Killa Rabbit

Demiboy // He•They // RP // EN

Bio

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TLDR

Born beneath the canopy of Golmore, Killa spent much of their life fulfilling the role expected of them, never feeling they truly belonged. A letter from a distant cousin inspired them to leave both name and blade behind in search of a life that felt genuine. Arriving in Limsa Lominsa with little more than uncertainty, chance led them to the path of a Scholar. Now a practitioner of the Arcanima, Killa wanders Eorzea providing protective strategism to those in need while searching not for a destination, but for the freedom to become the person they were always meant to be.

Chapter I // Beneath Borrowed Light

Beneath the canopy of Golmore Jungle, where the trees grow so thick that even daylight feels borrowed, lies the remote village of Olyut. Here, silence is not emptiness—it is instruction. It is understood within the village that the forest remembers everything: every step, every breath, every mistake.From the time of my birth, I was trained to become a guardian of the forest. With constant threats from the kingdom of Dalmasca pressing against our borders, it was considered the highest honor to become a warrior in defense of what remains untouched. And yet, I never desired it.From an early age, I learned discipline through the dual blades placed in my hands. What was meant to feel like an extension of myself instead felt like weight—precise, demanding, and necessary, but never natural.And on my thirteenth nameday, I began to understand why.
While others in the village began to settle into clearer expressions of who they were becoming, I remained unchanged. Among the daughters of the village, I was never quite one of them. Among the few men who lived within its walls, I was no closer. It felt as though I stood between paths that were never meant to meet.

Chapter II // The Letter

Many suns and moons passed as I settled into a life that had long since stopped asking questions of me. I carried out my duty because it was expected, and for a time, that was enough. It was the only life I had ever known.Then, a letter found its way into my hands.At first, I was certain it had been delivered by mistake. It came from a distant cousin I barely remembered, someone whose life had carried them far beyond the borders of Golmore. They wrote of Eorzea, a land where countless peoples and cultures stood beside one another without demanding they become the same. A place where identity was not bound solely by birth or tradition, but shaped by the choices one made along the way.I nearly discarded it.It read less like a letter and more like a tale told around a campfire, too impossible to believe and too distant to ever touch my own life. Yet something compelled me to keep reading.There was no promise that Eorzea was perfect. No claim that hardship did not exist. Only the quiet suggestion that there were places in the world where a person could choose who they wished to become, rather than simply accept who they had been told to be.
One sentence lingered with me long after I had folded the parchment away."Perhaps the place you're looking for isn't somewhere you were born."I carried that letter with me every day thereafter. At first, it was only a curiosity. Then it became a question. Eventually, it became an answer.

Chapter III // The First Choice

Travelling by sea was a harrowing mistake. The constant rocking of the ship left my stomach in knots, and before long I found myself wishing I had walked the entire journey instead. Still, it afforded me something I had not anticipated —time.If this was to be a new beginning, then why not make it one? To leave behind my name. To leave behind my blades. To leave behind the life I had always known. But then who would I become?I could not answer the question. My entire life had been spent walking a path chosen for me, and now that I had finally stepped away from it, I felt as though everything familiar had been swallowed by the sea beneath me. For the first time, there was no one to tell me who I was supposed to be.The ringing of the ship's bell startled me from my thoughts as the towering silhouette of Limsa Lominsa came into view. Bathed in the light of the early morning, it was both beautiful and terrifying. Yet stepping on to its docks only made the feeling worse.People moved with a confidence I could not understand. Merchants shouted their wares from every corner while children laughed and played alongside races I had only ever heard stories about. The city seemed to breathe as one, while I struggled to find enough air for myself.Following the flow of people, I eventually found myself standing within the Customs and Excise Agency. The room was crowded, yet what unsettled me most was the single doorway. It never stayed closed for more than a moment as strangers came and went, each one another possibility my mind insisted on measuring. Thoughts of ambush and hidden threats clouded my judgement until the clerk cleared her throat."Name?"The question caught me completely off guard. I had chosen to leave my birth name behind, but I had never thought of what would come after it. The spiraling of thoughts that came after were none pleasant, the times I felt alone, the times I tried to fit in but couldn’t. Then I spoke before I had the chance to think."Killa" I stumble over my words, “I go by Killa Rabbit.”The clerk raised an eyebrow, wrote it into the registry without comment, and slid my city pass across the counter.I looked down at the ink still drying on the page. It was an odd name. A foolish one, perhaps. An idiotic nickname used to tease recruits back home, but at least it wasn't the name I had left behind. For now, that was enough.Still staring at the small slip of paper in my hands, I nearly walked straight into a towering woman. While I was accustomed to the women of my village standing taller than I did, even she made me instinctively take a step back.
She introduced herself as Thubyrgeim of the Arcanists' Guild before placing a small grimoire into my hands. I almost refused it outright, convinced she was some manner of con artist looking to separate a newcomer from their coin. Instead, she asked whether I had any experience with the art of Arcanima.For a moment, I nearly laughed. It was obvious I was no mage. I had never cast a spell in my life, yet she insisted she could sense a strong affinity for aether within me—that I possessed the aptitude to become an arcanist.I denied it. Magic had never been part of my life, nor did I have any desire for it to be."If nothing else," she said with a smile, gently pressing the grimoire back into my hands, "consider it a welcome gift. Give it a read when you find the time. Should you have questions, you'll always be welcome at the guild."I accepted it more out of a desire to end the conversation than any genuine interest. Tucking the book into my satchel, I offered a brief nod before disappearing once more into the streets of Limsa Lominsa.

Chapter IV // The Turning Page

By this point I no longer knew how many days had passed. Whether the sun was high in the sky or hidden beyond the horizon, the city never truly slept. The bustle and noise never ceased, and I found myself unable to rest within it.The longer I stayed, the more frustrated I became. Even the slightest bump from a passing drunkard or a friendly smile from a stranger would make me question what they truly wanted. Every interaction felt like a hidden test, yet nothing ever came to pass.Eventually, I had enough.I stepped beyond the city walls and wandered along the cliffs overlooking the sea. It was quieter there, but not peaceful. The endless horizon felt wrong. Too open. Too exposed. For the first time since leaving Golmore, I found myself wondering if I had made a mistake.As I sat there lamenting my choices, I remembered the book Thubyrgeim had forced into my hands. Opening it only brought more frustration.The pages were filled with lines and strange geometric patterns that meant nothing to me. They did not resemble words or even a language I could begin to understand. It felt as though someone had filled every page with meaningless scribbles simply to mock me.Out of spite more than curiosity, I traced a finger along one of the markings, hoping there was some hidden meaning. Nothing.With an irritated sigh, I tossed the grimoire aside and turned to make my way back to Limsa. Then I noticed it. The book was floating.Its pages fluttered open without wind as ink moved across the surface like currents beneath still water. The patterns reformed, rearranged, and expanded beyond what had been written. The structure was not static—it was reactive. An aetheric response.A construct formed above the pages. A small fae-like manifestation held in place by unseen force.My hand instinctively reached for blades that were no longer at my side, however, the reaction passed quickly. There was no threat, no pursuit—only presence. It did not approach. It did not retreat. It simply existed, sustained by the book itself.Without fully understanding why, I returned to the Arcanists' Guild with the strange creature following close behind. She never wandered far, stopping and going with my own movements as if to mimic mine.Thubyrgeim smiled the moment she saw me. Identifying it as a manifestation tied to the art of the Scholar—strategic arcanima centered around support and preservation rather than force. She spoke of it as a rare discipline. One that required understanding patterns before action.I told her I had no experience preserving anything. Only ending it.Still, I remained. Not because I understood it, but because I could not ignore what I had witnessed.I began studying the system behind it. Slowly. Carefully. Without assumption.The construct remained present during study, reacting to aetheric flow and intent rather than command. It was not a companion. It was not sentient in any conventional sense. It responded.

Chapter V // The Road Ahead

Nowadays, I understand that Eorzea is not a destination—it is a constant shift of people, places, and intent. I move through it without urgency, stopping where observation is needed, leaving when it is complete.There is much to learn from how people live. Not just where they come from, but how they adapt to one another. How they negotiate coexistence. How they build meaning from difference rather than uniformity.I do not claim to understand it yet. But I am no longer trying to define myself by what I was before.
I still carry the grimoire. Not as a symbol, but as a tool. A record of a system I am still learning to interpret. The patterns within it continue to shift in ways I do not fully predict. That is expected. Understanding comes through repetition, not assumption.If there is a direction to my path now, it is this:I am no longer where I began. But I have not yet arrived anywhere final.

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