Susanoo Tsukuyomi
Atrisia's Western Wolf
- Intent: To create a younger civilian who views Susanoo as her personal hero.
- Image Credit: Made with AI
- Role: A rescued refugee who attaches herself to Susanoo, developing a hero-worship complex.
- Permissions: N/A
- Links: N/A
- Age: 16
- Force Sensitivity: Non-Force User
- Species: Human
- Appearance: Elara is willow-thin, all sharp angles and nervous energy barely contained by clothes that hang off her frame. Her eyes are the most striking feature enormous and doe-like, they hold a permanent mix of awe and trauma. She moves with a quiet deliberateness, as if trying to take up as little space as possible. Her hands are often clasped together to hide their faint trembling.
- Name: Elara
- Loyalties: Susanoo Tsukuyomi, the Hidden Path (for saving her).
- Wealth: Destitute. She lost everything.
- Notable Possessions: A single, grainy photo of her family on her datapad; a blanket given to her on Odessen.
- Skills: Basic First Aid, Cooking, Unshakable Optimism.
- Languages: Basic.
- Personality: Sweet, earnest, and desperately seeking safety and connection. Elara is a nurturer by nature, and her way of coping with her trauma is to pour all her energy into caring for others, especially her "savior." She is naive, kind to a fault, and sees the best in everyone, especially Susanoo.
- Weapon of Choice: None.
- Combat Function: Civilian, Liability. The sound of blaster fire triggers paralyzing flashbacks. Her only instinct is to find cover and pray for Susanoo's intervention.
- Pure of Heart: Her kindness and gratitude are completely genuine and can be a source of unexpected moral support.
- Devoted Attentiveness: She notices everything about Susanoo—the slight favoring of her left leg after a long flight, the way she takes her caf, when she seems most still. This makes her surprisingly useful in a passive, observational way.
- Silent Nurturer: She excels at small, unseen acts of service: leaving a perfectly warmed nutrient bar by Susanoo's cockpit, ensuring her assigned laundry is returned first, quietly cleaning smudges from her fighter's canopy when no one is looking.
- Pathological Hero Worship: Her view of Susanoo is delusional. She interprets Susanoo's coldness as focused intensity, her transactional flings as deserved rewards for a warrior, and her potential cruelty as necessary strength. She has built a religion around a woman who is, at best, unaware of her existence.
- Trauma-Bonded Dependency: Her entire sense of safety is extrinsic, tied to Susanoo's proximity. If Susanoo were to be harmed, Elara's psyche would shatter completely.
- Deeply Traumatized: Beneath her cheerful exterior, she is fragile. Loud noises or sudden aggression can cause her to shut down completely.
Elara Kess's life began in the gentle, sun-drenched rhythms of a blba fruit farm on the outskirts of Garang, a small, unassuming settlement on Dantooine. Her world was not one of hyperdrives and holonet headlines, but of soil seasons, of the sweet, humid smell of ripening fruit, and the morning chorus of grazers in the fields. The Kess homestead was a place of weathered wood and warm light, filled with the laughter of her parents and her younger brother. The Galactic Alliance was a distant, almost mythical entity a symbol of order mentioned in fleeting, static-filled news reports that seemed as remote as the stars themselves. Their concerns were earthly, immediate: the coming rains, the pH of the soil, the joy of a successful harvest. Elara's universe was small, safe, and profoundly good, bounded by the horizons of her family's land and the unwavering certainty of their love.
This innocence was systematically and brutally dismantled in the chaotic power vacuum that followed the cataclysmic Fall of Coruscant. With the heart of the galaxy plunged into chaos, petty warlords and Imperial remnants saw their chance. To the agrarian communities of Dantooine, the shift was initially subtle a rise in pirate raids on shipping lanes, followed by the ominous arrival of a flotilla bearing the jagged insignia of Moff Valen. He was a man of sharp angles and colder ambitions, who viewed the fertile world not as a home for its people, but as a larder to be claimed. His demands were delivered not with negotiation, but with ultimatum: total fealty and a crippling tithe of foodstuffs that would have starved the colony through the winter.
The community leaders, farmers and merchants whose courage was born of protecting their families, refused. Their defiance was met not with a battle, but with an extermination. From the viewports of their homestead, Elara's family watched in disbelieving horror as the sky above Garang ignited. There were no opposing squadrons, no valiant last stand only the methodical, orbital lances of Valen's ships painting the horizon with fire, reducing the town to a sheet of glowing glass. The silence that followed was more terrifying than the bombardment; it was the sound of their entire world being erased.
The stormtroopers came next, moving through the countryside with the grim efficiency of harvesters themselves. Elara's father had shoved her into the deep, earthen root cellar moments before the white-armored figures appeared over the ridge. Crouched amidst the jars of preserved fruit and the smell of damp soil, Elara listened to the sounds of her life ending: the barked Imperial commands, the desperate pleas of her parents, and the brief, sharp staccato of blaster fire. Then, a new, chilling sound the heavy, metallic tread of a boot on the cellar door above. She pressed herself into the darkest corner, frozen not by cold, but by a terror so absolute it stilled her very breath. The scraping of the latch was the sound of the galaxy's mercy finally running out.
And then, the sky tore open. It was a sound unlike any she had ever heard—a shrieking, metallic wail that seemed to violate the very air. It was the sound of Kabaneri engines. The stormtrooper above her hesitated, his attention snatched skyward. Through a crack in the cellar door, Elara saw it: a sleek, terrifying silhouette of black and silver that blotted out the sun. It was not a ship of graceful lines or noble purpose; it was a thing of sharp, predatory angles, moving with a brutal, unforgiving grace. This was Susanoo Tsukuyomi, flying with Strike Squadron, a vanguard of lethal precision.
What happened next was not a dogfight; it was a culling. The black-and-silver fighter fell upon the stormtroopers with a surgical, merciless fury. Its lasers were not flashes of light, but precise, crimson scalpels, cutting down the Imperial soldiers with an efficiency that was as awe-inspiring as it was horrifying. There was no rage in its movements, only an implacable, final purpose. To the Imperials, it was an exterminator. But to Elara, huddled in the dirt, watching these monsters who had murdered her family be themselves annihilated in seconds, the pilot of that fighter was something else entirely. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, the agent of her imminent death had become the architect of her salvation. This angel of death, descending in a cacophony of vengeful fire, was the most beautiful and terrifying thing she had ever witnessed.
The survivors were gathered by the Strike Squadron members shell-shocked, hollow-eyed people whose futures had been erased. The journey to the Hidden Path's sanctuary on Odessen was a blur of hushed voices and sterile ship corridors. But in the silence of her own trauma, Elara's mind latched onto one fixed point in the chaos: the image of the black-and-silver fighter. In a universe that had revealed itself to be monstrous and arbitrary, Susanoo represented a terrifying but consistent new law: that a greater power could, and would, annihilate a lesser evil. Her hero worship was born not from admiration of character, but from a desperate, trauma-forged need for safety. She had seen the darkness, and then she had seen the force that could shatter it. She built the entire foundation of her new, shattered existence upon the figure of the pilot who, without ever knowing it, had become her god, her protector, and the sole reason she drew breath. She didn't just admire Susanoo; she dedicated her life to the one person who made the monsters go away.