backstory

everything must start somewhere. this is how a story must go.for eirian, he's around twenty-one when his life really starts. everything before it was a premonition of everything that has happened to come. it is late spring when there's a raven that frequents the corner of his childhood bedroom's windowsill. eirian wonders, only momentarily, if there's more to everything than all he's seen. immortality is tough to grasp when you've got eternity ahead of you.a few days pass and he realises, he doesn't quite mind the notion of being alive for forever. he just likes looking at birds. hearing them chirp. days of sweet birdsong as they build their nests into the little crook above his window whilst he's deep into his pottery. the chirps continue through the end of the month. and adoringly, he names the raven after a mixture of his and his brothers name - eiron. weeks pass, eiron has three hatchlings, so he names them ronei, roein, and norie. of course, he can not differentiate between the birds. of course, it does not matter.in his forty-first year of life, near the beginning of summer, eirian finds another raven perched upon a windowsill. only this time, he's in a different home, so perhaps, it's a crow, actually? in any case, three more broods, and eirian gifts them with their names: riron, eiaer, raero. he returns to his parents' house for his fifty-eighth year. autumn, this time, which is as bare as it is concluding.still, another raven. crow. raven. crow. is nesting at his childhood bedroom windowsill. for the first time, he wonders about the lifespan of a raven or a crow. wonders if birds can recognise their mothers from the sound of their birdsong. there are no more broods this time. it feels like a premonition. eirian wonders if immortality is a choice.four weeks later, and he's by his fathers deathbed, ginger hands held in ginger hands, lips against temples, nose buried into fading grey. birdsong, still, but the sounds just seem like sounds. "crows, definitely," his father says, gaze softened in the gentleness of his speech, and eirian doesn't know enough about birds to disagree.he remembers his father's eyes to be a gentle brown, as if from too much looking at wood. he remembers the way he would brush off the sawdust from the crevices of his clothing after a few hours. eirian inherits the eyes, the love of carving, and balances clay in one hand, wood in the other.between him and aeron, eirian wasn't ever meant to be the brawns. that's what aeron was for, and his father ensured it would be as such. aeron, ever-adventurous, calloused palms from chiselling marble and scratches on his knees after a day out on the fields, and eirian, ever-curious, clay under his fingernails and sawdust in the lines of his palm. aeron, who would listen to eirian recite an endless list of facts in an effort to memorise them. eirian, who would watch his brother leave for the day without ever missing the opportunity to glance back from the front door.decades in ease. of course, he nurses the ache of losing his father for the rest of forever, but there is ease, there is aeron, and there is his mother.one hundred and ninety-nine years old when, suddenly, life decides it would like to be uneasy. soot, smoke, embers, and a horrible mix of grey and orange-red that eirian does not wish to think much more about, so he doesn't. simply, instead, applies salve over the injuries from it. at least once a day, every single day, for as long as he remembers.there is nothing more to be said about the burning, the aftermath, and the final destruction. the grief that curls under his skin is no one else's but his own. yes, others around him share it, and yes, others around him have seen him go through the worst of it, but none of that matters, not very much. there are moments where he swears he can hear words whispered into his ears, quieter than anything he's ever heard before. he thinks, for a good few centuries, that he's losing it. he knows he will, if he stays.laden with guilt, grief, and an egregious amount of heartache, eirian, with his brother and mother, and those that share the same sentiment, decide to leave. his initial stint as an independent eirian lasts precisely five and a half weeks, after which he finds that he did not account for the overwhelming loneliness. he resigns, accepts his cowardice, and makes his way back to family. he is welcomed. a little over a decade, and then, there is renewed hope in the shape of a sister. he is everything his father ever taught him to be, and more.
when his sister passes, as humans tend to, he is once more met with the weight of his cowardice. this, too, is something that can not be spoken of for long. not because he wishes to mask it, not quite, but because he simply can not offer more than his silence.centuries pass, as they, too, tend to, before he picks himself off the ground. up on his feet, own two feet, all by himself, and begins another life. not easy, not uneasy, but on his own. it takes a life to learn how to live, yes, and when he tries to live, the wild mumbles sweet sounds of soft acceptance when he loses his way. he tucks his head down and rests for however long nature allows him to. time passes by easily enough when you're running. eirian doesn't know if he's running to or running from, but he finds solace in cities and countries across the continent.what happens to the moment when you're running away from it? it goes on. nothing changes. the body trembles as the body often does, tends to, too. the wind breaks gently over the canopy. the earth does not leave us comfortless, and as always, he can turn towards the sky. notice the sparkle of dust in the sunbeams. count the number of ravens, crows, raven, crows, that he can see from outside his window. marinate in the saccharine glaze of a life that is worth living simply because you can live. still, eirian, you can live. immortality is a choice, and he's long accepted that he's well-past rejecting it. his hands have made good mistakes, yes, he's heard this before: they can always make better ones.passivity comes easy to those who seek stillness. as such, routine domesticity is something he has grown fond of. seoul, now, and it's been a year. only towards the end of it has he started living a life that he can call his. growth, yes, yet to be had. everything starts somewhere. this is how his story will go.

this is a fresh start for him. his stillness is not the sort of stillness that sustains itself, but he promised that he would try to stop outrunning everything he comes across. he will move, he will grow. he must. he promised. but he will, to the best of his abilities, stay rooted where he needs to be. seoul, now, is where he needs to be.immortality is a maintenance. a daily thing, really, and it takes much upkeep to sustain it. often, eirian spends his time doing something, anything. embroidery, photography (film and digital), and sculpting are, currently, in his top rotation. woodwork just isn't practical anymore, but there is a workstation back home, in chabahar. reading and writing are, of course, essential, and he does his best to maintain an almost-weekly blog on his profile, detailing all that he's done since his last update.presently, eirian loathes dislikes the job that he's working at, because he feels that he doesn't get to do work that revolves his job description: being an archivist. as such, he does his best to just let the hours pass by, either through stepping in and helping with other tasks in the library, re-tagging and editing previous collections, or just straight-up slacking off.eirian is also in pursuit of fostering deeper connections, lasting ones, and re-kindling older ones that may have been weakened due to his habit of running away. he's trying to slow down, he promises, knows that to be hasty is to be prone to making mistakes. he'll do better. he is doing better.more recently, eirian has been bought as a slave off of the market. development and arc pending.

archive of eiri's oddities & peculiarities

eiri does and says very many odd things. here are explanations for some of them.
constantly updating this btw feel free to check in for updates or ask if there's anything he's said/done & you have no clue about what it means.

general refeiriences

eirian witnessed the burning of the library of alexandria, which left him with a large burn that begins at the bloom of his hip, right at the mid-rise jeans waistband level, and ends at the middle of his thigh, little farther than where boxershorts would reach, but still above the knee. it is primarily located at the side of his body, minimally at the front and back.
please note that modern medication has made great advancements in its care for burn survivors, but this event takes place much earlier on in history, where such measures were simply non-existent. as such, liberties have been taken on account of this being a fantasy rp setting, concerning the description and severity of his injuries and the manner in which they were healed.generally, with burn injuries, there are a variety of other issues that follow that impact one's quality of life. at present, eirian suffers no such impact, but he does have tendencies that he developed from when he was healing, such as shallow breathing and, then, subsequent deep breathing to make up for it, and other such habits of the like which are just that: habits, and not other injuries.currently, his scar is hypertrophic, raised, and has minimal limitations on his functioning. eirian has issues with extension, stretching, and flexibility, but does not suffer enough to have a limp or any such mobilitiy issues. other limitations include discomfort with prolonged pressure on his joints (note, the scar does go over his hip joint) and a lack of sensation (which, eirian disagrees - medically, the worst parts of the burn would lack any and all sensation, but due to phantom limb syndrome, eirian is convinced that he can feel touch there, on occasion). also, general weakness on account of the burns being deep enough to impact fat and tissue, possibly some muscle involvement due to the level of care at that time, but nothing severe.
at worst, his general clumsiness can be partially blamed on bad leg days, but otherwise, there are no other concerns or issues. generally, though, he does prefer the left side of his body more.now, visually, the side of his right hip is the most affected and the farthest edges of it (above the knee, below the waist, towards the front/back areas of the body such as his thighs, bum, lower torso, abdomen, etc) are the least affected, so you can expect a gradation that goes from unburnt skin > once burnt but healed skin > once burnt but visibly hasn't healed the same skin > (hypertrophic scarring) < hasn't healed the same < healed skin < unburnt skin, like a heatmap.
the 'burnt but healed' skin lacks pigmentation and appears closer to normal skin than burnt skin, resembles typical, modern-day, treated burn scars.medical, scientific sources below. graphic images to follow. viewer discretion advised, please skip if needed.
- please note the general ridges, grooves, and flesh-toned colouring for Figure 8.3.1 at this source is the sort of hypertrophic scarring you could match up to eirian's worst - obviously size, location, etc, all differ, but texturally, that's what we're dealing with.
- please note the wrinkled and raised texture and discolouration, hyperpigmentation for Photograph (B) at this source
- please note the taut, firm, and smooth texture for Figure 1 at this source. additionally, at the same source, you may scroll to Figure 3 to see visuals for other traits, such as the thickness and the pigmentation variation

for eirian's feathers and general owl traits, i've referenced, vaguely, the habits of barn owls. basic info available here! feather gallery here!
some traits specific to barn owls, that i've adapted over to eirian (per world setting, canon-compliant), are:
- very sensitive to sound, near-constant use of earplugs. also, asymmetrical ear piercings as a nod to asymmetrical ears on barn owls.
- general dislike for cold weather; barn owls are poorly insulated owls, ergo, eirian loathes cold weather and can't stand winter. very likely to see him bundled up, scarf looped over his head, et cetera, when the temperatures drop.
- soft, velvet-like feathers in his hair. despite his efforts at tucking them away to hide them, they are often prone to becoming fluffy and puffed up, especially in alarm or in response to rapid change in stimuli.
- generally, walks around soundlessly and doesn't make much noise when he's doing something.

eiri calendar

pls detail lol