small offerings for the spirits, or maintaining the various scrolls, idols, and relics entrusted to the shrine for safekeeping, she handles it all with the same level of discipline and dedication. Despite having the entire shrine to look after and being just one woman, she's done an admirable job of keeping it from crumbling into disuse.
Seamstress While her talents as a housekeeper are already quite good, Oyuki's skills at sewing, mending, and embroidering clothes are far above and beyond anyone else in the village. It is by this trade that she provides for herself, and pays for the occasional bit of repairs when some part or another of the old shrine gets a little too worn down with age. Sometimes she buys cloth from the villagers, other times she conjures it painstakingly, thread by thread, by herself, using her knowledge of the Mending sign, as well as a more esoteric sign, Thread, which allows her to convert various materials into thread, which she then spins by hand into cloth with which to create her finished products. Regardless of the distance she puts between herself and the community, she never has any shortage of requests and orders to take care of, be they commissions for new clothing, or requests to mend old heirlooms. She handles them all with a smile and a deft hand, and her needlework is second to none.
Shrine Maiden's Protege Raised by the former Miko of Heiseina, Oyuki was taught from a young age the rudiments of the duties that position carries. She knows the names of many of the major spirits of the valley, and is familiar with their history and of the offerings they are most fond of. She even knows a sign for a rudimentary Blessing, warding off evil spirits and misfortune wherever it is inscribed. She is less familiar, however, with the proper way to administer more complicated rites. Various ritual prayers, dances, ceremonies, blessings and benedictions that would traditionally be passed down to a true Miko never made their way to her, as her guardian never got the chance to properly teach her everything she needed to know before passing on, leaving Oyuki to pour over old books and scrolls and try to learn for herself what she must do to follow in the footsteps of the great woman to whom she owes so much. Though she may be lacking in knowledge now, the foundations have been laid for her to perhaps one day blossom into an admirable Miko herself, if given the chance.
Physical Description
Lady Oyuki, as she is often called by the other villagers, can be decisively called striking at a mere glance. Her skin is as fair and pale as the snow she is named after, while her long, straight hair is a sharply contrasting shade of jet black. Meeting her gaze, one will find large, rounded eyes of a pale, icy blue framed in long, elegant lashes; eyes that peer keenly out from between a high-set brow above and rounded, rosy cheeks below. Her gaze is tranquil, pure, and piercing; it is almost more like looking back at one's reflection in the mirror-like surface of a frozen lake than meeting the eyes of a fellow human being. Serving to offset her eyes' pale color, however, Oyuki's full lips are a lush red, and the narrow, sharp jawline beneath them serves likewise to counterbalance the roundness of her cheeks. Her whole countenance is a synthesis of opposing extremes both physical and chromatic that all somehow exist in an almost perfect balance of harmony with one another, creating a sense of beauty that is wholly her own.
Despite the intensity of her facial features, however, her build is rather lean, and in certain aspects rather petite. She is tall for a woman, but with narrow shoulders, somewhat short arms, and small, dainty hands. Her figure, too, could best be described as shapely but modest, possessing only a humble bustline, but with wide hips and long legs. However, unlike most of the other villagers, she is rather scrawny, having lived a sheltered life with little to no exposure to the sun or to difficult manual labor. She lacks muscle almost entirely, save what little she has accumulated from simple household chores and occasional walks in the woods around the village. What's more, it wouldn't be difficult to pick out the locations of most of her ribs if one looked closely, as her current frugal lifestyle and overly-diligent mentality has caused her to forgo meals on a rather alarmingly regular basis.
Thus, all these factors combine to create a beautiful woman who, while not exactly diminutive, seems as graceful as a crane, as fragile as glass, and as fleeting and ephemeral as snow.
She favors modest, rather conservative attire, almost all of which is either of her own making, or a hand-me-down from the previous shrine maiden. Almost all her outfits feature multiple layers and show off very little skin, with the long, flowing, curtain-like sleeves of her furisode often hiding even her hands from view, while various hooded gowns, cloaks, and mantles serve to cover her neck and head from the elements, and long skirts trail almost clear down to her sandal-clad feet. Most of her kimonos do not display any ostentatious patterns or eye-catching ornaments, however, and they also lack a clan seal or personal crest of any kind. Pure, simple colors in complimentary hues make up the bulk of her wardrobe. But, of all the colors she wears, blue suits her best - and thus most often finds its way onto her person.
As far as accessories go, she does not often wear them. However, on special occasions, she will occasionally don a small hairpin, decorated with a few colorful stones and an ornament carved in the shape of a lily. It's a cherished possession that formerly belonged to the previous shrine maiden, and she thus takes great care of it. Other such heirlooms make up the bulk of her accoutrements: a roughly-whittled reed flute, and a tall walking staff adorned with a brass head, with several rings and consecrated bells attached by strands of braided cord, said to help pacify spirits and ward off evil. This, in particular, is her constant companion on her walks, and its jingling often heralds her arrival.
Character Conceptualization
A mysterious, beautiful young woman who has lived at the Heiseina shrine for as long as most children of the village can remember. Though the older members of the village often respectfully but distantly call her "Lady Oyuki," it's unclear to the village children and adolescents precisely where this respect -- or perhaps fear -- comes from. The adults, however, know better, and often look to the high slopes of the valley when they speak of her, where a ruined manor house sprawls upon a high plateau, overlooking the village from a perch blanketed almost year-round by snow.
The Tsurugamine family was once a respected, wealthy house. They had settled upon land blessed by the spirits of the valley, where their flocks and herds could graze and eat their fill upon grasses that grew perpetually. They looked down on the other villagers from the comfort of their manor, and their words carried great weight among the elders of the town. The daughter of this blessed house, rumored to be a great beauty, would surely one day have been the most beloved and sought-after bride in all the village.
But something about her attracted the attention of more than just humans. There was an evil spirit from beyond the valley that longed for a child to call her own, and would stop at nothing to claim one; to raise, to bend to her will, and then, ultimately, to feed upon as she came into maturity, to restore the hag's own lost youth. Catching sight of this beautiful girl as she gazed from her balcony into the woods, the ancient hag's wicked soul was filled with desire. If she could claim such a child's vitality, surely her own aged body could be restored. And so, in the dead of winter, the ancient hag stole into the valley, violating the sanctity of the spirits and cursing the land with her intrusion. A thick, heavy snow began to fall without end, chasing out the spirits who would protect her prey from her, and scourging the once-verdant hill of life.
The great manor was frozen in ice, and the child was snatched from her parents' grasp. Though they struggled and screamed, they could do nothing to stop the ancient hag or her magic - and were at last frozen to lifeless husks where they stood. But before the child could be dragged back beyond the valley and into the realm from whence the evil youkai had come, the spirits she had chased away returned, bringing with them their staunch ally.
The sound of bells ringing amidst the stillness of the snow.
The sight of a proud back, standing between her and the unknown that threatened to devour her very existence.
The feeling of a warm cloak wrapped around her as she was carried from the crumbling halls of her once proud home, and a reassuring, gentle voice telling her that the world had not yet ended.
It was thus that the trembling, confused little girl came to find herself brought to the shrine. She didn't know what had happened, or why she had to lose everything -- but at the very least, she was not yet alone. Her new guardian treated her with the utmost kindness, consoling her for her loss and raising her as if the young Yuki was her own child. And as she grew older and came to understand her circumstances, she did not do so with bitterness, but with gratitude.
Her parents had been willing to part with their own lives to save her. Her dear, precious obasama had rushed to her side to save her, and was always there to protect her whenever she was afraid. No matter how much she had lost, she knew above all else that she was loved. Thus, above all else, she desired to return that love. To repay kindness with kindness became her motto, and she worked harder than ever to provide whatever comfort she could in return to the hero who had saved her life. She learned to cook, to sew, to embroider, and many other things, all so that she could provide gift after gift to her cherished obasama. As the only family she had left, and knowing that she could lose that family in an instant, she showered her mentor with all the childish affection and admiration she could, and was doted upon in return, prompting her to redouble her efforts to repay her ever increasing debt of gratitude.
In short, no matter what darkness she had seen, her childhood was happy. Yet, it was also shallow. The hag had been driven away, but was far too powerful to be sealed or slain. If she left the consecrated grounds of the shrine, then surely, the tragedy of her youth would be repeated. And so, she was kept sequestered within the shrine itself, from the time she was a child all the way up until she came of age, deprived of the company of all save for her guardian.
But this all changed when she at last came of age, and shortly thereafter, her dear, cherished mentor and protector passed away, as if her purpose was now fulfilled. So it was that the confused Yuki, the long-rumored daughter of a family now thought dead for at least a decade, came to have dealings with the village itself after her long seclusion.
The reactions her appearance garnered were mixed. Some thought she could not have been real -- that it was a ghost rather than a real girl that the old miko had so painstakingly kept hidden, that she was made of ice and would suck the life out of those who got too close to her, or spirit them away as she herself had been taken as a child. Others pitied her for the tragic life she had lived, offering to take her in and grant her sanctuary now that her guardian, too, was gone. Still others admired her for her beauty, and even went so far as to seek after the hand of this fair, mysterious maiden. Yet she, too shy to meet such fervent affections, retreated back to the safety and the familiarity of her shrine, and refused those who sought to court her as well as those who sought to take her in and offer her shelter. After all... she still had a debt to repay.
This shrine was her home. It was the place the person she had cherished more dearly even than her own parents had lived to protect. It was her duty, then, to see it taken care of. She could not leave. She would not betray her savior's memory. She would show her gratitude through her earnest devotion, her prayers, and her hard work. So it is that she has continued to maintain the shrine and follow in her mentor's footsteps, up until the present day.
And so, when one walks in the woods around the village, one often hears the jingling of bells and distant footsteps just a little further ahead. When one goes to market, one can see a hooded young lady buying fabric and selling clothes. And when one approaches the shrine on the edge of town late in the day, one can sometimes hear the mournful sound of a reed flute echoing between the cliffs overhead, like the song of a bird. So it has always been. So it will always be. Like a crane said to live a thousand years, the mysterious Lady Oyuki continues each day as she always has, living with constancy, with honesty, with duty, and with gratitude.
In that sense, perhaps she isn't so dissimilar from the spirits she seeks to appease - and perhaps that is why they are content to accept her ministrations, inexperienced though she may be.
Bel had been somewhat preoccupied by his mentor's whirlwind arrival and then departure, and as such, had failed to do two things. Firstly, he hadn't paid much attention to the crowd of fellow students slowly surrounding him and filling up the nearby tables, until the air had already begun filled with a rather annoying drone of constant chatter. Secondly, he hadn't managed to finish eating his dish of ration slurry until the already unappetizing paste had now become lukewarm to boot. He poked at it with his spoon, a grimace of disgust forming on his face as he realized that one of the only saving graces of the alleged "food" had now come and gone, despite his dedication to arriving early. He was just lamenting the inevitability that his lunch was already ruined, however, when he caught sight of a rather furious looking boy rising up and storming off from a nearby table holding... Wait a second, was that a bloody Zhenko bar? It was. It was.
...To be honest, under normal circumstances, the sweet snack would have been a welcome addition to his meal, but it wasn't something he'd go out of his way to obtain - particularly not to the point of bothering someone just to get his hands on it. However, that girl over there looked awfully proud of herself, and he had heard rumors about a black marketeer who could get contraband foods and was willing to trade for them... And the nightmare called "lunch" sitting in front of him definitely meant this situation wasn't normal by any stretch of the imagination.
So it was that, steeling his resolve to deal with the inevitable hassle of social interaction, the dark-haired lad slowly stood up and approached Cicinna's table. Rapping a knuckle against the back of the chair opposite her, he glanced down with one eyebrow quizzically raised, his eyes awkwardly sliding between the seated girl and the area around them, as if suspecting that one of the station's administrators would come bursting in at any moment to bust the illegal contraband trade that was about to go down.
"Oi, you wouldn't happen to... uh... have any more of those, would ya?"
I may try to edit this later, maybe cut down on some of the lengthy and overly poetic character concept bit, but for now this is what I'm going with.
_______________________________________________
P E R S O N A L D E T A I L S
Name - Tsurugamine Yuki Age - 24 Gender - Female Occupation - Seamstress and Shrine Caretaker
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Wallflower - Oyuki, while polite, is more often seen than heard. She seldom speaks, and when she does, seldom raises her voice. The source from whence her unflappable composure stems, however, is somewhat difficult to discern. Perhaps it is simply the result of a long-cultivated discipline, or perhaps she's simply somewhat oblivious by nature? Regardless, she usually seems to be paying attention to the people around her, and is polite enough to nod along with their comments; she just doesn't often chime in unless a response is specifically solicited from her, seeming more than happy just to listen in silence.
Dutiful - Due to her aforementioned tendency towards silence, one could be pardoned for not realizing the seriousness with which Oyuki treats any and all debts or obligations. The upstanding lady caretaker of the shrine lives her life by the motto of repaying any kindness she receives twofold, and if one does her a favor, then they can expect to see their generosity fully returned with gratitude. When one realizes this, the reason for her aloof and unusual lifestyle becomes more clear. After all, what sort of remuneration can one offer for a debt which can never be repaid?
Timid - Despite her outward composure and elegance, Oyuki is honestly a rather shy person. She knows only enough of the world to realize the scope of her own ignorance and powerlessness, and fears that awareness more than anything. The spirits whose wills she can neither predict nor appease, the people whose expectations she can neither meet nor shake, the knowledge that her life is empty and her own ignorance of how to fill it; all these things weigh down on her heavily, and compel her to withdraw into the comfort of her familiar home and routine. So long as she doesn't look too directly at the world beyond her own small life, perhaps she can somehow escape its notice - so she hopes, and so each and every day continues on, the same as the one before it, giving her some small measure of comfort.
S K I L L S E T
Self-Reliant Though it may not sound like much, Oyuki has grown quite used to living by herself ever since her guardian's premature death a few years ago. During her time assisting around the Heiseina Shrine, she's grown quite adept at performing the various odd jobs necessary to keep things tidy. Whether it's cooking, sweeping, dusting, cleaning, setting out small offerings for the spirits, or maintaining the various scrolls, idols, and relics entrusted to the shrine for safekeeping, she handles it all with the same level of discipline and dedication. Despite having the entire shrine to look after and being just one woman, she's done an admirable job of keeping it from crumbling into disuse.
Seamstress While her talents as a housekeeper are already quite good, Oyuki's skills at sewing, mending, and embroidering clothes are far above and beyond anyone else in the village. It is by this trade that she provides for herself, and pays for the occasional bit of repairs when some part or another of the old shrine gets a little too worn down with age. Sometimes she buys cloth from the villagers, other times she conjures it painstakingly, thread by thread, by herself, using her knowledge of the Mending sign, as well as a more esoteric sign, Thread, which allows her to convert various materials into thread, which she then spins by hand into cloth with which to create her finished products. Regardless of the distance she puts between herself and the community, she never has any shortage of requests and orders to take care of, be they commissions for new clothing, or requests to mend old heirlooms. She handles them all with a smile and a deft hand, and her needlework is second to none.
Shrine Maiden's Protege Raised by the former Miko of Heiseina, Oyuki was taught from a young age the rudiments of the duties that position carries. She knows the names of many of the major spirits of the valley, and is familiar with their history and of the offerings they are most fond of. She even knows a sign for a rudimentary Blessing, warding off evil spirits and misfortune wherever it is inscribed. She is less familiar, however, with the proper way to administer more complicated rites. Various ritual prayers, dances, ceremonies, blessings and benedictions that would traditionally be passed down to a true Miko never made their way to her, as her guardian never got the chance to properly teach her everything she needed to know before passing on, leaving Oyuki to pour over old books and scrolls and try to learn for herself what she must do to follow in the footsteps of the great woman to whom she owes so much. Though she may be lacking in knowledge now, the foundations have been laid for her to perhaps one day blossom into an admirable Miko herself, if given the chance.
Physical Description
Lady Oyuki, as she is often called by the other villagers, can be decisively called striking at a mere glance. Her skin is as fair and pale as the snow she is named after, while her long, straight hair is a sharply contrasting shade of jet black. Meeting her gaze, one will find large, rounded eyes of a pale, icy blue framed in long, elegant lashes; eyes that peer keenly out from between a high-set brow above and rounded, rosy cheeks below. Her gaze is tranquil, pure, and piercing; it is almost more like looking back at one's reflection in the mirror-like surface of a frozen lake than meeting the eyes of a fellow human being. Serving to offset her eyes' pale color, however, Oyuki's full lips are a lush red, and the narrow, sharp jawline beneath them serves likewise to counterbalance the roundness of her cheeks. Her whole countenance is a synthesis of opposing extremes both physical and chromatic that all somehow exist in an almost perfect balance of harmony with one another, creating a sense of beauty that is wholly her own.
Despite the intensity of her facial features, however, her build is rather lean, and in certain aspects rather petite. She is tall for a woman, but with narrow shoulders, somewhat short arms, and small, dainty hands. Her figure, too, could best be described as shapely but modest, possessing only a humble bustline, but with wide hips and long legs. However, unlike most of the other villagers, she is rather scrawny, having lived a sheltered life with little to no exposure to the sun or to difficult manual labor. She lacks muscle almost entirely, save what little she has accumulated from simple household chores and occasional walks in the woods around the village. What's more, it wouldn't be difficult to pick out the locations of most of her ribs if one looked closely, as her current frugal lifestyle and overly-diligent mentality has caused her to forgo meals on a rather alarmingly regular basis.
Thus, all these factors combine to create a beautiful woman who, while not exactly diminutive, seems as graceful as a crane, as fragile as glass, and as fleeting and ephemeral as snow.
She favors modest, rather conservative attire, almost all of which is either of her own making, or a hand-me-down from the previous shrine maiden. Almost all her outfits feature multiple layers and show off very little skin, with the long, flowing, curtain-like sleeves of her furisode often hiding even her hands from view, while various hooded gowns, cloaks, and mantles serve to cover her neck and head from the elements, and long skirts trail almost clear down to her sandal-clad feet. Most of her kimonos do not display any ostentatious patterns or eye-catching ornaments, however, and they also lack a clan seal or personal crest of any kind. Pure, simple colors in complimentary hues make up the bulk of her wardrobe. But, of all the colors she wears, blue suits her best - and thus most often finds its way onto her person.
As far as accessories go, she does not often wear them. However, on special occasions, she will occasionally don a small hairpin, decorated with a few colorful stones and an ornament carved in the shape of a lily. It's a cherished possession that formerly belonged to the previous shrine maiden, and she thus takes great care of it. Other such heirlooms make up the bulk of her accoutrements: a roughly-whittled reed flute, and a tall walking staff adorned with a brass head, with several rings and consecrated bells attached by strands of braided cord, said to help pacify spirits and ward off evil. This, in particular, is her constant companion on her walks, and its jingling often heralds her arrival.
Character Conceptualization
A mysterious, beautiful young woman who has lived at the Heiseina shrine for as long as most children of the village can remember. Though the older members of the village often respectfully but distantly call her "Lady Oyuki," it's unclear to the village children and adolescents precisely where this respect -- or perhaps fear -- comes from. The adults, however, know better, and often look to the high slopes of the valley when they speak of her, where a ruined manor house sprawls upon a high plateau, overlooking the village from a perch blanketed almost year-round by snow.
The Tsurugamine family was once a respected, wealthy house. They had settled upon land blessed by the spirits of the valley, where their flocks and herds could graze and eat their fill upon grasses that grew perpetually. They looked down on the other villagers from the comfort of their manor, and their words carried great weight among the elders of the town. The daughter of this blessed house, rumored to be a great beauty, would surely one day have been the most beloved and sought-after bride in all the village.
But something about her attracted the attention of more than just humans. There was an evil spirit from beyond the valley that longed for a child to call her own, and would stop at nothing to claim one; to raise, to bend to her will, and then, ultimately, to feed upon as she came into maturity, to restore the hag's own lost youth. Catching sight of this beautiful girl as she gazed from her balcony into the woods, the ancient hag's wicked soul was filled with desire. If she could claim such a child's vitality, surely her own aged body could be restored. And so, in the dead of winter, the ancient hag stole into the valley, violating the sanctity of the spirits and cursing the land with her intrusion. A thick, heavy snow began to fall without end, chasing out the spirits who would protect her prey from her, and scourging the once-verdant hill of life.
The great manor was frozen in ice, and the child was snatched from her parents' grasp. Though they struggled and screamed, they could do nothing to stop the ancient hag or her magic - and were at last frozen to lifeless husks where they stood. But before the child could be dragged back beyond the valley and into the realm from whence the evil youkai had come, the spirits she had chased away returned, bringing with them their staunch ally.
The sound of bells ringing amidst the stillness of the snow.
The sight of a proud back, standing between her and the unknown that threatened to devour her very existence.
The feeling of a warm cloak wrapped around her as she was carried from the crumbling halls of her once proud home, and a reassuring, gentle voice telling her that the world had not yet ended.
It was thus that the trembling, confused little girl came to find herself brought to the shrine. She didn't know what had happened, or why she had to lose everything -- but at the very least, she was not yet alone. Her new guardian treated her with the utmost kindness, consoling her for her loss and raising her as if the young Yuki was her own child. And as she grew older and came to understand her circumstances, she did not do so with bitterness, but with gratitude.
Her parents had been willing to part with their own lives to save her. Her dear, precious obasama had rushed to her side to save her, and was always there to protect her whenever she was afraid. No matter how much she had lost, she knew above all else that she was loved. Thus, above all else, she desired to return that love. To repay kindness with kindness became her motto, and she worked harder than ever to provide whatever comfort she could in return to the hero who had saved her life. She learned to cook, to sew, to embroider, and many other things, all so that she could provide gift after gift to her cherished obasama. As the only family she had left, and knowing that she could lose that family in an instant, she showered her mentor with all the childish affection and admiration she could, and was doted upon in return, prompting her to redouble her efforts to repay her ever increasing debt of gratitude.
In short, no matter what darkness she had seen, her childhood was happy. Yet, it was also shallow. The hag had been driven away, but was far too powerful to be sealed or slain. If she left the consecrated grounds of the shrine, then surely, the tragedy of her youth would be repeated. And so, she was kept sequestered within the shrine itself, from the time she was a child all the way up until she came of age, deprived of the company of all save for her guardian.
But this all changed when she at last came of age, and shortly thereafter, her dear, cherished mentor and protector passed away, as if her purpose was now fulfilled. So it was that the confused Yuki, the long-rumored daughter of a family now thought dead for at least a decade, came to have dealings with the village itself after her long seclusion.
The reactions her appearance garnered were mixed. Some thought she could not have been real -- that it was a ghost rather than a real girl that the old miko had so painstakingly kept hidden, that she was made of ice and would suck the life out of those who got too close to her, or spirit them away as she herself had been taken as a child. Others pitied her for the tragic life she had lived, offering to take her in and grant her sanctuary now that her guardian, too, was gone. Still others admired her for her beauty, and even went so far as to seek after the hand of this fair, mysterious maiden. Yet she, too shy to meet such fervent affections, retreated back to the safety and the familiarity of her shrine, and refused those who sought to court her as well as those who sought to take her in and offer her shelter. After all... she still had a debt to repay.
This shrine was her home. It was the place the person she had cherished more dearly even than her own parents had lived to protect. It was her duty, then, to see it taken care of. She could not leave. She would not betray her savior's memory. She would show her gratitude through her earnest devotion, her prayers, and her hard work. So it is that she has continued to maintain the shrine and follow in her mentor's footsteps, up until the present day.
And so, when one walks in the woods around the village, one often hears the jingling of bells and distant footsteps just a little further ahead. When one goes to market, one can see a hooded young lady buying fabric and selling clothes. And when one approaches the shrine on the edge of town late in the day, one can sometimes hear the mournful sound of a reed flute echoing between the cliffs overhead, like the song of a bird. So it has always been. So it will always be. Like a crane said to live a thousand years, the mysterious Lady Oyuki continues each day as she always has, living with constancy, with honesty, with duty, and with gratitude.
In that sense, perhaps she isn't so dissimilar from the spirits she seeks to appease - and perhaps that is why they are content to accept her ministrations, inexperienced though she may be.
Updating with character concept. Will probably be doing a would-be Miko who owed a debt to the old shrine maiden, and has been doing her best to take care of the shrine after said maiden's death despite lacking the knowledge of rituals and spiritual things to be a proper miko herself. I'll be down to coordinate backstories and pre-game relationships with other onmyouji/miko/monk types who might also have had dealings with the shrine in the past.
Almost the moment the professor declared the lecture had ended, a rather tall, dark-haired young man in the back row had already closed out of his desk terminal, risen to his feet, slung a somewhat ragged and worn backpack over one shoulder, and headed for the door. At a glance, one might have assumed based on his frown and his haste to get out of the classroom that there was somewhere else he needed to be - after all, he did seem to be in quite the hurry, and gave off a certain impression that he didn't want to be meddled with. But of course, that wasn't entirely the case, as he, like those who followed after him, simply made his way to the lunch hall as expected.
Bel always had a policy of trying to arrive at lunch as early as possible. Front of the line meant first to get in. First to get in meant first to get served. First to get served meant he could find his own spot to eat off in some small corner of the dining hall without ending up crowded out by his fellow engineering cadets, or worse, those damned stuck-up piloting candidates. Of the two, the former were infinitely more welcoming, but that in and of itself made them almost as bad as the alternative. After all, the only reason they'd even bother talking to him was because they saw in him the potential for some sort of camaraderie which Bel had no intention of participating in. Just because he'd ended up in their program, they assumed he was some kind of failure who'd join them in resenting and envying everyone else who'd actually managed to cut it. But what was there to envy? He wasn't a failure.
He'd outperformed all those stuck-up asshats who, starting this year, would be wearing the coveted blue and looking down their noses at him like he was some sort of insect, as if all those times he'd shot them down in simulation had never even happened. Even without a partner, he still could easily have qualified for the normal piloting program, and probably could have done quite well for himself if he'd just been allowed to try. But that man... That damned man... He'd pushed Bel aside just because he wasn't fit to be his protege, and had tried to cover up his own embarrassment at trying to force his own son into that role and failing by shoving Bel as far out of the limelight as possible.
Of course, even if he had been able to make it into the green program, Bel would have surely refused had the choice been given to him. That would be settling for second best, and second best wasn't his style. The result would have doubtless been the same, so that wasn't why he was angry. He just resented not being given the choice.
After skimming through the serving line and grabbing a few different flavors of the soupy, synthetic ooze that passed for food - all of which were equally bad, by the way, but his prior year's experience had already taught him that blending a few of the least offensive flavors could make the resulting culinary abomination at least marginally more palatable - Bel had just found a nice spot near the back of the cafeteria and sat down to eat when a shadow was suddenly cast over him from behind. He cocked his head back just enough to make out a white and red uniform like his own. It was strange, though... He didn't remember anyone quite so tall being in the program. Well, whatever.
"Yeah? Whaddya want?" He half-mumbled, half-growled as he kicked back in his chair, turning to give a barely concerned half-glance back at the unseen individual now looming over him. The person in question cleared his throat very pointedly, and it was around this point that Bel realized his mistaken assumption. Throwing down his food, he shot bolt upright and turned around, standing immediately at attention before the bowl containing what passed for his lunch could even finish rattling and wobbling on the unsteady table he'd jostled in his wake.
"Captain Zaren, sir!" He exclaimed as he met the gaze of his team's supervisor. The tall, tan-skinned man gave a slight chuckle, his lips forming into a lopsided grin as he removed one hand from his pocket and waved it dismissively.
"At ease, kid."
"My bad. ...Thought you were someone else," Bel somewhat awkwardly apologized despite himself, his posture relaxing back to his usual slouch as he dragged the chair out to one side, then dropped once more into his seat. It was remarkable how quickly his conditioned discipline gave way to complete disregard for order once his surprise had passed, but thankfully, his teacher didn't exactly make a point of standing on ceremony. What would otherwise have probably been seen as disrespect passed between them as normal - so long as they were outside of class. Either way, he decided it would be best to get to the point before the grinning captain could tease him any further. "So what's the deal? I thought we didn't have any meetings or exercises or whatever set until the project tomorrow?"
"And you'd be right," The captain replied with a shrug, tossing himself down in the seat across from his student. "So, since you're so free these days, I thought you could give this old man a hand with some of his work."
"'Old man?' Really?" Bel replied scathingly, raising an eyebrow. "You're... what, like 35? It's a little early to be begging for sympathy, even with that gray hair of yours, 'gramps.'"
"39, actually. And be that as it may, you're a little late to be learning respect for your elders, kid."
"I told you to stop calling me that."
"Whatever you say, son."
"Oh, shut up!" Bel growled irritably, shooting a glare across the table. The captain merely chuckled, and Bel grumpily sighed, shaking his head. "What do you even want my help with, anyway?"
"Nothing much. Just basic setup for a training exercise for some of the piloting newbies. The flight instructor asked me to help out since he's shorthanded at the moment. Just need to move a few seats, maybe calibrate some sim equipment..." Zaren trailed off, giving a knowing smile. Bel only realized a few moments later that he'd started grinning the moment he'd heard the words 'calibrate' and 'sim equipment,' and quickly wiped the smirk off his face. Clearing his throat, he took a moment before answering, averting his gaze so as not to be seen through.
"Well, I guess I can help you out," He responded at last, trying his best to sound inconvenienced by the whole affair. Zaren stood up with his usual lopsided grin and reached out, unexpectedly tousling the grumpy young man's already messy hair. "Hey!" Bel growled, trying to shake off the unwanted gesture.
"Knew I could count on you, kid. Head down to storage B on deck 2 when you're done eating. I'll be waiting!" With that, just as suddenly as he had appeared, the captain strolled off, leaving Bel flushed and angrily glaring after as he brushed the hair out of his face.
“Oh, trust me, I'm just thrilled to be partnered up with you, too. Now do you wanna help, or did'ja just come here to complain about it?”
Personal Dossier
Name
Kalian Bel Cyris II. He commonly goes by Bel.
Age
19
Gender
Male.
Origin
Agria, AKA Tau Ceti E, Tau Ceti System.
Appearance
When one envisions the son of a hero, Bel probably isn't the first person to come to mind. Standing at the fairly average height of five feet, eight inches, he doesn't exactly have the towering stature or striking looks one might anticipate. His face appears to still be clinging desperately to the last vestiges of its baby fat, with surprisingly round cheeks and a somewhat dull and narrow rather than sharp and chiseled jawline. His nose is low and small, and somewhat round and buttonlike in exactly the manner one might expect an overly affectionate grandmother to find quite pinchable. He has a very prominent forehead - some might call it a fivehead - framed by the short-cropped bangs of his dark, straight, and routinely messy hair, and particularly emphasized by his high-set brow. Neither of these features, one might add, do much to detract from the rather defined contour of a set of bold eyebrows that seem so prone to frowning that you could swear them to be somehow magnetically attracted to his bright, clear blue eyes.
These eyes are, in particular, the crown jewel of his face, with a mature, focused look that perhaps, in some sense, rescues his countenance from looking wholly childish. They have a fascinating sort of energy to them, seeming to shimmer and shift with the slightest change of expression in a way which is wholly captivating. Were the rest of his features half so enthralling as his eyes, there could be no doubting him to be handsome. Nevertheless - particularly when he smiles, revealing almost equally bright rows of white teeth - he could be reasonably called somewhat attractive, or at least cute - a word which he himself would surely never tolerate.
His skin is relatively clear apart from the occasional pockmark, mole, or scar from carelessly scraping or cutting himself by accident upon some jagged piece of metal while working. Having spent his life largely either in space or underground, his skin is unsurprisingly rather pale. Nevertheless, despite his somewhat aloof lifestyle, he's in decent physical shape, probably from hauling around machine parts here and there, or from helping his family stock their small shop back when he lived with them on Agria. Nevertheless, he's less buff than he is simply thin, and as such doesn't exactly have the most imposing sort of figure.
More often than not, he's seen wearing a variety of nondescript hoodies, t-shirts, jeans, and slacks - usually blue, white, red, or gray if he can help it. However, he's particularly often seen simply wearing a hoodie over some casual clothes patterned stylistically like a flight suit, with some simple bits of padding tacked onto them for effect, but coupled with a significantly finer white and red jacket emblazoned with a red delta logo. While this logo was adopted by his engineering group, it was originally the personal crest of his mentor and role model, Captain Asher Zaren, from whom he received the jacket as a present from his days as a pilot. He wears it with pride out of reverence for his mentor, and is seldom seen without it.
Personality
Bel could perhaps best be described as a walking contradiction. At a glance, one might describe him as cheerful, confident, and carefree. He's perpetually irreverent and casual, making light of almost any situation and thus finding something in it to amuse himself. He always seems on top of his game, ready for anything that comes his way. And yet, he's also aloof in a sense, as he stubbornly refuses to seriously engage with... well, almost anything, really. His constant joking hides a tendency to seldom treat any matter seriously. This isn't to say he's indecisive or cowardly, however. If forced to address or answer to a challenge head-on, he'll tackle it as best - and as quickly - as he can, all while making it seem effortless. And yet, his reluctance to answer seriously when questioned or rise to the occasion when called hints at the fragility of his ego.
In this sense, he's quite the rebellious teenage spirit. He doesn't like being compared to others, because regardless of his relative competence, he seems to expect he'll be looked down on or spited. And yet, given how hard he tries to look like he's not trying, he also clearly values his reputation. He wants to be praised, or, failing that, to be told that what he's lacking is motivation and effort, not talent. When one figures this out, he's surprisingly easy to lead on bit by bit, as he'll sometimes forget that he's supposed to seem unconcerned when he thinks he's doing well. In these cases, his enthusiasm and pride are clearly quite genuine, and are so earnest that one might find them quite charming in spite of his sometimes obnoxious behavior. The problem is, once he's had time to calm down from his high of pride, he goes right back to being just as affectedly unconcerned as ever.
He's very slow to trust people, and tends to think the worst of almost everyone he meets, always expecting some hidden agenda guiding their actions, and trying above all else to avoid being a pawn in their game. He values his independence very highly, such that he's even hesitant to speak warmly of others, much less be known to have helped them, lest they realize he actually values and admires them. He hates talking about anyone's problems, let alone his own, and as such, can seem quite cold-hearted. And yet, perhaps the one he's trying to deceive is himself, not wanting to admit that despite his desperate efforts to be his own man, utterly unfeeling and unconcerned with the affairs of others, he's actually not as terrible a person as he pretends to be? In truth, what really frustrates him so much in hearing the feelings and hurts of others isn't that they're bothering him and wasting his time with something he doesn't care about, but rather that he can't offer a solution to those problems - a fact he's all too familiar with in his own family life.
His family is, in a phrase, both the root of his many neuroses, and the only exception to them. When it comes to the Keliath family who raised him, he's easily embarrassed by them, but unmistakably warm towards and respectful of them, particularly his mother Anda. However, if there's one thing that makes him go from merely aloof to actually hostile, it's his father. His personality seems to do a complete 180 whenever the elder Kalian Cyris comes into the picture, and he becomes incredibly cold, bitter, and outright angry. Above all else, never compare Bel to his father, especially if that comparison is unfavorable. Doing so might make you an enemy for life.
In short, while he's in some senses kind and devoted to those he truly cares about, Bel is nevertheless a perpetually rebellious teen with severe trust issues, a short temper and a fragile ego - a faker who can't be honest with himself and his own feelings, much less express those things to others. Treat him well, and he'll probably consider you a friend, even if he won't say so. He's not, perhaps, what one would expect of the son of a hero, or of an aspirant hero himself. But he'd probably say that those expectations are ridiculous. Utter selflessness and honesty? Giving up one's own life for the sake of those one doesn't even know? Allowing one's self to be merely a tool, a sacrifice, for the sake of all those cynical adults who play good people like pawns in their big game? His world has never been so big as all that. So long as he's not hurting anyone, and the people close to him are happy, then all the rest will follow - even if he no longer has a place to return to when the fighting's done.
Background Information
To understand the present-day circumstances of the son of the legendary Hero of Sirius, Kalian Cyris I, one needs first to look at the rather colorful life of his father. Born on the industrial world of Sirius Prime, the Admiral had a fairly average middle class childhood until it was disrupted by the advent of war with the Ascendancy. Forced to flee the planet during the mass-evacuation known today as the Sirian Exodus, the eventual war hero was separated from his birth family and fell in with another family of refugees in order to survive. The daughter of this family, Anda Keliath, would, some years later, become his wife.
Together with the Keliath family, he ended up resettling on the mineral-rich fourth planet in the nearby Tau Ceti system. Due to its dangerous levels of solar radiation on the surface, as well as frequent planetary collisions from accumulated stellar debris in the system, the people of Agria lived almost exclusively in underground city-shelters, with a satellite defense grid in place to break apart incoming meteors. However, due to the limited space in these underground settlements, the influx of refugees from the Sirius system created massive overcrowding problems. Consequently, living conditions were very difficult for the refugees.
Needing a stable source of income, and wanting revenge for all the suffering he saw around him, the young Cyris turned his attention towards the war by volunteering to join the confederate navy. Not long after, however, the war came to him when the Ascendancy began the surprise attack that marked the beginning of its long and arduous siege of the Tau Ceti system. During a basic training flight with his squadron, he stumbled across enemy scout units. A brief skirmish ensued in which several trainees died. The future admiral, however, proved himself admirably, defeating multiple enemies despite sustaining severe damage to his unit in the process.
Because of this, his squadron was able to return to their base in time to warn allied forces of the enemy presence in the system. As such, what might have been a very ignominious defeat instead turned into a very long and brutal battle as, after repulsing the initial surprise attack, the allied fleet was forced into a defensive position within the star system's debris disk, using the asteroids and rubble as a buffer against enemy long range bombardments. In the five years that followed, wave after wave of enemy forces would continually assault Tau Ceti, completely cutting it off from outside support.
However, as it happened, a branch of the top-secret Project Valkyrie was operating in the system, hidden beneath the surface of the frigid, largely uninhabited world of Tau Ceti F. When this planet was attacked by enemy forces looking for the hidden base, the senior Kalian was shot down and forced to land at the installation. There, he and his squadron's communications officer, a woman named Stella Aryos, were asked to serve as the pilots of an untested first-generation Valkyrie unit. With this highly advanced prototype, the pair saved the facility from attack, and subsequently participated in several operations meant to break the siege. They struck at key enemy ships and resupply points, and ultimately drove the Ascendancy from the system with the help of reinforcements from the main Terra Novan fleet. His squadron, bolstered by these reinforcements, was then employed in the long and arduous campaign to cut a path through enemy lines and retake the Sirius system for the confederacy.
Born only three years before the beginning of the Battle of Tau Ceti, Kalian's son, Kalian Cyris II, only spent the early stages of his youth on Agria. Once the siege was broken as his father was deployed elsewhere, he and his mother followed along, as Anda Cyris volunteered to serve as a civilian helper in logistics, living in relative safety with a few other military families on board the supply ships that went to support the main fleet. As he was largely confined to his room to keep him from getting up to trouble on the ship, or otherwise making a nuisance of himself, the young Kalian - then nine years old - had very little contact with anyone save for his mother, or the occasional friend of hers who was assigned to take care of him while she worked.
He was, to begin with, a very timid and affectionate boy, and was practically raised on stories of his father's bravery. He eagerly devoured any and all news of his father's actions, be it from the gossip of soldiers or from the news. One of his clearest memories of his time on the fleet is of the day when his father's name became legendary. When the Ascendancy's elite pilots of the Black Fleet sprung a surprise ambush upon the forces attacking Sirius Prime, concealing themselves behind the mass shadow of a small moon and descending upon the spearhead of the confederate forces - the aces of the Valkyrie Vanguard, commanded by Captain Cyris - the news spread like wildfire through the ship he was on, and in the confusion, little Kalian found himself gathered with the ship's entire crew, watching the viewscreens as the battle played out in real time. Confusion, however, swiftly gave way to horror as one by one, the other units of the Vanguard began to be picked off, until there was only one left: the VPX-012 "Sigmund" piloted by none other than his father.
"Cyris' Stand," as it has become known, lasted for almost half an hour as he and his dwindling forces desperately held the line to protect their mothership, the Ascalon, as its crew evacuated and the rest of the fleet tried to retreat and regroup. Damaged by the opening shots of a massive armored unit armed with a powerful anti-ship beam scatter cannon, it was crippled almost immediately, then beset by the enemy ICWs. The Vanguard fought hard, but was vastly outnumbered, and although they took many of their enemies with them, were quickly whittled down and destroyed through sheer human wave tactics. By the time the fleet's retreat to the edge of the system was completed, only the Captain himself was left alive, his unit damaged, and the mothership little more than a derelict husk drifting in space, with its crew having either gone down fighting or abandoned ship.
Faced with almost an entire squadron's worth of the remaining elite enemy pilots, and staring down a massive mobile weapon that threatened the fleet, the Captain both could not and would not run. So, in a desperate show of defiance, the Sigmund dove straight into the midst of its enemies, preventing them from bringing their mobile weapon to bear for fear of damaging their own units. To the surprise and disbelief of all present, the Sigmund wasn't immediately destroyed, but rather, although losing several of its weapons in the process, proceeded to destroy the entire squadron, one unit at a time. The son of the captain found his horror slowly turning to tentative hope as the Sigmund darted between curtains of cannonfire and at last plunged its blades into the armor of the giant enemy weapon that had destroyed the Ascalon, latching onto it and firing everything it had at point blank. A tremendous explosion split the skies of Sirius Prime... Little Kalian felt his heart stop in his chest, until a shout of joy rose up among the troops, and from the midst of wreckage emerged the battered form of the Sigmund, battered but unbroken!
Following this momentous event, Sirius was retaken, his father was promoted to Admiral, and the war swiftly wound its way down to a close over the three years that followed. Kalian junior was able to see his father again face to face, and, in many cases, was proud to bear witness to the thanks of the Ascalon's entire crew for his bravery in saving their lives. No, more than just that. He was proud to bear the name of such a brave man as his father, and wanted to be just like him when he grew up. This event so struck him that, from that day forward, he had one dream, and one dream alone: to be a pilot like his father before him.
However, in practice, things were far from being that simple. He and his mother moved back to Agria to live with the Keliath family, but Admiral Cyris seldom darkened their door after that day. When he did visit, he seldom stayed long before departing again, pleading that his work with the navy called him to be elsewhere. Gradually, little Kalian realized that his grandparents didn't want to talk about the admiral he so admired, nor could his esteemed mother bear to hear his name mentioned.
They lived comfortably, and the young boy got a good education thanks to the money given them regularly by the admiral. As he grew older, he gradually came to understand that, for reasons undisclosed, his parents were no longer on speaking terms, and despite all his prejudice in favor of his father's heroism, he ultimately came to take his mother's side in the matter. No matter how he looked at it, his father had, for whatever reason, chosen to cut almost all ties with them, and while he perhaps couldn't bring himself to hate the man who was paying almost all of his expenses, let alone the hero who he'd placed on a pedestal for his entire life, nevertheless, he couldn't understand his actions, and couldn't help but hold his father's abandonment of his mother against him.
He was bitter. Not just at his father, but at society in general. People frustrated him, as he'd never been accustomed to dealing with them before, and wasn't about to start now. From his point of view, his business was his own, and other people trying to stick their noses in it were just asking for a fight. The once timid and gentle boy became something of a delinquent, and to avoid causing problems for his mother by fighting, soon tried to avoid contact with people entirely, favoring tinkering with machines to dealing with other people at all.
It was in this state that, at age 17, his father found him. The Admiral had returned unexpectedly, presenting an entirely unforeseen offer. His son had the same capabilities he did. And now, a second generation of the Valkyrie program was underway and needed recruits. Naturally, there was no way that Kalian - who had now taken to calling himself Bel to differentiate himself from his father and to avoid drawing attention to himself - could pass up a shot at his dreams.
...But he refused anyway. He couldn't afford to leave his mother behind. He wouldn't spite her like his father had. Only after she specifically implored him to chase his dreams for her sake did he reluctantly reconsider his stance, take his father's offer, and board the shuttle for the ride to Taiyōtawa Academy, leaving behind the family who had raised him and the life he had known.
Once there, Bel proved himself to be a capable pilot candidate, making an admirable performance in the simulations. He was the rising star of the academy, and there was gossip that once he managed to pair successfully with a partner, he'd be removed immediately to continue his training directly with the fleet under his father's oversight. However, when the time came for his evaluation, almost no TC was willing to even consider partnering up with him due to his demanding attitude, reckless piloting, and short temper. Those who were willing to at least try getting along with him found it completely impossible to come anywhere close to Synchronizing with him, and it was subsequently decided that his Harmonic Wavelengths were too weak to be practicable. He was shunted out of the public eye and removed from the program as quietly as possible, but the backlash of his ignominious fall was nonetheless severe. In a single day, he went from one of the academy's most respected students to its laughingstock, and he himself only felt further vindicated by his former classmates' change of tone in never having trusted any of them.
His father, evidently in an effort to save face, quietly relocated him into the engineering program, then cut all ties once again, leaving Bel in a situation he didn't particularly care for, with his dreams slipping through his fingers. He had always been fond of machines, but that wasn't enough to satisfy him. He wanted something more.
In this state, he was assigned into Engineering Team Delta under the guidance of Captain Asher Zaren, a middle-aged former pilot who had resigned from active duty following his partner and wife's death. Refusing to take on another partner, he instead became an instructor at the academy, helping to teach new pilots as well as managing one of the crews of engineering cadets on the side. Captain Zaren quickly took Bel under his wing, noting his discouragement and taking pity on him. He encouraged his new protege not to give up, but rather to move forward as best he could, and do what he could whenever the opportunity presented itself, even if it wasn't what he'd expected. Zaren motivated him to give his utmost to his engineering training by in turn offering him access to the simulators as a reward, himself serving as the boy's copilot and reading off combat data into the simulator to support him.
While this might have seemed like the Captain was simply following through on his promised reward himself, in actuality, it was something much more. He saw promise in Bel's performance, and felt that if his attitude could simply be adjusted, and his Harmonic Wavelengths thus strengthened unconsciously, he might yet be capable of becoming a pilot. So, he trained his protege personally in an attempt to motivate Bel to rely more on his partner, and tried to get him to interact more not only with the other engineering students, but also with the pilot candidates, hoping to correct the issues he saw. Bel, for his part, came to respect and admire the Captain. While Asher Zaren may have been perhaps inferior to the admiral in rank and fame, he was infinitely his superior when it came to being a father.
So, studying under his new mentor, Bel strengthened his spirits, steeled his resolve, and strove to once more reach for his dreams, unaware of the struggles that would lie ahead of him...
Not a Sayan
mickilennial
WardenCelestine
Lemons
Shadow Dragon
