doves & ravens fly the same

BASIC INFO

BIOGRAPHY

Celeste Thornton was a bit of a rebelheart despite an upbringing of sophistication and deliberate choices. The only child turned into a principle of prim and proper once a biological child came into play, she spent most of her teenage years playing both perfect girl and secret rabblerouser. This could only lead to trouble, most people told her, but she didn't listen until it was too late; her luck came in her family staying by her side through the pregnancy she was left with by a man whose name she barely remembered. It was the insistence of her mother that even found Amaury in time to tell him that he had a son on the way. Celeste never would have had the foresight. Not then.

Of course, even Sigrid couldn't have foretold what would transpire once the boy was born. Sonia was the first to reach out — a phone call on behalf of Amaury, and a request to have lunch. They were in England, she said; both his parents had flown in because no one should be abandoned to raise a child without aid. Tense and sore as the subject became, the few weeks following Rhys' birth became a salve. Two families trying their best; two sets of parents, offering Celeste every opportunity to still have her life and dreams as her baby boy was well cared for.

And never, really, was there a boy more well cared for. Rhys was spoiled to the highest regard; his father's family moved themselves to Syndey to help Celeste and treated her as a daughter-in-law without the marriage. Amaury never came around save for holidays and messages on birthdays, but he always brought gifts in such numbers that they drowned Celeste's living room. He was wonderful at the big gestures — on Rhys' fifth birthday, Amaury even gifted Celeste with a house for her to raise their son in properly. It caused a bit of a rift in the family: suddenly, Celeste was living with Sonia and Paul, moving into a new large home and building a new kind of awkward family. It was unbecoming, though her parents understood. Amaury had made a name for himself even then, and his family all proved themselves well on the way to doing the same. So, they accepted it, made their way three times a week to see young Rhys and spoil him as their only Little Prince for some time still to come.

Bad luck didn't hit until seven years of age. Like a kind of curse itself, it came hard and fast. The first domino to fell came with a drive with Ruth. On their way back from shopping they were driving along, Ruth lowering down music when she realized that young Rhys had fallen asleep in his seat. It was just a few more minutes before home when a lorry side swiped Rhys' side of the car. The force of the impact was bad enough — the compression of their vehicle against the railing of the River Ouse was the real damage, though. While Ruth managed away from the accident with a broken arm and fracture to her cheek, it was Rhys who suffered the most. The lorry's grate bent the car door in toward him and crushed the young boy; by the time they got him out of the car there was only a pulse to tell he was left alive. The limp of him, the way his body needed to be handled so carefully — the workers on the scene worried he was dead or, at best, paralyzed for life. And they were close enough; twelve fractures to his spinal column, four fractured ribs and a break in his tibula left his small body more shattered than whole.

Celeste was a mess. Ruth could barely be kept on her own hospital bed. By the time Amaury arrived, the boy was kept unconscious with drugs just so he wouldn't wake and make his injuries more severe. They couldn't operate without permission and none of the family felt right; it was Amaury in a frenzy who made all the demands. By the morning, Rhys was at the Clinique de Cédres in Grenoble, France. Half a day later, he was finally waking up. Metal rods, wires, screws all through his spine to fuse together the various broken pieces of vertabrae throughout him: C5 to T3, T5 to T7, T11 to L1 and his L3 all pieced back together. "He was one inch away from permanent paralysis," they said, promising that given enough time and practice he would certainly walk again now. No assurances on the quality of life he'd have — the doctors rambled in French about the ways he'd learn to be a normal boy all the same.

Amaury bought a chalet for Rhys to recover in. With an elevator put in, a shower Rhys could roll his wheelchair into and an elevator for him to get to the floors in, it was everything he should need. And it was, even if it was difficult. Amaury had a staff that flooded in and out — doctors, therapists, cooks, nurses, trainers, teachers. The only time the home was empty was once Celeste had to travel back to England for work and Amaury was left with Rhys alone. For the first time in his life, Rhys had a father there. Over the course of the year they bonded: Rhys re-learned how to walk, family visiting France where and when they could, people building him back up as he needed. Life was almost lucky again; Rhys was rid of his wheelchair and crutches in just ten months, and fully cleared for a return to England just 13 months after the accident.

Music lingered and that, from the year in France, was about it; Rhys came home still liking playing on his computer and keyboards, trying to make new sounds. It was his mother making him play the flute that then changed things around. Rhys had her agree to let him learn the saxaphone later, anything to make him happy, and Rhys was thriving. He might have still had some trouble with friends and his surroundings but Ruth was over the worst of her guilt and his grandparents were all there and thriving. So joy became the name — a special new drive of fun and love through the highs and lows of family life. Family, because there was never much else. Lewes was not a kind place for the odd child of a single mother. Most people couldn't even figure out what Rhys was, and love of things fell apart fast. He couldn't go swimming without worrying about the scars on his spine, couldn't figure out how to play with other children because he'd miss a full year of pop culture and English television. Family, that was what you relied on.

Unless that family turns on you all. Callum Rochester was Amaury's business partner, the reason that Amauary was able to expand from America to England and there, through the rest of Europe. In the year Amaury had spent in France, working only through phone calls and email correspondence, Callum had grown tired. Too much money, too much time lost, he wanted Amaury out. The stronghold Amaury had in the company, as majority owner, was too much; in an attempt, drastic as it were, to try and get enough shares given up so that Callum would be in charge he hired some men to do dirty things. Callum would claim later he was rather unaware of how dramatic the gang could get — but it was a lie.

January 27, 2005. Rhys, walking home from class, found himself snatched off the street and tied into a trunk. Three men, men whose faces he only saw in glimpses of light, bound his hands and feet and mouth and locked him away into the back of a Ford Fiesta and drove off. They were to ransom him, use the boy as leverage against Amaury until the father gave up some of his stocks. The problem was that no one could have expected the series of events to unfold as it did. Rhys, trapped in a trunk, caught in tremble and fear, heard the haphazard plans. "Just a finger," they said. "No, an ear." Deciding how to butcher him to make sure his father, off in America at the time, would know that they were being serious about this. That they would kill him if they had to. That Amaury had to pay. Rhys does not remember where they stopped. He doesn't remember much of the floor, or the dust on the mattress they threw him to. All he remembers is the way the blood spilled.

The child's requite was violent, and harsh. Two of the gangsters down in one leap: he was no longer a boy but a beast the size of a car, jumping off the mattress with lips snarling and claws digging into flesh. A throat torn out, a heart crushed in hand, and then Rhys was flying through a wall. Tuck's palm still burned with the force of the blast when Rhys began to shift back into a child; terrified, naked, skin smoking but not burned. He stood in the grass and thought he could run, imagined it possible, before Tuck threw another blast of energy and let the ground tear up into fire around Rhys. He approached, suddenly larger seeming, daunting, his fists glowing with potential before he threw a punch down against Rhys' face. His shouting was incomprehensible, a jibberish of rage and anger, and Rhys tried to feel himself shift again. He couldn't — the blasts of energy were weakining his still new gift — but Rhys felt less and less of the pain as he felt his shoving and throwing back suddenly move ground. The whole of his body became strength, became stronger than strong, until Tuck's fist broke against his face and the energy blew back to send Tuck to the ground.

Rhys could feel the fur growing again then, his body larger now as it loomed over Tuck and the sirens began to wail. Then, Tuck wailed, his arm torn open, his energy leaking out and swallowing into Rhys' memory; the death of him was fast, head devoured whole, but it didn't mean Rhys couldn't give the police answers when they arrived to see the trembling form of a boy too close to all that death and carnage. He knew where the phones were, what the bank account numbers were, where to trace; not even two days later, Amaury was back and Callum was under arrest. The Haven helped with that — helped in ways Rhys could never repay. Proving to all the newscasters and courtrooms that Rhys hadn't lied, that Callum Rochester had hired Tuck and the other Rathkeale Rovers to kidnap Rhys Thornton in an attempt to extort Amaury Nolasco.

Callum was sentenced to his eleven years in prison and Rhys was let go not for self-defense but to train with the Safe Havens, rather than do community service; a murder was a murder, the courts felt, but money, power and impressive lawyers were able to get the sentence reduced to simple devotion to training. It wasn't necessary; Rhys was going to train to make sure no one would ever be able to threaten or control his life again. His family devotion became a safeguard; his school became a tool. Learn, he figured, and be better at becoming something else. French, Italian, Spanish, and eventually even Russian thanks to his grandmother's interest in poetry and his aunt's interest in the novels, Rhys fleshed himself into something better than he had aimed for. It was a slow process and very nearly obsessive. Nearly.

Austin was an oddity. They met in school and Austin all but invited himself over for a study session one day. Just 13 by that point, Rhys was confused at best. His family, of course, welcomed the idea. A friend! Finally! Rhys hesitated; he studied with Austin but time and time again he found himself having to drag them back on track. Austin had a way about him, confusing Rhys into talking about his past, about his life. He never judged or pitied Rhys, either; he'd flutter from subject to subject like the only thing that mattered was learning. It came to no surprise to anyone when they were found kissing one day. Even less of a surprise that they were dating. Rhys was shocked, but that much would never change about him; any interest someone had in him has always felt like a confusion from the sidelines.

Things became... routine, somehow, in the midst of it. Dating, training, studying; Rhys became someone who could actually multitask, often found with his arms stretching around the room to do too many things at once. Music even came back up — it was Ruth who did that, buying Rhys a keyboard for Christmas and saying she missed him playing. Things seemed like they could have lasted on the road to easy good forever. Then, Austin's grandmother fell ill right before sixth form. It was heartbreaking to say goodbye and, mostly, Rhys didn't take it well; he tried to visit Cologne on break but things didn't feel the same anymore. So all he had left was hard work again. And hard work, he could do. Before anyone knew it, Rhys was acceped into Cambridge and being hailed as the next Daniel Libeskind. It wasn't exactly the comfort that Rhys wanted to try and hold onto though. So, when the opportunity to transfer to Gerasimov Institute of Cinematography and work as an exhibition designer in Moscow. There, he met the biggest change of his life since he was a child. Grace was... different. She liked Rhys, really liked him, and he wanted to give her back everything.

That, slowly, became Clean Bandit: their succesful group together, using his music know-how and her hunger for stardom they became rising stars. For a couple of years it was amazing, even through dangers and world-changes. Their breakup hit as suddenly as their rise to fame. While filming their music video for Real Love they came to a head. Their tension and fights blew up until Rhys was calling it off. The band was more important than them. From there, things took a few months to get back to normal but more hits strung together and, well, Rhys found his way. Right to Normani, a rising young starlet herself who tried to bring changes to his life. They were strange to take on but he did try, even featuring her on a song that didn't mean nearly enough for her. She left him for it, not willing to deal with the touring and failure of their song together, and left Rhys needing only to focus on what was right before him then: a future he could build into something unbreakable.

DISCOGRAPHY

OWNERSHIP

METAMORPH

golconda An alpha level metamorph whose body cannot break. Even at his weakest, removed from any access of requite at all, his body is capable of adjusting around harm unwittingly; cutting him open would show his necessary organs in constant shift to keep him alive no matter who — or what — was trying to stop his gifts. Due to this nature of chaotic survival, Rhys' shifting is unlimited; he can turn into any size, shape, density, mass or subject at will. People are a bit of a pickle sometimes, but Rhys can morph himself into replications of even powerfully requited beings and maintain their gifts while in their form; once he shifts into something else, however, he loses access to those gifts. The main flaw in Rhys' shifting are habitual: he cannot mimic someone's mind, or voice, or their gestures without first studying them or by absorbing pieces of their DNA. Simply by touching an object Rhys can replicate that which has touched it, but a handshake with a person has proven far more useful for storing basic outlines of what it takes to morph into them later on.

Rhys' gift is a nature of shift so large that he could step into any pack — animal or otherwise — and dominate it as the true leader. While he can shift his flesh into inanimate objects, it's hard to maintain standing and laying still so long; Rhys far prefers to turn his skin into pieces of objects instead, allowing him to wander naked if he so pleased and turn pieces of his skin into clothing. It is theorized he may be able to shift his flesh into actual pieces of material separate from him completely one day; a kind of born weaponry that isn't part of him but externalized from the start, without harm or tearing away.

Due to the constant flux of his atomic structure and molecular build Rhys' body emits, upon shifting, a unique chemical disruptive enzyme that influences levels of pleasure and affection. It's something like a personal charm — Rhys smells better, tastes better and can influence subtle levels of magnetic charm that keep a mind attuned to generally wanting to keep him around. It allows him to shift even in large groups in panic and not have someone pass out from the terror or shock of it; this enzyme moves through the system so rapidly that people generally accept his new form unless otherwise instructed. the crown As a shapeshifter there is no collective that Rhys cannot become part of. In this way, should he shift into a werewolf, he could become the Alpha of all werewolves; the same applies to any meta of species that wanders the planet. If Rhys comes into contact and shifts into a version of it, he can push himself beyond limitation. Because of the nature of his gift and ability to learn through DNA this has given Rhys not only authority over pack and hive minds but an ability to become the prime being of any bloodline that runs the Earth. By accessing the transformations itself, Rhys can even remove the 'curse' of being half to anyone who has been forced to shift even through requites; this means he could become the head vampire, the main werewolf, the leader of the revenants if someone asked him to remove the abilities from them. Rhys' shifting creates within him a zenith of potential, though the access to it is currently stuck in some form of lineage; Rhys cannot become a werewolf that has the magic of a vampire, for instance, unless he specifically shapeshifts into one that he's known. debilites Rhys' only true weakness — the only thing that can pierce through his flesh no matter the strength behind it — is stainless steel. It is not an allergy exactly, as he can touch it without burning, but the metal can cut him as cleanly as it could any other physical body. Any other version of iron, steel or metal cannot pierce through his flesh, nor can blasts of energy or nature. Rhys can also naturally grow and affect his own body; he is immune to toxins and diseases but can get drunk all the same willfully while also being able to eat, digest and harvest his food into new muscle mass through excercise. The chaos of him also provides a nature of becoming either unmoving or unstoppable at will. sui generis Uniquely, Rhys can create his own ideaology of mytological and ideaological creatures he learns of. Of this he has only mastered a handful of forms but as time progresses, he will be able to make his own unique version of any kind of creature.

elysium Rhys' body is under his control in a way that remains so fine that he can manipulate his shifts in ways beyond just shifting into other forms. Control over the ductility of his body is nearly absolute; he can stretch, flatten, deform, expand or contract himself at will. His bone structure is non existent, his muscle mass in constant motion. Because of it, in one instant, Rhys can stretch himself to cover a building, capture explosions and be malleable enough to contain the concussive force of a few thousand tons of dynamite. Understandably, there is almost no feat he cannot manage when it comes to flexibility. From his flesh, Rhys has also been able to mimic materials for finer defenses than simply clothing; Rhys can create from himself any number of weaponry imaginable, from bone claws to steel blades for arms; he may also influence his flesh to become any measure of armor imaginable, from denser tissue to becoming elemental or even taking on other states of matter.

Because of the manner in which Rhys shapeshifts, from a base molecular level outward, he is unchanging unless he so wills it to be. While there are gifts that can remove his Requite from him in creation, Rhys' body would remain human and surviving until his gifts returned unto him. This also makes it so that Rhys' mind is static to psionics and rather harmful when pushed; his aura and spirit are rather unaffected by his gifts as it is in this point of time. ne plus ultra While Rhys shifts he can take on any measure of strength the universe has ever known, allowing him to breach even into standards of absolution but as it is, he typically lingers around the upper echelon of physical means. In his human form Rhys is beyond physically capable: he is capable to the point of being self-sustaining and relentless. This is not solely a reflection of his physicality, however; Rhys cannot breach past Mark II of the superhuman rank unless he shapeshifts. The ability to self-sustain is a complication of his supernatural body and his constantly regenerating cells. The nature of his respondent cells is such that even his aging is affected, making Rhys immortal at will — even so far as to allow him to permanently de-age himself.

The force of Rhys' body allows him to make extraordinary leaps beyond understanding. Rhys can jump a variable of 500 miles in one jump at the moment, though when he is using his active shifting abilities he's been known to be able to push it beyond that. The impact usually leaves barely a crater wherever he lands but does create brief seismic vibrations through the surrounding cityscape. No real injuries have ever been found when Rhys does leap and it requires from him a brief running start; he has grown in his ability to leap, which means he has room still to improve and currently can use his strength to create shockwaves as well. untrodden There will come a time where Rhys' gift of control over his own self is so fine that he is absolutely in command of every molecule of his body, at all times. This will provide an access to permanent evolutions, an ability to remove all means of being traced, access to becoming total replications of other living things, combining multiple shifts at once, morphing other materials with himself and even becoming his own transportation There are theories that his access to unlimited conditioning would create the ability to generate earthquakes via vibrations, break planets with single motions and even punch through dimensional boundaries at will.

Currently, however, Rhys is traced by one mean, no matter where he is: the metal that was implanted into him as a teen has become permanant fixture in his spine. The removal of his Requite would cause immense pain that he would survive, constantly trying to repair himself but having steel and alloys in place of spine. It is because of this, as well, that his blood is poisoned; while Rhys may become a carrier of conversion genetics any person he converted would carry the same weakness to metals that his flesh has. The pain is constant but subtle, wrapped up in a healing rate so constant that he barely has time to register it save for after large shifts.

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