Sync- before the downgrade
He was never a bad kid. Yes, he could be a know-it-all. Yes, he'd be a killjoy, shutting down any activity that could potentially be dangerous. Yes, he would remind his professor that they'd forgotten to assign homework. His intentions were for the betterment of himself and his peers, even if his actions weren't seen that way.
While some spent their time at the academy socialising, causing chaos and having fun, all his free time was dedicated to extra classes, or setting up study groups. He was nice, always willing to help out anyone with projects and assignments, but anything outside of academics? Forget about it, you'd have better luck drawing blood from a stone.
He was assigned as a mentor to a student a few years behind him, a kid who to everyone else, seemed like a lost cause. Never an assignment completed, exceptionally rare attendance, and overall a nuisance to deal with. The two formed a tight bond, him learning to break out of his shell a little, and the student just barely scraping above a fail.
Graduating top of his class, and assigned his first mortal, Connor, a singer destined to live fast, die young, shot down during am act of rebellion against Bord na Mona. Guiding him was fine at first, until things, didn't add up. Paths occuring that weren't visible. An unseen force tinkering with fate.
Things came to a head when Connor mysteriously found himself in the hands of the Defiant Children. A twisted cult, worshipping a rogue AI, modified to "See the truth of the world" and to "feel no pain".
The young Heavenly disappeared for some time, before returning, his mortal in hand, at a clinics door. Though not without its price.
Once beautiful white wings, now broken and soaked with red. Body crumpled, on the brink of giving up. The once bright mind, shattered and fragments from the horrors and torture that was brought before it.
It took a long time, before he was in a stable, concious state. And longer, through repeated surgeries to replace that which was damaged beyond saving, before he could fully be released.
The man that returned was unrecognisable. Soft white feathers replaced with smooth, blue fibreglass, much of meat body being replaced by cold, dark chrome. Though the most drastic change, instead of the cautious, hardworking and kind young man, replaced by a shell, only able to see one use of existence. And if you cannot complete that task, you might as well be worthless scumHe was never a bad kid. Yes, he could be a know-it-all. Yes, he'd be a killjoy, shutting down any activity that could potentially be dangerous. Yes, he would remind his professor that they'd forgotten to assign homework. His intentions were for the betterment of himself and his peers, even if his actions weren't seen that way.
While some spent their time at the academy socialising, causing chaos and having fun, all his free time was dedicated to extra classes, or setting up study groups. He was nice, always willing to help out anyone with projects and assignments, but anything outside of academics? Forget about it, you'd have better luck drawing blood from a stone.
He was assigned as a mentor to a student a few years behind him, a kid who to everyone else, seemed like a lost cause. Never an assignment completed, exceptionally rare attendance, and overall a nuisance to deal with. The two formed a tight bond, him learning to break out of his shell a little, and the student just barely scraping above a fail.
Graduating top of his class, and assigned his first mortal, Connor, a singer destined to live fast, die young, shot down during am act of rebellion against Bord na Mona. Guiding him was fine at first, until things, didn't add up. Paths occuring that weren't visible. An unseen force tinkering with fate.
Things came to a head when Connor mysteriously found himself in the hands of the Defiant Children. A twisted cult, worshipping a rogue AI, modified to "See the truth of the world" and to "feel no pain".
The young Heavenly disappeared for some time, before returning, his mortal in hand, at a clinics door. Though not without its price.
Once beautiful white wings, now broken and soaked with red. Body crumpled, on the brink of giving up. The once bright mind, shattered and fragments from the horrors and torture that was brought before it.
It took a long time, before he was in a stable, concious state. And longer, through repeated surgeries to replace that which was damaged beyond saving, before he could fully be released.
The man that returned was unrecognisable. Soft white feathers replaced with smooth, blue fibreglass, much of meat body being replaced by cold, dark chrome. Though the most drastic change, instead of the cautious, hardworking and kind young man, replaced by a shell, only able to see one use of existence. And if you cannot complete that task, you might as well be worthless scum.