Name:  Darragh Cavan

Age: 390 | Sept. 7th, 1626 | Looks: 36

Place of Birth: Ireland | Nationality: Irish

Species: Celestial | Constellation: Orion

Distinguishing marks: Orion Constellation on right inner forearm

Family: None

Faceclaim: Tom Ellis

The gentle whisper of wind. The soft bed of soil and sweet smell of grass. The slight chill of an autumn night. He opened his eyes to a canopy of stars stitched into a velvet night sky. That is what he was first greeted with when he gained consciousness. There was no way to describe what he felt. He just came into existence that night on the wild hills of Ireland. He didn’t know who he was, where he was, or what was happening. He did nothing for several minutes but lie there, staring at the stars and unable to shake the feeling that that’s where he should be instead. It wasn’t until his fingers twitched that he realized he had a body. Suddenly he was aware of his breathing, of his chest rising and falling; of the heaviness of his legs and the cool soil brushing his palms. He remembered curiously exploring his body limb by limb - first wiggling his fingers and toes, then lifting his forearms off the ground, inspecting the silhouette of his arm against the night sky.

Finally, he decided to sit up. He found himself sitting in the middle of a crater about twenty feet wide. Patches of dirt smoldered like embers, as if an explosion had torn through the earth. All he could do was sit there and absorb. None of this meant anything to him, but he knew he had to get out of that crater. With strenuous effort, he managed to rise to his feet. His legs shook under the weight of his new body, and his leaden feet dragged through the soil. It took every drop of strength in him to climb the edge of the crater, his hands grasped at the grass as he ungracefully pulled himself over the rim. Sheer exhaustion drained any hint of energy that lingered, and all he remembered seeing was a faint bobbing light in the distance before his world fell dark once more.

He awoke in a bed. The world was much brighter now, and the sweet scent of nature no longer surrounded him. He no longer saw the night sky above him, but instead a mixture of clay and straw. A roof. And surrounding him were four walls. The bed was stiff and uncomfortable, the thin blanket was scratchy but warm. A white tunic had appeared on his body. Though the second time waking up was more confusing than the first, he felt stronger in his body and more confident in his movements. He had just sat up when a woman walked through the doorway. She nearly dropped her pitcher of water when she saw him there staring back at her. She then spoke the first words he’d ever hear: “Well that’s a relief. I was beginning to think you were dead.”

The woman introduced herself as Emma and asked who he was. The man went to answer out of some strange instinctual urge, but then found he couldn’t provide an answer. He didn’t know what his name was - it then occurred to him that he didn’t even know what he looked like. Emma handed him a mirror, and he saw his face for the first time. Masculine, tanned skin, hazel eyes, brown hair with the slightest touch of grey at the sideburns. Have you ever looked in the mirror and not recognized that it was you? That was his experience. The star was looking at a face, but not registering it was him. It was then that a man rushed in, a bewildered expression taking over his weather-worn face. The star came to learn that this was Colin, Emma’s husband and the man who found him in the meadow passed out on the edge of the crater. Colin told him how a blinding flash illuminated the sky, followed by a force that rocked the earth. When he went to investigate, all Colin found was the star. Though the man volunteered not to say anything, he knew then for sure that he had fallen from the sky.

Regardless of his amnesia, Emma and her husband Colin continued to board the star at her house, offering food and shelter as long as he helped out around the farm. They grew rows of sweet corn, and had three beautiful dairy cows. It was during his third week there, as he was sitting down at the table for dinner that his name came to him. It entered his mind with so much force, he blurted it out loud.

Darragh. DarraghCavan. Darragh was derived from Erebus, the primordial god of darkness. And that’s all he could remember.

Darragh stayed for three more weeks, aiding his rescuers with their farm chores and gaining strength and confidence with himself. Darragh learned he was in a country called Ireland, but that’s the only useful information they could give him. After a time of only six weeks Darragh was feeling restless and trapped, and mid-way through the seventh week, he realized it was time to leave. Where he’d go, Darragh had no idea, but he had to move on and that’s all he was sure of.

So come nightfall, Darragh gathered the few things that Emma and Colin had so generously donated, and the star was on his way. Darragh was a wandering nomad for a time. Nothing to him but a name. He’d wander from town to town, picking up any work that he could, preferably at night, learning all that he could. He came to learn that he preferred to be out at night - like the stars gave him energy.

Years passed by in a blur, names and faces meshed together. The star was breaching the borders of Ireland now, crossing over into new terrain. Darragh learned more about himself - he had a clairvoyant ability, and could pause time for a few seconds (that is a long and interesting story). When he learned about the Celestial energy, however, is when his stalkers first attacked.

For years, there had always been a few faces that stuck out to him. At first, Darragh thought they were people who shared similar features. Then he came to realize they were the same people, and seeing them in every town he moved to was not just mere coincidence. Darragh's moving turned to escaping, his nomad self turned into a fugitive. It was dead at night in some nameless town when they attacked him behind a pub. Two jumped on his back, two held his arms down in the sticky mud, and one barked orders for confinement. Darragh struggled, and one of them roped a piece of cloth between his teeth like they were wrangling a raging bull. They dragged him away, punching, kicking, cutting. But the more they hit him and the more he bled, the angrier he got. Darragh's skin began to glow, his strength seemed to build. Darragh was able to wrench a hand free, and like it was second nature, Darragh concentrated that energy and aimed and fired. Three went flying while the other two ducked for cover. Being as non-confrontational as he was at the time, Darragh fled the scene as soon as he was free. But he’ll never forget the face of the man who he learned to be the ring leader. It was all wrong. He wasn’t confused nor terrified by what he just witness. No. Instead, there was nothing but twisted glee.

It didn’t take long to figure out they were hunting him. For the better part of two hundred years, these five men followed him across Europe. Most of the time Darragh would evade them. Sometimes he’d fight them. His pacifist ways were soon a thing of the past. Darragh got good with knives and daggers. His Celestial energy was a weapon that was now an extension of himself. Sometimes they even succeeded in capturing him, if only for a short while. But as two hundred years passed into three hundred years, his five biggest fans ran into steadily growing competition. There was eventually nowhere safe for him anymore. Darragh was hunted, beaten, and driven out of nearly every town.

The Celestial became bitter and paranoid, but most of all, he was lonesome. Too long ago was the kindness of Emma and Colin, now probably long dead. Never,  Darragh thought, would he ever see such kind faces again.

That is, until a revelation came. A colony of stars, much like himself, and an offer of safe haven on the Isle of Skye itself. The Celestial immediately fled to the blessed island and nearly collapsed in relief. All these years of fighting to survive, Darragh was finally able to start living again. The Ailwards promised they could come and go as they pleased, but Darragh had no intention of ever leaving again. The island was peaceful, and he stayed there, blissfully ignorant to the rest of the world.

That is, until a wayfinder was killed attempting to fix a timeline. The omniscient Aspects unleashed a punishment on everyone of his kind. One moment Darragh was walking mindlessly through the lush grass, the next he was being hauled off and thrown behind steel bars that rendered him powerless. No one he spoke to understood why they had to suffer the consequences, but Darragh knew a lot of them were more than just confused. They were scared. Because those who had been captured before know good things don’t follow. Needless to say, it was a long, agonizing wait to be murdered.

There’s no telling how long Darragh was there, unsure if the Aspects were going to take advantage of all this Celestial power or just keep them locked here forever. The star was wasting away in the corner of his cell, and was beginning to wonder if he had prefered life on the run after all.

A great tremor woke him up one evening. The world seemed to pitch and sway. Darragh stood there bracing himself, wondering if this was it, when our assumed-dead wayfinder star, Ophelia, appeared on the other side of the bars. It was all a blur of moments after that: the cell doors opened, Celestials flooded outside, the ground split and widened beneath them, the Isle of Skye crumbling into the sea. Darragh watched its desecration with a mixture of devastation and joy. Though it had been his prison, the Isle had also been his salvation. But regardless of the Celestial's complex emotions, they had to run before things got worse.

Seeing the world again in it’s newest development was a shock, but now was not the time for investigation. Darragh followed the colony of stars to city called Evermore in the American state of Colorado. Was this to be our new sanctuary or our new prison? Only time will tell.

Cunning | Strategic | Quick-thinker

Bitter | Untrusting | Cold