Phoebe Emrys Yonah

[cocoa]

Full Name: Phoebe Emrys Yonah

meaning: Phoebe, meaning purity; Emrys, a name of magic; Yonah, meaning dove

Gender: male

Basic universe explanation [Hasnetania]: (only necessary to read last paragraph, rest for reference)
The world is called Hasnetania, and consists of six kingdoms: The Kingdom of Aegnis, the Vekar Empire, Dineian, the Sloniris Associated, the Qocuria Kingdom and Uyaepitor. The Kingdom of Aegnis is a mysterious land to the rest of Hasnetania, having been closed off from the rest of the world for a thousand years due to magic of "Heaven" and "Hell" which came down to the world and blessed magic to the world, while creating the walls of Everlasting Light and Everlasting Darkness enshrouding the Kingdom of Aegnis. That kingdom is divided into Norm (the side of the light), and Mron (the side of the dark), and is said to hold 80% of all of the magic of Hasnetania, with a large amount of inherent magic users. The Kingdom of Aegnis is farthest south kingdom, equal to the Qocuria Kingdom in latitude, and has the most interesting magical climate. The farther west to Norm, the lighter the skies are, and the farther east to Mron, the darker the skies are, until it is forever day, or forever night.

The Vekar Empire is an ambitious empire led by Octavia Vyner, the intimidating shadow queen who wields magical artifacts blessed by the natural magic of the earth god, Uya. It mixes both technological and magical aspects into a steampunk-magic-run society. The capital sits at the base of the mountains that guard the Kingdom of Aegnis, and often receives a lot of magic that seeps through the ranges. The land beyond the mountains is mostly desert.

Dienian is largely a farming community with the occasional simple stone fortified castle, and are allies to the Vekar Empire, taking up the land northwest of the empire. They provide for the majority of food in Hasnetania, with flat lands and rich fields of crops.

Uyaepitor is the land of the earth god Uya, and is the most wild and neutral land of the six kingdoms, full of diverse forests and the northernmost tundra. Only small, scattered hunters or families live here - there is no cohesive system here, spare the Forest Guardian who monitors those that come and go in the forest.

The Sloniris Associated, or just Sloniris, is the one of the most forward-thinking kingdoms, and the only to have a republic - the Kingdom of Aegnis, the Vekar Empire, and Dienian are all monarchies. Sloniris has "modern" products and runs off of a more refined technology than the Vekar Empire, as it is much more limited in magic, only rarely fueling their technology with stored magic. The streets are clean and the law is strict, but just, and they hold the most controversial opinions and are often criticized themselves. Their land is mostly rolling hills with occasional coastal forests, near the ocean. It is separated from the landmass compromised of the Kingdom of Aegnis, the Vekar Empire, Dienian and Uyaepitor by a salt river a mile wide.

The Qocuria Kingdom is made of a coalition of tribes led by a agreed-upon every five years 'Queen' who works with his advisors and other high-ranking tribe members much more than other kingdoms. They believe strongly in social mobility and the survival of the fittest. To the rest of the world, their living styles are the oldest, beholding to no technology, but rather magic, the gods, fate and their own rituals of belief. Typically, they keep to themselves, but do occasionally trade with Sloniris. It is on the same landmass as Sloniris, and its lands are full of dense forests that are rich in history and magic.

/////

Phoebe's birth town sits five miles from the border of the Qocuria Kingdom with Sloniris. It still receives many goods from Sloniris, but also adopted many beliefs of Qocuria, and often gets ambassadors that come from Qocuria to meet and delegate with men of Sloniris. It is also used as a research base for some researchers, such as Phoebe's parents. However, it is still a town of common families and children who live their life day by day, often choosing to move farther into Sloniris or Qocuria to continue their lives.

[cocoa]

Phoebe grew up in a small village caught between two worlds. His parents left him when he was young - five years old, in fact. His aunt looks over him now, kind but always busy. She’s forever working towards one goal or the other, making sure the technology in the house worked fine, the fridge was stocked, and the garden was pruned. If she wasn’t up to something in the house, she’d often be out, working with the citizens of their small town, negotiating with Qocuria and Sloniris.

Phoebe’s parents were not gone, either. They lived in at the capital of Sloniris, left as they had fulfilled their job as researchers - Phoebe hadn’t wanted to leave the small town. If Phoebe had known his parents would have left him there with his aunt, he may have said differently.
Phoebe sent letters to them from the moment they left, but at such a young age he couldn’t write that well - his messages full of childish words that could not properly hold the link between parent and son. The older he became, the more distant they too, became. For so many days, and for so many years of his early life, Phoebe was left alone to wander and wonder.

And Phoebe was not one to sit, to stare at the plain white walls and sleep on the scratchy, forever stained brown carpet. No - Phoebe was a kalon with endless curiosity for the many facets of life. He’d examine his aunts collections of ritual items kept for the holidays (The Day of the Six Kingdoms, Celebration of the Sun/Night, and the Peace of Uya - all days Phoebe loved for the variability and magic they held). Miscellaneous yet magical items like dreamcatchers, feathered staffs, trinkets, pebbles and papers written in other languages caught his attention day to day. Those were the kind of things the Qocuria Kingdom, a land of ancient magic and even older traditions, kept. Sloniris, on the other hand, was home to “modern” technology and belief, and since Phoebe technically did live in Sloniris , he had access to those assets. Yet, they did not interest him nearly as much as the simple item of feather, a circle in the sand, drawn by a paw or a staff, and the ancient traditions that often seemed bigger than himself.

Phoebe did not truly embrace the democratic ideal of Sloniris: free speech, technology, the belief that you can be anything you want to be. He believed more in fate, and the turning wheel of chance and coincidence. In many ways, he must be religious, yet he did not believe in any explicit god - at very least, not dependent on them. The Earth, Sun, and Night ‘gods’ were as true and real as the magic beneath his feet, tangible enough to touch in the magical walls that isolated the Kingdom of Aegnis, and the magic that ran the entirety of their world, Hasnetania. Phoebe looked up to those ‘gods’ with wonder, wished to one day use magic like them and the people who believed and practiced so strongly after them.

He had asked once, young and yearning for a future, and his aunt had once said that it was surely a dream he could achieve, “Look at you, already with a manifestation so young! Your horn and paw glows white: a sign of your purity, curiosity, and potential.”

Partially, it was this that gave the final push for Phoebe to really start researching magic. (Of course, he had always been interested in it. But the potential for a future there, now that was something). He’d gather books from the library, which led him to collect strange items of inherent potential earth magic, like plants grown up from the forest, and seemingly disregarded artifacts that still lay undiscovered.

Phoebe would ask any tribal emissaries from Qocuria, and even some researchers from Sloniris (Phoebe was reminded of his parents, but ever since he was five, his parents never visited - now, he barely remembers their faces). However, they often brushed him off, a child, with either bemusement or annoyance.

He seemed to believe, with his manifestation and the inspiration of his aunt’s words, that this was his destiny. I’ll become a magician, Phoebe thought, a crude, slang word for the profession, but young and ambitious, he didn’t know what else to hope for.

Things didn’t always work out the way he thought fate might deem, however. Phoebe would hold out a magic book, draw a sloppy, childish ‘magic’ circle in the coarse dirt around a yellowed cow skull. Skulls and other bones are said to sometimes retain a soul or soul shard of the previous occupant, or sometimes just a wandering soul.

A foot scuffed the circle, kicking dust in Phoebe’s dark face, leaving a stark, fine dusting. “What are you doing, Phoebe? Where did you get this creepy skull, Phoebe?”

The other children didn’t like him, thought him strange, weird, and different. In their eyes, he was too close to the beliefs held deep within Qocuria, when they still lived in Sloniris.

“Umm.. I’m s-sorry, Jake. I found it in the forest. I-you know, when you find something, it’s yours, so-”

Jake picked up the skull and threw it, far, far into the sparkling pond, twenty feet away. It seemed too clear, too beautiful to have been the recipient of Jake’s spite. “Don’t get smart on me,” Jake spat, “you better not mess with magic anymore, you hear me? It’s creepy as hell. Go aspire to be something less weird. If that’s possible for you, weirdo.”

Phoebe bit his lip. “But it’s pretty normal, isn’t it? Or that’s how it should be. The Qocuria Kingdom is not five miles away -”

“Thought I said to not be a smartass,” Jake muttered, and he was gone.

Phoebe was never really agitated by those kind of people; they never did anything to him beyond saying cruel words and interrupting his rituals that might have failed anyway.

Phoebe didn’t mind. He really didn’t. He told himself that every day, stubborn and unyielding and throwing blankets over his head to try to hide away from the swelling rock in his throat, and the pulse in his heart - wishing, wanting to succeed and be accepted. But maybe this was just fate.

It’s those moments that fate doesn’t seem blessed and full of opportunity, but heavy and a weight on Phoebe’s shoulders. It’s a responsibility worth dirt and made of steel, never made to change, it seems.

[cocoa]

Phoebe was named for his glowing horn and glowing paw, born with the manifestation of purity. His parents loved him, even if at times they poked and prodded a little too much as the scientists they were.

On April 24, Phoebe’s first birthday, his parents ordered a frosted vanilla cake from the Sloniris capital; his town wouldn’t normally have that kind of sweets. The candles burned, and he breathed in and filled his tiny lungs before blowing at the candles. One flame flickered out.

The slice of cake was very yummy, in young Phoebe’s opinion, so he grabbed the white dripping wax candle. It didn’t look so different from the cake - it must be extra-thick frosting! Without bothering a sniff, he took a bite off the bottom end, and instantly regretted it.

“Gwaah!!!” Phoebe cried, sticking his tongue out at the horrendous, terribly plain and plastic-y taste. He proceeded to blub at his parents, tears pouring out of his dark eyes, reaching up his paw to stick in his mouth as if it would get rid of the taste. A light lit up in Phoebe’s head, and he proceeded to stuff more cake in his mouth.

Shocked silent and frozen would probably describe his parents, until they jumped into action. “Do you know if wax is poisonous?” Phoebe’s father practically yelled, frantic and waving his arms, as if it would stop Phoebe from consuming the wax. But his mother was already on the task, coaxing him to the sink to spit it out.

“Honey,” she soothed, patting his head and feeding him water to gargle to help him along. “The candles are wax, and not edible. I hope you know that now.” She wagged the half-bitten candle in front of him, to which Phoebe cringed from. “Wax. Not food.”

“Nooot fod,” Phoebe slurred with his undeveloped voice, “Nooot food.” His father had calmed down, coming around to guffaw at Phoebe.

“Curious kalon, aren’t you? Hmm?” He rubbed the top of Phoebe’s head, ruffling his hair. Phoebe scowled, letting out several whining baby gargles, tears still leaking from the corner of his eyes from the terrible taste in his mouth.

… It wasn’t Phoebe’s fault if he was permanently adverse to birthday candles, and subsequently, birthday cakes. At very least, his parents never special-ordered one again, and Phoebe didn't dare come close to looking at special-food orders from Sloniris.

[cocoa]

Father nodded intently, looking over Phoebe with a critical eye. He was one and a half. His father and mother had both been testing out whether Phoebe preferred more poppy music that came from the fizzing steel webbed speakers or the traditional music of Qocuria that Father played on a flute.

When the flute played, Phoebe stopped his annoyed twitching, whining, or crying and settled down into a tight ball, his horn’s glow muffled by the red tail his face was stuffed in. Relaxed, the young kalon puffed out breaths, ears twitching occasionally to the soothing music.

“Isn’t he so cute?” his father muttered into his mother’s ear. She nodded. Phoebe twitched in slight annoyance at the disruption, and the parents went quiet again, until his mother piped up.

“I know, and so demanding too,” she cooed. Phoebe peeked out one small black eye and narrowed it at his parents, sticking out a petulant tongue and tapping his paw as if insisting to resume the music. The flute played once again, this time accompanied by the slight rattle of another instrument and the low booms of drums. Phoebe hummed along to the tune, content, savoring every tune that passed his ears.

“Did you know that when you were a child, you would relax and love to hear the local music of Qocuria, and get upset if we stopped for even a moment?”

Phoebe only stared at the letter and his father’s clean handwriting, slightly surprised at having realized something he had never known of himself. Memories forgotten, just as how so many ones of his childhood were, for as few as they were.

[cocoa]

If there was any one thing anyone knew about Phoebe as a child, it was that he loved birds.

At the age of two, he would sit in the wild grass of the backyard and attempt to squawk or chirp like the passing birds. He loved sitting and watching the small songbirds flit along the low-lying branches and through the tall blades of yellowing grass. He’d never make a move to eat them or anything of the like - rather, he attracted them with his glowing horn and let them perch there, Phoebe sitting perfectly still, admiring them.

They’d fly away a minute or less later, but Phoebe was never upset for his easily upset personality. Birds seemed to give Phoebe the patience and self-imposed quiet that was so often missing in his life, unveiling the kindness in his dark eyes.

Crows, which were especially smart birds, were quick to make friends with him. He would sneak food to them after eating, and they would squawk at anyone wishing ill-will for him. Regardless, he only saw the crow every week or so - they were still wild.

Yet, one day, at about the age of four, Phoebe was out with his parents and came across a small hummingbird with broken tail feathers - it couldn’t fly. Phoebe stumbled to the ground by the small brown feathered body, nudging it to test its condition. He then puffed up his dark fur and insisted they needed to get it healed.

“Alright, honey, calm down,” his mother said to Phoebe, who now sat with the bird carefully placed the dip of his two black paws. “We’ll take it to the local healer.”

Phoebe had hurried along the street, careful to not jostle the bird until they arrived at the small hut. His parents had clearly been here before - probably to take notes for their research.

A human woman on the inside nodded to the small kalon and took the bird from his hands, which he held up reverently to the human. She wore brown and green clothing and beads around her neck, traditional tribal clothing.“Be careful with him,” Phoebe warned, as if he was a professional. The human scoffed, but appraised him all the same before taking out chalk and a clear vial full of green powder.

“The bird will be healed in a jiffy,” the woman said. On the table, she drew a circle on the chalkboard on the ground and decorated the interior with runes in a matter of minutes. She went through the motions as if she had done it many times before. Then, she placed the bird in the center and threw a pinch of powder over the circle. A short green zap of power threw the features of the woman’s face into relief, and then the bird was suddenly flapping up on its wings and settling on Phoebe’s glowing beacon of a horn.

Phoebe’s eyes lit up. “Yay!” He looked up at the perfectly healed hummingbird before looking to stare at the magic circle in wonder. “How’d you do that?”

The woman smiled. “Magic runes, and a lot of practice,” she offered, before holding a hand for payment. His father dropped a pouch of coin into her waiting hand. His mother was only just stuffing a notebook back into her bag. “You seem to have a lot of passion for these birds,” the old woman said, changing the subject. “When you grow up, I suggest you applying to work at the sanctuary in Qocuria, over the border. It’s not far, just within the edges of the forest.”

If it was possible, Phoebe had just discovered two of his future passions in one hour.

For some strange reason, the hummingbird had stayed with him for the next four years of its life. It spent most of its time outside but always came around to their bird feeder, even when his aunt moved in.

[cocoa]

Even if Phoebe wasn’t the biggest fan of the processed food from Sloniris, he did love the toys they produced. At the age of three, his parents had shipped to their house several bird plushies: a red robin, a blue jay, a white eagle and a burrowing owl. While Phoebe’s favorite was songbirds, he wasn’t one to discriminate. His secret favorite among his plushies in specific was his white eagle - it reminded him of his horn and glowing paw.

Some of the birds, specifically the smaller ones were automated and squawked when you squeezed them due to the audio box woven into the plush. Along with his new interest in magic, his parents had got him toy magic rune sets with fake plastic effects and puzzle runes that fit together to make different effects. It worked as a child’s way at magical education.

Phoebe couldn’t always go outside and watch the birds, or play with his hummingbird or crow companion, so he lined up the birds and played out scenarios with them, placing them around his rune set and playing them as magicians.

Some days, he would play later than he could stay awake, and would fall asleep among the stuffed birds and plastic toy sets, dreaming with the heart of a dreamer that he was. He dreamt simple dreams of a future as a bird handler and a rune magician, the faintest of smiles gracing his lips all the while.

[cocoa]

Phoebe was five years old when he spent his first celebration with his aunt - or as far as he was concerned, his first celebration alone.

It was March 29, the eve of the first day of spring, or to the people of Hasnetania, it was the day in celebration of the earth god, named the Peace of Uya. They had left several months prior, having finished their research in the small border town. In the years to come, Phoebe would realize and he would come to regret his whining on the day that they left - if it had not been for that, they may have took them with him, but Phoebe had loved the town he had grown up in, and had wanted to stay.

So stay he did, and Phoebe was left writing a letter in his messy handwriting, in the big, wide letters common of a child. He spiced up his letter with colorful blue, red and green markers that his parents had left behind. You would be hard-pressed to find those kind of supplies in his town.

Sticking out his tongue in concentration, as if it would help him balance in the precarious space of his mind, Phoebe wrote.

Hi Mom, hi Dad,
Hello! How is the capital of Sloniris? Do you have lots of fun? I wanna know what the celebration like!! You should know but people and I love Uya here. My paws got so dirty the one didn’t glow no more when I was planting plants! Auntie scolded me when I tried to eat some duck though. Why didn’t you ever tell me you can’t eat meat on Day of Uya? It embarrassed me, I thought you knew a lot!
I hope you come back sometime soon!! I still love you lots mom and dad! It’s sorta lonely here, Auntie isn’t around that often.
Lots and lots of love,
Phoebe Emrys Y.

Some words had to be crossed out, and Phoebe had to look up a lot of words in the dictionary. But he was proud at the final result. He added several sloppy drawings of plants and a vague impression of the ceremony that was held.

It took a month to get a reply.

Three years later, Phoebe didn’t send letters anymore, and he didn’t receive any either.

[cocoa]

“Auntie” expected three things of Phoebe: eat the food you are served, go to school everyday, and be in the house by the time she was back from work. Beyond eating times, the early morning and the late evening, Phoebe rarely saw his aunt - only sometimes, if he was up to something around the city hall, he might get glimpses of her. At home, they didn’t talk much beyond casual small talk - How are you?, How was your day?, and is the food good? They didn’t share many common grounds to talk over, either. For years, Phoebe was too young and still developing his interests to be able to hold much of an intelligent conversation with his Auntie, who was all about politics. And by the time he was, or might even consider that kind of thing, Phoebe was too old, a rebellious teenager that didn’t have any friends and didn’t have any guiding presence in his life. Phoebe refused anything his aunt had to offer when she realized that yes, she should be offering something.

Phoebe learned how to be “independent”, but it hardly could be considered that. It was what Phoebe liked to think himself as - but really, he was pampered, without manners, uncoordinated and unregulated in his livings. It wouldn’t be until he met his mentor that he would learn something of what that meant.

[cocoa]

Even while Phoebe fit the bill of rebellious teenager, he was a weird rebellious teenager with few friends who cried too much and was too cold and too smart and showed that off too much to bring catch attention of kids at school.

He bought a skateboard and quickly made his way around town in an attempt to fit in, but it mostly failed and turned more into a portable surface to doodle chalk runes on the underside of. He half lived in the library, checking out all kinds of books on birds and magic.

Phoebe owned a set of faulty earbuds his father had left behind years ago. It was only through countless tweaking of the wires that he managed to keep them working and playing recordings off of his recorder of the local music of Qocuria.

The days school ran, he often sat out in the fields at break and picked flowers, working at making flower crowns and bracelets. He was always careful to tie them tight at the start of the stem to keep the chain strong. He liked picking red flowers from the local trees the best - Phoebe always felt they looked good, snug above his horn.

At the end of the day, Phoebe was just spending the dollars of his time, waiting for the hours of the loneliest time of his life to slink by.

[cocoa]

Phoebe was ten when he came across some yellowed flyers, made from parchment common of Qocuria, advertising the bird sanctuary. He was quick to grab his skateboard and follow the dirt road to the destination described on the parchment. He still remembered the woman with the runes, and some extra money while pursuing something he loved never hurt.

The sanctuary was hidden in the forest, netting keeping the birds from escaping and endangering themselves. It seemed the most of what the place cared for was injured or endangered species - it was run by a group of activists from Sloniris, but many tribe members from Qocuria also participated.

While young, they let Phoebe through the doors to help with some of the smaller birds. His interest and compassion when it came to species let him through. However, he did seem to annoy some of his co-workers with his seemingly know-it-all attitude - and Phoebe certainly had done his research on birds.

Phoebe had a careful way of handling his birds, knowing some could peck and be violent. He’d keep his distance if necessary, or allow them to use his horn and arm as perching sites. The older he grew, the larger birds he was permitted to deal with. It wasn't long before Phoebe was one of the most knowledgeable people at the sanctuary, at seventeen.

As he grew as a person, he used runes he had learned to heal birds. He learned all about them from his curiosity, and easily taught the people who wanted to learn around him when they asked. He loved sharing his knowledge, especially when it came to magic and birds.

Phoebe didn’t even mind when small birds plucked black hairs from his head for their nests. He’s fallen into bird pens and gotten covered in feathers and dirty water, but Phoebe always managed to deal with it, even if he sometimes would be scared if there was a really big bird that wanted to kill him - and that rarely happened, only with new, big bad eagles to the sanctuary. Sometimes, the manager frustrated him, especially when he was younger, pushing him to the brink of whining when he was forced to do the cleaning jobs.

Yet, Phoebe was able to accept all of these little bad things, because he knew if he didn’t he wouldn’t be able to spend time doing part of what he loves.

Or, well, that’s what he told himself. Phoebe was a bit of an sleazy liar, especially when a flock of birds just dropped white goop peppered with brown all over his once-dark, pristine fur.

“Yes, I totally don’t mind. I love birds,” Phoebe said. His co-worker sighed. Phoebe’s eyes were twitching with irritation, his thoughts and face screaming, look at all I do for you, birds! I care for you! I nurse you back to health! Why, WHY have you renounced me this way!

Phoebe hung his head. The only thing he could think was maybe true that in a week, he’d get over it. Probably.

He was a bit of a liar, after all.