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Reborn and Still Damaged
About the Fa'e...

[Basics]
Name: Joran (may change abruptly)
Swedish form of George... I don't know either.
Myth Origin: Norse. Namely Hod, the God of darkness and winter.
Gender: Male
Eyes: Murky
Hair: Blonde
Build: Gangly (if/when teen)

[Distinguishing Features]
Joran has cloudy gray eyes that, unsurprisngly, never appear to focus on anything. His blonde hair is a matted mess that appears to be coated with ice crystals, and his skin is so pale it has a blue tinge to it. Beyond that, I'm not sure. Maybe he's pretty, maybe he's not, how the hell is he supposed to know? If he was good looking he wouldn't believe it.

[Personality]
In short? Inquisitive, insecure, unassertive, moody, wary.

Joran might be a nice guy at heart, in a very mousy sort of way, but that's buried under several feet of neurosis. He wants to be aware of what's going on around him at all times, but thanks to one of his abilities his perception is limited to sound and smell. He has trouble keeping anything he overhears to himself, and it doesn't take much to get a secret out of him.

He's quiet, for the most part, but he has an annoying habit of asking what's happening at any given moment. As soon as he's called on it he'll likely fall into a moody silence that drags on long enough to be equally annoying.

Nothing irks or unnerves him quite as much as people who are able to move around silently. He hates when people sneak up on him. And since he's limited to identifying others by their voices and the noises they make, good mimicks are also very troublesome. There's also how people smell, but people seem to hate being sniffed almost as much as they hate being blindly groped at, so mostly it's left to sound.

Joran's so desperate to be included that he'll throw any and all misgivings aside to go with the crowd or the one person he's trying to endear himself to. Anything to be loved, or think he's loved, if only for a moment... usually it all falls apart within seconds of him doing what he's told. He may know when he's being used, but he still can't stop himself.

Sexuality: Straight
Girls have more curves to feel... as if they'd let him. Joran's dream woman is one who will put up with him and take care of him... maybe one who doesn't mind the whole cold issue, either. He's a realist like that, but he also has no idea how romance and wooing is supposed to work.

Fighting Technique: Cringing and screaming "what kind of maniac would hit a blind person?!" between blows.

Likes: Flowers (shh!), eavesdropping, gossip, pity, sculpture, incense, music.
Dislikes: Anything that can move silently, pushy people, being alone, being yelled at, being hot (room temperature? too hot.), being left out.
Interests/Hobbies: Joran loves music, but his tastes are widespread and, by some standards, unrefined. He can somehow find something he likes in any genre. He dabbles in playing instruments himself, though he's far from being a virtuoso with anything. He can't pick up any instrument and play it beautifully, but he might be able to wring out something like 'Hot Cross Buns', which is impressive to him. He's most skilled with, of all things, the ocarina. Better that than the harmonica. Should he run into another musician, he's liable to follow them around as much as he can and beg them to play for him.

[Potential Powers]
We begin with the obvious winter and darkness angles...
Black Out: When agitated, Joran is able to conjure a bubble of darkness. The size varies with just how upset he gets. Anyone caught within the bubble is effectively blind, even if they’re otherwise able to see in darkness. No light- supernatural or otherwise- can pierce it, but it's not as bad as it seems. The darkness is an illusion, not a barrier, so anyone or anything (people, projectiles, etc.) can easily pass through. Anyone initially caught within the darkness could simply walk until they came out, but that’s provided they’re able to work through the terror of seeing nothing but black. The effect lasts until Joran calms down or falls/is knocked unconscious, whichever comes first. With no way of seeing what’s going on, all Joran knows is that when he gets upset, everyone around him tends to get very frightened or, in the case of those who aren’t afraid of total darkness, annoyed.

Winter’s Touch: Joran’s touch is icy, quite literally. Anything that touches his bare skin becomes coated in a thin layer of frost. His clothes, for whatever reason, are exempt from this effect… it could be that he has a modicum of control over the power stemming from the fact it would be even more horrible if everything he wore was frozen too. Gloves help keep his touch from spreading ice, but the cold is always felt radiating through the fabric, making it difficult for most people to keep too close to him for long. Intimate contact is almost out of the question, unless the other party doesn’t mind risking frostbite in the worst places…

And move on to the silly...
-The ability to make people rethink their stance on hitting a blind guy within five minutes or less of meeting him.


[Weaknesses]
Total Pushover: It doesn't take much to manipulate Joran. He may think it's a bad idea, he may not want to do it, but push him enough (which is not much at all) and he'll give in and go along with what's asked of him.

Blind: Joran is blind, he’s always been blind, and the awakening of his ice power has only made things more difficult. Touching things with his bare hands is no longer a viable way of getting a sense of them. He also has no way of knowing how gorgeous or hideous any given person might be, and an accomplished mimick could mess him up a lot.

Lack of Control: Joran has very little control over his powers to begin with, which might have a lot to do with his lack of self-confidence. Darkness erupts from him whenever he’s riled, and everything he touches with his bare skin is chilled.

Generally annoying: Well, he can be.

Life After Rebirth
Lost Child Stuff...

Wraiev was a dying world, but there was no escape left for its people. Ships had set out centuries ago to find new planets to colonize, but they were never heard from again. Some say they died in the black of space, others said they had simply yet to return from the splendid new planet they had found. Regardless of what they believed, the people of Wraiev were left to survive in a badly polluted world, its resources virtually exhausted and its technology failing. Power was something too valuable to waste, and so society fell back to living by fire light. Generators were reserved for the most vital of technologies such as food synthesizers, but as the best and brightest of the world were the ones sent away there were few left who could repair the machines that broke down. Engineers were an exalted class, one almost as influential as the leaders of the religious sects that sprang up in the wake of the failed escape. Unfortunately, engineers who tried to make the most of that influence made themselves targets of the fanatics who saw them as part of the problem.

The sect referred to as the Idealists had originally been formed from the people who believed the lost explorers would one day return. In the centuries since their disappearance, the most well-known names of the departed were elevated to god-like status. The modern Idealists prayed to the explorers themselves in hopes they would hear and return to take them away. The heathens without faith, naturally, would be left behind. The most fanatical of the Idealists dwelt in monasteries built atop the remains of high rises, where they prayed to the captains of the ships and held vigils watching the skies. When the ships finally returned, they would be the first to know, and they would laugh when all the unbelievers were destroyed in the firery wake of the departing engine’s afterburners.

The Penitents believed that the gods of the Idealists were dead, as were all previous gods once worshipped on the planet. According to the Penitents, Wraiev was being punished for the wicked and slothful ways of the past, when technology did everything for the people. The attempt to colonize other worlds was doomed to failure from the beginning, the only hope left for the people was to repent and suffer on the blighted world as they were always meant to. The Penitents shunned even the most basic machines, instead opting to try and live off the land. They would not eat synthesized food, they would not wear masks as protection against the poisonous air. The Penitents very proudly at stunted vegetables and gladly breathed deep of all the toxins. Their sickly countenances and short lives were a badge of honor, a sign they were living as intended. No one would pay the Penitents any mind if not for their occasional attempts to help and enlighten others by destroying the remaining machines. They also targeted the terrible people who would restore and create new tools of damnation, so many of the smarter engineers quickly learned to keep a low profile for their own sakes.

The majority of Wraiev’s people, however, were to focused on survival to bother with religion. They might pay lip service to the Idealists just in the vague hope the ships would return, but they had more immediate things to worry about. Those without the time for fanaticism made do with the technology they had and only looked to the sky to see if they could make out the sun though the haze. On a good day you could just barely make out its pale outline. On days like that you could go at least a few hours outside without a mask on. The summers were unbearably hot, the winters were unbearably cold, but they survived.

It was in the middle of a particularly harsh winter that a newborn child was discovered by one Rhenata Serasz.

Rhenata was the owner of a restaurant that prided itself upon fairly palatable dishes made from synthesized foods. Few people could keep synthesizers maintained to a degree that they produced anything more than a source of bland nutrients, but Rhenata had knew how to work with them. She had learned from her father, who had been a prominent engineer. His death at the hands of a group of Penitents had inspired Rhenata to move to a new city, even though travel through the wastelands in between was hazardous. She took a new name, and using a synthesizer she had upgraded herself she opened a place called, creatively enough, Rhenata’s. She found the infant lying atop a snow drift in the alley adjacent the restaurant. Judging by the blue tinge of his skin it was amazing he was still lively enough to bawl. Abandoned children were sadly common thing in the cities, and those that survived were typically dragged into the Penitent sect before long. Rhenata was not a religious woman, and as a middle-aged (30ish) woman with no prospects for a husband or children of her own, she took it upon herself to care for the child. It didn’t take long to discover he was blind, perhaps that was the reason it was abandoned, but even after feeding he still looked half frozen. Weeks passed, and despite his appearance the child grew strong. She named him Joran.

As Joran grew, Rhenata accepted that he was always going to look strange. His blindness, however, was something she never knew quite how to deal with. She was always worried he would hurt himself, especially after he learned to walk. She had a bad habit of crying out for him to stop even if he was nowhere near the stoves or anything that might hurt him. Joran spent enough time around the restaurant and the tiny apartment above to know his way around, but Rhenata always worried he wasn’t as capable as he seemed. She kept Joran close, and talked to him constantly, which cemented in him the fear the silence meant abandonment. Rhenata loved that he clung to her so, not understanding that it was necessarily a good thing. They could always be close, so on occasions when Joran was banished from her side- usually so she could cook- he hung around the restaurant and listened to the customers talk. His sickly looks were nothing odd, but his frosted eyes and hair were unnerving in themselves. People took it as a sign of some new affliction from the haze, so they kept their distance and tried to ignore the odd child. Joran, in time, learned how to enough distance that he was able to listen in without drawing too much attention to himself.

He amused himself with gossip until one year Rhenata struck a deal with a local band of musicians. They would play at the restaurant most nights and she would repay them with free food. As anyone who called themselves an artist on Wraiev was typically starving, the bargain worked well. Over time, Joran began to suspect it had more to do with Rhenata being smitten with one of the singers, but he didn’t care what the reasons were so long as they hung around and played. The band prided themselves on the fact they played instruments and sang songs that dated back to before the ships departed, though in Joran’s opinion their original songs were just as good. Every night the band played he stayed close. He talked with the musicians as they set up, he talked to them as they ate after the performance, he talked with them until Rhenata would finally shoo him away so she could flirt with the singer alone.

In time the musicians humored Joran him by showing him how their instruments work. Though they had quite a few different instruments to try, Joran liked the ocarina most. Noticing this, they gave him one as a present for his next birthday (which marked the day he’d been found). It wasn’t long after that Rhenata and the singer- a woman named Disa, finally got together. She stayed with Rhenata in the apartment above the restaurant, forcing Joran to stay in his own room every night. He resented her for that, but other than that the three of them were happy together. Disa was willing to accept him if only because Rhenata loved him, and the feeling was mutual. Life was good, despite the bad air outside and the unpleasant turn of seasons, but it couldn’t last.

Rhenata was renowned for her innovation with food synthesizers, so it was inevitable the Penitents would target her and the restaurant. There were only three of them, but they rarely sent large groups to do their holy work. One of the group remained downstairs to see to burning the restaurant while the other two went upstairs to take care of the family. Joran woke to the sound of Rhenata’s screams, and when he ran out into the hall he heard the struggle, felt the floorboards shudder as someone was knocked to the floor. Rhenata yelled for him to run, and when Joran hesitated she screamed it. He ran downstairs, just as she ordered, but he didn’t realize there was someone down there. He smelt the strong odor of lamp oil before he heard the man express his surprise to see him with, “huh?”

He tried to run from the sound, but the man caught up to him. Fortunately, the Penitent lifestyle did not make for a strong grip, and a lucky shot assured the man would be on the ground clutching himself long enough for Joran to escape. Unfortunately, thanks to Rhenata’s overprotective care, Joran had never wandered far from the home, and certainly never alone. He wasn’t sure how far he made it, but in the end he fell asleep in what he what he assumed was an alley way. The next morning he simply had to follow the smell of smoke to find his way back to the restaurant. There were a group of people standing around, one of them stopped him before he could try and step into the ruins. It was one of Disa’s band mates, who told him there was nothing left. Joran tried to force his way through, but more of them held him back. He was disoriented in the struggle, and so when he finally broke free he ran the wrong way. Once he realized his mistake he kept going, bumping into other curious people along the way. A familiar voice called out for him to stop. Joran didn’t want to listen, but the speaker caught up once he tripped and fell. It was Kael, another member of the band, but all he had to tell him was that he had managed to find his ocarina in the house. Joran took it numbly and said nothing. Kael stood by awkwardly, until finally he said if he ever really needed Joran could come to where the band lived. They didn’t have much to offer, but they could give him a place to stay. Joran said nothing, and he remained sitting there on the ground until Kael finally walked away.

After that he was on his own. He remembered the address given to him, but he had no idea how to find it in the city. It was hard enough to survive with things like they were, being blind made it even harder. He slept outside most of the time, and when there were people around he played for handouts. He lost track of time while he was on the street. He lived from handout to handout, but a misplaced sense of pride kept him from making the effort to try and find the musicians. He was desperately lonely, and spent most of his time awake in fear of who might be lurking nearby, but he felt he had to try and prove he could make it on his own. It didn’t help that many people kept their distance because of his odd, sickly looks.

Art?

Comment away, though there's not much to see yet.

Heh heh, see...

Oh Sylan. <3

I feel like there's something I need to tweak... but I don't know what. :b