Thysbae
Posted: Wed Jun 02, 2021 12:11 am
T H Y S B A E
Given Name: Thysbae Asthlin
Race: Fae'ethalan/Lysanrin
Racial Ability: Aether Siphoning
Sex: Male, but fluid
Age: 23
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 125 lbs
Birthdate: 28 Final Solstice 100
Birthplace: Zaichaer
Profession: Reconcilliator
Housing: Within the Monteliyet Estate
Partners: N/A
Titles: Spellbreaker
Factions: Order of Reconcilliators
Fluencies: Common
Conversationals: None
Ineptitudes: None
Race: Fae'ethalan/Lysanrin
Racial Ability: Aether Siphoning
Sex: Male, but fluid
Age: 23
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 125 lbs
Birthdate: 28 Final Solstice 100
Birthplace: Zaichaer
Profession: Reconcilliator
Housing: Within the Monteliyet Estate
Partners: N/A
Titles: Spellbreaker
Factions: Order of Reconcilliators
Fluencies: Common
Conversationals: None
Ineptitudes: None
Personality
thys | Thys is not the first personality, but stands at the forefront of their collective trauma. He is, after all, the one who had taken most of the abuse by the hand of their mother. He’s a conniving sort, silver-tongued when it matters and quick to avoid conflict. His conception came with an urge to protect the host body, a singular focus that evolved into a contempt for their living situation. He wants for the finer things in life, to be where the grass is green. Or grows at all.
He’s arrogant, maybe dangerously so, in thinking he is better than everyone around him. This even extends to the personalities he shares a body with. Thys has developed his own means of thinking, way of carrying himself that make him out to be greater. Perhaps not on the level of a God, but sometimes he seems to demand the respect of one.
But if there was anything more damning, it would be his unpredictability. It is a trait he shares with the other personalities, a tethering that he could never snap. His end goal may remain the same, but the methods to reach them are always changing. The two things that can be counted on his need for self-preservation and the preference for not getting his hands dirty.
adora | Adora is volatile, a wild card of sorts. Deranged is a good word to use for her, but by far not the most accurate. Her delusion almost aligns with Thys’ in that while she doesn’t demand the respect reserved for a god — but that her belief is that they are a god. Or, at the least, a demigod. An unhelpful delusion that makes those around her wary, even if she may supply that she would never do anything to hurt them.
She’s not to be trusted, and yet, some people do. Where Thys is conniving, and often detached from those that he coerces into doing things for him, Adora makes it as if it was your idea from the beginning. As if the relationship was something more than transactional from the start. Others are no more than kindling for the fire of her aspirations of godliness. Each act calculated for the end of worship.
But she makes a compelling case. Her ability to advocate, to speak with such clarity that it makes sense — some would call it frightening. But it’s not a matter of her wording so much as her conviction and determination. She comes of as no more than a desperate soul seeking companionship in her radical ideals. And maybe she is. Or maybe there are only offerings to her most esteemed god.
bae | Bae is the personality that started this all. The creature that yearned for more, but feigned contentment. His own desperation has been that things will get better. That he will be better. Despite the circumstances surrounding his consciousness, he sees no faults within himself on a mental level. Perhaps he may be slower than others, but that is only a matter of not liking his schooling much. Of which, there was little to begin with.
He’s been sheltered and cared for, even if some portion of that was in the wake of constant abuse, and knows nothing more than what he is told. He doesn’t perceive this as being necessarily bad, but it leaves him vulnerable. It makes him naive, and far too trusting. Gullible, like a child. He grows attached to others quickly, forming “friendships” with those who look at him more than once, and interact with him more than twice. A dangerous thing, to be sure, in a world that scorns his very existence.
Above all else, he’s so terribly lonely. The voices — the other personalities that bicker and fight for dominance — are as much company as he has been allowed for a long time. His search for companionship leads to him being subservient in the hopes that it makes him desirable to be around. It turns him into more of an errand boy than a friend, but at least someone is thinking of him in the end.
Appearance
While it is more frowned upon that he use his aether siphoning — even for work — there’s slightly more acceptance of his glamor. Bae himself may not actively employ its usage, but the other personalities have seen plenty of benefits to it.
thys | Thys holds himself to certain standards and his appearance reflects as much. His eyes, while still big and wide, expect much from those around him. Something cold and condescending lurks within the slate grey of his eyes. Full lips are often spread in a smirk or sneer, and his skin bares a startling resemblance to the father they’ve never met — a porcelain to contest the finest bone wares. His hair is dark as pitch, and remains curled around his horns the way that Bae keeps his own. His close resemblance to the original host body is nothing sentimental, and more for protection. A reliance on the sweet, soft soul that Bae is means that Thys himself is not a threat.
His voice is slightly deeper, with an air of authority to it even when he has none. The accent of someone playing at nobility is clear in his tone and the manner of his speaking, though it is fading with practice.
adora | Adora presents herself in a decidedly more flamboyant nature. Her eyes narrow out to be more cat-like and while the horns remain, they change to a garish version of themselves. Like gnarled fingers of an old hag. She, however, is anything but that. Her own lips remain full while being spread around a smile too wide to be anything other than manic. Her hair, which flows down past her shoulders, is most often a fading purple unless she finds herself with a touch of inspiration and it as red as the heart of a fire. Her eyes are almost a deep black, an empty abyss that one finds themself swallowed up by.
Her voice is bright and joyous, almost breathless with reverence. But there are moments when there’s an edge of gravity to her voice that puts to question just how insane she is.
bae | As the original personaliy and owner of the host body, Bae appears unchanged from the baseline appearance. The only difference from Thys is that his hair is an earthy brown, and curled more furiously around his antlers and comes down to caress his face. His voice is soft, and his manner of speaking in itself is subservient, referring to himself often as “This One.”
History
But he had left behind more than the facade of romance. Thysbae’s mother realized that the culmination of the lie his father had concocted was growing in her belly, and as no more than a foolish girl dabbling in her first love, she was ecstatic. Her family was, understandably, worried. Worried because the child would be partly of his father, a Lysanrin. A cretinous creature that they had warned her against from the moment they’d laid eyes on her. As such, she was ostracized as much as the family could handle. Separated from her parents, the winter fae went through the first cold realization of her life. She gave birth to her child alone, and at first, her parents refused to even see the infant.
Thysbae was a beautiful child. Probably to his benefit; his grandparents, while reluctant, felt that they couldn’t outright abandon him. He was too pitiful. He was too much like his mother, too innocent. But they couldn’t have the stain of his birth on their family, and his mother was stripped of her name and given a new one. News traveled that the man she’d assumed to be the love her life died — circulated by the man himself to avoid debts — and she had nothing to fall back on but the reserved kindness of her parents. Both she and her child were at their mercy.
It felt like mercy at first. Kindness. An inkling of love they had for their child. Thysbae spent his early years loved and cared for. But as the years passed, something changed. Something in his mother. The allowances she was given were becoming less and less as her parents withdrew their mercy. Her child, who looked just as much like her as he did his father, became a reminder of something unkind.
The first cold realization turned into a second: his father had never loved her.
The love and affection she showered on her child went from something one expected of a mother to too much. Smothering, suffocating. A guiding hand turned to one meant for shaping. Her family had antlers; it was the most distinctive trait they shared aside from a blasted winter coat that shed and they joked about. But antlers fell with winter and grew with spring anew. Thysbae’s never dropped. Never snapped. In those years, while he was still a tiny little fawn, the velvet didn’t leave his antlers. And while he looked up at her with bright eyes, wide smiles, she knew that he would forever bear the reminder of his father’s people.
She tried pruning his antlers. Horns, rather. Breaking off the branches. Covered her hands in blood and filled the hovel they resided in with his screams. No one bothered to check on them, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t much care. But Bae — he had his own first cold realized as ice dusted his mother’s collar and her breath fogged in the air.
His mother didn’t love him.
A difficult thing to learn at eight years old, but it must be done. It had to have been learned. Bae pandered to the woman who had once been his mother, but very little worked. He became more of a servant than a child, and he grew to be content with that. The overbearing presence she had once been turned to one of neglect. And when she did pay attention to him, it was to slander his father and chill the house with insults directed at him. But he ate it up all the same.
But like things before, something changed. A voice in his ears, telling him that this was not how things should be. This was not how a mother treated her child. A voice that turned into a friend. A voice that kept him company. A voice that became a person within him. And this person had had enough.
His mother had never seen it coming. No one had, though they should have. For a single moment, rather than the screams of a child being beaten, dragged by the horns, it was that of a grown woman. Before a sickening crunch replaced that and fell into an uneasy silence. Then the wailing started, continued for so long that someone was forced to check in.
Thys had taken the liberty of enacting his first act of protecting himself. His mother’s family had been well off enough to afford a place with an attic. The attic that his mother had stuck him in when her love had frozen over and the long winter had hit them. In the midst of one of her fits, her words slurred around a drunken tongue, he stuck his arms out and pushed. She was solid, grounded. And yet in that moment she flew. Thys liked to imagine that in that moment he gave her wings, but ultimately failed in releasing them from their hell in making her a temporary angel.
The fall did not kill her. It wasn’t high enough to, but his aim had been off and the landing didn’t do it, either. Instead, it crippled her. Robbed her of the usage of her legs and forced her into a near vegitative state with the shock of it all for several months. Her son — he’d tried to kill her? She’d thought he’d never retaliate and the shock replaced with anger. She was no longer beautiful and she was a crippled fae in a city that already hated her kind. Now, she would be doubly hated.
While she could no longer reach him physically, Thysbae wasn’t anything special. Twelve and still growing. The physical turned to emotional. And she began to tell him about his father. The man that had started this all. The man that had brought everything to this point. She filled his head with as much venom as she could muster. And for a time, he would not be bothered to stop her.
But there was another person that had taken residence in his head. A loud voice, a bright one that vehemently denied all his mother had to say. Because mothers don’t say those things to their child. Not true mothers. She was no more than the carrier of his body and there had to be a greater purpose to this all. She was just bitter, ungrateful. Impatient for her ultimate reward.
Adora began their first experimentation in aether siphoning by chance as a damning stroke to their mother. The first true use of his glamor to change his appearance. A trick learned from rebellious children that wanted to say they talked to half-blood. Stupid children. It was what convinced their mother to show her own glamor, as if to tell them that they were not true fae. And she soaked it in until her mother let the glamor drop and watched with horror as the aether was drunken down.
The first realization of warmth: their mother still had a purpose.
Adora had ordained it so, and there was nothing the others could do to stop it. By the time he was eighteen, there was not much else that could be done to save his mother. A woman of sound mind turned into a deranged, terrified hag in a matter of years. And for what reason? To what end? Thysbae does not know, but he never did get to ask.
She was killed when he turned twenty-one. Smothered in her sleep because Thys could no longer stand the sound of her voice. Not long after, the Reconcilliators found him. He’d not had much means to experiment with his aether siphoning but they knew enough. Heard enough. There were not many options given to him, but Thys made do.
And so he became their spellbreaker.