Bombus

Full Name: Bombus

Name Origin: the genus name of bumblebees

Nickname(s): Bo

Pronouns: he/him

Age: 4 years old (April/October 8th)

Gender: roo

Sex: amab

Orientation: pansexual

Species: Gryphus

Species Combination: King Vulture/Sun Bear [Sarcoramphus papa/Helarctos malayanus]

Rank: Labourer

Occupation: Apiarist/Dye Maker

Kingdom: Northern

APPEARANCE :

Bombus is an oddly proportioned gryphus, long-limbed and thin with a fairly large head and strong, hooked claws. His fur is shiny and black, covering thick, loose skin. There is a crescent of pale fur running over his chest. His bald head and neck are brightly patterned with red, yellow, blue and purple.

Matching his beautiful yet awkward appearance, Bombus carries himself proudly but with an air of misplacement about him. He makes an effort to stand on two feet whenever he can to try and make himself seem more impressive.

Size Class: Medium

Height: 2’5’’ / 80cm

Wingspan: 4’ / 123cm

Weight Class: Spry

Purchased Traits: 2 tattoos

PERSONALITY :

Traits :

Positive: Clever, Creative, Trustworthy, Honorable

Neutral: Neat, Meticulous, Calm, Superstitious, Imaginative

Negative: Conceited, Impatient, Materialistic

Likes

People: Reliable, Articulate, Polite

Food: Sweet candies, Marmalade, Garlic snails with toast

Activities: Experimenting with new dyes, Climbing, Gardening

Other: Fancy jewelry, Silks

Dislikes

People: Condescending (towards him), Single minded

Food: Pickled vegetables, Plain bread, Poorly spiced foods

Activities: Hunting, Fishing, Dealing with animals larger than a mouse

Other: Walking alone on dark nights

BACKSTORY :

Nestling/Fledgling :

There was a tradition among the beekeepers of Sungarden, where the bees must be told of any major developments in the families of those who tend them. So, on a mild, sunny winter morning, the bees of Wasp’s apiary got to hear about the hatching of his two newest children, Bombus and Apis.

As soon as the twins grew in their baby fluff, they were out playing in the vast fields of flowers that surrounded their home. Even with a couple of hostile run-ins with their striped tenants, they soon learned to be very fond of the sweet treats their father offered whenever they helped out with them. Not to be outdone in the pampering race, their mother, Murex, offered them endless shiny knicknacks from her dye-making collection. Their older siblings took them out on field trips, teaching them to climb trees and identify the many birds around the property. They lived the ideal childhood, away from and ignorant of any of the hardships most other avus in the kingdom were facing.

Sub-Adult :

When Bombus and Apis turned one they started school, much to the shagrin of their mother who argued they already had plenty of mentors at home. Wasp held firm though, their first three children had gone to school and so would the rest of them. Besides, he argued, it was a great opportunity to network.

While Bombus was still in school, his older siblings, Cearulea, Indigo and Glastum enlisted in the army. Cea was the one to break the news over dinner one night, ever the leader she was. Murex absolutely lost it, Bombus had never seen her so angry in his life. She only calmed down slightly when she was told Cea would be starting out as a Sergeant, but only just. Bombus was scared she’d pull him and Apis out of school, but Indigo comforted him with a paw around his shoulder. She told him stories about the heroes of War and how many new friends he could make by telling them about how cool his older siblings were.

The next morning, their mother had mellowed and they were allowed to complete their schooling with the friends they'd made. Though, they never did see that old retired sergeant who had given them sparring lessons and told them war stories again…

It was an evening, the setting summer sun baked the fields of flowering shrubs and a sweet aroma hung thick over the breezeless landscape. Bombus had been working hard, checking on the hives, grinding some foul smelling stones into a powder and bottling little pots of plant parts for his mother to label later. These days his parents seemed absentminded, even Murex’s loud, theatrical complaining hadn’t been heard since yesterday’s burnt breakfast. A courier had stopped by the house soon after, but Bo hadn’t heard what they’d had to say. Probably just some boring news about honey deliveries or something.

Just as Bombus’s paws were starting to quit for the day, Wasp asked him along for one last round of the hives. Bo argued fiercely that he didn’t need his work double checked anymore, he wasn’t a fledgeling. His father responded with his usual bluntness, only saying that this was important.

When they arrived at the Wall, Wasp didn’t go to open any lids, only laid his paws against the rows of pots and bowed his head. Bo recognized the gesture as addressing the bees. It was an old custom to let them know of any major events in the family’s life, to ensure they’d feel comfortable to stay in their nests instead of finding new places to live in the trees or cliffs nearby. It was very important, but Bombus couldn’t help but feel that maybe he should also be extended the same courtesy. He was just about to say as much, when his father began. In a voice loud enough for Bombus to hear clearly, but shakier than he’d ever heard it, he announced that the three children who’d left for the War were not coming back.

Bombus felt the air leave the room. Unlikely, considering the open walls, but the news still left him gasping. All of them… Cerulea, Glastum… even Indigo… All of them gone. Wasp laid a paw on his shoulder, shocking him back to reality. He looked as tired as Bo felt, but he just told his son to go tell the three larger hives to the west, while he took the rest of the ones to the south and east. Pushing down the pain rising in his chest, Bo watched Wasp stumble off, vision clearly blurred with tears. He wanted to be strong for him. For his entire family, what little of it still remained.

The moon was already in the sky when Bo laid paws on the final nest jar. He tried to say the words he’d already said twice, but he couldn’t get his voice to rise out of his beak. The walking had given him time to think, and thinking had advanced him in his grief. Now, standing in front of a clay vessel, talking to dumb bugs, he just felt angry. Empty, yet filled with rage. The whisper that had stuck in his throat like syrup suddenly poured out in a yell. He ripped the lid off the hive and shoved it hard, golden honey and startled, sleepy bees scattering on the purple flowers surrounding the hive.

Seeing the fruits of his family’s hard work pouring into the dirt, Bombus was filled with a sweeping cold wave of regret. He picked up what he could of the combs and gently scooped the angrily buzzing insects back in before closing the lid. It wasn’t their fault, afterall. He sat next to the nest, leaning on the heavy clay to restore it to an upright position. Honey dripped down the surface and unto his face as he pressed himself on it. With a deep breath, he picked up one last shred of comb from the bushes and began lapping it up. The sweet treat eased the knot in his stomach, though he could swear that tonight, even the honey had a bitter aftertaste.

As Bombus made his way towards home, the trees seemed to sway about his path oddly, though he couldn’t hear them rustle or feel any wind on his neck. He looked up and the stars twinkled brightly back at him. The moon was high and before him the trail was bathed in cold blue light, illuminating every flower and blade of grass with a ghostly white glow. A rustle down a large paperbark made him look up.

Two pale, round eyes looked into his. A form, colorless in the moonlight, cast a shadow on the twisting bark. The shape was large, feline.

Panic rose in his chest. Encountering a wild animal all alone in the dark was one of a young avus’s worst fears.

It slid down to the ground without a sound. A second form perched on a branch of the paperbark. Short, sharp wings fluttered on its back.

Despite the warm night, he felt like icy rain was pouring over him. He knew these silhouettes. Maybe not alone, but together they were too familiar to misplace.

“In-Indigo? Caerulea? ...Glastum?”

The two shapes continued to shift like shadows over the ground and the treetops.

“Where is she? Why isn’t she with you?” His voice wavered as he asked his questions. Whatever their answer would be, he was scared to find out. He was scared to make himself known to them, but he had to know. He had to be brave.

A wind picked up over the field and tousled his fur. It hissed over the grass comfortingly and seemed to whisper just for him: …ssssshe’s coming home…

That night, when Wasp came to look for his son, he found him just outside the apiary, stumbling towards home, eyes bloodshot and puffy from crying the whole way.

Young Adult :

Near Bombus and Apis’s second birthday, the family received another messenger from the Council. Murex nearly ate them alive, at least that’s what it sounded like to Bombus. There was a lot of screaming, and then suddenly, worryingly, a quiet. Anyone familiar with Murex’s temperament within earshot came running to see the carnage, only to find her hysterically sobbing against the very flustered seeming swiftwing. From what Bombus could understand, there had been a mistake. Glastum had shown up in camp over a month after being declared dead in the same raid that took her siblings, half-feral and refusing to speak to anybody. She would be honorably discharged and return home immediately. Somehow, Bombus was the most surprised of all at this news. He was ecstatic, yes, but also shaken to his core by the implications of it.

When Glastum returned, the whole area around their town overflowed with generous gifts of honey and enough brightly colored clothes were dyed to spare. Their parents even threw a raucous party, far removed from their usual quiet picnics. Glastum, however, didn’t attend. Bombus was worried about her, she’d changed so much in the year she’d been away. She did eventually start speaking again, but would mostly keep to herself whenever she could. She was in no condition to resume a full work-load, leaving Bombus to continue taking on the responsibilities of being technically the oldest.

A while before, a mixed wing of gryphus and dromaeus had settled camp near the town, using it as a base for their activity. Almost immediately upon first meeting, Bombus took a shine to one of the dromaeus soldiers by the name of Ognena. She was like a breath of fresh air, and Bombus found himself drawn to spend more and more time with her. Every time her wing was off to battle, his mind was swarmed by thoughts of his siblings fate, and every time she returned, his heart soared again. At the time, he couldn't quite name the feelings she excited in his chest, but looking back on it all, he is all but sure it must have been love.

One day, he secreted a single shell from Murex's prized collection and made it into a simple necklace for Ognena, as a charm to keep her safe in the ever intensifying battles. Of course, it didn't take long for his mother to find out, as a single glance at the meticulously arranged rows of ingredients betrayed the missing item to her. When Bombus returned home, heart light from the excitement his beloved had shown for the simple gift, he found her waiting for him. Murex's eyes blazed with a kind of hatred he had never seen directed at anyone since Cea, Indigo and Glastum announced their enlistment. She set her sharp tongue on him, calling him everything from entitled brat to worthless thief. Bo could only press himself flat on the ground, body completely locked in place and eyes burning with tears as the beratement went on. When she raised her paw into the air, wickedly hooked claws bared, he flinched, sure of what would come next. But the searing sting on his face didn't come. He only dared to lift his eyes when he heard his father's voice. The words he spoke weren't ones of comfort, but Bo welcomed being sent into his room over dealing with his mother a second longer.

From his bed, he could hear Murex and Wasp arguing, about the proper ways of discipline and how he was growing closer to the 'soldier hen'. He pulled a thick hide over his ears when his mother started her wailing, not keen to hear any more theatrics for the night.

His parents made him pay through the nose for the shell, but at least they never demanded he take it back. For a while it seemed his workload doubled and he barely had time to visit the camp at all, but whenever he did manage it, he made sure to laugh off any questions about his scarcity. He'd never let her know how expensive the simple shell necklace was proving to be.

Around this time Bombus would start hearing rumors about a ceasefire going around the camp and bleeding into town gossip. He thought the idea was frankly disgusting. To give up the fight his siblings had died for? Unthinkable. As the politics of the world rolled in their tracks and peace was officially declared, he only became more staunch in his opinions. Some of his friends agreed with his logic, but some, to put it mildly, did not. Ognena, for one.

One night, while Bombus was visiting camp again, they had their biggest and final row over the matter. Both of them said things that they perhaps didn't fully mean, and it all ended with her chasing him out of her tent, with the firm idea that coming back would be a grave mistake. Bombus dragged himself back home, where he was met with more congratulations than condolences over his break-up. Glastum seemed like the only one who wasn't telling him how much of a bad influence the hen had been on him and how lucky he was to have broken it off before she dragged him to enlist too. He felt terrible, both about having to leave the first real love of his life and about being told how much pain he almost caused his family.

When the Treaty was called off, Bombus had thought he’d feel glad, like what he’d predicted had come to pass again, but he only felt like the years nobody had given him heed had been wasted potential. The kingdom had been left weak and hungry by years of peace, it was time it grew fat on the spoils of war once more.

Later Life Events : tba

Plot Death: Yeah!

Cause if Plot NA: Dies of ingesting poison while making a rare dye

OTHER :

Purchased Possessions :

• Sable fur-lined cape in patriotic colors, bronze bee clasps and amber beads

Playlist : Spotify Link

Voice Claim : Mr. Rogers // And Then There Were None -45

Trivia:

• Smells aggressively sweet, like distilled honey
• Leaves Solstice offerings for his siblings not by their headstone, but by a small path west of the apiary
• Tattoos are of a bear (his family’s crest) and a bumblebee
• Can fluctuate quickly from ‘working hard’ to ‘hardly working’ and back
• Acts like an old man even though he’s barely not a teenager