USERNAME: Milkow
PESTERCHUM HANDLE: Will get one asap
NAME: Aeon
GENDER: Male
AGE: 16
COLOR: A deep shade of red
DESCRIPTION: Aeon is rather tall, but is always slouched forward, his back arched and his hands in his pockets, which negates his size. He has short, messy, brown hair; his eyes are brown as well. When he wakes up, he's wearing a deep red hoodie - the same color as when he talks, a black undershirt, worn jeans and sneakers. He has a lot of trouble dealing with situations head-on, especially if he's by himself or if everything relies on him. Around people, he's chatty and opens up rather easily, but deep down, he's scared of disappointing them.
POWERS: Slowing time, or even stopping it for a few moments in case of danger.
INTRODUCTION :
He was running.
A deep, regular pounding was filling his ears. All he knew was that he had to run, to keep running until it stopped.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
It was dark. All he could see was a bright light in the distance. If only he could make it to the light, maybe the pounding would stop.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
He felt his legs wouldn't carry him much farther. Yet he couldn't stop. He had to keep moving.
The thumping intensified.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
It felt like minutes - or was it years - until he reached the glowing. Panting, he slowed to a walk. The pounding was deafening, now. If only he could just reach out and-
THUD. THUD. THUD.
He woke up. The sky was clear, and the sun was rising. He squinted, the light hurting his eyes.
He was lying in a small boat, in the middle of the sea. As he sat to get a better bearing on his surroundings, he struggled to remember how he ended up here. He couldn't find anything. His name, who he was, everything he knew - it was gone.
Desperate, he searched franticly his clothes for belongings : all he could find was a burned piece of paper. The only word he could decipher was "Aeon," : the rest was too damaged. He had no idea if the note was for him, if he had written it, or if that Aeon was even a person. But it would have to do, he decided. At least he had a name, something to hang on to.
It was then that he realized how eerily quiet everything was. The only thing that filled the silence was the gentle swish of the waves, and the thumping sound that hadn't left the back of his mind. At least it was bearable, now.
As he looked aroud, he could see the land in the distance.
"Well," he said, "I guess I have to get rowing."


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