#tritus

Full Name: Tritus Vitrailis Zenier

Gender and Sexuality: Hermaphrodite. Bisexual

Pronouns: He/ Him

Ethnicity/Species: TBD. Humanoid

Birthplace and Birthdate: Copperfields. 11/15/*****

Guilty Pleasures: Playing Drunk Jenga with his Friends,

harvesting blueberries, pun-ishment competitions, standing on the rails of his ship when the winds are the roughest.


Phobias: The ocean. Being forgotten.

What They Would Be Famous For: Engineering feats/ Prosthetic advancements and overall temperament at bars.

What They Would Get Arrested For: Injuring someone in a bar for calling him "flower boy" or anything along those lines.

OC You Ship Them With: Wintress Polaris Borealis

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Striker Elritch Xorla & Magnolia

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Romance mystery

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: The coffee shop meeting

Talents and/or Powers: Mechanical and innovative designing. Curiosity that borders on recklessness.

Why Someone Might Love Them: Silly, love driven, emotionally driven. Can be easy to connect to as he is a bit blunt in his conversations at times. Tries to be the best gentleman he can be, a dreamer through and through who is so ridiculously sweet you can get a stomach ache from it.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: Can be an ass when his beliefs conflict with what his partner wants, prideful, arrogant, and most certainly easy to anger/ irritate. Often throws fits in private and doesn’t seek out help from those he trusts, choosing instead to internalize it and use that drive to get work done. Does not face emotional challenges head on very well.

How They Change: From a thriving reckless innovator and alcoholic he gets his world turned upside down from impossibilities that become reality and force him to care more about his health with the simple carrot on a string: Family. Growing more aware of the times he spent trying to leave a mark on history, he focuses that energy mostly into being the father he never thought he could be. This becomes even more frantic when his body becomes ill, dealing with his own mortality had been easy before but after finding his offspring and lover he has to come to terms with a basic human greed: More time.

Blue and white cloth greeted her as she opened her optics, she had been in recharge and the fog from the sudden reboot vanished in an instant. Three forest colored optics instinctively gazed upwards, her blank expression making her look like a bewildered child. Deep fern hues met hers, the face frowning and aggressive, the sounds of metal weapons immediately surrounded her. Cold metal poked the back of her helm.

“Where is my daughter?!” A venomous hiss pierced the room. Another prod to the back of the head, a bit more force put into it.

Tritus sighed, “The more I come here, the more I’m starting to believe that this is the normal way to greet people.” The words escaped her lips before she registered what she had said. She stiffened as the blade tip pressed harder.

“Answer my question, Machine.”

“You all have green hair…. you must be her unit? Her family as she put it? Look. I’ve never met any of you before. But my designation is Tritus of copperfields. The uh… other Tritus- your daughter- and I have a complicated relationship-” a large hand latched onto her shoulder and spun the mini around to greet her Alts mothers snarling face.

“Bring. Her. Back. NOW!”

A frustrated sigh left her lips as she knocked the organic hand off her shoulders. Her servos seemed to disappear as she reached into her subspace causing the surrounding Dusk Borns to bring their weapons closer to her form. “Just listen to me briefly. She and I have an understanding, she gave me this in case I ever encounter you folks. So that you won’t kill me on sight.” Her servo visible one more gingerly clutching a black, orange, and emerald designed knife. “She said that this is only made for kin. She has given me half of her set. Now, can we please sheath the swords?”

Optics watched warily as the room filled with chatter, discussions, arguments. The swords around her did not waver, not even an inch. The man clothed in blue and white touched the top of her helm with a single finger tip. “Why should we believe that she gave that to you? You could have stolen it.” He rumbled.

Wiggling out from under his grip to glare up at him. Without a word she transformed into a 5ft gun. “Then tell me why, I- a gun, would need such an elegant knife? Hmm organic? Why would I come all the way here to steal a specific knife in order to pop up in front of what can only be described as an organic cult of organic blacksmiths? When I am a gun?! From another universe? The only reasons I come here is because my master requests to see my alt and I can be of service to the Queen.” The monochrome gun ranted.

Slowly weapons sheathed and the Dusk Borns gave her some space. “You have a temper little one. But you have a valid point. You may be too honest though, with your words.” The man in blue rumbled in thought. They watched her transform, a spectacle of interest to many of them, before whispering amongst themselves. Her Alts mother stared at her. “Is my daughter safe?… in that other realm? The one she often talks about.”

“I can only tell you that she lives… I believe she said your name was Silver. So, Matriarch Silver, I will only confirm that she has left an impressive impression on the army there, as well as captured a good amount of affection from my master and my vice commander. It would be pertinent to note that she also is a very good cook.” Tritus quipped back nonchalantly.

The woman seemed to relax a bit. “That is good, she is pregnant. We wish for her to carry safely… she has an ancestor with the same physical condition as her… she could carry but there were complications at birth… she did not make it through the ordeal.” Her voice lowered in worry.

“Your daughter is strong, I’ve heard high marks from my Vice commander. She will survive. It seems that she is very adept in that skill.” Tritus murmured before offering the knife handle to the woman. “As long as my master and her Queen are happy. We will continue this trade off of realities. I hope we can work together.”

“I think we will manage. Come dear. I wish to pester you about your form if I may.”