[spoiler]Open. This intro is basically my character’s initiating event, so to speak. Also, haven’t written anything in weeks, so idk what I’m doing[/spoiler][b][u]Lumen Solis, the City of Lights 23:42[/u][/b] [url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/235159604/0/0/1]Lunae Creshen[/url] [i]Where did it all go wrong?[/i] The was the question he asked himself as he knelt in the middle of the ashen ruins of where he once lived. He stared upwards at the dark, merciless sky, the hopelessness that came from lack of satisfaction finally creeping into his eyes. He closed his eyes against the unforgiving rain and decided to recount the past half hour.... It was pouring in the City of Lights. Water seemed to endlessly drain from the heavens; some called them God’s tears. Others said that it was precipitation at its finest. Others were simply far too busy to speculate. But regardless, it was raining cats and dogs that night. Vitae, the living district. The hundreds of streets were all soaked and devoid of people, not a single entity to be seen. The houses that lined up against these streets all lay dormant, their lights extinguished and their inhabitants silent. All except for one. There was one particular house on one particular street, right on the outskirts of the district. It was conveniently near Lux, the tourist district; the district that even in the pouring rain remained packed full of people. In this house, one light was on. It was a single, solitary light that shined through the window from behind a thin curtain, drawn shut. A silhouette could be seen from outside, the silhouette of a man sitting at a table. If one were to peer through a minuscule gap between the curtains, one would the man extending his hand, with a single, flickering flame in his palm. The man himself appeared to be Caucasian in race. His skin tone was fair, and as was his build; mesomorphic, with a respectable amount of muscle and an appearance that didn’t exactly hurt a person’s eyes. A complementary color scheme too, with black hair and deep, blue eyes. He donned the casual attire that anybody might wear at home, late at night. A simple, white t-shirt and dark gray sweatpants. As for the flickering flame, it was of course, supernatural. Dancing in his palm it was controlled, casting long shadows through the room. Shadows that pranced around more than the flame did. Sparks flew from the fire that the man created in his hand, sparks that he never paid any mind to... until his was forced to. And before he knew it, his house had caught fire. From that tiny flame in his palm, the fire had grown uncontrollably, even in the rain. Regardless of how much water the man could supernaturally create, the house had soon burnt down completely, and ashes were all that remained. And now, he knelt in the middle of the ruins of his home, by the scorched bodies of his parents. And glared up at the sky, and clouds were parted just enough for the cold moonlight to shine on the man. It would only get colder from then one. [i]Where did it all go wrong?[/i]