POWER DESCRIPTIONS

Telepathy: Cyril has the ability to read minds, but he's not very good at it. Instead, he has a telepathic link to a certain powerful thing in a cage. His telepathy is amplified whenever said thing possesses him.

Psionic Reflection: Cyril has the ability to psychically reflect powers of other people away from him. He sometimes uses this ability to stay dry when it is raining outside.

APPEARANCE

Cyril is around 5'9" or so with an almost athletic build. He has long, thick red hair which is almost always down. On a very rare occasion he will pull it up into a loose bun or ponytail. He had dark reddish magenta eyes which occasionally will glow a light magenta purple when he's using some sort of his psychic abilities. Cyril almost always wears black, tightly fitted clothes, and is always in long sleeves. He never shows off any sort of skin and refuses to take part in any activity that makes him do so. He also wears a black choker around his neck, that he absolutely never takes off. The reason for all of this supposed modesty is because of the deep scars his body holds from many sessions of... "self" torture.

PERSONALITY

On the surface, Cyril can be quite a friendly fellow. He's quite handy with all sorts of things, and often finds himself helping out other students. Of course, this is what he was taught to do his entire life. Serving others with a smile on his face. Of course, is that all he is? No fucking way. Cyril is a very disturbed individual and is slowly losing his sanity to the point that he barely knows where he ends and where "it" begins. It of course is a being named Kyou. It's not his burden to bear exactly, but he willingly offers the parasite a host bother other than his own. Cyril is completely devoted mind, body, and soul to this being, and Kyou takes every single advantage of that, often using Cyril as his pawn, which he obediently clings to. Cyril, while alone, will often go into fits of violent insanity and do rather horrible things to himself just because Kyou tells him to. Anything to prove his worth to him.

BIOGRAPHY

Cyril was born to a loving mother, but his father was never in the picture. His mother had been a prostitute, but having the boy changed that for her, and she went into a different kind of servitude. She became a maid. She often took the boy with her to the houses that she cleaned, just to watch him or give him something to do, and he never minded, often helping in any way that he could. After a few years, his mother was brought into a mansion as a permanent staff member to help watch over and care for a rather sick child, and she willingly agreed.

Cyril grew up alongside Luka and his siblings, but he remained nothing more than a shadow most of the time, learning how to be a good little butler. Not that he minded. He would run back and forth with meals, answer the door, and clean up messes. Sometimes he would help with the laundry or gather ingredients for other staff members. He took up learning from a private tutor in the house as well, so at least he got a decent education.

When he was twelve, his mother got sick, though she hid it well. Luckily enough, their masters were kind enough to pay for her treatments and care, and she lived a whole nother year before the cancer finally took her to her deathbed. Cyril was given time to mourn his mother. But in that time, he started to hear small whispers in the back of his mind. Of course, he pushed them off as just some sort of grief and diligently went back to working for his masters.

Everything changed the year Luka got really really ill. Of course, the young master needed all sorts of care and treatment. And Cyril did everything that he could to help the situation, caring for Luka nearly all day and night. After Luka was better enough to wander around, the whispers intensified. Every day they grew louder and louder, until he was sure that he'd go deaf. Luka was sent away to boarding school and Cyril couldn't take the screaming in his head anymore.

That night was the night he screamed back, and he would never be the same again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ BELOW IS SOME PRETTY GRUESOME GOREY SHIT. DO NOT READ IF IT BUGS YOU ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ Also it's in a different writing style because it's easier to write it with dialogue. Deal with it bitches. ~ ~

"H-hello...?"

That was all there was. A tiny little whisper following his scream. Did he imagine it? An actual word? Not just deafening jibberish?

"If... If you can hear me.. Scream again..."

Well, he wasted very little time doing exactly that. If that's what it took to keep this semi-silence, then that's what he would do.

"Tell me... What is your name?"

"Cyril... Who.. Who are you? Why can only I hear you? Am I... Am I crazy?"

"Not yet."

"Who... Who are you?"

But there was silence the rest of the night.

Each night after he tried, for many weeks he reached out, screaming even for the voice to return. But nothing. Just as he thought he had imagined it all, the voice returned, just as soft and quiet as it had been.

"Hello...?"

"You're back! I thought I had imagined it!"

"I told you, you are not crazy. Not yet."

"Please, who are you? Where are you? How can I-"

"Shh... For now.. All you need to know, is that I am here. I can hear you, even if you cannot always hear me."

For the next few weeks, Cyril continued talking to the silence in his mind, the voice never responded, but still, it was comforting knowing he had someone to talk to. So he would. He would fill in the voice with all the details of his day. He would wake up with a "good morning!" each day and whisper a soft "good night" each evening before bed.

But slowly, he began to have such horrible nightmares. Experimentation, torture, molestation, worse... Each night he'd wake, dripping with sweat, gasping for breath that he just couldn't seem to catch, and each night it got worse and worse. His performance began to slip as well, and soon enough, the nightmares began to plague his daytime too. Even in his waking hours he would see the faces of his tormentors, he'd feel their feverish hands along his body, he would feel the needles poking into his skin, the scalpels ripping his flesh apart. He'd shake it off, but eventually, he couldn't bear it any longer and asked to be released from service.

Of course, he was given the chance to rethink his situation, but still, he began to pack his things, ready to leave in the morning.

"Please... Don't leave me here..."

Cyril stopped packing for a moment, his hands shaking horribly against his suitcase, gripping tightly to a shirt he had been folding. He was terrified. But why? The voice had always been so calming, so why was he so afraid?

"Please, Cyril... I beg of you... Don't leave me here alone..."

"Where... Where are you..? Please... If you want me to stay, tell me who you are, tell me where you are."

"I have shown you... Each night, each day... Please... Help me... Don't leave me all alone here... Please..."

"The nightmares? That's... Why are you doing this to me? Who are you! Show yourself!" Again, the fear gripped him tightly, coiling around him as the darkness slowly spread across his room.

"You cannot see me, but I am here, begging for your help. I must get out of here. The things they do to me. Please... I cannot do it alone... You are the only one that can here me, you are the only one that can help me... Please, I need you..."

"No. I can't do it. I can't help you. I don't know how. Just. Leave me alone. Let me leave!"

"Cyril? My sweet boy, how handsome you've grown."

"Mother!? Mother!" Slowly, he could make out her form in the shadows of his room. He could feel her, he could smell her perfume. It was so... real. Slowly she sang to him, held him close, until he fell asleep.

Cyril woke the next morning, his cheek still warm where her hand had been. Had that been real? Had his mother really been here? Had he really felt her?

"Please! Mother! Where are you mother!?"

"Worry not my child... I'll return this night, and each night... So long as you remain here..."

~ ~ ~ ~

Another few years passed, and again, his relationship with the voice grew. It had promised to return his mother to him, and it had kept that promise. So Cyril grew quite indebted to it. He went about trying to figure out where the voice came from, where it was located. But he never could figure it out.

"Kyou."

"Huh?"

"You asked what to call me. You may call me Kyou."

That was the first time it had really shared anything with him outside of the absolute necessary details.

"If you can make my mother appear, why can't you? I mean.. Why can't you show me... you...?"

"I do not know what I look like. I have never seen my face."

"Well, are you a person?"

"What else would I be?"

"I dunno... Like... Some kind of god maybe? I've seen you do some pretty amazing things. Or maybe.. A demon? You know with horns and hooves or something. Or maybe... Maybe you're an angel!"

"I do not have horns or hooves. I assume I am a person, just like you."

"Can you see me?"

"Do you have a mirror?"

"Yeah?"

"Stand in front of it, and I shall see you."

After that night, things felt... Different. As if he was seeing the world... Differently. As if he wasn't completely himself. A month or so passed before the incident happened. Cyril thought he had been taking a nap, but woke up covered in blood, a knife still in his hand. He wasn't sure how it had happened, he had no recollection of such a horrible event even happening. But it had. Luckily it had only been the family dog and not another staff member, or a child. Of course, he claimed his innocence, and for some reason they believed him.

"Kyou! Kyou! I... I killed.... I... I killed!"

"It was not you. Relax. It has merely been staged to look like you. You are taking the blame for a crime that you did not commit."

"Then... Then Who...?"

"Florence I believe they call him."

"Ren? N-no... That's... That's impossible! He's.. He's a good boy!"

"Well, regardless, it was not your fault."

A few nights later, he awoke to a noise in his room. Of course he had heard the voice screaming in his head, telling him to wake up, but he had just felt so... heavy... At least until the very same boy that had murdered the dog plunged a knife next to his head.

"Cyril... You must trust me. Close your eyes. Close your eyes."

"I... I trust you..."

Ren never bothered him again after that night.

Another few months passed before he realized he was growing feelings for this... voice. His unseen protector. The voice always seemed to know the right words to say to get him through a situation, always seemed to be able to cheer him up if he really needed it, and always protected him from any sort of danger.

"Kyou... I want to see you... If you're somewhere in this house... I will find you."

"You can help me escape in another way."

"Anything... I'll do anything."

"I am not sure that you can."

"You can trust me, Kyou."

"Prove it."

"Anything. What do I have to do?"

"I need to know that you are capable of doing everything it takes to release me from my prison."

"Anything."

"I want you to tear yourself apart. You will never be able to reach me if you cannot."

"T-tear myself apart? H-how would I do that?"

"You have a knife, do you not? You must understand, there is much guarding me, keeping me from being removed from this place. You have to be able to resist the pain of anything they do to you. Build your tolerance, and you can help me."

It took a bit of hesitation, but Cyril did as he was asked, carefully dragging the knife over his arm.

"No, not like that. Prove to me that you are not afraid, prove to me that you can handle it."

The first time was the beginning of his downfall, tearing into the flesh of his legs and arms seemed so major at the time, but in the long run, it was nothing. The more he did, the more Kyou asked for. It started small, but it grew. Grew to the point of concern, but it wasn't like Cyril had anyone to be concerned over him. He had nothing. No one. No one but the voice.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I'M SERIOUS THIS TIME. GORE AHEAD. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As time went on, the requests got more and more difficult to complete, but he remained diligent. Kyou had asked him to prove his worthiness, prove that he could handle anything that was thrown at him, so that's exactly what he was going to do.

"Come on, deeper that that."

"It hurts Kyou..."

"And it is going to hurt even more if you are unprepared for it. Deeper. You will not die from this."

It was hard enough doing any of it at all, his hands shaking as the knife dug deeper into his stomach.

"Be careful not to knick any of your intestines."

He never questioned the voice on any of it, not even as he dug his hand into his stomach, biting through his lower lip as he held back a scream of agony. Never had he thought he would need to know what his guts felt like. Kyou insisted it was in case he got shot or stabbed and needed to quickly patch himself up. He never questioned it. Slowly, he removed his hand, slick with blood and grabbed a nearby first aid kit. He had already sterilized the equipment he needed to stitch his wound. Press the skin together, insert needle, try not to scream. After all, silence was just as important. He couldn't pass out either, because then he might bleed to death right? This was supposed to be his final test right? If he could tear open his abdomen, locate most of his internal organs, stitch himself up. That would be the end of it. Then he could save Kyou...

Another few stitches, and he felt so weak. He could barely see straight. The needle slipping from his hand every now and then, after all, there was quite a lot of blood. "I'm gonna... I'm... gonna..."

"Cyril. Stay with me. You can do this."

But of course, that was no where near the last thing he had been asked to do.

~ ~ ~

"You're... You're sure... I need to learn how to...?"

"It is a necessary skill. I may be in serious need of your aid when you rescue me. You must know how."

Cyril nodded, not that Kyou could see him anyways. It was then that he twisted the vice the rest of the way and snapped his arm. "No, keep going. You must keep going. You must learn." So he kept twisting, until the bone snapped through his skin. And then he twisted one final time, just for good measure. Cyril released the vice and fell to the ground, once more biting through his bottom lip trying to hold back his screams. "You must set it, quickly." Of course it took him a few tries, and by the end, he lay there, letting his arm just bleed onto the ground. "Cyril. You need to sanitize it. Stitch it. Come on. Get up."

~ ~ ~

"Please... Kyou... Don't make me... Don't make me do this...."

"Just trust in me. I will protect you. Have I not done that thus far?"

The knife shook against his throat. Surely this was too much, wasn't it? But everything Kyou had done... it was to make him stronger. Make it so that he could save him... All of this... It was for a good reason, wasn't it...? Cyril gulped, feeling his throat move against the blade as he did so. "Just close your eyes. You can do it."

But what if he failed? This time, it could really mean his death couldn't it? But who else was he supposed to practice on? How would he know just how to slit someone's throat? How would he know how messy it would be? How much pressure he needed? He needed to know these things, didn't he? Another gulp. Okay. He could do this. With one swift slice, he moved the blade from one end of his throat to the other, his eyes springing open to stare at the mirror in front of him. Hands... He felt hands around his neck, stopping the blood from going everywhere. He could... He could... See them... in the mirror... Holding onto.. He blinked. He could...

"Kyou... I... I see you..."

"I told you, I would not let anything happen to you."

~ ~ ~ ~

Perhaps he never should have gotten involved with him. But the more he did, the more praise he received. All the while, the worse things got. And then, one day. It stopped.

"Kyou...? Kyou..? Kyou!? Where are you!? Can you hear me!? Kyou! Where did you go!?" But nothing but silence. After a week, the whispers began to return, deafening, horrible, causing him to scream out in some sort of rage. The nightmares returned as well, each and every night they got worse and worse.

"Kyou! Come back! Please come back! I'll do anything! Anything you want! Look!" It didn't take much for Cyril to mutilate himself, carving out bits and pieces of his flesh and sewing them back on, even going as far as to remove a toe or two, so long as it didn't affect his work, he did it. He burned his more minor wounds shut, stitched the others, put himself rather purposely in dangerous situations, but nothing worked. No matter what he did, the voice didn't return.

So there he stood, in front of the mirror, just like he had on that last day. Knife to his neck, tears burning at the edges of his eyes. It'd been months since he had last heard Kyou's voice. And he was desperate now. He needed him. He had been so close! Had he died? No. Kyou couldn't die, could he? Cyril shook his head. No. He couldn't be. And he wouldn't let him die either. He needed him right? And with that thought and determination, he drew the blade across his throat, deeper this time than he had before. This time, he had been careless in his desperation. This time he was sure he was going to die.

It took only a few moments for him to collapse to the ground, blood spurting everywhere. "Kyou...." He wouldn't let him die... He... couldn't... he.... wouldn't........

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ SEE TOLD YOU NOT TO LOOK, OKAY GORE OVER PROBABLY ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Slowly, he felt himself awakening. But... Where the hell was he? A hospital...? Was that... "Lu-....ka...?"

"Shh... Don't speak Cyril. It's alright. You're going to be just fine."

"Did... Kyou...."

A look of some sort of shock crossed Luka's face as Cyril said the name, but slipped back into a state of unconsciousness. There was some sort of argument between Luka and his mother, but Cyril couldn't really make it out, at least, not entirely. Something about a school.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Once Cyril Recovered enough, he was enrolled into the academy, mostly for Luka and his mother to keep a close eye on him. Cyril appears better on the surface, but he still harms himself rather regularly trying to get the voice to come back.

> ANIMANGA SERIES; CHARACTER'S NAME <