LET'S CHASE THE SUN,

summer lover

OH, YOU ARE WRETCHED & GLORIOUS & SO AM I. LET'S CHASE THE SUN WHILE IT STILL BURNS FOR US.

darling girl takes to the skies like a fish to water, freedom aching in her bones like the softest love song after having known nothing but how to be held like a knife.& she mourns her old captain in the only way she knows how to: she takes his dreams and makes them her own. WE CANNOT SAVE EVERYONE BUT GOD WE MUST TRY and she tries so hard to be good and just and light-kissed, but—( oh, forgive her. this is just another little lie: she would gouge out the beating heart of the world if her crew asked it of her. )& she is trying to reconcile the idea of who she wants to be ( golden underneath the sun, touched by light, loved & loved & loved ) with the idea of who she is— baby, she's aching for a reason to live, so forgive her when she'd rather strike a match & light up the entire world if only to watch the sun dawn on her dearest crew.the knife that turns inside you— that, my dear, is love.

rules

ign. zero arsenic
timezone. cest
discord. available upon request

muse and mun are both 21+ !
ooc does not equal ic ! the opinions and actions of my character do not correlate with my own views.
you have my permission to harm my character however you'd like, so long as there is no godmodding or metagaming involved ! in fact, acts of violence are welcome.
due to the nature of this character & the themes that this character plays with, i would prefer that my rp partners be 18+.
i'm quite fond of continuous & plotted roleplay— if you're interested in a particular hook or have an interest in making a connection with zero or the dreadwyrm crew, please let me know !

sunlight

name. zero
age. appears mid-twenties
pronouns.ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ she&her
race. seeker miqo'te
sexuality. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤpansexual
occupation. skypirate & dreadwyrm captain
affiliations. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthe dreadwyrm crew

pale white curls that are sun-limned, windswept and held back in a messy ponytail. an ever-present grin, red-lipped and bright, with dimples that touch at cheeks. heavy lashes, red markings lining the inner and outer corners of her eyes; a nose that is prone to scrunching and graceful features.eyes that often hold warmth— eyes the colour of the summer-bright sky, eyes the colour of the dreadwyrm’s aether sparking at fingertips— set ‘neath pale brows.soft & pointed ears, decorated with gold filigree & delicate chains, coloured that same bone-white and pale pink. jewels that glitter ‘neath the sunlight, nestled in her hair and pierced through the base of her ears. often seen with a linkpearl.a strange, shimmering tattoo inked across the upper parts of her shoulders & chest, delicate markings trailing down the curve of waist & hips.

DON'T BE AFRAID, THERE IS NO SHAME. LET ME SEE YOU, & BE SEEN. LET ME SEE YOU & STAY.

captain of the dreadwyrm, a ship that found new life in its current crew— crazy for the unbreakable dawn. she holds the ship & her crew in the softest parts of her heart, echo-tied & filled with the tender violence of love.loves to chase the setting sun & loves the way hands were made to hold other hands. filled with the wanderlust most known to her & hers; very rarely sets foot on solid land.all else is transient, save for the endless sky & the horizon that beckons them home.

LIKES
the touch of fingertips to head & the warmth of sunlight crossing the deck; laughter in the early morning; pressing her palm against the railing of the ship & singing to livingwood; witch-weather: flying through levinlight & torrential rain.

DISLIKES
the wet goop of cracked eggs thrown at her forehead; the feverish desperation of being cornered in a bad situation; trembling fingers & the icy chill of despair; losing & the fear of never being found; fingertips slipping through fingertips.

abilities
misc.

abilities

she's got a type of regeneration that makes her nigh-impossible to kill; the problem is that in return, the void takes the best parts of her ( the parts of her that she loves the most ) until she's nothing but a thing of violent passions & terrible rage, until she bursts awake with red hands & redder thoughts.her wounds stitch themselves with shadow, her blood flows tar-dark & drips lke some kinda' viscous liquid, & half her body could be taken away & still, she'd keep dragging herself forward. taken too far, the only parts of her that survive would be the ones that are the most useful: a beating heart caged in a hollow chest, limbs held against torso with sticky-shadow puppeteer strings, & two sky-bright eyes.despite her own vitality, & despite all of her efforts ( oh, what she would give to be able to soothe wounds on others rather than on herself ), she is unable to heal anyone else.

I； the void ark left her rotting from the inside-out, unending hunger sinking its violent claws into her aether. she doesn't believe in gods, but she'd prayed to them because her first captain was the praying kind of man; the void took her words & twisted them until she became something unrecognizable.II； she'd clasped the bones of her former crew to her chest & begged on her knees for the ability to bring them back; they'd promised her that they would live forever— but the void ark took her crew and chewed them up and spit out only gristle and bone.III； so the void took her prayers & fixed them to the only thing that was left: a shard of the same brightsteel that grew from the dreadwrym herself. she named it korze for sword, and it was smelted into her only blade.III； & she feeds into her blade; hungry & hollow & desperate for something to call her own, she prays ( again ) for the power to bring her crew back, but what came crawling through the void-touched walls of the ship came back wrong.

about
misc.

misc.

has skylegs; uncannily graceful while on ships ( sea or air ) and during aerial combat, but strangely clumsy if her feet remain on solid ground. will trip over herself, unfortunately, but often rights herself back up.
likes basking in the sun & staying in warmer climates; you may find her mostly sunbathing on the deck of the ship or visiting some kinda' sunny area on the rare few times that she does wander off the dreadwyrm.
incredibly chatty; will talk your ears off, if you let her. on the flipside, she also adores listening to other people talk— which may or may not balance her out. she will trade stories ( or even artefacts & hunts ) for stories.
has a strange sense of personal space; too much time spent amongst her crew has made it so that she's always constantly unsure of how affectionate she can be to people she doesn't know that well. incredibly touchy-feely, but will often try to restrain herself around polite company.
holds a strange fascination ( like the rest of her crew ) with eggs.

about
abilities

ㅤmainverse.

captain of the dreadwyrm & her crew; cursed with a bastardized form of the echo, with which she's tied to the first circle of the crew— and vice versa.it's all love & obsession right down to the core of it, like the dreadwyrm's the only thing she can bring herself to love, like all she knows is the vast blue of the sky & the clouds down below.& it's easy for her to adore you, and it's just as easy for her to let go. in this world, the only thing she'd keep close to her heart is her ship & the crew that haunts it.

ㅤwol!verse.ㅤ

constantly, desperately, & ceaselessly trying to be good, trying to be worthy ( worthwhile, worth loving ) of the hopes & prayers & dreams of everyone she'd ever met, and of those she hadn't.the void ark left her a gaping hollow in the place where her heart should be, and she's trying to fill it up in the only way she knows how to: making herself useful, making herself into a hero,the same way her old captain had. there's a tender sort of sorrow that makes itself home in her, a haunting of her own creation, but god, let her see the dawn. let her people be shrouded in sunlight.

history

ACT I. what comes before does not matter. ( the scent of smoke bleeding into your lungs, war like a bark of violence that buries itself into your veins— the eyes of the god-emperor ziggurat smoky with every other land in hydaelyn throwing themselves at the foot of the empire’s altar. resistance is futile, darling, when throats are bared and begging for the heel of garlemald’s boot: there is no room for failure when you are the monster under your bed— when you are the shadow that looms across eorzea. )because for a time, the only thing you knew was the sick way a hunting-song sends a flush through your veins— that is all you were, little savage, in the eyes of the empire you had no choice but to worship, for what else is there to do in the shadow of garlemald? but you believed that this was the only way you knew how to live, so before you named yourself zero, you fit your mouth around the name hund.you were sent to doma: you, with the leash around your neck like it’s the closest thing to home you’d ever get. what comes after is a blur of memories you’d rather forget; mistakes upon mistakes that ousted you from the empire. ( WE ARE NOTHING IF NOT THE MISTAKES OF OUR FOREFATHERS. THIS IS NO DIFFERENT. ) you fled in the night, leaving everything but the clothes on your back and a wayward ( almost-forgotten ) dream hammering in your throat.you were lucky. your steps led you into the arms of the mol— and for a time, the prairie-song of the tribes ‘neath their god settled the beat of your heart. ( it was not enough. ) there’s a part of you that can’t live without being hunted— a part of you that can’t live without hunting, but the tribe that pressed the kindest touch to your head that you’d ever known was like a lamb amongst the wolves of the steppe.the only thing you could do, then, was to promise yourself that this was enough; that you could starve that awful thing in your chest and relearn the tender light of a smile. ( not enough, that horrible thing in your heart says to you in the darkest of nights. never enough. )you were never bred for peace.

ACT II. little wonder, then, that your next adventure begins with you in a sack. next, the brightest smile you’ve ever seen— and too-blue eyes that hold the entirety of the sky. he tells you that he kidnapped you for your strangeness ( what, a miqo'te living amongst the tribes? ‘ve never seen anything stranger. )but you’re too enamoured with his laugh to feel indignant.he presses gentle fingers to the railing of the ship and calls her his dreadwyrm, and the sweet hum of aether is enough to settle the sick thing that ebbs in your chest. ( if only for a moment, it is enough. )this must be the end; for the first time in forever, home is a word that you sink your teeth into— for the first time in a long time, your bones ache like honey with the thought of the future.him and his smile and the warmth of the crew and the endless expanse of sky— if this isn’t enough, then nothing else would ever be enough. ( everything good you’ve ever had has crumbled to dust between your fingertips; this will be no different. )

INTERLUDE. you blame yourself entirely— you bury the bones of your crew beneath the shadows of the steppe, hands red-raw and stone-scraped until there are no more bones left to bury. ( you are old enough to understand that when your captain left you the ship, herald to a thousand year old legacy borne in blood and in broken promises, he left you a shell of what had been. )oh, darling, you are a half-thing writ in loss and love; not monster enough to bring the whole world down with you, not person enough to live any other way.if only you were crueler, meaner, colder— if only you could hold his body in your arms, but the void ark left you nothing but a pile of dead men’s bones. ( you never did ask khel how she got her hands on them; some things are better left unsaid. ) if only you could justify the terrible thing in your heart; the way it wants to turn your hands kill-blood red, the way it wants you to break for the things you love,but you are a half-thing bathed in the light of a too-bright smile and eyes that hold the entirety of the sky. you are too-soft to heed the sickness that claws at your lungs— and too-awful to forget the things that have made you into a beast.if you cannot be a person or a monster, then you will be a ghost. ( are you haunted or are you the haunting? )

ACT III. & after a long time, after what feels like forever stretching on into the horizon, after frantic laughter & quick steps & kindred spirits ( heists gone right, heists gone wrong, and everything else in between ), you are happy again. and maybe this is why you still exist: to endure, despite, and maybe your prayers and hopes and all the desperation that rots in your bones have reached a god.for the first time ( the second first time, the only first time that has mattered since those silent nights you’ve drifted through the halls of the ship ) in a long time, the dreadwyrm is alight with life and laughter.monsters and beasts and half-things writ large, darling— you fall in love all over again with the violence, knowing that you are all broken things collapsing against each other without a home to call your own.you swear that you will not let anyone take this away from you.

the dreadwyrm

SHIP TYPE； skyship
SHIP SIZE； colossal
ALLEGIANCE； the dreadwyrm crew

they say the first captain drew the ship from the air, breathed blood and prayer into the sky itself and watched as the firmament shivered with promises voiced low. swear the moon herself bowed her head when she gazed upon the dreadwyrm, swear she was beside herself with envy— and still still still sweetly dotted the curve of its hull with silver and moonshine.it’s all blue silver black, baby, all sleek lines and slender shimmer and dragonfly wings mounted upon the blue of its slope. the wings are a type of diamond mounted upon brightsteel and the hull itself shivers like a bell, as if it knows how to breathe.maybe it does.in the dawnlight, you can hear the ship singing something like a hymn, all in perfect fourths— it sends shivers down your spine, doesn’t it, the simple perfection of it all,and this terror-bright joy is mirrored in the faces of its crew. if you’re not one of them, you won't be able to see their faces when they're on the ship, and they’re shrouded with a radiant halo that touches their shoulders like a cloak. it’s all glory with teeth, baby, and you’re right in the middle of it.sometimes in the dead of night, the ship itself sings like LIVINGWOOD, and maybe it is a thing that lives & lives again; there’s something terrible about the attachment the first circle has to their ship– something obsessive, something catastrophically possessive. they say the ship is haunted. oh, but if it’s haunted, then it’s gotta’ be haunted by its crew– all dead things that don’t know they’re dead.

crew

it flies a dark silk flag with the stylized shape of the dreadwyrm on it, lacquered in the kinda’ material that lends a shimmer to the shape, the kinda’ twinkle you see out at night when the sky’s all dream-clear and the ship’s humming gently underneath your fingertips. the hull itself is outfitted with several RAILGUNS that you swear are in the shape of an egg, all slender curves and silver dotting the slope of them. the captain swears they’re not eggs, so they’re not eggs, but a portion of the projectiles do crack open, revealing pools of GREEK FIRE.she does, however, admit to having a buncha’ EGG GUNS aboard the ship.the maw of the figurehead gapes open to reveal a system of HOOKS AND SPIKES all with the intention of pulling ships closer to the dreadwyrm. when you ask about it, the assistant engineer rolls their eyes, citing an ironic need for vore. you get that wood would splinter easily under its teeth.it’s all aether-runed, baby, ENCHANTED— or so they say— by a saint. its flight is silent, other than the joyous song the ship itself sings, and wind resistance is negligible. it doesn’t easily catch on fire and at night it’s like a ghost-ship— during the day, it’s all holy holy holy ( shit ).they don’t have real dragons ( terrible pity, that ), but some crew members are partnered with different BEASTS— ranging from nests of snakes to prides of lions to flocks of sparrows. they’re called life-partners for a reason; a crew member will only be partnered with one family of— ranging from four to seven— beasts for a lifetime.

hooks

if you're ㅤthe type to hunt for treasure,

then you may have heard of the dreadwyrm and the skypirates that call her home. it's said that they never miss a hunt; that they'd raced the setting sun straight to the other side of the world.for the right price, they'll find even the most dangerous of treasures; for the right price, they'll find anything that exists.

ㅤif you're short on time & money,ㅤ

know that the bounty on the crew is not insubstantial; know that the bounty on a certain captain's head is more than enough to tempt even the rich to move.feel free to hunt her down,if you can find her in the blue of the skies, that is.

if you work in the darkest parts of the city,

then you may have heard of the people she keeps company; violence for violence's sake is the way of animals, and oh, they are beasts with their eyes glinting in the dark.if you have a request, & if you have the right form of payment, she's more than happy to guide you further into the deep.

ㅤfor those with aethersight,ㅤ

the roiling surge of her aether is an endless war; it's all topiary & omens, baby, all smoke-haze & fire-dust. her aether's eating itself up all the way down to the core & through,& it's a miracle she's still alive, a haunted & hunted thing dragging itself forward.

ㅤfor those who are lost & dream of being found,ㅤ

hands were made to hold other hands & hers are warm & outstretched. the dreadwyrm can be your home, for as long as you want it to be,for forever, or just until the next stop; lay your arms down & watch the stars pass.

ㅤfor those who know the void most intimately,ㅤ

she's got a bone to pick with the void ark & the way it turned her into something she can't recognize. she wants knowledge, & she's willing to trade favours for favours with those who can promise her more.

verses

i.

title of events here.

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