Destin Eden
Bad dreams.
NAME: Destin Talvi Eden | “Des”
FACTION: Lives in Galactic Alliance territory
RANK: Eden terror
SPECIES: Kiffar / Arkanian / Mirialan
AGE: Teenage angst
SEX: Boy parts
HEIGHT: Same as his twin
WEIGHT: Normal
EYES: Black
HAIR: Black
SKIN: Bl— er, green
FORCE SENSITIVE: With dads like these...
FAMILY:
[+] Techie: Des is a natural around technology – within five minutes of picking it up, he’ll already be playing around and pushing its limits. All tech.
[+] Cunning Linguist: Naturally gifted with a comprehension for the many tongues of the galaxy – from Shyriiwook to machine language, and the whole gamut between.
[~] Potential: The blood that runs through his veins carries power, but it also carries corruption. He avoids both like the Gulag plague.
[–] Sir Angstalot: Des bitches about anything, anytime, anyplace. Nothing will stop the fury that is his dissatisfaction with life, the universe, and everything.
[–] Average dude: Compared to the hunks of muscle and distilled warfare that roam galactic battlefields, Des is a veritable couch potato. The only line of defense between the teen and a pudgy figure is his inherited metabolism. But this too shall pass.
APPEARANCE:
If he dressed in normal clothes, Destin wouldn’t stand out from your average crowd. Alright, so maybe he’d stand out, physically, if you gotta be that nitpicky. But other than the black pants, and black shirt, and black hair… well, you get the hint. Des is one dark holovid away from hopping down to the local cosmetics shop and stocking up on eyeliner.
BIOGRAPHY:
Really complex, really karked up, and really, totally unknown to Destin himself. Only thing he knows is he’s adopted – but barring complete mental vegetables, anyone with half a brain can figure that out. Avalore, white. Stali, white. Destin… green.
Not much of a guess, there.
He’s questioned both of his parents over the years, of course. Cornered mom in the pantry; confronted dad during saber training; even went as far as trying to coax information out of his uncle, once. No dice. They were all clammed up tighter than the SIS servers.
Er, not that Des would know anything about that.
Thus his origins and past remained an obvious but inaccessible mystery, and he’s learned to live with it. (Or at least likes people to think that. Nobody buys it.) With the isolation of the homestead came peace, yes, but also the lack of any company beyond his many siblings. Maud was about as fond of datapads as Des was of plants, and so he ended up growing closer to his sister instead. They’d crawl under blankets with Emme and read horror stories until Avalore found them wide-eyed and sleep-deprived the next morning, flashlight still on. They’d hide around the house and give Opi headaches as they failed to show up to breakfast, or lunch, or dinner. Sometimes all three.
Damned Edens.
SHIP:
Lots an’ lots. Most of them are in various states of disassembly at any given point.
ROLE-PLAYS:
FACTION: Lives in Galactic Alliance territory
RANK: Eden terror
SPECIES: Kiffar / Arkanian / Mirialan
AGE: Teenage angst
SEX: Boy parts
HEIGHT: Same as his twin
WEIGHT: Normal
EYES: Black
HAIR: Black
SKIN: Bl— er, green
FORCE SENSITIVE: With dads like these...
FAMILY:
[member="Avalore Eden"] | Mother
[member="Meeristali Peradun"] | Father
[member="Gabriel Sionoma"] | Uncle
[member="Armaud Eden"] | Twin Brother
[member="Svora Eden"] | Adopted Brother
[member="Emme Eden"] | Adopted Sister
[member="Ellifain Eden"] | Adopted Sister
[member="Reverance"] | “Destin, I am your father.”
[+] Techie: Des is a natural around technology – within five minutes of picking it up, he’ll already be playing around and pushing its limits. All tech.
[+] Cunning Linguist: Naturally gifted with a comprehension for the many tongues of the galaxy – from Shyriiwook to machine language, and the whole gamut between.
[~] Potential: The blood that runs through his veins carries power, but it also carries corruption. He avoids both like the Gulag plague.
[–] Sir Angstalot: Des bitches about anything, anytime, anyplace. Nothing will stop the fury that is his dissatisfaction with life, the universe, and everything.
[–] Average dude: Compared to the hunks of muscle and distilled warfare that roam galactic battlefields, Des is a veritable couch potato. The only line of defense between the teen and a pudgy figure is his inherited metabolism. But this too shall pass.
APPEARANCE:
If he dressed in normal clothes, Destin wouldn’t stand out from your average crowd. Alright, so maybe he’d stand out, physically, if you gotta be that nitpicky. But other than the black pants, and black shirt, and black hair… well, you get the hint. Des is one dark holovid away from hopping down to the local cosmetics shop and stocking up on eyeliner.
BIOGRAPHY:
Really complex, really karked up, and really, totally unknown to Destin himself. Only thing he knows is he’s adopted – but barring complete mental vegetables, anyone with half a brain can figure that out. Avalore, white. Stali, white. Destin… green.
Not much of a guess, there.
He’s questioned both of his parents over the years, of course. Cornered mom in the pantry; confronted dad during saber training; even went as far as trying to coax information out of his uncle, once. No dice. They were all clammed up tighter than the SIS servers.
Er, not that Des would know anything about that.
Thus his origins and past remained an obvious but inaccessible mystery, and he’s learned to live with it. (Or at least likes people to think that. Nobody buys it.) With the isolation of the homestead came peace, yes, but also the lack of any company beyond his many siblings. Maud was about as fond of datapads as Des was of plants, and so he ended up growing closer to his sister instead. They’d crawl under blankets with Emme and read horror stories until Avalore found them wide-eyed and sleep-deprived the next morning, flashlight still on. They’d hide around the house and give Opi headaches as they failed to show up to breakfast, or lunch, or dinner. Sometimes all three.
Damned Edens.
SHIP:
Lots an’ lots. Most of them are in various states of disassembly at any given point.
ROLE-PLAYS:
