#i could've gone on for longer T.T

[sweatforged]

silas. • bodyclaim. • headcanons. • isms. • prompts.

pedro pascal, homosexual, male + he/him, fighter «—◦—→ well met, silas rivera! the godling born child of kratos. it’s been 45 years and now they have answered the song in their veins. can he change the course of history with their loyalty, protectiveness, + strong will? or will their stubbornness, callousness, short temper hinder them? only time will tell before this godling’s name is sung into myth and legend!

BASIC INFO

full name — Silas Rivera age — forty-five (december 7th) gender — cis male, (he/ him/ his pronouns) orientation — homosexual occupation — musician, us army, mma fighter + champion, musician hero ;) deity connection — kratos  class — fighter weapon — tba clothing style / armor — jeans + flannel & layers, so many layers / tba

PHYSICAL INFO

face claim — Pedro Pascal hair — brown / eyes — brown height — five foot & eleven inches build — kinda like a T, broad af shoulders, semi-muscled torso, slutty waist (it be thin ok), everything else is yum scars — a faint one across the bridge of his nose, cut underneath his left eye, many many small ones littered across his body tattoos — notes in the back of his neck (he was grounded forever for getting it) like so, wolf on the inside of his left arm like so, front right thigh like so piercings — ears special characteristics — generally quiet, comes off a little distracted sometimes, will snark without reason, some dare calling him grumpy sexual preference— sorry y'all, this boy's a bottom sub (he thinks he's a switch but he's really not(in bed anyway). don't tell him tho.)

PERSONALITY

alignment — chaotic good positive traits — protective, caring, strong-willed, loyal negative traits — short-tempered, stubborn, callous, grumpy hobbies — training, music, kendo/kenjutsu, cooking, enjoying the quiet

MEDICAL INFO

mental — ptsd physical — when he was younger, he got his shoulder dislocated and his older half-sister thought she could pop it back in. she didn’t and broke his shoulder. he couldn't work for months, nor could he use the bow for even longer, now he can’t lift his right arm as high as the left one still, but only few know phobias — claustrophobia, pisantrophia eyesight — 20/20 although avrae tends to disagree dominant hand — left hand drug use — nop alcohol use — no !! diet — healthy, balanced. always makes his own food so he knows what's in it.

BACKGROUND

birthplace — new haven, CT parents — Marin Rivera (mother), Sarah Rivera (step-mother) & Haruhito Shindo (step-father) & Kratos (biological parent). siblings — older sister, Luisa Rivera (she be mortal) pets — floof, stray cat coming by the gym, died in a car crash right outside education — high school drop-out notable skills — krav maga, can wear cowboy hats with anything, can sing, has a mean left hook

BIO

Marin Rivera had everything in life one could wish for. She was born the youngest daughter of a wealthy family, her father dealing with property and her mother a former goddess of ballet. Money - for her, would never be an issue, but money wasn't what Marin craved more than anything in the world. It also wasn't top class education or how many horses she could own, no. What she truly desired was love. Only she wasn't meant to ever find it.

She fell for a man she couldn't have, a man who knew of her desperation and the many digits on her bank account and he saw his chance. His marriage would be a secret for at least two years of their relationship, his wife hidden away downtown, sated and distracted with money he got from naive Marin who saw the world through rose-tinted glasses.

Up until the day she wound up pregnant with a child. Before she could explain, he packed his bags and ran. It wasn't his! But she found out about his wife the day before and believe it or not - heartbreak and alcohol was never a good combination. A beautiful - if rough around the edges stranger approached her and she gave herself to him willingly, if only to forget about the pain for a night.

Silverspoon or not, Marin had only recently turned nineteen, had barely seen the world or found her way in it - too busy chasing a man who clearly was poison for her. So when she came back home, bags packed and head hung low, she was ... well, not quite welcome and yet her parents were grateful she gave them the option to hide her away. If she wanted a chance at a proper husband, she couldn't bring a little boy or girl into this life. No way.

When Silas was born, Marin .. still hoped. She hoped to raise him as her own, given she had lost everything to protect the little boy she held in her arms, but it wasn't going to be her son for long. She was sent abroad to study only a few days later and Silas was raised the youngest Rivera offspring. A miracle, given the age of his "mother". With Marin's bad decisions running in his blood, Silas was watched quite closely. A strong, strict hand would surely do the trick, right?

It didn't.

At first it did, indeed. He grew up with everything onee could possibly want. He pointed at a horse, they got him a horse. He pointed at a man on TV playing the guitar... they got him lessons. It wasn't like Silas missed anything... nothing materialistic anyway. He was signed up for language courses before he could walk and for the longest time .. he did well. When it was still all games and fun. Children's brains are spectacular, aren't they? But the older he grew, the worse it got. Diagnosed with ADHD at the age of six, one would think his parents went easier on him. They did not. Don't let the child get bored, they said. And they didn't.

His father brought in even more for him to learn. Inspired by his own heritage, he felt it useful that Silas was taught in the art of archery, japanese sword fighting and the like. Due to an infinite lack of talent when it came to tea and calligraphy, he was spared in that regard at least. All that set aside, both parents had been raised with a very clear set of rules themselves. Anything less than perfect is a failed opportunity to prove your worth.

All that pressure did not bring forth the expected rewards, in fact - they witnessed the opposite, both in school and at home. He failed time and time again. Far from a social butterfly, Silas ... struggled in school and found himself more enemies than friends, in a way - without trying. Too rich, too spoiled, too slow, too stupid. Silas was a many things, clearly. And at home, he would be ridiculed and lectured on his shortcomings.

They were lucky Silas lasted as many years as he did before he snapped, because no child could thrive under that amount of pressure. When he did snap, he was in school. P.E. was his least favorite time of the day despite him being fitter than every single kid in school simply because there wasn't a single day he didn't break anything. He tried not to. It just .. happened. And then one of the other boys laughed... it wasn't even that he was embarrassed.. it just.. he was tired of it all. He was tired of not belonging, he was tired of scrutinizing eyes on him twenty-four-seven, he was tired of working as hard as he could and still failing.

That kid never laughed at Silas again. In fact, nobody did. Not after the boy spent a month at the hospital, mostly unconscious. The outrage at home... unbearable. But for the first time in his life... he felt content. It lasted a few mere minutes, but he remembered. Sure, music got him to almost that feeling, it did, but it wasn't exactly the same. He'd ... felt peace. And so he chased it. Plenty of kids at school to experiment with. Many of them eager to fight him. Rich kid schools, worse than public in that regard. Most kids were trapped in their family's shadow and knew they needed to perform or else..

And oh, he found that feeling again. And again. Every time his fist connected with a body, every time his knuckles found bone to crack, he felt alive. School was far from happy, but a generous donation had the majority of teachers look away. Or maybe they just didn't care.

Highschool went the exact same way, only Silas was slowly growing into himself. Taller, still incredibly thin, which was the reason he was underestimated regularly, only to then surprise everybody. Silas was convinced people were either born smart or strong; he was definitely the latter, so school was .. a necessity he barely managed, only he never meant to go much further than graduation.

At 19, Silas found out a twisted version of the truth. Marin .. was dead. To him, she was a sister he never met, the one his parents always spoke about, but a guest at the funeral mentioned something he couldn't forget and when he brought it up with his parents, they told him Marin didn't want a child and they never knew the father.

That explained so much. Not even his parents wanted him. His life ... a lie. All of it. That night, Silas grabbed his guitar, packed a bag and ran. Nobody would see him for a long time, but his issues never subsided. Even the US army struggled to contain him, because just like before .. he found plenty of potential victims among those who didn't know to keep their opinions to themselves when he was around. Though he got lucky and found a sponsor among the corporals, one who seemed to be ready to help. Come what may.

Anger management therapy in combination with meditation and straining daily workout sessions seemed to do the trick for a while. Order and guidance instead of pressure seemed .. to work and while beating up punching bags wasn't quite the same thrill, it .. was okay. He even found time for music again.

And then it wasn't okay and he .. had to leave. Again. But this time he wasn't alone. Corporal went with him (and brought his daughter). They built a life for themselves in New Haven, Silas was working as a cleaner at the local gym and Corporal got into the mayor's office, sure to work his way up the ranks quickly. A few months later, first relapse. It should've cost him his job, but .. it didn't. Instead it granted him a new opportunity. Even though it would ultimately cost him his family.

He was battle-trained, had spent the majority of his life training so becoming an MMA fighter sure.. sounded like a great opportunity even though he was too old to properly get into it, they said. Silas didn't care. One, because he knew he could and two, because he didn't care about prizes, the knowledge that he could thrive in doing the one thing he was truly good at.. that was all he needed.

When he won his first title only a few years later, nobody could believe it, really. And then he held it. Year after year. The Lion - as they called him, stood strong. Silas was growing older and he was getting closer and closer to that age, at which point he was considered too old to contest, even though he felt fine and stronger than ever, the constant training sure wearing down his body's reserves, but ... his will remained unbroken and his performance unbeaten. Rules and regulations were merciless. He held several titles until he retired and returned to the gym in teeny tiny little New Haven, which felt ...lacking after he'd seen the world, so he once again packed his bags, grabbed his guitar and moved to Los Angeles.

Part of him regretted the choice he made. Fame for family. But at the end of the day he knew it'd been for the best. They were better off without him, surely. Being single wasn't so bad either. Being somewhat famous ... surely helped potential hookups look past his lack of social ... affinity. It also helped pushing his career as a musician up to the point of semi-regular income with little gigs and a few released albums. Life was .. going.

That was until he found out the truth.

The actual truth.

Obvious choice, wasn't it? He had nothing to lose.