• THE zealot

▸ aka VASILY 'VASJA' KONSTANTIN ANTISTIUS KOLOMYKOV

ㅤ𓉘 Biochemical Archon 𓉝ㅤ

⌂ Source, Dravania

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• external

• THE tragedian

▸ aka SOVOIX DAIMAIRE de la VEAUXLANT

ㅤ𓉘 Withered Blue Rose 𓉝ㅤ

⌂ Source, Ishgard

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• external

• THE debauchee

▸ aka SANA
INNJAHOLT

ㅤ𓉘 RESONANCE IN DUALITY 𓉝ㅤ

⌂ SOURCE, SKATAY RANGE

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• external

• THE PARASITE

▸ aka CARMINE EMILIANO d'ALICHINO AMERIGHI

ㅤ𓉘Devotion of Conquest𓉝ㅤ

⌂ THIRTEENTH, BARON

• no access

• THE mimic

▸ aka ◹⬄▧▧PANI▧C▴⤏

ㅤ𓉘 WITNESS OF LIFE 𓉝ㅤ

⌂ NINTH, SOLUTION-9

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• THE undone

▸ aka M1-4087 // MIA

ㅤ𓉘 FORGED IN FLESH 𓉝ㅤ

⌂ CORE, ALPHATRON

• no access

⌂ primal + exodus

ROMANCE ⚠︎ | WU/T ✔

divinity by my own design

+ age 237ㅤ| race veenaㅤ| height 5'11"

+ gender maleㅤ| pronouns anyㅤ | sexuality gay

+ occupation retired doctor, scientist, inventor.

+ origin dravania / residence ishgard.

+ job sage, machinist, reaper, alchemist.

DEMEANOR | fragile. a nervous twitch, a cold look behind downturned eyes. though his words are polite, his gaze is distracted, hands constantly fiddling with multitudes of odd instruments strewn from his clothing. a mind that cannot sit still. nervous laughter, and towards matters that are not funny. soft voice marred with harsh accent, the faint smell of iron, ash, and rot clings to worn leather.

Overview

+ FAR FROM A HOME wiped off the map, a jaded doctor seeks to rid himself of a lingering disease by any means necessary. bearing the source of the outbreak, their time is running out.

IN THE REMOTE Dravanian mountains, the nomadic Kolomykovi tribe of Viera worship pagan interpretation of the region's religious iconography. Vechzernitsa, the frozen fury of Coerthas. Sunder gone astray, the soul refusing to be split- the essence of the youngest contorts.
Vasily's aethersickness rapidly deteriorated in adolescence, erupting in full contagion upon the population. Those who did not fall first to the disease's physical effects fell instead to its hysteria, slaughtering one another beneath the gaze of their fury. Is it tragedy, or perhaps mere mercy to spare one's people from a prolonged, painful end?

« Howling Wind Vechzernitsa,
What have we done to invoke your anger?
How many must cry to quell it? »

LUCKY LITTLE VASILY, last of his people. All alone in the Coerthan wilds, witness to extinction at hardly eleven summers. How fortunate, to have been found in his potential final hours and hurried off to Ishgard. Enrolled in the Scholasticate and raised by the priests within, once Vasja learned their language, he came to constant odds with the institutionalized form of his faith. With his health- albeit somewhat managed- worsening, the arrangement seemed doomed to fail.

CLASH AFTER CLASH, the missionary who took him in could bear to see Vasja struggle no longer, pained by the constant insult he’d subjected the child to in attempt at mercy. Much to his screams and protests, Vasja was handed off to Sharlyan under the promise of better care.

THE CURIOUS CASE of Vasily Kolomykov puzzled scientists throughout the region. Patient turned subject- is your intent to fix, or to study? How wise Vasja grew, raised in the Studium. If something can be taken apart, it can be put back together, now better understood. Though to find one's body cut and severed, opened, picked, pulled apart- an anatomical gate of transcendence flung wide- what may find a way in?
Upon the fluorescent-lit table, a young mind cannot comprehend its own suffering, or the cruelty of the world to allow it. Longing for home, rationale takes other forms.

« Champion, my champion.
Your bravery, your endurance, how you weather my storms. Have faith, for my star's light glows within you. Should you prove your worth, a throne in my halls awaits. »

❝ I know better than to reveal this gift. How the Knights would quake with the rage they worship if they knew! Guide my hand, Vechzernitsa. Pin my eyes, and let my ear know not the absence of your voice. There could be no greater feat of strength, than to purify this body of rot- that which I yet endure, yet survive- proof in itself of my merit! My anger is piety, my screams are prayer. I shall let no other hand attempt to lay siege upon my prize. Righteous will be the world I govern at your side. Have faith in me, as I in you. ❞

> Is that true? <

PANACEA ELUDES HIM despite over a century of life in Sharlyan. Driven by delusion, religious psychosis, and pure spite, Vasily received an Archon title for his outstanding work in medicine, biochemistry, and engineering. He leapt at the chance to return to Dravania in founding a colony, but was hauled back for trial and charges following his questionable handling of an outbreak.
Though not sentenced, Vasja is now unwelcome in the upper echelons of Sharlyan, and now finds himself tangled up with Garlond Ironworks, various guilds, and private practice.

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At the end of it all, Vasja's illness persists, though so does he- a race against each other with no end in sight. No method too extreme, centuries of pursuit have rendered him quite the eccentric- going so far as to remove his own eye. Such long life, however, finds him often distracted by whims and side projects.

And to you, who could he be?
Teacher ◇ Pastor ◇ Mentor ◇ Academic Rival ◇ Student ◇ Doctor ◇ Historian ◇ Spiritual Guide ◇ Target of Investigation ◇ Co-Researcher ◇ Idol ◇ Looney-Tunes Archnemesis ◇ Tom or Jerry ◇ Parental Figure

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⌂ crystal + diabolos

ROMANCE ✔ | WU/T ✔

for the thrill of the chase

+ age forgottenㅤ| race veena, mostlyㅤ| height 7'2"

+ gender maleㅤ| pronouns he/himㅤ | sexuality gay

+ occupation voidsent hunter

+ origin skatay range / residence none

+ job dark knight, lancer

DEMEANOR | vacant. hazy, half-lidded eyes, vision lacking focus. there's fluidity to his movements, as if walking on air. slow, yet musical speech, thoughts blatantly elsewhere. it feels as though there are four eyes upon you, and all see something you do not. a cadence wrought with pity. all the world seems to be beneath him, and its inhabitants mere entertainment.

Overview

+ LEFT TO ROAM IN ISOLATION, a fragmented soul finds truth only in itself. To shatter the mirror, freeing what has been lost- symbiosis requires sacrifice.

TO GUARD ONE'S LAND should be an honor. Beyond the Skatay Range, those of the Innjawesfv follow typical Veena tradition. Under harsh matriarchal rule, her men were to wander and hunt the peaks, defending their lands.
Sana took poorly to the obligation, growing to resent the society that would force him into individuality. Too immature to recognize the wisdom of solitude, of attuning to nature, his psychological state rapidly deteriorated- cracking entirely upon the realization that his purpose lay in reproduction and defense. On the infrequent allowed visit to their settlement, Sana lacked the social experience and understanding to find worth in their words. Value in what he had provided for, but could not enjoy. Selfish and starved of human connection, he hardly lasted a century in the role.

« Those Who Would Deny Me
a taste of my own fruit do not love me. They do not want me, nor see me. »

THE FROZEN CAVES of the Range made for frequent respite. A vast expanse, a system of connection and integration that did not need words. Persistent dripping, mysteries locked within subterranean glaciers- Sana often neglected his responsibilities in favor of deeper exploration, embraced by naught but his own reflection in the water.
ICE PRESERVES tissue, history, and essence. Time may forget, but the earth does not. Though a planar fissure beneath the Range had born swathes of voidsent unto the Source ages ago, those that remained of their soon-devoured numbers were frozen over, long encased within the glacial array.

HOW CRUEL THE COINCIDENCE, for Sana to stumble upon his own shard trapped in such a way. Contorted, decayed, and gaunt, Carmine of the Thirteenth hung in crystalline suspension before him. Sana was infatuated with the image, and became obsessed. Mind gripped with naught but his perceived beauty, time halted entirely for Sana as he worked to release the body from its prison. Such a stain could not know love, yet he would insist it so. Fitting, to find it in nothing but his own face.

« A piece of me has been restored. I was blind to my own incompletion. I weep, for I can no longer gaze upon him. He is the only one who understands. He thanks me for releasing him. I thank him for staying with me.»

> Where do I end? <

« He demands more than my body can give. For him, I will find a way. My former charge does not thank me. They do not visit. I can hardly remember their faces. I am glad to leave this place. »

> Where do you begin? <

MIND OVER MATTER, and a mutual perception of ownership. Carmine and Sana occupy one rejoined mind, ecstatic to be eternally intertwined. Sana delights in releasing control of his body, freed of the burden of the world he so grew to loathe. Carmine, a life stolen, now walks after millenia in paralysis. A hollow puppet, strings pulled by master lost in an unfamiliar world. In housing a voidsent parasite, Sana's body is deprived of aether. Without external sources, both souls will cease to be.

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Sana calls upon his youth and works now as a bounty hunter, perpetually seeking voidsent quarry for consumption. Carmine's disdain for life on this star bleeds through, saturating their centuries with boredom- quelled only in adrenaline. Vice after vice, seeking greater extremes, the voidsent's fusion has mutated Sana's body far enough to withstand the duress. Life near eternal, he wants not for money or status, and values a good time above all else.

And to you, who could he be?
Target ◇ Research Focus ◇ Hunter ◇ Combatant ◇ Temptation ◇ Accomplice ◇ Gambler ◇ Opponent ◇ Devotee ◇ Historical Relic ◇ Distraction ◇ SCP

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ONE UNWASHED SOUL, a single drop of contamination, and Andra would cease to be. His regulator ████████ █████ ██ , failing to properly cleanse the charge of identity and memories. Implanted with another person entirely, the effects were immediate. Abrupt changes in demeanor and preference, and a constant feeling of frustration- for mind to misalign body.
One body cannot hope to satisfy countless contested wills, but effort may ease the burden. Andra enrolled in Arcadion under an entirely new name and persona, hyper-accelerating the cycle and
████ █████ to █████.

« I love your life. It's not fair. I want to live like you forever. It feels so good, to be loved like this. Listen to how they cheer for us. Does it make you happy? I'm so happy. »

> MORE AND MORE LIKE YOU <

« It feels so good. It feels so, so good. When can I perform again? How should we perform today? Who should we be? Do you want to see me like this? It feels so good. Say you want to see me again. Say I did well. Tomorrow, I can try again. Tomorrow, I can try on someone else. I don't want to be him anymore. It's so wonderful, to be so free. It's so loud. So, so loud. »

> WHO ELSE COULD I BE? <

A WELCOME ERROR, each time Panic wakes up to the regulator's buzz, and a fresh crack in the mirror. A chance to try something new, though he often falls back on his favorites. To escape a miserable life, to be anyone but himself- such a thing is worth any price. A never-ending performance, each act more complicated than the last. Panic is well aware of the Arcadion's effects on him, and couldn't care less. His "connections" allow him access to a semi-antidote, slowing the process. Though he resents his mother, he is loyal to a fault, and will drop everything at her next command.

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Andra's current stint as the online personality 'Panic' sees him dual-wielding pistols in the arena as Cyb3rsh0t, and hoarding that spotlight all through the night. Taking all chances he can to be on camera, he streams fights and vaguely produces "music"- a stolen life lived in flashing lights has no time to reconcile with its burdens.

And to you, who could he be?
Arcadion Opponent ◇ social media opp ◇ niche micro-celebrity ◇ arcade rival ◇ fling ◇ parasocial idol ◇ Club rat ◇ partner in crime ◇ anti ◇ on-again, off-again ◇ 2am call

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