TSUBAKI.

The youngest child (by three minutes) of the illustrious Kaida family, Tsubaki careened through childhood untethered by fear or self-doubt. Though her family was anxious or discontent to have merely ridden Llawes' coattails to the moon upon the fall of the Star, Tsubaki herself was perpetually cheerful, quick to crack jokes and make friends. Still, no one was closer to Tsubaki than her twin brother, Himawari.

Moody, quiet, and anxious, Himawari was a pale shadow compared to his sister... to everyone but said sister. To Tsubaki, Himawari was clever and funny, and the person she loved more than anything else in the world. They shared everything, from secrets to gossip to their parents' scolding.

But as they got older, expectations grew. Himawari buckled, buckled, broke; in the wake of his increasingly scandalous rebellious phase, Tsubaki was left to fulfill the role of heir. The shift was not entirely sudden, but her friends, her hobbies, her life -- all of it was increasingly difficult to balance with her newfound responsibilities. Gone were the days when they could huddle under a blanket together to escape their problems; instead, for the first time, things between them grew tense.

When her family asked her to join the Early Insert Program, her gut reaction was relief. Finally, a light at the end of the tunnel. For the Kaida heir to participate would ensure the Llawes family would owe them a generous debt, after all, and what better shortcut was there to increased social standing? Protective and terrified, Himawari begged her to refuse. Dutiful and desperate for escape, she accepted.

When the doctor asked her if she had any preferences regarding a Cor, the answer felt obvious. "Pressed sunflowers, please," she'd said, sneakers tapping happily on the spotless floor. "They remind me of my nii-san!"

Within the Early Insert Program, there was a level of choice involved. Tsubaki was under no illusions about her reason for participating. Full cooperation meant a full host rewards for her family. Signature wet on the page, Tsubaki gave consent at the highest clearance level: full experimentation with no debriefing.

And so, for every day for just over a year, Tsubaki was eaten alive by anomalies. She had her own room. Sometimes they would stop and take notes. Others it would go on for days. These distinctions were mostly meaningless. Alone in the dark, her existence constantly unraveled and reknit itself, until it began to fray.

Something lonely crept in to fill in the gaps. When Tsubaki left the EIP, escorted back to her childhood home, she appeared, from the outside, empty. In reality, she was full. Every human life every devoured by an anomaly, every soul unstitched from the fabric of existence, found its home inside her. A choir of angels, dark and swimming. All teeth.

Save for the occasional burst of hysteria, she was immobile and unresponsive, consumed by the effort to organize the noise. Beyond the confines of her room, Ceridwen Llawes arrived with a deal forged from her own experience: fake Tsubaki's death, and the Corporation would ensure the Kaida family reached nearly the Llawes' level of social ubiquity. No responsibility on any parties. The document was signed. Mission fulfilled, Tsubaki was kept to her room.

Save for the occasional skittering housekeeper, the only visitor she received was Himawari. For years, he visited, brushed her hair, updated her on the state of his life. Over the noise, she listened. Over the noise, she reached, but could not reach.

When her childhood friend Lota finally came to visit -- worked past the grief that had kept them at bay -- they brought in tow a certain doctor. The doctor spoke. For the first time in years, so did Tsubaki.

With Anathema as her extended hand, Tsubaki collected others of similar mind to herself: haunted and haunting, desperate for an ending to the eternity foisted upon them. This was the beginning of Eschaton: a faction which seeks to end immortality, likely through the destruction of the Star. Mercifully, she spared her parents the fate they had offered her up to: she opened their throats at the dinner table. She tried to do the same for Himawari-- surely, she owed him that much-- but-- but--

But how could she be without him? It was the only thing she couldn't imagine. For now, he remains alive.

Since, her actions -- as a person and as Eschaton's leader -- have been nothing short of erratic: months of eerie serenity punctuated by explosions or grand galas. Presently, she's gone so far as to offer the Kaida Manor as a stronghold for the Concerned Citizens, despite their clashing ideals. Where all this is leading, one can only guess...