|Ruka Ya'ir (nee Tenbriss)|
|Date of Birth:||
13 ABY (age 24)
1.8 m / 5'11"
75.4 kg / 166 lbs
Dark, nearly black green
|Chronology & Political Information|
|[ Source ]|
- "I have this dream of going into space. Or daydream? I think about it a lot, is what I mean. Actual space. Like, a ship explodes or sucked out an airlock and you're gonna be dead in a second kinda space. Not like...Not like I wanna die or anything like that. Really rather kriffin' not. Just. Just I want...I wanna know what it would be like, yknow? What it'd feel like. To just...Float, I guess. Weightless. Totally weightless. Nothing tying me down, not even air. Not gravity or anything. None of this kark around here. None of nothing. Cause, right? That's what space is supposed to be, right? Nothing. And I'd just...Float."
Ruka Ya'ir nee Tenbriss is a father figure, older brother, and Warrior loyal to both Clans Arcona and Odan-Urr, studying the Dark Side of the Force and fighting for the Lotus Resistance as part of the Brotherhood. He is the apprentice of former Consul Satsi Tameike, master to Eilen Jath and Karran Val'teo, and partner and husband to Corazon Ya-ir of the noble houses of the Sephi empire of the Kiast System.
Ruka is a broad-shouldered young man of average height, his body lined in ropy muscle with ribs and hipbones jutting sharp under his tight skin. A back-alley fighter, his arms and shoulders are particularly defined, a chiseled upper body dropping to a narrow waist, and his hands, often jammed into his pockets as he slouches around, are covered in rough callouses and small scars. Ruka's vibrant green, peridot skin and dark, malachite hair, nearly black in low light, make him a spot of color against almost any backdrop. His youthful face, curled in a taunting smirk as often as a grumpy scowl, is set with eyes even brighter in hue, their royal violet shade sparkling with hints of paradise blue underneath thick, squared brows, the left of which is broken by a faint scar glancing from cheekbone to forehead and just missing his sharp nose. Knife-cut, pillow-styled, and impossibly thick, Ruka's shaggy hair is of middling length at the top and shaved underneath, its choppy edges falling low over his eyes and ears, often pulled back in a loose, tufted tail of dreadlocks at the back of his head.
Ruka's dress tends to be poor and punkish, usually in all black and with many rips and tears in his tattered, worn or hand-me-down clothing. He prefers heavy, sturdy pants and large, heavy boots, and keeps a single old, worn leather jacket, looking to have just stumbled out of a speederbike crash. The one exception to his otherwise thuggish appearance is the never-removed, heavy, Ya-ir family signet ring that he wears on the middle finger of either hand, a thick gold band covered in large sapphires.
Much of Ruka's body, particularly his left side and particularly his face and skull, are covered in shrapnel scars from a grenade. The thin and thick lines spray in pale, minty white slashes over his features, disrupting his lips and brow and cutting grooves into his cheeks and jaw; his left ear is ragged at its remaining edges, nearly torn apart, and is notably smaller now than its twin. Several cheap piercings decorate what they still can of his ears, notably the black gauges in their lobes, and his nails are naturally black in color.
Most notable of the Mirialan's appearance, however, are his geometric tattoos classic to his people. Ruka has several more than just the typical facial tattoos, with patterns also wrapping around his wrists and ankles and over the backs of his hands and up his forearms in sleeves. The boy's black-ink markings predominantly consist of triangles and small squares, sweeping under his eyes and marching up along his jaw from his chin. Additionally, a pair of solid black ink wings stretch across his entire back, the feathers sweeping wide in simple shapes that make up a coherent angelic pattern. These obvious and, to some, exotic designs compliment his second-generation accent, not so thick in his mouth that his tongue can't fall flat enough to form Basic, but still very much there, spicing every word.