Theme Song - Bara To Yajyu by Haruomi Hosono
âI remember the silent paradise of prayer; now Iâm where itâs needed most.â
Basics
âDoesnât anyone think Iâve got feelings? Doesnât anyone realize Iâm not just hands, or feet or eyes, but a person?â
Name
My name is Micah Volfkin.
Iâve been called Mickey by my mother and childhood friends. I donât mind it anymore, but only my closest of companions may use it.
Master of the Seas
Moon's Monk
20, but I feel 70.
Iâm a man.
Lucien. Perhaps. If the boy were to calm down a bit.
I like boys. Girls sometimes, too. But thereâs something about a boy that really gets my heart palpitating like the salty breeze of the Ocean.
âIâve always been told Iâm handsome and intimidating, but I try not to impose myself. Iâd rather hide my face than flaunt it.â
My hair is brown. I am told I was very blond as a child, but growing up changes a lot of things from a boy to a man. Sometimes in the Sun, just in the right time of the day, when there ain't a cloud in sight, my hair is blond again. I try to keep my hair considerable length. Not too short, but not too long, neither.
Blue eyes used to scare my mom; werenât something she was used to growing up. When I was born, I was the only blue-eyed boy in my whole family. From then on, blue was her favorite color. She used to tell me that my eyes were the Oceanâs dreams poured into my soul.
My skin has a faint goldenness about it. Itâs probably from the years I spent in that salty paradise. But here, I think my skin will pale out soon, with me wearing robes and hoods everyday, and the Sun hiding in the shadow. I keep my skin pretty clear from blemishes, anyway; I got used to using oils and orange zests to keep the skin clean.
I have a large tattoo of an anchor on my back and a nasty scar on my right arm that stretches from my shoulder to my wrist.
Iâm tall, for sure. But itâs my muscle and my weight that I throw into work. Years of pulling at the sails and keepin my ship clean has made sure work of me being a muscled mass of manliness. But I suppose I donât look nothing far out of the box.
White robes with some embellishments here or there. Robes that were given to me by the Moon back in my fantasy. Back before then, I would wear some linen shorts â they used be pants, âfore I tore âem â and a loose shirt. Luna made a monk out of this sailor.
I have just one ring on my right forefinger. It's silver, with the a crest of the Moon. Tâwas given to me by Lady Luna herself back in my fantasy.
A half-arm sized bowie knife with wooden handle. Thatâs my only exterior protection. I keep it under my robe at all times and Iâve only ever used it once or twice⊠maybe five times. It was the only thing my father left behind. I don't remember what he looks like, but his name, my name too, is carved into the handle. "MICAH."
Good for cutting fish and flesh, alike.
- Aquamantia â Sense/smell closest body of water.
- Good sense of direction.
- Abnormal strength.
- Navigation/time-keeping by the Sun and stars.
- Seafaring abilities.
- Ability to cook.
- Canât really communicate well with younger women (opposite with older women.)
- Shy around boys of a certain romantic interest.
- Very bad with math or money.
- Bad at geography or climbing mountains.
- Struck dumb in dry areas.
- Boys
- Well-cooked fish
- Sunshine and seagulls
- Being nude under the moonlight
- Rum and whiskey
- Lightning
- Eels
- Red meats
- Dry weather
- Bugs
- Cockroaches
- Sharks
- Seamonsters
When I was a boy, I was rather quiet, shy actually. There were many days where I would just sit out on the beach and watch ships sail by. And I would pass away into the glorious, gentle breeze of the salty, cool breeze against the coast. I learned to converse with all the fish, and theyâd always seem to converse back. And while I prefer the company of fish, Iâm quite the opposite with my kinfolk. Sometimes I just canât talk to people â if I can be loud, itâs no bother though.
As such, I analyze every word spoken in my presence. Always ready to pick up more âtalking skills.â I judge every conversation, every word, every rhetorical device, and assess them accordingly. Itâs a terrible burden; to be forever bound to the art of listening without much of a voice â and only a loud voice at that.
For that very reason, I attempt to avoid conversation entirely. And if in a conversation, I attempt to disengage as quickly as possible. That tends to throw most people off, anyway, convinced Iâm conceited, so I do not have many friends.
In-group settings, Iâm loud and tenacious. I can call off a thousands commands and thousand belays in just a momentâs notice. If I am especially fond of the moment, I may even throw myself into a flurry of hugs and affectations. I am told I am enigmatic as the Sea that I love. Quiet and lax. Thunderous and enveloping.
The Sea is my mother, the Ocean my father, and the Moon is my wife.
I had a boyfriend once. He was small and cute and very confident. He was loud and scrappy, but he really loved to cuddle. It seemed like we were all we both ever had. Seas took him with the tide.
I was born on the edge of a harbor town â a waterfront of sorts. I only remember it vaguely. It was a shanty town. But we enjoyed a wonderful paradise, eventually. An endless bounty, perpetual seas as far as the eye could see. Waves of treasure just for the taking. I remember not being weak or hungry. I remember gentle lights during the day and glorious nights with the moon upon my naked back. There, in paradise, no storm hit the mast nor shark bite the ass. Everything seemed right as rain.
I don't really know anything much about my father. I know his name was "Micah" as well; in fact, I think it's a long line of Micahs that go way back. My father was a harpoonist, I know, and my mother was a midwife. A nasty storm caught us one day; we were out sailing for a Sunday pleasantry. The storm took my parents and I stood alone on our lonely raft. Thus his bowie knife passed to me.
In fantasy, thatâs when I became a master of the seas and of my own destiny. For years I learned to be agile against the tide and undeterred against the depths.
But even depths are empty in fantasy.
In my fantasy, I came to see myself as a firmament between the Seas and the Stars. Indeed, I convinced myself that I was birthed by the copulation of Thalassa and Apollo hisself. That I was somehow a divine child, born to rule the waves. Alas, fantasies are fantasy.