ELIJAH HELENUS | THE NOVA | CENTAURIAN | 30
On Centauri, you were born a star-weaver, one who can read the heavens and predict the future. Earth does not appreciate your talents nearly as much, but it won’t stop you from continuing your ancient practice. There is a great prophecy, one you’d read since you were small, one that tells of the end of an era. You aren’t supposed to mettle with the future you see, but for the sake of everyone else, tradition will be broken.
BIOGRAPHY
What most humans don’t seem to understand— indeed what most other species besides the centaurians seem to dismiss— is that time is not linear. It is not a river that runs from one point to another. It is not a singular path in which the living are set upon, and to think so has always seemed incredibly arrogant to Elijah. Instead, time is like a chorus, crying out endlessly, and everything that is and ever will be are parts of the universal melody. Elijah has never known why anyone would prefer to deny this fact, why they would shut their eyes and plug their ears against the universe’s will and struggle uselessly against the current of time. They have a theory that it has to do with the dangerous self-importance that other species have such an overabundance of. Elijah can see it start to spread like a disease. The concept is catching among their own people until soon there will be none left who will listen to the universe when it sings.
This is why Elijah has come to Earth, even though the ache for home is a physical thing inside their chest. There is a prophesy that rings in their ears always, humming louder and louder as it’s time approaches and Elijah knows it will be the brightest thing the universe has ever revealed to them. It signals an ending, and usually that would not bother Elijah so much, because only a fool or a novice Starweaver thinks that endings do not come accompanied by new beginnings. But this one, this vision that was the first thing the universe ever showed them as a child, it might mean the ending of Elijah’s culture, their way of life, and it all starts on Earth. This is not something they can just let happen. There is too much that hangs in the balance. Too many lives.
The prophesy cannot be ignored, because when the universe speaks it will make itself heard, one way or another. Its voice echoes endlessly and reverberates through the bones of every living thing that shares its energy. That was Elijah’s first lesson as a Starweaver, told to them when they were only four years old by their mentor and caretaker, Priam Hecuba, a Starweaver who worked at the pleasure of the Chosen. At the time, Elijah was unable to recognize the weight of those words, or what they would mean, though as they grew and their ability as a Starweaver manifested just as Priam had predicted it would, Elijah found that nothing was as absolute and all-consuming as the universe’s will. They still remember the first time they’d realized that fate was something that hung around their shoulders like a shroud, a clinging shadow. It was when they’d first asked Priam why they did not live with their parents like most of the other children who had shown a knack for glimpsing the universe’s will at a young age.
Priam had replied that on the day of Elijah’s birth, she had a vision, one that compelled her to go to Elijah’s parents and explain that their child was meant for Starweaving and that she personally would like to oversee Elijah’s education. At the time, Elijah believed her, because she had never lied to him before, but Elijah would soon realize that there was a difference between lying and deliberately hiding parts of the truth. Only a few months later, while they lay half asleep in their bed, Elijah heard their father cough wetly, painfully, the sound ripped from his throat and coming from nowhere. It was then accompanied by a vision of their father, older and thinner, wasting away from disease. Elijah’s mother was absent from his side, but the bandana she often wore in her hair was wrapped tightly around his wrist like a talisman.
In all their time as Priam’s apprentice, this was the lesson that was hardest for Elijah to learn: Not everything that the universe shares can be changed, and not everything is set in stone. The true talent of Starweaving is being able to tell the difference between the two. And here on Earth, the line that is drawn down the middle is more blurred than ever.
CONNECTIONS
THE KELVIN: Something hangs in the balance with them, they are a potential catalyst for greatness and ruin. Your not certain they’re the center of your apocalyptic vision, but it seems more and more likely by the day. They don’t seem to believe you, but their actions speak louder than their words. If it’s advice they want, you’ll freely give it. To save the worlds, you’ll give them everything.
THE HOLO: It is tradition for the picked heir to seek the guidance of a star-weaver, but they seem completely uninterested in what you have to say. You thought quiet meant thoughtfulness, but with them it means contempt. They’re planning something, they must be, and it can’t be good.
THE SILICATE: Your cousin has always been interesting, clearly filled with contempt for all those who remind them of their lost sibling. You’ve never wanted to glimpse the future of a family member, but the universe won’t let you be. It’s not good, it’s tragic in fact, and you can’t tell them what you see. Ever.
THE NOVA IS PORTRAYED BY EKA DARVILLE AND IS CLOSED
Please note that since THE NOVA and THE SILICATE are cousins the faceclaim the applicant chooses must be at least one-half black.