s a v i o u r .

❝ you ever lived your whole life and find out it’s just a big lie? ❞ 

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬: name: ronan osorio nicknames: ro, thumper, onno pronouns: he/him dob: october 13 / libra species: original witch ( Le Fay bloodline ) - adopted by hunters occupation: emt paramedic / hunter ( formerly ) / marine medic ( formerly )

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲: positive traits: passionate, effective, earnest, reliable, friendly, dedicated,  negative traits: reckless, headstrong, single-minded, brash, workaholic, manipulative

𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬: typical hunter abilities, combat proficiency, learned survivalist skills, expert level specialization in medicinal potions / poisons and knowledge of the wilderness, has magic but hides it due to past trauma resulting in the death of one of his unit, moderately okay tracker

𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬:

ronan was an orphan longer than he was part of the osorio family, bounced around between five different foster homes, moving place to place because no one wanted someone that was considered a rule breaker with a rebellious streak. as a result he has countless foster siblings across the states until his last foster home pawned him off for a tv and five grand. he grew up alongside the other children and adopted the clan’s name as proof of his loyalty but he never really had a choice. it was survive or die. ronan always wondered what happened to his birth parents; did they care? were they dead? did they know he’d been sold to a clan full of witch hunters? when the time came for the new members of the clan to be isolated in the woods he used what little knowledge he had and tried to run. ronan never made it, he was caught quickly and settled into a routine of wake, train, earn your meal, train, sleep, repeat.

he never knew where he was born or why he was so quickly forgiven but he was raised alongside hunters in a centuries old compound. for his sixteenth birthday he was given the skulls of his birth parents by his guardian per the customs of the osorio clan. ronan was always uncertain of their teachings, ever since the first day he could use his magic. now though, he could have answers and be acknowledged as a full fledged hunter if he could commune with the bones in his possession. finally ronan could have answers. the resulting summoning only birthed more questions and the cost was the destruction of their souls as their bones turned to ash in his hands. he could never speak to them again all because he had never learned to control his powers. heartbroken, ronan fell to rock bottom and caved to the demands of the osorio clan quickly becoming a hunter himself and using his abilities to hunt his own kind. it blackened his soul but gods did it help with the grief, the utter loss.

ronan never intended to betray his clan because of the truth. but after a hunt gone too far, something broke within him and blindly he wiped out his entire hunting party. it felt good, it was easy, and he never knew why. ronan forged some documents, lied his way into proper paperwork, and wound up enlisting with the military to get as far away from magic, hunters, the supernatural, and his murky past. with the osorio clan believing he had died with the rest of his hunting party, for the first time in his life finally ronan was free. the hell of basic seemed like a vacation compared to the living hell he’d survived with those of his clan. it was there in the barracks he found the people that he would consider to be his family. for almost four years he lived and breathed that freedom amongst his newfound family without a hitch pretending to be normal. but one night his unit was ambushed on a routine scouting mission. without thinking, ronan used his magic and in the resulting chaos he killed his best friend. to the world, ronan diedrick died in the desert with the 151 in an ambush. soon after ronan would set up in los santos to start over. 

he is relatively easy to approach, but rarely will stick around long for a conversation. ronan naturally is wary of strangers and it takes time for him to open up even on a friendly platonic level. it's easier to do his job when he holds the world at arm’s length especially in a city full of supernatural creatures and violent crimes. despite all this he has yet to find a reason to throw in the towel and give up being a paramedic. part of him wants to make up for the lives lost on his watch and the other part just wants to try and save those he can save. surprising most of all is how quickly he found a partner. but who wouldn’t find history attractive? ronan is quick to deflect romantic overtures citing faithfulness but still is guilty of his own vices and consuming need to save people no matter the cost.

ronan is resolute in his work to the point it could be considered dangerously obsessive. his day job doesn’t leave him with much free time but he is guilty of indulging in some of his less than savory appetites. ronan isn’t sure what feels better; the underground fights he gets into with some of the city’s less than savory crowd or the dancers that keep him company some nights at the glass slipper. either way, he knows he probably shouldn’t indulge as much as he does but it’s hard to find a good therapist in los santos and ronan has learned through trial and error there is no one he really trusts. a lifetime of one foot out the door makes him less keen to allow himself to get attached and honestly the prospect is terrifying. once he does form genuine feelings for someone ronan is sure he won’t know what to do with himself as he’s never been in love.

status: open to anyone

location: anywhere that fits

“I mean, I already have a coral reef one, and a wave…” The last which she showed to the other, pulling up the hem of her right sleeve to showcase the wave tattoo on her inner wrist. “I was thinking maybe a bluebell one somewhere, or maybe something art inspired?” Kalea thought aloud to her companion, who she’d managed to rope into a conversation about her next possible ink design. “I’m not sure though, the options are limitless and I’m not fully settled on any one idea. What do you think? If you were going to get a tattoo, what are some ideas you’d have in mind?” She asked curiously. Maybe their thoughts could strike some inspiration for her. Bouncing ideas off of others had helped her in the past, whether they be related to her art or other areas in her life. This time being a prime example. 

It’s started over a promise of tequila and then it ended here in the half broken booth of the old Chinese restaurant in the Underground no one knew the name of cause the sign was stolen long ago. Ronan squints over a mouthful of chow mein and scoffs at the mention of corals and waves. “You’re like, so obsessed with the ocean what’re you Moana or something?”

Tequila had been traded for sake and Ronan figures it’s the closest he’s gotten to friendship in a long while. At least it’s reason enough to share some potstickers with her as he scoffs and waves aside her question. Reaching over the booth, he’s grabbing a sharpie from a broken mug on a shelf and then settling back in to take her arm.

Rolling up her sleeve, he yanks the top of the marker off and spits it somewhere on the table unceremoniously. “If you’re gonna get a tattoo and obsessed with water, this is what you do.” Drawing on her wrist, there’s a long line of runes and Ronan scrunches his nose as he draws in more creative elements and a few more old spells he remembered in the haze of Chinese and alcohol. A starfish is somewhere over her pulse and he gives a nod when he finishes, tossing the marker at the nearby trash and grinning when it goes in.

“That. That is what you get. If you know the right words it’s a kickass spell that literally protects you from drowning and lets you slap idiots around with it. Like you can use it as a weapon like that one fuckin’ cartoon.” Ronan shrugs and goes back to his gyoza, pouring another glass of sake for them both. “Unless yo want t be boring and get I don’t know a fuckin’ angelfish or something.”

❝ there’s something TRAGIC about you . . . ❞

Location: Conservatory of Flowers When: Evening, (open to anyone)

The conservatory was usually filled with people during the day and she could certainly understand why, seeing the plant life and flowers through the windows of bright sunlight was always a breathtaking sight to be sure but Rikki was looking forward to seeing some sights that could only be seen during the night. On and off she had been going to check on the blooms, she was used to having the time on her own so when another set of footsteps caught her attention the familiar couldn’t help but put up her guard. “Late night stroll is it?” Taking a step back she couldn’t help but think about the missing around the city.

Coming here at night meant there were few prying eyes. And it was the perfect place to gather materials if he wanted to find things amongst the roots of the old trees tucked into the corners of the conservatory. No one really knew what was hidden here but he was beginning to get an idea the deeper he dug. Ronan had been walking through tonight humming Latin and Urdu under his breath, weaving old magic through the rarely walked pathways of the Conservatory. Just the corners he liked to sit amongst the plants and earth and feel something whispering under his fingers.

Slowing, he’s quick to notice the change in the air. It usually meant another witch but-

Late night stroll is it?

Ronan smiles warm and charming, weaving the spell up easily with a flourish of his fingers. Nothing more than a very human show of hands and a laugh. “Ah guess you caught me. I like how quiet it is here. I was waiting for someone important but I guess he decided to flake on me.” Glancing around, he steps a little closer and looks back at her. “Guess we’re the only ones here, huh?”

It’s late. It’s always late. Guess that was why things worked so well for them when their schedules lined up so perfect. Ronan got off his swing shift overnight just in time to wait outside the museum with a hot drink and a late night snack of a toasted bagel with that garlic spread they had from the place three blocks over. Little things he knows he ought to do as someone’s boyfriend.

It didn’t even cross his mind once that Lacey was probably getting up on stage at the Slipper right about now.

Guess that’s what you call progress. Ronan sighing into the crisp night air and leaning against the wall near the back entrance he knows Seth leaves from at the end of the night. He’s learned not to check his watch, it only makes him more impatient and that never ends well. But more surprising is that he’s keeping that backlash from ever touching the human. It’s the first time. A fluke he guesses if he thinks too hard about it all.

But-

Ronan looks up when the door swings open and the smile that surfaces feels dangerous. Real. Motioning a little with his offering of drinks - one his, one he’s learned Seth likes - and the bag of bagels. It’s easier if he doesn’t read into it too much.