"Mark my words, Danava. You will live a thousand lives and you will die a thousand deaths. And then your existance will have ended the way it begun. You'll never find your purpose."
|| Theme Song 1 :: 2 :: 3 || Gallery ||
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Name: Embry Arxhielho (Ar SHEEL-ho). Often goes by Cello or in rare cases, Siro.
Race: Half-asura. Possibly the result of genetic experiments(?)
Age: 19 (His birthday is the first of July)
Hair: Blue-black shoulder length dreadlocks. Sentient. Also has a waist length braid in front of each ear. They serve as his arms.
Eyes: Steel Blue. The whites become Azure if in certain (often violent) states of mind.
Distinguishing features: Aside from the hair and the eyes, two large panes of copper and copper alloy that serve as wings. They lie in place of his arms. Also, he has no elbows. His shoulders have an incredibly odd coloration, where flesh and metal do not quite merge properly. He has a strong Jamaican accent that becomes thicker still in his alternate state of mind.
In a Nutshell: A child half grown, lonely and affectionate who just wants to be loved again.
~~~
Origins:
- The 827th reincarnation of an old, aggressive Asura.
The original, Raghu, sought to overthrow and destroy all deities, be they gods or demons in pursuit for a reason to live. He was destroyed and every reincarnation of his soul cursed to suffer the same lifelessness that he had known in his first existence. One thousand lives were granted as his limit and if a purpose, a reason for living, could be found before all those lives were exhausted, he would regain many of the powers typical of his kind and regain his longevity.
Many of his reincarnations were destroyed in recklessness, desperation and frustration in pursuit for that illusive purpose. This far down the line, a part of his mind realizes that he is running out of time for something, but he can no longer remember what or why. The fact that he is only half an Asura means that his abilities and memories are even fainter than prior incarnations.
- Cello has no recollection of his earliest years.
To his knowledge, he opened his eyes twelve years ago and found himself surrounded by 'family'; a band of very surprised, very confused seafarers who had stolen him from the cargo hold of a warship, thinking that his crate contained military weapons or some form of exotic goods. He had no idea why he was there, and the pirates were just as clueless as he was, but upon finding the wide eyed child was harmless and could barely take a step without tripping over the razor edged panes of copper that lay in the place of his arms, they kept him aboard, treating him as a sort of lucky charm, believing he was some strange sort of gift from their deities that would bring good wind to their sails and keep the seas calm in their passage.
It was a seafarer named Ossa that took him under his wing and trained him, teaching him to walk, read and speak. Ossa clothed him, fed him and spent time with him. He became the brotherly figure in the young creature's life, and is the reason Cello speaks with a thick Jamaican accent and also believes that he is Jamaican himself, despite Asuras taking their origins from India. The pirate could not be found, from that day on, without the little creature toddling after him, stumbling over long, windblown hair and wings alike. However, when they first attempted to cut his hair, the strands came to life, twisting and curling in agitation and fear, bleeding crimson and causing the child pain. Ossa sealed the wounds with pitch and bound them into dreadlocks, and the crew marveled as the locks moved though the boy insisted he had no control over them. From that day forward, the hair that had been cut grew very slowly - even after twelve years it still remains at about the same length it was on that unfortunate day. Of course, such a revelation was more than a little unnerving to a lot of the men, and Cello found himself on his own a whole lot more, even the man that had raised him avoiding him in favor of other jobs around the ship. He grew closer to his hair then, spending time curled up in the crate he had originally been found in and learning that he liked the comforting warmth that came from his own locks, the tender and affectionate way they curled around his neck and nuzzled his cheeks. Many hours were spent speaking to them as he grew, the crew alienating him more and more, making him grow in his loneliness.
He proved his worth a few years later, when the ship was attacked by a rival crew, taking cannon-fire to his wings and finding himself unharmed. The force of the blow flung him overboard, however, and as he tumbled he spread copper wings for the first time and sailed back to safety. It was that day that he learned about the glory of flight, and spent every day afterward soaring circles around the ship, diving and rolling and maneuvering in pure joy. The crew were startled to find him so carefree, and the next time they were attacked, their little lucky charm was ready and waiting, deflecting cannon-fire with his wings, sailing around and defending his home. He pushed himself past his limits just to hear praise from Ossa and the crew, aiding the men with tasks around the ship, returning to his crate to sleep like the dead for days at a time. He tried harder and harder to please the crew and as time went on, it became expected of him. When the ship was attacked and one of the men killed, the captain turned on him, berating the exhausted creature, lashing out at him in rage. It was that day that Cello realized he was no longer the baby aboard the ship, and resolved to work harder than ever to make his family proud.
Ossa tended to his bleeding injuries and stayed a time at the boy's begging, eventually leaving him alone to the company of his locks. He continued to try and please, childlike and friendly to the crew who would smile and give him the occasional pat from time to time. But it was known by now that the copper winged creature, while lucky and an excellent defense, was nothing more than a guard dog, a beast of burden that would hop up on its hind legs and beg for praise. Like a child, he didn't know he was being ridiculed, made a spectacle of, forced to do tasks that the other men were supposed to be in charge of. He worked hard, strained himself, grew strong as a result but was always weary. Still, his smile was simple and cheerful, and so was his manner of speech. These men were his family and he genuinely believed that they loved him the way he loved them. Even as he grew more exhausted every day, even as his body began to protest from the strain of work, he always believed that they loved him.
Until the day that Ossa and the captain decided that he would be worth his weight in gold, that he wasn't serving them the way that he used to and that there were collectors of exotic cargo who would have a far better time of keeping him caged. With smiles and fond caresses, the man he looked to as a father, a brother, led him to his captain, where he found an iron collar clamped around his neck, his hair bound in restraints that prevented movement. He was afraid. In all his years, his family had never handled him so roughly. But as he strained against the chains binding him to the mast, he was told what they intended to do with him, his eyes growing wide with horror and revulsion. When they came to port, the crew led him away while he screamed for Ossa, screamed himself hoarse in desperation, reaching his wings out to the retreating back of his brother as he was dragged away, thrashing and struggling, his chest tight with pain and fear. His heart was breaking. His mind was in a whirl of denial. To this day still, he believes that the man he loved so much would not do such a despicable thing to him. He was taken against his will, flailing and struggling, to another ship, where his crew and their crew met to discuss prices. He was beaten and snapped at to keep him subdued. Spat on and called a beast. An animal, a monster that should know its place.
Something within him awoke at that. Perhaps it was from the pain of Ossa's betrayal. Perhaps it was his struggle and effort wasted to find praise. Perhaps it was the realization that he had been wrong, that there had never been love here, there had never been a purpose. That these men had used him and thought of him as nothing more than a tool and now that they thought they had something to gain from him were simply throwing him away. But something snapped, filling him with a vivid fury, a pain so bright that his eyes bloomed with blue as a scream tore itself from his ragged throat. Copper wings cleaved through the chains that bound him, his hair shaking the weights from their forms as he lunged at those who had betrayed him. Those who had abused him. Those who sought to take him away out of greed. With driving tendril and bladed wing alike, he slew every last member on that ship, weeping in his fury, collapsing into a panicked huddle as the haze faded from his eyes and he looked around, finding his form covered in blood and surrounded by the corpses of the slain. It was the first time he had killed, and fear drove into his heart like a knife.
In his panic, he raised his wings once again, taking to the sky, spiraling up and out of control, blank minded, terrified, bolting, flying until he could not fly any longer. He flew until he lost consciousness, and when he opened his eyes again, he was alone. Washed up on the shore of some deserted island, body clean of blood and his mind half broken from the trauma of his crew's death. He has no recollection that he was the one that murdered those men, though from that day forward, he became aware of another nature lurking beneath his skin, a nature that acted on his deepest desires and greatest wishes. Wishes for death so that nothing could hurt him again, wishes for a greater purpose so he would not destroy himself in his misery, wishes for strength and energy to become powerful. But the greatest desire of all was for Ossa, his beloved brother Ossa, who could not have possibly wanted him harmed in such magnitude.
And thus he has been searching this whole time. Searching for answers to his questions, for the brother who left him behind.
~~~
Notes:
- The name 'Arxhielho' has always been present in his mind, which may be tied to his alternate conscious, or have something to do with a time before he could remember. He took this name upon his flight from the family, wanting nothing to do with seafarers ever again. In the presence of the pirates, however, he was given the name Embry, which he now treats as a derogatory term, tying him to the past and memories best forgotten due to the pain in his heart. It was given to him by Ossa, based on the sunlight that flashed off his wings when he was uncovered for the first time, a shining little ember nestled amongst rags. His full title basically means 'Ember of the Sky', which, being a copper bright being of the air, suits him just fine.
- 'Cello' comes from the tail end of Arxhielho. He got tired of people butchering the pronunciation of his name, so gave them this shorter, easier alternative. The Cello is also one of his favorite instruments. Siro, on the other hand, was bestowed upon him by his lover and translates to 'copper'. He considers this second nickname a very deep, intimate thing and is rather protective of it.
- Having lived in the company of his dreadlocks, having no real experience with people outside of the men from his crew those twelve years ago, Cello possesses a childlike innocence for someone of his age. He longs to believe that everyone has some form of good in them, and that this goodness can be shared. He is generally cheerful and upbeat, but its more to mask the assumed value on his head. He figures if he's friendly, those he encounters will react positively to him and accept him for what he is. He has a very simple and idealistic view of the world.
- That said, he does have a more serious side to him and will attack if challenged. He is only an average fighter outside of his asura mindset, as he learned of offensive combat at a later stage of his life, but when he realizes that there is no chance of parley, he will defend himself to the best of his ability. The blood of Asuras courses through his veins, and even out of his truest instincts he can still be quite a handful to deal with.
- He wears his dreadlocks up in a copper band. Due to the way he was raised, he has little to no control over them; more a sense of authority than anything else, and so must keep them bound to hold them still, or at least stop them from distracting him. Once his true nature takes him, however, he is in complete control of his locks and can command them at will. Copper weights from his capture also adorn the ends of his braids and, coupled with the looseness (tameness?) of the braids (in comparison to the wildly grown dreads on his head), makes them easy to command. He's quite chatty due to having nobody but his hair to talk to.
- Despite his cheerful disposition, Cello constantly fears abandonment. His fear of the instinct and its capabilities is greater however, and makes him avoid people by default. Truthfully, all he really yearns for is someone to hold him close and care for him the way Ossa used to. Those are his earliest memories, and the ones tied to the greatest warmth. He misses them. At the heart of it all, he just wants to be loved. Truly loved with passion and abandon.
- If there is anything Cello loves more than life itself, it is flying. If he didn't get tired, he would stay airborne forever, losing himself in sky and cloud. That said, he'll fly in any weather, no matter the conditions. Storms are perhaps the most dangerous for him due to the conductivity of the metal and alloy of his body, but if struck by lightning, he can redirect it through his wings to remain unharmed.
- At heart, Cello is very musical. Dancing is second to flying to him and he loves anything with a strong, solid beat to it. During his adventures alone, he trained himself to fight using songs and beats made up in his head. He can't sing worth a damn and his accent makes him sound ridiculous, but that doesn't stop him. He can't help but do it when he's happy. After dance and song, coconuts are his next favorite thing.
- Aside from having control over his dreadlocks, his asura-instinct also has a slightly greater control over electricity and can call it out of the sky and into his body. His memories of his prior reincarnations and the creature that he once was, though faint and haze filled, give him more knowledge on his body and the way it moves and how to use it to his advantage, meaning he's also a better fighter in this state. However, the asura in him has a taste for blood and will harm and kill ruthlessly for the sake of pleasure.
- On that note, Cello is afraid of the truest instinct he possesses and the will of the asura within him. He shuns his alternate state, suppressing it at any chance he gets. Internal conflicts are quite fairly obvious within him as eyes will alter between white and varying shades of blue, depending on how strong the influence is. He realizes that the instinct draws on his deepest desires, but half the time they are desires that even he hasn't picked up on yet. He cannot come to terms with what he is and often agonizes over his instinct, afraid of hurting anyone under its influence.
- Cello's approach to problems and issues can be likened to a bird that throws itself repeatedly against a window thinking it can get out through the glass. Except in his case, the repeated knocking will either render him unconscious or the glass will break from the sheer force of his will.
