He doesn't look like much; he is slender and somewhat lanky, but there is some muscle under there, it's just hiding a bit. He has various tribal and stripe tattoos, never without a couple thin gold armbands, his left ear is pierced, and there's normally a silver stud in the right side of his nose. Interestingly, his hair is white with very violently bright hot-pink ends. Usually, he wears it loose with a very thick, loose headband, and a braid on the left side. His eyes are vibrant aqua.
What would you know of light? You are the darkness.
Ah, yes, but the brightest light casts the darkest shadow.
It is enough to say, one day, he was. He couldn't entirely tell you where, exactly, he came from anyway. By now, the memory has faded, almost entirely, though he remembers little bits and pieces, flickers of some creature or another, vague impressions of a vast field of stars. And singing... there was always singing, in the beginning, a calming song that somehow told of love and of war all at once.
His early years were spent wandering. Across the blackness, past the bright lights, and one day, he came across forests of green and clearest blue seas. It was true, at the time, and even now, that, he came to love that world he found, that world of green and blue. The sun rose on that world in the morning, painting the blue sky in pastels, and then it set in the evening, streaking the clouds pink and orange. He never did get over the colours, vibrant and alive.
Yet, perhaps unsurprisingly, he always had a mind to destroy. Even as he loved that world, coddled and protected it, he also set chaos and destruction in motion. After all, everything that had a beginning must someday have an end, for nothing is permanent, and it was the inability to hold onto anything that kept those that lived on that world together. Many feared him, for these destructive capabilities, for his ever-shifting demeanour, the nature that would change at the slightest nudge.
It took time. Eventually, people began to walk that world, right alongside the creatures that were already there. He doesn't remember when, now, and his memories seem to think that, at one time, there were no people at all, and then one day there were hundreds, bright-eyed and doe faced, ready to take on the world. Resourceful little things, they were, but oh so stupid and short-sighted. Much like the rest of this world, he came to love them, too, but also desired to destroy everything they built. Admittedly, he didn't destroy everything they build; just enough, to push them into growing, to force them to learn.
If one was going to live, after all, they may as well live the best they can, no?
In the earlier years of the humans, they learned alright. But something changed, along the way. To be honest about it, he isn't sure what changed, only that it did and at some point, the two-legs seemed to be less interested in learning, and more interested in copying him. Oh, the destruction they spread, the havoc they wreaked, on none but themselves, even. Such silly, petulant children, they were, and he sat, and he watched, and he both laughed and cried for the irony of it all. There was no need to destroy, anymore, not for him. The two-legs did it all for him, and he just sat back and watched.
The Great One had but one rule; do not interfere. The creatures of this world were gifted with souls, with free-will, and it was up to them what they did with either. It soon became apparent, however, to him; they had no idea how to use the gifts they had been given. Even the little warrior things, that created, and then lived and worked alongside the others, hadn't the faintest idea. Their childishness and inability to see too far past their noses caused all sorts of extra trouble, destroyed much of Tyrrhenia, killing off humans and others alike, and in the end, the people fled, but where to, this one wondered. Word came, through the Other rumour vine; a new government had arisen from the ashes of the ones before, and were dealing more destruction than their predecessors, if that was even possible.
It was time, he thought. Time to stop being merely a nightmare, a tall-tale story, told to children to frighten them into using their heads. For the first time in many sunrises and sunsets, he left the place he'd stayed and watched from, and sought out a friend, a warrior that he could teach to live.
He found that warrior -- or he thought he did. The truth was likely much different, but he did not realise this until much later, long after they began working together. They saw much of Tyrrhenia side by side, fought in many battles together, felled many enemies, and he had thought that, someday, his warrior might become one of the greatest Tyrrhenia had ever seen. He wonders, now, if perhaps all Others think that, when they bond with a two-leg in such a way. If they all become blind to their two-leg partner's corruption and insanity, until it is too late.
She turned on him, one day. The bond was broken, and the damage done before he really processed what had just happened. He simply went on his way. And then, and only then, did he really understand heartache. He would have stayed there, where he'd crashed into a mountainside, a heap of red and white feathers too tired to care and too numb to give a damn. Perhaps he would have perished, in time. It seemed, though, that the Great One was not yet done with the Other of Destruction. As he lay half on a ledge and half dangling off the cliff-side, watching the stars take their journey across the blackened skies, the sunlight paint the clouds, he soon discovered he was not alone.
It took several days, but, eventually, the young boy came from the mountain pass, struggling through the slopes and the crumbling rock. It was going to get cold, soon, he said. The bird Other couldn't stay here, he said. He didn't care; instead of answering the young two-leg, he keened in quiet sorrow, mourning the loss of a bright star, and buried his beak in his wing. The boy, on the other hand, refused to give up. He stayed.
One morning, the bird awoke to find the boy missing. Despite his state of apathy, he found himself panicking; had the boy fallen down the cliff-side to his doom in the night? Had some less friendly Other snatched him up for dinner? His panic didn't last long, before he heard quiet little foot-falls not far, as the boy scurried through the mountain pass. He was beginning to get good at it, the bird noted, as he deftly manoeuvred through the rocks, coming to stop beside him.
Over his shoulder was a sack the bird hadn't seen before. The boy set it down, opening it to reveal a pile of different kinds of fruits and vegetables. "I wasn't sure what you like," he said. "So I got a bit of everything I could find. I haven't seen you eat yet. It's been a week, almost." A week? The measurement of time, it meant nothing to the Other, but he keened in response, anyway. "Strawberries are my favourite," the boy went on, picking a small, pale pink-coloured berry out of the sack. "Try it?" he asked, holding the berry toward the Other's beak.
As it happens, the bird also liked strawberries.
The boy never quite gave up on him, even as the bird had seemingly given up on himself. Every few days, the boy would come back, carrying a sack, and set it down to reveal a pile of foods. Which ones began to change, over time, as the boy discovered which ones the bird actually liked, and which ones he didn't, and shifted the arrangement to suit the Other's tastes. It seemed he liked sweet and sour fruits, but didn't really care for spicy ones.
The bird learned the boy was called "Jadyka," or just Jady, by his friends and his brother. The bird wondered if his brother was just as confusing as he was, because Jady was very confusing to him. He never asked; actually, the bird never used words with him at all. Despite that, Jady never stopped talking to him. The bird hadn't realised, until Jady refused to go away, that he was lonely. But, just as Jady brought his attention to the fact that he was lonely, he chased it away, and soon, he wasn't lonely, any more. In fact, the bird had come to look forward to the days the boy would come through the mountain pass.
Yet, everything that has a beginning, has an end. And soon enough, many sunrises and sunsets later, Jadyka hadn't come in quite a while. The bird had little concept of time, but he felt it'd been a long time. He started to worry... and when someone finally came, it wasn't Jadyka, but a different young boy, carrying the same sack Jadyka brought fruits in. He set it down by the Other, like Jadyka always did.
"My brother said to come," he explained. "He can't right now." The bird must've looked curious, confused, perhaps both, because the boy went on. "He had a bad fight in the fighting rings." What was a fighting ring? The bird didn't press for an answer, just munched on berries, instead. Unlike Jadyka, his brother didn't stay long, before he turned and went back toward the lights that the bird knew, now, the two-legs had started living in. Wherever there was a sea of lights, there was a two-leg city, bustling and vibrant. He wanted to see what was in those seas of lights, but, perhaps he wouldn't. No, he'd stick out in a place like that. As if he didn't already, anyway.
Jadyka didn't come again for a while. Instead, his brother came, set down a sack of fruits, and left. In time, the bird began to wander again, exploring. Tyrrhenia had changed, since last he had moved around. But he knew he would; the accidental destruction set forth had made things much worse for the entirety of Tyrrhenia. It took a while, but Jadyka finally came back. He stayed and talked as the bird munched on the berries he brought, as always he did; but something was different, this time. His demeanour had changed, he'd become... smaller, somehow.
The boy wasn't very old, perhaps something like twelve, if he was any good at guessing two-leg ages. He didn't question the boy, instead, letting him ramble as he would. Eventually, as the stars made their way across the night sky, the boy fell asleep in a heap against his feathers.
And the bird... the bird was just happy to know his two-leg was safe. When, exactly, the boy had become his two-leg, he couldn't tell, but he had. He wanted to know what this fighting ring thing was. And so, when the boy left the next morning, the bird did, too. He knew where he'd go. He'd sensed it before, the feel of very old fox spirit.
If he wanted answers, he'd get it from another Other, not a random two-leg. After all, the bird still had troubles trusting two-legs. Jadyka was a special exception, not the rule.
The bird got his answers, all of them, over a glass of tea that never seemed to disappear very quickly. He was too absorbed in listening to the tales, learning the stories, finally coming to understand the intricate tapestry that was this destruction the Tyrrhenians had unleashed. And it left him with quite the sour taste in his mouth.
The rumours were not exaggerated. These people, the United Republic, were dangerous. Still, the Great One's rule was still in place. It was not the place of the Asuras to interfere, and yes, somewhere along the way, the bird came to understand he was one of those Asura things, and thus he fell under that jurisdiction. While the bird didn't fear much, he did at least respect the Great One enough to abide by its rules.
But, nothing was ever said about this particular situation; Jadyka was twelve years old. Far too young to be fighting and killing just to keep his siblings alive. And the cycle would never break, from what he understood.
The fighting rings gained a new contender. A mysterious white haired man, the ends tipped a vibrant pink-red, eyes a bright aqua. As luck would have it, he was quite good at this fighting stuff, and quickly rose to become one of the most renowned fighters in the darn thing. First it was just to keep them fed and clothed, and get them medical attention when they needed it. And then he began to get a little... ambitious.
Again, he found he wanted to destroy. But, many of the most impoverished of Pyxis' population had come to depend on it as a means of income. Destroying the fighting rings would doom thousands to starve to death or die in other, equally unpleasant, and equally preventable, ways. So instead, he merely took care of the kids he'd adopted. He only had his last name, but he later came up with the name Maitra, and the kids all took it, eventually moving from Pyxis to Eridanus, around when Suyis retired out of the rings. The Maitras all gained decent jobs; Jadyka and Jahan went on to work for the Republic, both in Enforcement, but Jadyka later also joined the Special Other Forces. Jahan was barely Republic at all. One of their younger brothers became a scientist, a sister a doctor, another sister became a Handler, too. The bird kept adopting those less fortunate, those trapped in a cycle they didn't really understand the consequences of.
And the bird, now known as Suyis? He put his winnings to good use, establishing the first airship and machinery companies in Tyrrhenia. He became one of the richest men in the world, invented the term 'sponsor' and sponsors over 300 fighters in the rings, and eventually joined the Republic too. It is now very well-known, though not official in the least, that Pyxis is Suyis' territory.
In the time since then, he's taken to adopting orphans; as of now, he's adopted quite the number of them, many of which have gone on to become very successful and well-known names. A master of engineering, he's learned the ins and outs of airships and Daeni technology alike, and has friends, eyes, and ears, everywhere.
And he waits. For the day he can bring everything crashing down.