devil's playground, wip collection

ZEYN EL-AMIN

the burning of paper instead of children

RANK. E
AGE. 23
DOB. 04 05
ETHNICITY. lebanese.
OCCUPATION. unemployed.
RESIDENCE. chinatown.

You can't be touched. You cannot touch. There's someone talking you can't see. There's voices no one can hear. You're walking straight lines on crooked roads. If you start running, everything might fall into place. 

They're all hunting you and they don't know who you are. You don't know who you are. 
                        no you're zeyn, dark hair and darker eyes, your father's hand on your back as he tells you he's proud, you're going to lead them all into a new age.

That was in another country. The concrete is rough under your bare feet here. You can't see the sky. All you remember is your father's voice telling you there were only two choices: to be powerful or to be nothing.

You chose both.

---

Zeyn was born to a powerful Lebanese clan of wakers. For the most part they were sorcerers of the elements, fire and wind and earth. Those who were born without the gift became magi, pouring over ancient tomes and chanting under their breath to follow in their more glittering brethren's footsteps. Her father was clan head, clasping the reins of the four winds, the strongest sorcerer of his generation--perhaps one of the strongest the bloodline had ever produced, they whispered--and her mother was a thunder-walker, calling lightning from the skies. Great things were expected of Zeyn, first born child and heir to her father's title. Heir, if she had the gift. Heir, only if she was great.

She was great. In time they learned not to wish for greatness. 

From the moment she could walk, she was subsumed in magic. It was her bread and butter. She learned to tap the power within her before she could string a sentence together. And she was, to their delight, a genius. A prodigy. Her parents had birthed a sorcerer of a type her clan had never witnessed, despite their cultivated and pure bloodline: a sorcerer who controlled the void. 

Zeyn's gift was over nothing, over the void that consumed and destroyed. She could pull apart objects by age seven, and erase a man's memory and leave him a gibbering drooling mess by age ten. There was no one in her clan who would dare challenge her even in training. The cost of losing, if she slipped up, was too high. 

The void waited. And the void consumed her, in the end. Secretly, at first. She lost scraps of time, a few minutes here or there. She lost the name of a distant cousin. She started losing, further, faster. Where she was, and what she was doing. Who she had been talking to. Her mother's face. The natural limits on her mind, the mental dams erected to keep us safe and sane, she erased. She erased her brother's memory trying to take his hand and lead him to the market. She robbed her mother of her lightning. 

Her power drove her mad and her power kept anyone from touching her. She was too strong to be put down and too far gone to be reasoned with. One day Zeyn awoke with no knowledge of how to speak Arabic or understand the people around her, their faces unrecognized blurs, and she fled.

ASSETS COST: 50
STARTING FUNDS 100
BORROWED: ---
BONUSES: 50

played by tsundere