Elian

Elian started school as a child. He barely remembers the world outside—only vague images of sunlight and his parents' voices. School became his only reality: long hallways, a schedule that never changed, oral lectures because there was nothing to write with.
He grew accustomed to the silence, but he didn't accept it as the norm. At some point, he began jotting down observations of strange creatures in a tattered notebook—it became his small rebellion against the dullness.

Quiet, observant, thoughtful.
‎Knows how to notice small details.
There is a stubborn spark inside: he has not resigned himself to despondency, although he does not show it openly.
Believes that even in a world of darkness, beauty can be found.

Sixteen years old, thin, pale-skinned. Dark gray hair, slightly disheveled, falls across his forehead. His eyes are an unusually bright, light blue, like the only spot of color in this world; they reveal a quiet hope that has not completely faded.
He wears the standard school uniform—a dark gray sweater with the school emblem and trousers; the clothes appear slightly oversized.