Name: Hyacinthe, Anasztaizia's son
Canon: Kushiel's Legacy
Character LJ: vrajna chavo
Age: somewhere between 20 and 30
Race: Human (Tsingano - D'Angeline)

Physical description: Hyacinthe is about six feet tall with dark curly hair and changeable eyes that hold the depths of the seas the color of an oncoming storm. He has a bright and ready grin for his friends, and olive skin. And to tell it true, his eyes truly are a storm, ever shifting and changing and very occasionally one might catch a lightning strike across the iris.

Job: Hyacinthe had been the Prince of Travellers, and after that Elder Brother, Master of the Straits. Now, he has been sold into slavery and then cast out because he had proven to be a poor investment.

Abilities: Hyacinthe inherited the Master of the Straits' powers upon his death. He thinks he only has control of the waters between Alba and Terre d'Ange (and also the weather on both lands, but that's neither here nor there,) but in reality he simply has a limited square mileage in which he can operate. His powers are no more tied to a particular place than water itself is. He doesn't know that. He will in time. He also speaks the language of heaven, something that manifests itself as coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once, a language that is all languages. Beyond those supernatural gifts, Hyacinthe is tisngano and skilled at picking locks and sleight of hand, petty tricks and cons, deception through personality alone. He also knows a thing or two about horses and caring for people whom society tends to forget. His mother taught him the dromonde, a sort of telepathic power that allows the user to look both forward and backward along someone's path. He can call this at will, but it is all the more frightening when it comes of its own accord. An oracle with more power than an oracle ever ought to have.

Hyacinthe used to be charming and affable, someone everyone seemed to love in their way. Even Joscelin, somehow eventually grew fond of him. From a Casseline, that's saying something indeed. Now? Not so much. The orbit of their home-world (Phedre and Hyacinthe's - or even rather His Phedre's home, the world has since stopped making sense to Hyacinthe.) around their sun is faster than other Earth-like planets, though it doesn't quite feel so while you're on it. Indeed, things unfolded as they were meant to after Phedre was taken. Sort of. Ysandre lives in Alba in exile, alive and with Drustan, but not on her throne. Melisande and Benedicte rule in the City and no one makes it through crossing between the two countries anymore.

Or they wouldn't if Melisande wasn't playing such a deeply rooted game. She waited and waited, and when the son of an angel died, passing his curse on to a tsingano half-breed, she played her hand. Contracting slavers is easy. Easier even when the one to be taken is a bit of an oddity and not at all bound by the idea that selling him would be heresy. Hyacinthe had been trained, and to his credit, he fought as hard as he knew how. He hadn't ever seen ships that flew through the air before, nor anything that couldn't be brought down in a heavy storm. They took him from his island and to a wholly different world. During the trip, he was shot up with various vaccines, things to protect him from all the viruses and bacteria he'd never been exposed to on his own planet.

There are no storms in space.

There was a surgery done, the implantation of a small chip at the back of his neck. It was done deep, and Hyacinthe was informed that if he ever tried to run from those who owned him, or if he displeased them at all, a poison would be released into his blood stream and he would die painfully.

The attempts to defend himself on the trip there having proven fruitless and all the stories he'd gotten from his master pointed to the idea that Hyacinthe wouldn't be able to let the storm in him out at all. He could not protect himself, and he could not get back to the Third Sister to help keep Ysandre safe in Alba until there was a plan.

Hyacinthe had been informed wrongly, through no fault of anyone's. After all, if you're bound to a small island, how are you to know that your power can extend beyond those waters? He will find that out in game, and likely it will play itself out in a devastating storm hitting Kin at some point.

For now, Hyacinthe has been sold again. He made good money for a while for his previous owners just based on his “exotic” look alone, but his headaches had become too much. He was sold for a song, essentially, to someone who thought they could bring him back around again. He was pretty he just needed to be fixed. Hyacinthe's recovery has been mostly in secret and largely unsuccessful. He's only just barely starting to gain back some weight, but not enough. The storm churns in his eyes, leaving him incapacitated sometimes, or just in phenomenal amounts of pain. There are those who'll pay for that. There are those who'll pay just to watch that.

Except it wasn't enough, and in a drunken rage, his owner chucked him out into the street. Even Hyacinthe didn't know if the chip had been deactivated or not, but that hardly mattered. Not in the grand scheme of things. Living rough was easier as a boy, far easier when he could run and play on youth to keep him safe. Things like that don't work too well for a grown man with a hurricane building in his skull.

Hyacinthe is charming and friendly. Or he was, at least, before he became Master of the Straits. Now he has become grave, serious, burdened by the power within him. This isn't something that can help and a dozen years of isolation will do that to you. He is relearning himself though, and his smiles are starting to come more readily again, his eyes, though still belying the power he as been given, are lighter and mischievous sometimes now.

Hyacinthe is fiercely loyal to his friends. He can charm almost anyone into getting him what he needs be it information or a favour because at heart, Hyacinthe is still tsingano, still the Prince of Travellers. For all that he'll charm you and cheat you out of coin, he is a trustworthy friend and will not betray you for all the gold in the world.

The Truth:

The trip through space and the trauma that he went through messed with Hyacinthe's head something fierce.

What he thinks happened wasn't entirely what happened. Through all the stress and pain, Hyacinthe ended up with a breed of madness unique to those who can see both forward and backward along the threads of life. His powers turned against him and Hyacinthe saw the things that ought to have happened, things that could have been and things that might yet still be…somehow.

Hyacinthe believes, truly believes that he was on the Third Sister with Phedre, that he was with her on her trip to Alba to raise Drustan to his proper seat as Cruarch and then kept her from sealing a fate that was meant to be his. He has convinced himself that Joscelin was there. That there was a battle and there were too many lost and in his grief, he and Phedre laid together. That same intimacy had been their farewell when she and the rest left to go save Terre D'Ange. He thinks that Melisande and Benedicte hold the throne with her return from La Serenissma.

That wasn't what happened. He doesn't realize that he hasn't seen Phedre since before Alcuin and Anafiel were killed. He barely remembers the reports from other tsingani about what was going on at the border. An army of Skaldi amassing. The rush to remember what it was Phedre had told him last. An audience with the queen, gotten somehow…somehow. Getting her out of the City and to Rousse as fast as they could to at least save something, even if she wasn't keen on watching her country fall. They would save her. They would return her to her place. Somehow.

The price for crossing wasn't a song. The price was Hyacinthe seeing where his own path would lead him and offering himself so that the others might live. The iron grip of the Master of the Straits held true even when he died sooner than he was supposed to. No one passed those waters without Elder Brother's blessing, no matter who Elder Brother was.

Melisande paid to have him killed, not for him to live, but those who were hired thought he could make them more and so Hyacinthe did. What followed that was true.

Hyacinthe though…Hyacinthe can't even say how old he is with any kind of accuracy. Half mad and in chronic pain, he wanders Kin wishing for an end to it.

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