❝

made to be held like a weapon—made to be wanted like one, a knife held to the throat.& if there is a god in the world, if there is a light in the dark, then let it be how he presses his teeth to the pith of the sun & comes away still wanting more.see, he'll carve out a place for himself in the heart of the world—and, oh, just try and stop him.

❞

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EDEL

first look.

bright-sun laughter and feral, too-bright eyes. easy to excite and quick to wag his tail and offer wide-eyed wonder; likes people, for the most part, but it's a distant sort of appreciation that vanishes with the dawn.when he laughs, it's all full-throated with joy—like he'd broken his jaw tryna' swallow the sun, and the remnants of it still linger on his body. warm and friendly, all hands touching at stray hair and flicking at shoulders.passionate and too-honest, sometimes—likes laughing, likes ( the closeness of two hearts, the headiness of a battle high, the way hands sink deep into chest ) physical exertion and fetching things for other people.

past

you remember fleeing the snow-peaked mountains, your tiny hand held in your brother's. you were crying, hiccuping into your torn scarf—but your brother was steely-eyed and firm, a bastion of light amidst the wreckage of everything you'd ever known. & you adored him for it—wanted to be like him, a child's fascination with the strong welling up in your lungs.( he was never quite that strong, you later realize—but he tried his best and you both loved and hated him for it. )there are two truths in the world: one, that your brother would break the world in half and hand you the pieces if only you asked—and two, that you loved him just as desperately, with all the solemn fear of someone who'd once lost everything save for him. and you didn't want him to worry, anymore—once you were found ( scouted, your brother muttered into his fists at night, stolen— ) by the garleans, your mouth bloodied with the throat-heat of a man who'd wanted to steal you away from your brother,( when he was still alive, he'd called you a savage; you weren't quite sure what that word meant, but you were sure that he didn't like you. he reached down to you and you eyed the way his muffler shifted and bared the pale of his throat—you lunged and bit down down down until something burst open on your tongue, and then there was only one. )of a man whose eyes were now closed in forever rest, the two of you ( brothers, kin ) had a roof over your heads, warmth in the cold winters of the north, and enough food to eat so that you wouldn't starve. it was enough, lark promised you, his hands pressed to your shoulders.it wasn't.you ate, but you remained starving—hungry for something that you could put no words to. your brother worked long days: his brilliant mind was sought after by men and women in white coats, in giant skeletal frames, and he never thought to resist. you saw how his work ate at him, your too-kind brother—you saw how he'd hold you just a little too tight, how his brows were constantly furrowed, how dark the bags under his eyes were—and you hated it.he should've been paying attention to you instead: that is your first thought. your brother spoiled you—he would have taken his own heart out, gutted himself on your every word if you only asked,but you didn't want his heart. you wanted his time, and when you couldn't have that, you began to act out. ( you'd asked your brother what savage meant—and why those in armour would so often spit the word at you. it took him an entire day to explain,and you couldn't understand why. so you're a savage. so your teeth are sharper than theirs. underneath their suits of metal and ceruleum, they surely all bled the same and if anything, they should be more frightened of you.when you said this to lark, he took your hands in his own and made you swear that you wouldn't do anything unethical—you took the word into your mouth and chewed it 'til it was all gore. of course, you say. he was satisfied. you'll make friends, won't you? lark had asked, exhausted. you'd only offered a bright, beaming smile. of course, an echo. )the men in metal monsters were quick to take you in, after the first incident. you heard that your brother had begged for your release—that he'd managed to convince one of the primi ordines that you'd be better fit as a soldier than as anything else. luckily for you, for that was the day your entire life turned around.you took to the garlean military like a fish to water—like you'd always been drowning and suddenly, you found air. ( they knew to channel your destructive tendencies into something, anything that was other; you always obliged, for you were never alive until this very moment—until they fit your hands around the humming edge of a knife, a wild-joy laugh lighting up your throat. )your brother didn't like it. one day, we'll have power, you told him, righteous and filled with sun. he was quiet. power enough to be free, was his own answer.so you would free him from his own shackles: in the dark of night, you stole away from him—vowing to only return covered in laurels and glory. you didn't know, then, that you were the last tether to your brother—that when you left, he lost the last thing that barred him from becoming a monster.the years passed in a blur of blood and gore; more often than not, you were at the center of battle, heart aflutter with the sun in your eyes and the heat of fire that mirrored the ones in your youth. those were good days—simple days.( what's so bad about conquering? what's so bad about salting the earth and razing the lands? if others had enough power to stop them, then let them be stopped.see, in this world the strong dictate the way things are—there is no place for complaint or rebellion if you lack strength,but, oh, that doesn't mean you shouldn't try. )the seasons changed, and you soon returned to lark; your brother was different—a dark shadow lingered in his too-similar eyes and,( you were awake when lark fit his hands around your throat. you knowingly drank the drugged wine, for before your life is yours, your life is lark's—two siblings stumbling away from the collapse of everything they'd ever known, small hands held. )you had waited, then, for the dark to steal your breath and crest over your head—but your brother ( too-kind, still, too-soft with a heart that beat like a sparrow's ) had left you, instead.... perhaps it doesn't matter as much, you say to yourself, the void in you ever-bright and ever-hungry. you throw yourself into your work, delighting in the satisfaction that it brings you—oh, but the world is big and the sky is wide and surely, you will find your brother somewhere in the world.this you swear. but for now, there are lands to conquer and battles to be won. you squint up at the sun and frame your face with your fingers—one day, you will bite into the pith of it and come away with only light and glory. may your will be hallowed and bright.

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present

pale, icy eyes are set in a playful stare—mouth always curved into a sunlit grin, pupils round and open—until interested & they thin, growing slit and bladed. strong jaw, wolfish features, & dark eye markings. right eye is inorganic & augmented. bioplastic glands are embedded in his gums and injectors in his canines.sharp canines—made for ripping & tearing—peek out behind his lips when he speaks. has spiderbite piercings, usually in the form of onyx rings; he removes them for jobs. has a tongue piercing. charcoal curls frame his features messily, and he's most often seen with a headband. various piercings are elsewhere. various implants, magitek or otherwise, are embedded within his body—the most noticeable of which are the retractable claws that slice from knuckles. oh, he's a walking metal detector catastrophe waiting to happen.has a short, fluffy tail—prone to wagging frantically. arcane symbols are tattooed around his right bicep. voice is mostly low and bright with a constantly amused and sparkly tenor. has magitek bracelets that seem more like shackles—glow brightly when he's emotional.

♡ once a garlean hunting hound and currently is augmented to hell and back with magitek; he's not too proficient in matters of aetherial manipulation as he'd consciously shunned any use of aether during his days in garlemald, but he's been relearning it since his brother left him: much like the way his brother's healing magick is all butcher's knife used as finely as a needle, edel's handle on aetherial manipulation is all teeth and instinct—incredibly raw and unrefined and filled with passion.♡ believes that the world is terribly, incredibly fair: injustice happens because of a lack of power—and with power, you can do anything.♡ casually cruel, as if he doesn't think there's anything wrong with his cruelty: lark ( brother-dearest, the one who'd abandoned him later ) had always spoiled him, and so edel grew up wanton and arrogant and incredibly certain of his place in the world—like everything revolved around him & his happenings. he's less arrogant now, but much more vindictive. if he can't have it, then no one can; he would rather break the things that he wants than to allow anyone else to have them.♡ he's got a hyperfixation with people who can beat him down—oh, he's addicted to the rush of wild fights; defeat him once, and he'll mark you as his next target to surpass. & he's terribly obsessive and just as fickle; he'll pester you for fights until he beats you, and then he'll move on to the next person who can give him the same rush.

currently

he was found by the benzene-ikka, who smuggled him—a still-wanted man—from the ruins of a smoking village in northern ilsabard. now, he works for them as a hired blade.

likes

the euphoria of a good battle, with sweat-slicked hair and bright eyes; the lingering scent of a smokey fire; blades in hands and cutting away at venison; the setting sun over a different city every fortnight

dislikes

a cold so fucking cold it feels like flame; being denied a good fight; weakness masquerading as softness; those who bow their heads to the ones in power and, yet, turn that same cruelty to their kin.

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if you have coin or a cause to fight for,then you may find edel under the light of the sun; merely speak his name, and he'll gladly work for you—for as long as the contract would have him.

if you're a fighter,edel's the type to pester those who are stronger than him for fights—to the point of fixation. you can find him in the bloodsands or at any fight pit that he's got a chance to fight in; he won't bite until the gates open, so feel free to say hi.

if you remember the face of a hunted man,he was a hunting hound before he was ever a man—and, now, he's a rabid dog who takes on the shape of a man. only those who want to be chased run, but he has had his fill of running. come a little closer, and learn how much worse his bite is than his bark.

if you are familiar with the yakuza,then you may have heard of him and his ilk; men who make up part of the kaimetsu-kai, headed by a monster in the shape of a girl & a priest who calls themself holy.if you have business with them, edel is more than happy to entertain you.

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