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YOU'RE ALL THAT I SEE

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[attr="class","freiwanttmid"]CHARACTER FACTION league

[attr="class","freiwanttmid"]CHARACTER RANK cadet 

[attr="class","freiwanttmid"]FACECLAIM Quanxi from Chainsaw Man

[attr="class","freiwantttop"]ABOUT THE CHARACTER

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For your first birthday, you were promised the world.
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The sun came to you in the form of your brilliant smile. Its radiance would evoke out demons of doubt from those around you, vanquishing them without regard to their origins or previous afflictions.
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Then, on your second birthday, the second present of your promise was drawn from the basket of gifts. The moon. It came in the form of a girl, a friend, and once upon a time, a piece of your heart. CALLISTA MOON was the name that brandished her beauty.
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Lastly, on your third birthday, the earth was wrapped up and presented as the inherence you would soon receive. "When you're older," your mother would coo, "it will all be yours." You took that to heart. Because the earth was your inheritance and every day you sought to claim it.[break][break]
Laughter adorned your youth and teenage years. A child so blessed is expected to do nothing less than revel in their fortune. But you always looked beyond that. While others wept, you cherished. While others moan in grievances, you looked to make a change. There was nothing outside your list of possibilities.[break][break]
On your birthday, you were promised the world, and the world was thought to be yours until it wasn't. And, over the spanning years, birthdays began to take instead give. [break][break]

It started when you turned 18. Back then, you knew little of what you were doing, but the world was yours, and if your moon thought to move, you saw no reason not to follow. That was when the first gift of repentance was granted, and with it came your first loss; your innocence.
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You were not ignorant. You knew of war and what it entailed. But no depiction, regardless of how grounded it may be, could mimic of the sound of a bullet buzzing by your ear. It could never capture the pound of one's own heartbeat in their ears as they rushed across a battlefield of torn bodies and contorted faces, dodging the bombardment of flamethrowers, thunderbolts, aerial aces, and all else.
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You kept your chin up, though. You were the sun and your moon needed you. So you smiled and you laughed and you did all that you could do to melt the threat of the incoming winter's first frost.
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Then, when you turned 23, another gift was taken. There was no stopping it. No methods of refusal. It was this year, and the year's worth of time spanning after it, that the gift of your sanity was taken and ravaged before your very eyes. This was the year you were reminded of the world's arduous winters. This was the year you learned what it meant to truly hunch over in hunger and feel your own insides tear a part. This was the year you questioned if the Moon was ever truly yours. This was the year your laughter dried and your smiles faded - the year in which darkness had finally swallowed the sun.
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When you escaped, it's not without the shackles of these reminders. They cling to you when you sleep, visitations taking the shape of inescapable nightmares that rob you of your safety. There is nowhere to hide, no one to weep to.
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Because you are alone. You will always be alone.