* 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒅 .

             »       one       [  . . .  ]       basic information  .

✱     FULL NAME.       aurora hyekyo osbourne. ✱     NICKNAMES.       rory,  oz,  kyo  ( no one but her father was allowed to call her this ). ✱     PREFERRED NAME.       rory osbourne. ✱     AGE + DOB.       thirty-one,  april 9th. ✱     HOMETOWN.       san francisco,  california. ✱     GENDER.       demi woman. ✱     PRONOUNS.       she & they. ✱     SEXUAL & ROMANTIC ORIENTATION.       angry lesbian. ✱     SPECIES.       elemental warrior. ✱     WEAPON OF CHOICE.       three-pointed star shurikens. ✱     POSITIVE.       versatile,  diligent,  consistent. ✱     NEUTRAL.       outspoken,  disciplined,  independent. ✱     NEGATIVE.       deceiving,  belligerent,  obstinate. ✱     SIGNIFICANT BONDS.       thomas osbourne,  father  ( deceased ).   park min-ji,  mother  ( deceased ).   river & willow osbourne,  brothers  ( twins,  deceased ).

             »       two       [  . . .  ]       story  .

the soft spring breeze carrying the scent of blossoming flowers whistled calmly the day you came into this world,  and bright with unshed tears were the eyes of your father the moment they landed on your small body wrapped in a yellow,  cozy blanket.   you were perfect,  he used to say every time he went back to that day in his sharp memory,  a soft  “ you still are ”  falling from his lips after a small,  heavy pause that made you smile every time,  unfailingly. 

you knew love from the very first days of your existence,  you saw it and felt it in your bones  —  it emanated from everyone and everything around you,  it was taught and showed to you in a thousand ways that were left perched to your soul even when its lost reached you,   as strong as were its vigor,  so utterly devastating you’re still amazed you managed to survive it.

it happened when you were fifteen  ( enamored with life,  in love with a girl with eyes so green you thought you could see a whole forest in them ),  the day you turned fifteen,  if you have to be precise about this story.   and everything was a mess after it started.   screams and flesh being torn apart overwhelmed your ears and in the rush of people trying to escape from the death jaws you lost them  (  “ mom ?  dad ? ”  desperate was the call tumbling from your lips,  panic coursing through your body like a torrent of lava,  and despite it being made with all the strength in your voice,  it got swallowed by others’ hysteria,  by others doing the same as you  ).   when you found them at last,  the bright grass of your favorite spot outside the city wasn’t there anymore,  only barren,  contaminated land,  ravaged by the monsters that took the lives of those you loved the most in its place.   the sight of your brothers' bodies made you fall to your knees and wretch,  breath heavy and permeated with silent tears the moment you managed to stop.   and when your eyes landed on your mom’s distinctively blonde,  long hair,  it was no longer blonde but a crimson that still haunts your dreams.   her open,  lifeless eyes seemed to look right into your soul,  right into the pain tearing you apart.

yet they weren’t the worst of them all;  your father was.

the characteristic, lovely grays of his hair were gone along with his head,  but you recognized his hands,  you’d always recognize his hands  —  scarred by hard work and rough materials,  by the years of building and repairing that you learned along with him because  “ you can’t be useless,  kyo,  you can’t rely on a man to do this kinda things,  not when you can do them yourself.  and you can,  can you,  my kid ? ”  the day he knew there was never gonna be a man he simply smiled at you,  the glow of the afternoon sun saying its goodbye warming his face.   he pulled your slim body into his robust one and murmured the softest yet most fervent i love you you ever heard from him.   that was the memory that invaded you at the sight of his lifeless body,  a memory obliterated the next instant by a monster grabbing him to keep ripping him asunder,  to reduce it to nothing but shreds of the strong man he once was.   the piercing scream scraping its way from your throat left the world around you in silence,  or maybe you went deaf,  you couldn’t say  —  all you knew after that was the feeling of your body resting against a hard mattress,  forehead covered with a wet,  cold rag.

some days,  you wish you had died with them.   most days,  if you’re truly honest with yourself.   almost every hour of those days,  except when you’re slashing the skin of those who took them away from you,  when you can feel the life leaving their bodies,  putrid with the death of innocents,  and another one is added to the list.   there you thrive,  stop feeling guilty,  stop feeling empty  …  because for a moment, you feel you have a purpose  —  if you had to live this life you didn’t want anymore since the moment they were gone,  it was a weak ray of light living it chasing and ending those who made you lose everything and everyone you cared for.

you were awakened at twenty-one,  after losing everything that mattered to you,  everyone you loved;  after days of a delirious state that made their names fall from your lips in mumbles,  your head plagued with memories from a life you no longer had.

by the time you were back on your feet,  resentment and wrath simmered within you alongside an energy you didn’t recognize,  but that made you stronger,  fiercer,  more deadly.

these days,  you live among reminiscences of your life prior,  of the resounding laughs that used to hit the walls of your home during lunchtime on sundays,  of the bright days holding the hand of your first and only love.   you live through nightmares too,  cold sweat running down your spine every time you wake up,  ragged breath,  and a heart beating like a galloping horse until strong arms are closing around you and a kiss is left on the crown of your head.   the nights they aren’t,  you cry and cry and cry until your grief turns into rage and rage into killing.   so you kill.   because you live through killing,  too.

tl;dr     —     after a portal was opened near the camping spot she used to go to celebrate her birthdays with her family,  rory osbourne was awakened the day she turned twenty-one,  after losing her family to the monsters she now chases and kills.  the event made them empty,  sour,  and resentful,  and when they’re murdering,  wiping the earth clean of them,  is the only moment they feel like life is worth something.  will look at you with disdain most of the time,  never allowing herself to care for anyone anymore,  yet she does anyway,  deeply,  achingly,  and without a chance to avoid it.

             »       three       [  . . .  ]       headcanons  .

𝐢.     after her awakening started and she lost consciousness,  she was dragged away from the portal by a warlock that happened to be nearby  —  they took care of her,  and once she was back on her feet,  this warlock became their protector.  𝐢𝐢.     they practiced gymnastics since they were six years old and until tragedy struck their life,  rory is characteristically nimble and silent on the battlefield  ( and everywhere else,  if they’re honest ). 𝐢𝐢𝐢.     a book lover to her very bones,  her taste for reading was inherited from her mother,  with whom she used to read the same book and then go out for a coffee to review it.   she owns around three hundred volumes,  although she’s never really counted them. 𝐢𝐯.     they’re the warrior human to an american pitbull terrier named nike,  she’s the best girl in town,  the softest baby in the city,  and the most loyal and best company they could have ever hoped for. 𝐯.     they seem really angry,  and truly,  they are,  but mostly,  they are sad.   like,  overall really fucking sad.   someone give her a reason to live.   or a hug.   or both,  please.