Name: Wohali
Age: 17
Birthday: January 21st
Gender: Male
Species: ½ Human, ½ Raven Mocker
Sexuality: Honestly uncertain
Religion: Cherokee Religion
Category: Student
Major: Senior
Appearance:
Personality:
Generally speaking, Wohali tries to come off as a rather stoic young man. He attempts distance from his environment at all times, but despite a his almost perpetually-slightly-annoyed vibe, he’s actually not a very haughty or arrogant person at all. When he engages in conversation, his responses are usually short, not too interested but not too forlorn. Light insults are dealt with witty commentary or an overall lack of concern, and no matter how ticked off he may seem at times, Wohali doesn’t usually go out of his way to pick a fight. He isn’t a jerk. Wohali simply tries to act aloof in social situations, somewhat unemotional and definitely unbreakable.
“Tries” is definitely the key word there.
In truth, Wohali is terribly awkward. He can handle casual situations well enough, having been around them his whole life, but when a situation moves into a more intense emotional territory… he kind of flails a little. For one, Wohali really doesn’t know how to handle outright anger from people, especially when directed at him. Instinct tells him to back down and take it, but mentality says to keep up the act, and so Wohali often comes off as more flippant and coarse than anything. He doesn’t know anything else to do. Sadness is also one thing that Wohali doesn’t know what to do with, and despite his best efforts to comfort people, he generally just ends up awkward, uncertain, and not helping a thing.
The worst of it all, though, is with affection. He takes that pretty weirdly. With sexual propositions and the like, Wohali responds with nearly uncharacteristic fire, not quite “anger” as much as it is an overall on-guard unhappiness, which is something he doesn’t like at all. Meanwhile, innocent gestures just kind of throw him off altogether. Wohali isn’t used to them at all and doesn’t know how to act, thus turning into a complete dork when faced with friendship and nice things. He’s really just awkward, often sporting a blush as well, despite his efforts to stop. It really ruins his tough guy act.
A lot of Wohali’s trouble with affection stems from his trust issues. Wohali doesn’t like to believe in anyone or anything, not if it’s anything more than just petty, and he’s very slow to accept people. When it comes to good charity and kindness, Wohali is extremely suspicious. He just doesn’t trust nice things, doesn’t believe that the people around him just might not be using him, and is always on guard to some degree. Random nice gestures are not quite red flags, but certainly orange. He doesn’t really respond well to random gifts and grants, more likely to question motives and grow annoyed than to blush and say thank you. It should also be noted that Wohali hates to be touched. Even innocent nudges and brushes freak Wohali out to some degree, and god forbid someone pull a move on him. Not happening, end of story.
In truth, Wohali actually screws up his mask quite often. He it very emotionally driven, despite his quest to appear stoic, with vibrant, volatile feelings that change with every interaction he has. The fluctuations make it hard to keep up his act, which is really nothing more than the man he wants to become, but there’s hardly anything he can do to fix it. For all his vivid emotions, Wohali really doesn’t understand them very well.
Most of Wohali’s trouble with expressing himself comes from his desperate need to prove something to the world - even if he doesn’t realize this core motive himself. His entire life, he was belittled, controlled and made to feel every last slight against him. It has hardened him, but not enough he feels, and he wants to prove to everyone that he’s more than what they’ve labeled him as. However, even more than his need to prove himself to the world is his need to prove himself to… well, to himself. Wohali has a very old, very deeply ingrained sense of inadequacy within him, created from the first time he was treated as less than human, from the first time his mother fought to make him believe he was great. Despite wanting to believe her, Wohali has a very hard time feeling he with worth much at all, and this is something that will take more than some nice words and a rescue to heal.
Beneath this is an anger that seems almost ever-present, constant to the point that Wohali hardly notices it anymore. It’s like a constant little burn in his chest, far at the back of his thoughts but always emitting a soft buzz, and it leaves Wohali at least slightly annoyed on most occasions. He notices the anger most during and after something triggers a flare, and the idea of it all is troubling. Wohali doesn’t know why he’s always angry; or rather, he does -it’s obvious - but it’s something in the past. Wohali believes he should have let it all go by now, even so soon after he left it behind, because it’s over. It’s done. It’s gone away physically, but the fact that it still haunts him mentally, that they still live in his mind, is troubling to say the very least. It’s something that directly contradicts the person Wohali wants to be.
Overall, Wohali wants to be someone who can’t be phased by his emotions and surroundings, because that’s what he thinks it means to be strong. It’s a skewed point of view, but all he’s had to go by so far are his own experiences, his own aches and hurts and self-dubbed failures, and Wohali considers himself weak. In his mind, pain, emotion and his current weakness are all part of a vicious cycle. He thinks that if he stifles his emotions, the pain will go away and his frailty will go along with it. If the weakness is gone, Wohali is be strong, and things wouldn’t phase him and break him anymore. If he can’t be broken, than he’s solid, and he’s proved he’s solid, untouchable and… okay.
That’s all Wohali wants. He just wants to be okay, to not hurt so much, and to feel like he’s worth more than the dirt on the ground when he goes to bed at night. Wohali wants to not be haunted by the nightmares of his past and finally just breathe, just fly, fly away from his problems and just have everything be alright. He wants to be strong like his mother always said he would be, and so if strength means shutting out his emotions and existing as nothing more than a stone… so be it.
Powers:
Charm:
Due to the publicity of his old resort and the owner’s need to control over his “employees,” all mythical creatures were designed their own custom charm. This charm is bound to them for life, able to be modified but not unlinked, and can only be destroyed. by high-level magic, both of the destructive and spell-breaking categories.
Wohali’s charm was designed to be both a masking agent and a controlling device. As far as masking goes, it is only capable of hiding Wohali’s large wings. However, it also gives its holder near complete control over Wohali’s actions - less petty tasks, such as “pick up that stick,” but more general rules, like “you won’t leave the house past eight.” It also gives the holder the ability to inhibit Wohali from using his powers. Finally, the charm overcomes the Raven Mocker’s weakness of dying within seven days of being spotted by a human, thereby allowing Wohali to exist in normal society.
The appearance of the charm is able to be changed at will by its holder, though its mass must remain about the same. It is currently in the form of a silver chain worn at all times around Wohali’s neck. The last person to be touching the charm is considered its holder.
Species Traits:
History:
Additional Information:
Permission given from Foxy to use her raven mocker’s lore.
Wohali was homeschooled rather than sent to public school. He is caught up to his year.
Age: 17
Birthday: January 21st
Gender: Male
Species: ½ Human, ½ Raven Mocker
Sexuality: Honestly uncertain
Religion: Cherokee Religion
Category: Student
Major: Senior
Appearance:
- 6’1” and not done growing
- Ectomorphic overall build, his body tall and with a leaner shape, but defined muscles/abs
- Black hair made of needle-thin, durable feathers
- All body hair actually made up of these same very thin, very soft feathers, about as durable as natural human hair. Grows in the same manner and can be shaved in the case of beards if he wishes.
- Olive skin, tiny dark freckles dotting his nose and shoulders if one looks closely
- Smaller scars spot him, especially on torso. Worse are a few light stripes along his back.
- Pale yellow-green eyes with a dark rim. Eyes become yellow-orange when using powers.
- May or may not have large, almost angelic-shaped black wings, depending on if he has shifted into them or not
- Keeps himself well-groomed and nice out of habit. May slack sometimes, but rarely more than with a bedhead and some lazy clothes.
- Generally keeps to darker colors, rarely too flashy or tight. Conservative about skin and rarely if ever goes shirtless in public. Usually dresses for comfort and modesty, but knows a little about style when he needs it. Doesn’t tend to care about designer brands — if it looks good, it looks good.
- Raven form is regular sized with no special notable attributes.
Personality:
Generally speaking, Wohali tries to come off as a rather stoic young man. He attempts distance from his environment at all times, but despite a his almost perpetually-slightly-annoyed vibe, he’s actually not a very haughty or arrogant person at all. When he engages in conversation, his responses are usually short, not too interested but not too forlorn. Light insults are dealt with witty commentary or an overall lack of concern, and no matter how ticked off he may seem at times, Wohali doesn’t usually go out of his way to pick a fight. He isn’t a jerk. Wohali simply tries to act aloof in social situations, somewhat unemotional and definitely unbreakable.
“Tries” is definitely the key word there.
In truth, Wohali is terribly awkward. He can handle casual situations well enough, having been around them his whole life, but when a situation moves into a more intense emotional territory… he kind of flails a little. For one, Wohali really doesn’t know how to handle outright anger from people, especially when directed at him. Instinct tells him to back down and take it, but mentality says to keep up the act, and so Wohali often comes off as more flippant and coarse than anything. He doesn’t know anything else to do. Sadness is also one thing that Wohali doesn’t know what to do with, and despite his best efforts to comfort people, he generally just ends up awkward, uncertain, and not helping a thing.
The worst of it all, though, is with affection. He takes that pretty weirdly. With sexual propositions and the like, Wohali responds with nearly uncharacteristic fire, not quite “anger” as much as it is an overall on-guard unhappiness, which is something he doesn’t like at all. Meanwhile, innocent gestures just kind of throw him off altogether. Wohali isn’t used to them at all and doesn’t know how to act, thus turning into a complete dork when faced with friendship and nice things. He’s really just awkward, often sporting a blush as well, despite his efforts to stop. It really ruins his tough guy act.
A lot of Wohali’s trouble with affection stems from his trust issues. Wohali doesn’t like to believe in anyone or anything, not if it’s anything more than just petty, and he’s very slow to accept people. When it comes to good charity and kindness, Wohali is extremely suspicious. He just doesn’t trust nice things, doesn’t believe that the people around him just might not be using him, and is always on guard to some degree. Random nice gestures are not quite red flags, but certainly orange. He doesn’t really respond well to random gifts and grants, more likely to question motives and grow annoyed than to blush and say thank you. It should also be noted that Wohali hates to be touched. Even innocent nudges and brushes freak Wohali out to some degree, and god forbid someone pull a move on him. Not happening, end of story.
In truth, Wohali actually screws up his mask quite often. He it very emotionally driven, despite his quest to appear stoic, with vibrant, volatile feelings that change with every interaction he has. The fluctuations make it hard to keep up his act, which is really nothing more than the man he wants to become, but there’s hardly anything he can do to fix it. For all his vivid emotions, Wohali really doesn’t understand them very well.
Most of Wohali’s trouble with expressing himself comes from his desperate need to prove something to the world - even if he doesn’t realize this core motive himself. His entire life, he was belittled, controlled and made to feel every last slight against him. It has hardened him, but not enough he feels, and he wants to prove to everyone that he’s more than what they’ve labeled him as. However, even more than his need to prove himself to the world is his need to prove himself to… well, to himself. Wohali has a very old, very deeply ingrained sense of inadequacy within him, created from the first time he was treated as less than human, from the first time his mother fought to make him believe he was great. Despite wanting to believe her, Wohali has a very hard time feeling he with worth much at all, and this is something that will take more than some nice words and a rescue to heal.
Beneath this is an anger that seems almost ever-present, constant to the point that Wohali hardly notices it anymore. It’s like a constant little burn in his chest, far at the back of his thoughts but always emitting a soft buzz, and it leaves Wohali at least slightly annoyed on most occasions. He notices the anger most during and after something triggers a flare, and the idea of it all is troubling. Wohali doesn’t know why he’s always angry; or rather, he does -it’s obvious - but it’s something in the past. Wohali believes he should have let it all go by now, even so soon after he left it behind, because it’s over. It’s done. It’s gone away physically, but the fact that it still haunts him mentally, that they still live in his mind, is troubling to say the very least. It’s something that directly contradicts the person Wohali wants to be.
Overall, Wohali wants to be someone who can’t be phased by his emotions and surroundings, because that’s what he thinks it means to be strong. It’s a skewed point of view, but all he’s had to go by so far are his own experiences, his own aches and hurts and self-dubbed failures, and Wohali considers himself weak. In his mind, pain, emotion and his current weakness are all part of a vicious cycle. He thinks that if he stifles his emotions, the pain will go away and his frailty will go along with it. If the weakness is gone, Wohali is be strong, and things wouldn’t phase him and break him anymore. If he can’t be broken, than he’s solid, and he’s proved he’s solid, untouchable and… okay.
That’s all Wohali wants. He just wants to be okay, to not hurt so much, and to feel like he’s worth more than the dirt on the ground when he goes to bed at night. Wohali wants to not be haunted by the nightmares of his past and finally just breathe, just fly, fly away from his problems and just have everything be alright. He wants to be strong like his mother always said he would be, and so if strength means shutting out his emotions and existing as nothing more than a stone… so be it.
Powers:
Charm:
Due to the publicity of his old resort and the owner’s need to control over his “employees,” all mythical creatures were designed their own custom charm. This charm is bound to them for life, able to be modified but not unlinked, and can only be destroyed. by high-level magic, both of the destructive and spell-breaking categories.
Wohali’s charm was designed to be both a masking agent and a controlling device. As far as masking goes, it is only capable of hiding Wohali’s large wings. However, it also gives its holder near complete control over Wohali’s actions - less petty tasks, such as “pick up that stick,” but more general rules, like “you won’t leave the house past eight.” It also gives the holder the ability to inhibit Wohali from using his powers. Finally, the charm overcomes the Raven Mocker’s weakness of dying within seven days of being spotted by a human, thereby allowing Wohali to exist in normal society.
The appearance of the charm is able to be changed at will by its holder, though its mass must remain about the same. It is currently in the form of a silver chain worn at all times around Wohali’s neck. The last person to be touching the charm is considered its holder.
Species Traits:
Soul Eating:
Wohali is a Raven Mocker, a creature from Cherokee mythology otherwise known as an angel of death of sorts. Raven Mockers are known for their ability to consume the heart of a sentient mortal being and gain to their own lifespan the number of years their victim would otherwise have had left. Of this aspect, Wohali is no exception. For him, the craving to ingest souls is a near-constant ache, beginning as a small itch of hunger and growing with time to a full-blown ravenous craving. Though Wohali will not die from a lack of souls, he will progressively grow more desperate and feral the longer he goes without. About a month is the longest he can go without giving in to desperation. Also, Wohali is capable of digesting ordinary food options, but they do nothing to sate his hunger for souls.
In order to consume a soul, the person must be completely dead, whether by Wohali’s hand or another’s. If murdered, Wohali may gain anything from minutes to years tacked on to his own lifespan, depending on the age and relative health of the person prior to the murder (i.e. if a healthy 21 year old, could be upwards of 60 years. A 21 year old with terminal cancer, only months, depending on the state of illness). If the person had died of natural causes, illness or age for example, Wohali would gain nothing. Finally, in order for the soul to actually count, it must be under two hours since death unless preserved by a power of some sort.
Invisibility (Passive):
As all raven mockers do, Wohali has the power to turn near-invisible when eating souls or flying. It is not total invisibility, due to his status as a half-mocker, but he is undetectable unless someone is looking for him or has discovered him prior in the area. If one or both of the previous exceptions are met, the power will be negated - at least to the person who noticed her.
Flight/Shifting:
Wohali is capable of flight, just as any Raven Mocker is. However, due to his general lack of training in his human form, he is only able to hold a clumsy glide or hover for a few minutes. Practice makes perfect. Wohali is able to hide his wings at will due to his charm, but if the charm were to break, they would be constantly visible. Also, Wohali is able to shift into an average sized raven.This raven has no special abilities, but Wohali can hold flight in this form for up to 30 minutes.
Wohali is a Raven Mocker, a creature from Cherokee mythology otherwise known as an angel of death of sorts. Raven Mockers are known for their ability to consume the heart of a sentient mortal being and gain to their own lifespan the number of years their victim would otherwise have had left. Of this aspect, Wohali is no exception. For him, the craving to ingest souls is a near-constant ache, beginning as a small itch of hunger and growing with time to a full-blown ravenous craving. Though Wohali will not die from a lack of souls, he will progressively grow more desperate and feral the longer he goes without. About a month is the longest he can go without giving in to desperation. Also, Wohali is capable of digesting ordinary food options, but they do nothing to sate his hunger for souls.
In order to consume a soul, the person must be completely dead, whether by Wohali’s hand or another’s. If murdered, Wohali may gain anything from minutes to years tacked on to his own lifespan, depending on the age and relative health of the person prior to the murder (i.e. if a healthy 21 year old, could be upwards of 60 years. A 21 year old with terminal cancer, only months, depending on the state of illness). If the person had died of natural causes, illness or age for example, Wohali would gain nothing. Finally, in order for the soul to actually count, it must be under two hours since death unless preserved by a power of some sort.
Invisibility (Passive):
As all raven mockers do, Wohali has the power to turn near-invisible when eating souls or flying. It is not total invisibility, due to his status as a half-mocker, but he is undetectable unless someone is looking for him or has discovered him prior in the area. If one or both of the previous exceptions are met, the power will be negated - at least to the person who noticed her.
Flight/Shifting:
Wohali is capable of flight, just as any Raven Mocker is. However, due to his general lack of training in his human form, he is only able to hold a clumsy glide or hover for a few minutes. Practice makes perfect. Wohali is able to hide his wings at will due to his charm, but if the charm were to break, they would be constantly visible. Also, Wohali is able to shift into an average sized raven.This raven has no special abilities, but Wohali can hold flight in this form for up to 30 minutes.
History:
Wohali, in the beginning, was a mistake. An accident. Something that was never supposed to exist. Conceived through one of many bods faced with dubious consent, he was the product of a faceless man with faulty protection and a woman who had no say. A near abortion and a soulless bargain later, Wohali was born into a world his mother never wanted for him, but one his mother loved him too much to keep him from. He was a mistake, his mother would say, a cursed crossbreed between an eater of souls and a creature that should have been her prey. A mistake.
However, the raven mocker would tell her son, he was a gorgeous miracle as well.
The world Wohali was born into was one of chains and hierarchy. Countless beings from Native American myth all found themselves rooms here, bound by some charm or another and kept for labor and entertainment. It was a resort, Wohali would learn, a place for the rich and the vacationing to experience the ancient culture of the Native Americans. Large and spacious, with live-in, “costumed” employees and countless opportunities for fun, residents flocked to the Great Plains Resort. They were met with water features, forestry and open fields, rides and events scattered across the area, with staff putting on a seemingly endless show as they dressed themselves as creatures of mythology. Plays were held and clients were catered to, all under the facade of a perfectly public escape.
Inola, Wohali’s mother, was known to the public as the Raven, was always rather popular amongst residents for her disposition and spine-chilling species she “dressed as”. For residents, Inola would do everything from waiting tables and performing on stage to private storytelling and room service, all under the guise of a hireable, in resort, completely legal and completely human employee. However, for those with money and enough private intel, Inola and her coworkers were much, much more.
Forced to work long days and nights, the “employees” were stuck for life, charmed to look just human enough until more than the lie was stripped away. They presented themselves as loyal workers, but only until their doors were locked at night, chained and bolted from the outside. The employees wore smiles and hid bruises, and never tried to leave, for their spelled held them captive, hopeless, and controlled.
This realm of half-hidden slavery was the chilling hell into which Wohali was born.
In the beginning, he did little more than petty wir, shown to civilian residents as the child of a live-in worker who wanted to be like e-tsi (mama). Wohali spent his nights with Inola - most, anyhow unless she was required elsewhere - listening to her stories of their culture and race. Some nights, she would take Wohali’s hands as he wept over what they had to eat to survive, and how they had to serve others just to avoid pain. Wohali would shake as he spoke of how they all - everyone - was nothing in that resort, and Inola would wipe his tears, fighting back her own.
In these nights, Inola would say to her son, words musical in the language of the Cherokee, “You are more than nothing, Wohali. You are more than anything, everything, everyone who is here. You are more than the trash that they treat you as, more than the Little Crow they have made into your name. You… you are an eagle, my eagle, Wohali. It is your true name. It is who you are, and one day, my precious eagle, you will overcome all that stands in your way today. One day, you will spread your wings and soar over the ones who do us wrong, and you will inherit our true sky, our true world. You are strong, my eagle, stronger than them all. Never - never - forget that.”
His mother’s words would become the soundtrack to Wohali’s sanity as he continued through life, grasping at straws to find the strength Inola believed of him.
The day Wohali turned ten, he was moved into his own room, and at eleven, assigned a new building entirely. He would never see his mother again.
Wohali learned early on what secrets the resort held, raised around them, facing them every day. His only comfort was his youth, for the resort protected minors from the worst of it until they turned 18. This minor morality was Wohali’s haven, his promise, but as wandering eyes increased and inquiries were made in the dark, the promise did not hold. Wohali’s anchor began to crumble away with age fourteen, and by sixteen it had evaporated entirely. Wohali was a full employee, charmed by his bosses and bound by that charm. He lived life always hungry for a soul, as resources were limited, always aching to escape. All the while, Wohali fought to remember his mother’s words, but as her memory began to dull, so too did her declarations begin to fray.
Age seventeen finally brought a glimmer that had previously been alien to Whoali. It took the form of a man, pretty, with soft eyes and a smile that made Wohali wonder why he was inquiring in the first place. It was nothing solid yet - just an idea that the man didn’t seem like the others - but he refused to hope. Appearances were deceptive, Wohali knew. Resorts were nothing more than slave camps, and nice people were nothing more than liars. Still, he couldn’t help his confusion when, as information was exchanged and his newest orders were given, why the stranger seemed so sad.
Wohali entered the man’s room, a cheap thing on the first floor, with a mind to comply and a will, bruised and brittle as it was, still hanging on to its little old flame of rebellion. The heat was flickering, Wohali knew that night. Any longer and it might be snuffed entirely. However, when he expected a smirk, Wohali was met with stern eyes and another heartbroken smile. It baffled him, the way the man seemed so knowing, so sympathetic, despite everything else. Wohali was left wondering once more what such a man was doing in such a position as his, within half an hour, it had all become crystal clear.
It took some incredible convincing on the man’s, part, but after many exchanged words and a reluctant tug of his charm, Wohali escaped the resort. He soon found himself next to that same man on a boat, his physical charm now a seemingly decorative chain around his neck and free will for the first time in his life. Unsure of the full truth of his savior's words but warmed by the sheer kindness in the man’s voice, Wohali let himself mull over those half-believed words, over his last seventeen years and the next seven, seventeen, seventy to come. He was free. He was tasting freedom for the first time in his life, and that fire in his chest was beginning to flicker back to life. Through all the obstacles and chains and charms, he had finally, finally made that first leap from the nest.
Wohali wasn’t flying yet, but for the first time in a long time, he dared to hope he might.
However, the raven mocker would tell her son, he was a gorgeous miracle as well.
The world Wohali was born into was one of chains and hierarchy. Countless beings from Native American myth all found themselves rooms here, bound by some charm or another and kept for labor and entertainment. It was a resort, Wohali would learn, a place for the rich and the vacationing to experience the ancient culture of the Native Americans. Large and spacious, with live-in, “costumed” employees and countless opportunities for fun, residents flocked to the Great Plains Resort. They were met with water features, forestry and open fields, rides and events scattered across the area, with staff putting on a seemingly endless show as they dressed themselves as creatures of mythology. Plays were held and clients were catered to, all under the facade of a perfectly public escape.
Inola, Wohali’s mother, was known to the public as the Raven, was always rather popular amongst residents for her disposition and spine-chilling species she “dressed as”. For residents, Inola would do everything from waiting tables and performing on stage to private storytelling and room service, all under the guise of a hireable, in resort, completely legal and completely human employee. However, for those with money and enough private intel, Inola and her coworkers were much, much more.
Forced to work long days and nights, the “employees” were stuck for life, charmed to look just human enough until more than the lie was stripped away. They presented themselves as loyal workers, but only until their doors were locked at night, chained and bolted from the outside. The employees wore smiles and hid bruises, and never tried to leave, for their spelled held them captive, hopeless, and controlled.
This realm of half-hidden slavery was the chilling hell into which Wohali was born.
In the beginning, he did little more than petty wir, shown to civilian residents as the child of a live-in worker who wanted to be like e-tsi (mama). Wohali spent his nights with Inola - most, anyhow unless she was required elsewhere - listening to her stories of their culture and race. Some nights, she would take Wohali’s hands as he wept over what they had to eat to survive, and how they had to serve others just to avoid pain. Wohali would shake as he spoke of how they all - everyone - was nothing in that resort, and Inola would wipe his tears, fighting back her own.
In these nights, Inola would say to her son, words musical in the language of the Cherokee, “You are more than nothing, Wohali. You are more than anything, everything, everyone who is here. You are more than the trash that they treat you as, more than the Little Crow they have made into your name. You… you are an eagle, my eagle, Wohali. It is your true name. It is who you are, and one day, my precious eagle, you will overcome all that stands in your way today. One day, you will spread your wings and soar over the ones who do us wrong, and you will inherit our true sky, our true world. You are strong, my eagle, stronger than them all. Never - never - forget that.”
His mother’s words would become the soundtrack to Wohali’s sanity as he continued through life, grasping at straws to find the strength Inola believed of him.
The day Wohali turned ten, he was moved into his own room, and at eleven, assigned a new building entirely. He would never see his mother again.
Wohali learned early on what secrets the resort held, raised around them, facing them every day. His only comfort was his youth, for the resort protected minors from the worst of it until they turned 18. This minor morality was Wohali’s haven, his promise, but as wandering eyes increased and inquiries were made in the dark, the promise did not hold. Wohali’s anchor began to crumble away with age fourteen, and by sixteen it had evaporated entirely. Wohali was a full employee, charmed by his bosses and bound by that charm. He lived life always hungry for a soul, as resources were limited, always aching to escape. All the while, Wohali fought to remember his mother’s words, but as her memory began to dull, so too did her declarations begin to fray.
Age seventeen finally brought a glimmer that had previously been alien to Whoali. It took the form of a man, pretty, with soft eyes and a smile that made Wohali wonder why he was inquiring in the first place. It was nothing solid yet - just an idea that the man didn’t seem like the others - but he refused to hope. Appearances were deceptive, Wohali knew. Resorts were nothing more than slave camps, and nice people were nothing more than liars. Still, he couldn’t help his confusion when, as information was exchanged and his newest orders were given, why the stranger seemed so sad.
Wohali entered the man’s room, a cheap thing on the first floor, with a mind to comply and a will, bruised and brittle as it was, still hanging on to its little old flame of rebellion. The heat was flickering, Wohali knew that night. Any longer and it might be snuffed entirely. However, when he expected a smirk, Wohali was met with stern eyes and another heartbroken smile. It baffled him, the way the man seemed so knowing, so sympathetic, despite everything else. Wohali was left wondering once more what such a man was doing in such a position as his, within half an hour, it had all become crystal clear.
It took some incredible convincing on the man’s, part, but after many exchanged words and a reluctant tug of his charm, Wohali escaped the resort. He soon found himself next to that same man on a boat, his physical charm now a seemingly decorative chain around his neck and free will for the first time in his life. Unsure of the full truth of his savior's words but warmed by the sheer kindness in the man’s voice, Wohali let himself mull over those half-believed words, over his last seventeen years and the next seven, seventeen, seventy to come. He was free. He was tasting freedom for the first time in his life, and that fire in his chest was beginning to flicker back to life. Through all the obstacles and chains and charms, he had finally, finally made that first leap from the nest.
Wohali wasn’t flying yet, but for the first time in a long time, he dared to hope he might.
Additional Information:
Permission given from Foxy to use her raven mocker’s lore.
Wohali was homeschooled rather than sent to public school. He is caught up to his year.
