"Go ahead, tell me about yourself."
"...can I not?"
Arata
16 y/o | Male | Human/Angel
Student | High School | Remedial
Appearance Description:
A diminutive and unassuming child at 5’4, Arata’s small frame and his large eyes, combined with a hunched posture indicative of social anxiety or just plain laziness, gives him the countenance of a small mouse. Those with kinder impressions may think of him as pitifully cute, while those with harsher impressions will doubtlessly think of him as a spineless waste of space, a nobody in a world of unique existences. That’s fair and that’s fine. Arata’s obsidian hair, composed of long, thin strands that hang over his eyes as a final defense against actually having to look anyone in the eyes, is complemented by a ghostly pale complexion. Strange purple markings, as jagged as a tear or as perfect as an inkblot, mar the left side of his face, while his own eyes, a dark inkstone blue, are ringed with a burning red.
His gaunt build doesn’t truly lend itself all that well to any form of attire, but Arata still prefers to dress in all black when he can get away with it. Collared shirts are comfortable for him, and he carries a pair of black gloves with him at all times. The more parts of his body are covered up, the better, in his point of view, though the youth makes a point about not wearing any sort of headgear either. It’s a shame, really. If he filled out a little more, he’d be stepping past skeletal and reaching the state of ‘androgynous’ instead. And if he ever calmed down enough, to stop clenching them, his hands too are rather beautiful.
Long, thin, and lily-white, they are the hands of a pianist, poised gracefully and cool to the touch, with a touch that is at times unbearably delicate, at times unforgettably warm.
Personality Description:
Arata is a good person.
He is polite, respectful, quiet, sympathetic, and an all-around kind person. Though he has his prejudices, Arata is quick to correct them when they turn out to be false, often with a pained smile. He seems relatively unhappy with his personal shortcomings, and though progress is slow in amending them, he makes a genuine effort in anything he is tasked in. If nothing else, the youth is punctual, in spite of the unreliable look he has on his face, and strives to maintain social harmony for as long as possible. And when that sort of harmony isn’t possible any longer? Rather than picking a fight or starting an argument or anything like that, he does his best to compromise, often bending way back in order to accommodate others. It would be wonderful, after all, if he could just live quietly and unremarkably, being enough of an adult to realize that he lacks the power to affect the world in any serious manner because, when it really matters, his instinct is never to escalate the situation, but rather to deescalate it by completely removing himself from the equation.
Fighting is bad. Arguing is bad. Being too involved in anything is bad. The one true thing that matters is the peace that accompanies a colorless life. Compared to that, everything else is unnecessary.
Arata must be a good person.
Active Abilities:
weRnboEhsfdGhaehaAwfbNrhhaAeg – After speaking an incomprehensible incantation, Arata is able to manifest a strange, crude weapon, crafted of an unknown material and possessing immeasurable properties. Measuring machines malfunction when applied, while the results garnered from magical means fluctuate constantly. To the naked eye, however, this object appears to be a 2 meter long, 50 centimeter wide gray slab, attached to a long bar, giving it the vague countenance of a sword, club, or bat. Arata is unable to move this weapon, and others attempting to grab this weapon will find that their hands pass through it, as if it was gaseous. As it stands, this strange weapon is ‘locked in place’ where it is manifested, and appears to have no other effect outside of resisting any attempts to influence it.
Ataraxia – With his touch and his will, Arata can ease the suffering of the living and put the dead to rest. Those forcibly or willfully bound to the mortal world will be shifted permanently to the immortal realm after experiencing an all-encompassing sense of ataraxia. This overrides all necromantic or shamanistic abilities, and similarly overrides the spirit’s own will; once Ataraxia has been passed unto a spirit, they are wholly incapable of arriving into the Mortal Realm ever again. The effects of Ataraxia are far more muted upon living humans, serving more as a method of calming their emotions and clearing their thoughts. There have been mild pain-numbing effects observed alongside it, but generally, medication does better work than Arata’s strange ability in terms of dulling the pain one feels.
Passive Abilities:
The True Tongue – Arata is fluent in all languages, and can speak them in any dialect he desires, regardless of whether or not he has the physical mouth-shape to do so. This, however, does not allow him to decipher coded texts, nor does it provide him with the ability to transcribe wholly oral languages into written language. Without a basic understanding of the grammatical structure of the language he’s interpreting, Arata will be unable to explain to others the intricacies of what he’s translating.
The Black Gaze – Arata can see the living and the dead as what they are in their souls. Great sinners take the form of monstrosities, no matter how pleasing they are to the physical eye. Saints have a beauty that’s truly breathtaking. Often, people are displayed with their physical selves being overlapped by the worth of their soul, but true paragons of sin and virtue are completely overwritten by the weight of their souls. When his gaze is turned unto the dead, Arata can also discern what binds these scepters still to the realm of the mortal, whether personal attachment or magical force.
The Star’s Trespass – Arata can walk in any direction he likes, irrespective of gravity or other limitations. Whether it be water or air or the side of the building or anything else, it always feels to him as if he’s walking on flat ground. Though he is currently incapable of doing it voluntarily, due various mental blocks, Arata is capable of passing unharmed through physical and certain magical barriers as well.
Weaknesses:
The Imperfect Vessel – Arata has many side-effects that accompany the usage of his active powers. These side effects range from physical maladies, such as the sudden sprouting of white feathers over his skin or the abrupt emergence of superficial cuts over his arms and legs, to mental maladies, such as the loss of memories or being unable to speak in any language other than something completely indecipherable.
The Sinner’s Fervor – Arata’s body will immediately begin to immolate if he attempts to physically or magically harm a divine figure aligned with an aspect that can be considered ‘good’ or ‘neutral’, as well as any individuals who have received their blessing or have devoted themselves to these divinities. Though he is capable of powering through that immolation as it begins, his body will burn hotter and hotter as he continues to commit these ‘sins’, until Arata finally stops or dies. These flames will not harm anyone other than himself, but otherwise acts as normal flames do. No physical or magical effect can interfere with or quell this punishment.
Common Magical Items: N/A
Biography:
It smelled like water and stone, sweat and salt. There was something sweet. He was surrounded in it. Figures in the distance moved, white shadows distorted into strange shapes. Cinnamon flavored euphoria, based on powdered half-humans.
They pushed it in. He learned not to struggle ages ago, but his spine trembled nonetheless. Watched it course through his veins, coloring his form. Purification, they called it. Removing the excess, discarding what’s unnecessary. It was always so white, so empty. The world was nothing but a box.
He looked out and saw a mass of white feathers. A small hand popped out, a mouth and chin exposed. Their words had no meaning. His words had no meaning. But it was there still. A warmth. A companionship. He had meaning.
The white shadows watched. Always watched. Through mirrors, through boxes, through masks, through walls. Watched and waited every time they pushed in more fluids that polluted his veins and made him pure, every time they drew more blood and disassembled his thoughts. But he knew it too. Disinterest and frustration, a fascination with the other one.
He saw the wings.
Her feathers long molted off.
He saw the face.
Her eyes ringed with brilliant flame.
He saw her beauty.
Her soul singing to the core of his being.
The white shadows knew it.
He knew it.
She was perfect.
And he was not.
But for his sake, she drowned that small, small world in flame.
And for his sake, she delivered him from perdition unto paradise.
They pushed it in. He learned not to struggle ages ago, but his spine trembled nonetheless. Watched it course through his veins, coloring his form. Purification, they called it. Removing the excess, discarding what’s unnecessary. It was always so white, so empty. The world was nothing but a box.
He looked out and saw a mass of white feathers. A small hand popped out, a mouth and chin exposed. Their words had no meaning. His words had no meaning. But it was there still. A warmth. A companionship. He had meaning.
The white shadows watched. Always watched. Through mirrors, through boxes, through masks, through walls. Watched and waited every time they pushed in more fluids that polluted his veins and made him pure, every time they drew more blood and disassembled his thoughts. But he knew it too. Disinterest and frustration, a fascination with the other one.
He saw the wings.
Her feathers long molted off.
He saw the face.
Her eyes ringed with brilliant flame.
He saw her beauty.
Her soul singing to the core of his being.
The white shadows knew it.
He knew it.
She was perfect.
And he was not.
But for his sake, she drowned that small, small world in flame.
And for his sake, she delivered him from perdition unto paradise.
In the aftermath of an explosion that revealed a massive man-made cavern underneath a mountain, staff from Manta Carlos Island came to the site to find a young boy of Asian descent at the bottom of the cave. After his supernatural abilities came to light, he was quietly given citizenship to the island and taught privately until he gained enough common sense to live by himself.
Though further reports of cavern-exposing eruptions have been received in the two years since this child had been found, attempts to locate this ‘winged perfection’ have been largely unsuccessful, and it has been deemed that his memory is unreliable at best.
For now, Arata lives under light surveillance, as his set of abilities has largely been deemed harmless.
Resources: Due to the kindness of the Academy, Arata has most of his basic living expenses and school supplies covered, but other than that, does not have much in the form of personal possessions.
Additional Information:
Arata is particularly fond of chicken noodle soup.
Despite not receiving any instruction, Arata is a masterful pianist.
His favorite place to be is to be in the bottom of his bathtub, submerged in hot water.
Arata's themes are Flos and Lilac.
Credits
Hoshino Kazuki and Otonashi Maria from Utsuro no Hako to Zero no Maria, Fanart by Ukai Saki.
Commissioned art by ShiawaseArt.
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Name: Arata