Species: Hallow Blooded Familiar
Birthday & Age: November 18th, 392 A.D. / appears 27
Neighborhood: Suburbia Living, 3 beds 2 ½ baths - lives alone.
Residency Status: Resident, four years & two months
Sexual Orientation: Pansexual
+ loyal, protective, perceptive, & discerning.
- aloof, capricious, cryptic, & vicious.
familiars are actually goblins who take on the shape of animals to better serve their masters. wytches often choose their familiars from a registry book given by a hive which notes immediately the relationship between this kinfolk. most self-preserving wytch views the kind as property, collecting them like monopoly. however, the option of summoning a familiar is present but it’s a road less traveled - light and shadow blooded alike. taking even more ownership, they name their familiars, while others let them name themselves. it’s due to how highly useful they are as companions, strengthening both wytchcraft and malecium, offering protection from harm and are often very useful in the casting of spells and rituals.
trigger warning: explicit content.
in winter, a shadow walked amongst humanity, collared and entangled by a red thread that spanned across the entire city, far out into the wilderness; an unreliable guide, a tentative hand to hold. through it, like a live wire, he could feel unmitigated fear, the drying heat of blood on skin, and the rotting breath of hatred.
the people parted where he stepped, wide strides left hoofprints in the snow, steam rose from flared nostrils, encircled large antlers before becoming lost in the open sky. the houses and shops, the mortality of the common space, was muted by a thick, icy blanket.
he followed the heartstring; the bond between him and the fledgling wytch he could feel writhing in nascent magyck, until he stood, frame flickering. his body was malleable, fur melting into skin, deer into man, hooves into long, delicate fingers that pushed the door of the house that lay in front of him open.
blood dripped from the walls, thickening and congealing like wax in the cold, and the shadow sliced the air with his hand, movement taking with it all the frost in the air, igniting a flame in the hearth at the centre of the room.
it was not wanton carnage, as he had hoped, as he had expected, but a child, no older than six, wrapped in dirty cloth with tiny fists clenched around the wrist of a headless figure, slim and pallid but still identifiable as female… a mother, perhaps?
the shadow crouched, leant on his haunches, speaking for the first time in many, many years,
“who are you, little beast?”
and the eyes that met his explained all, a cavernous pool of fear, pain, strength, rage, but most of all… ferocity, contained within a tiny creature that radiated with the magyck that had lured him in, called out to him, bound him.
the eyes that met his recognised kin when they saw it.
the child, aka, had been cast away in a raft at birth, found and saved from certain death by a young woman named kogo. the woman herself was a reject, known throughout heian city as a volatile creature who feared being touched at all cost, yet, she allowed the infant safety against her skin.
however, aka was troubled as she grew, even with kogo’s love. she would cry for hours, and as she did, things nearby would ignite, or the air would chill intensely. she tore at her skin, as if something inside her had grown too big and she could no longer bear it.
then, the day that the shadow, who would later be named hasuro by aka herself, came for her, the tug of something against her soul tore whatever inhibition had trapped her magyck from harming the people around her. kogo’s blood boiled as she tried to soothe the girl, the wind formed blades that tore the head of her caretaker clean from her shoulders.
hasuro was powerful on his own, a formidable familiar, but aka had magyck carved into her bones, her every action was bound by it, beyond her writ. together, they destroyed half the city just to ease her fear, setting the hue of their future in place. on the shoulders of the shadow, the wytch would face no pain, striking down samurai and the daimyo they protected.
they gained a reputation as slayers, as monsters, that aka relished in more and more as she aged. by 16 her power had peaked with blood, and hasuro was no longer a lens to focus magyck through or a protector, but an ally, an equal in strength and wit.
but no matter how strong one is, a weakness always festered. that was the curse of mortality, and hers was simple; use of her magyck exhausted her easily, leaving her unconscious or comatose for days, depending on the severity of the spells. when their enemies learnt of this, it was only a matter of time before they took advantage of it.
they came for her in autumn; chased hasuro, who carried her limp body, into the mountains and ambushed them with wytches of their own. they struck him down as he used himself as a shield against their magyck, and from there it only took one precise arrow to pierce aka’s chest.
with their bond as unifying as it was, her death would’ve meant his, but something in the heartstring did not fracture. her soul, her magyck, flooded into him as she bled out, as if she was refusing to die by allowing her spirit to live on within the familiar she trusted. power exploded from them, as if they were the epicentre of a bomb, slaughtering anyone who had pursued them into the mountains with a flame that refused to be smothered.
for weeks after, as hasuro tended to aka’s body, buried her and mourned, the mountains remained alight. then finally, the first snow of the year came, seemingly untouched by the heat, blanketed the mountain and the familiar in frost that finally soothed the scorch-wounds of both flesh and earth.
japan only grew more tumultuous as the years passed, and hasuro, with no thread to anyone else, slowly began to edge away from society. humans were fragile creatures with little meaning, and other supernatural were often unwelcoming to a familiar with no tethers.
there were times where he felt it, the ensnaring scent of power that tugged at his ribcage just as aka’s power had, but he did not pursue it. eventually, it would dissipate, either killed off or consumed by another of his kind.
all distractions were ignorable, to hasuro, who only sought a place to wither away and die, if that was possible for an immortal. he travelled aimlessly and rarely sought out company, but every so often he would pick up a misfit, often without their knowledge of his demonhood.
it was through these tiny exchanges he grew more comfortable; humans had their frailty, but immortality was no more meaningless. he still neglected the pull of a wytch, but silently offered his aid to them when they were chased underground in the 1600s, alongside the catholics.
he did not change as much as the times, but he followed, eventually, the flow of migrants when they passed outward from japan into the world. curiosity guided him across the oceans, to places japan had once considered enemies.
america was one such place, he found himself returning on occasion, peculiarity seemed to cling together, formed villages and nests rather than dispersing into hiding as they did in his home.
he settled eventually, in deadwood, south dakota, where a heartstring refused to die, just as much as he refused to pursue. the entire area was strange, perhaps just strange enough to keep him.
✗ WANTED CONNECTION - a fledgeling witch, cursed to have their power repressed due to strong bloodline ties. they share a heartstring with hasuro but he, who has been scorned once, is slow to trust and even slower to pursue. he could be a catalyst for their magyck to rise in full.
His face claim is HIDETO TAKARAI and he’s played & written by BLUE.
vaporwave
areudirty
kianamaiart
dededos
janainaart
blakekathryn
pixelskylines
dailybridgerton
