Jesrith

• Identifies as a single entity and refers to himself as "I". Heads will speak in turn and occasionally argue when Jesrith himself is in conflict, but do not have discrete personalities.

Jesrith--the firstborn son of one of our founding members, given up to the Plaguebringer to save his life when he hatched with a fatal wasting disease. Taken in instead by her forgotten children, he spent years bathing in the Wyrmwound, learning to change, learning to let go. To heal through pain and not to be ashamed of what he became.

He never loved the Wyrmwound. He was grateful for the second chance he’d been given--but he was a child of open skies and warm sunlight. Still, the care of the aberrations had saved his life; they raised him, loved him, and because this was where they lived, this was where he would live now that he was one of them. It wasn’t their fault they couldn’t leave; they were in hiding even from their own god--the one he no longer believed would have helped him as a baby, if they hadn’t intervened on his behalf, because if she gave up on her own “too weak” children why would she help someone else’s.

And while his aberration siblings and guardians had taken him enthusiastically as one of their own, they were careful not to project too much of their own abandonment onto him--they had been there, after all, when he was given up. They knew how desperately his parents had loved him; that his life was precious enough to risk crossing the Wasteland alone with an infant.

That knowledge, rather than bitterness or resentment, was used to encourage him--to rest when he needed it, because he had nothing to prove. To push himself without fear, because his mother knew he was strong enough to fight and live, and they knew it too. His comrades supported him when he stopped swimming in the Wyrmwound, preferring to stabilize. He thought he was happy, despite the secrecy.

And then aberrations rejoined the world.

And suddenly, the parents who had saved his life by giving him to strangers were no longer a bulletpoint in his backstory. Suddenly, the complicated emotions or lack of emotion he’d always felt toward them were no longer irrelevant to the life he was going to lead. Suddenly it mattered that he didn’t like the Wyrmwound. It mattered, those hazy dreams of golden sunlight through soft grass.

Suddenly, he could go home.

Suddenly, he had to figure out what that meant.