Full Name: Wyatt Donovan
Real Name: Iason
Nicknames/Alias/AKA: He mostly goes by Iason to those who truly know him, has various aliases of his past lives, and is not opposed to nicknames.
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Height/Build: 6’2/Muscular
Bio: Iason was born long ago in ancient Greece and his first life was simple and hard. Survival was a constant fight and his parents struggled to feed him and his handful of other siblings. His parents died when he was young and after that, he lived as a thief and a beggar. He didn’t last long, he doesn’t remember what happened to his siblings or much about them. He was caught stealing, became a slave, but this made things easier in a way. He had no freedom, his masters were cruel and unforgiving, but he had food. He could at least dream of escape, of something better. There is so little of his first life he remembers, so many of the details have either faded or become confused with memories of other lives. What he remembers most clearly is thinking how fortunate he was to have been sold to a seemingly kind woman. He was allowed a bath, anointing oils, and the grandest meal of his life. There was the promise that he was important for something and that the gods would look favorably upon him. Then he found himself in a deep sleep, awaking in a strange place both bound and gagged. His death was fated to be as short and brutal as his life had been, and he remembers the helpless feeling of knowing he was a sacrifice.
Iason watched two others slaughtered like animals before it was his time. He tried to fight, as much as a scrawny malnourished youth could, even though he knew it wouldn’t help. He was not ready to die, and he didn’t want the other strangers here with him to die as well. He was fifteen when his throat was slit by witches seeking immortality. The last thing he saw was fire, the last sound he heard was another’s scream. He died bleeding on the ground, afraid and surrounded only by strangers. Then he lived again. At first, it was confusing, to be so young and find himself trapped in memories from a different life. It took many lives to understand what was happening to him. He constantly saw the faces of the other five haunting his dreams, kept seeing the deaths of the man and woman who were killed before him, kept hearing the screams of one who died after him. The sight of fire would send him into fits of terror and as a child, he would vividly recall the horror of the night he was murdered. Those around him thought him mad, he thought he was mad, it took him many lifetimes to come to grips with what was happening. He learned to keep such memories to himself, to keep control when the traumatic memories were triggered, and most importantly, how to use his reincarnations to his advantage.
At first, he saw it as a grand gift; for he could live as he never had before. He had the chance for not just a better life but so many better lives. Iason spent most of his earliest lives training to fight, determined that no matter what life he found himself in he would never find himself a victim again. He would be able to defend himself and others, and in so many lives he became an exceptional warrior. He didn’t have to fear death, he had the comfort of knowing he would come back. He constantly built on everything he learned in his past lives. He found himself looking for righteous fights and noble wars to join, he had a sense of purpose with every new life. But in time this lost its luster, he grew bored and restless after centuries of fighting. He began to search for a greater meaning to life than simply to fight and kill. He tried simpler lives, ones he’d scoffed at before, lives as farmers, merchants, or craftsmen. Lives spent raising families and building connections to people he knew would die and never live again as he did. These lives became far too painful and he tired of this far more quickly than anything else he tried. He eventually fell back into a life of bloodshed and warfare, this was the only existence that at least provided excitement, even as the sense of purpose began to fade.
Then in 5 BCE, by some stroke of fortune, he met Xanthippe, and after he drunkenly bragged about his immortality. He had always suspected that he wasn’t the only one but finally, he wasn’t alone in this. There were others out there, he felt they needed each other, needed to have the company of the only few who could ever understand what immortality was like. They promised to keep finding each other and the others like them. It took a while but they eventually found Alexandros in Rome. They had learned that the same cult of witches that had sacrificed them so long ago, still looked for them, still tried to complete their ritual. To combat them, they founded the guardians. They learned to leave clues for each other, set up meeting places, and ways for them to keep finding each other. They would no longer have to go on alone. All the while they kept looking for the others until eventually all six were reunited again. After a while though, Iason became restless again, tired of constantly meeting up with the others and avoiding witches. As much as he cared for the others, he needed a stronger purpose in life to guide him than just finding the same five people and running from witches. He needed to do more with his endless lives, needed fresh experiences to keep his mind from madness.
Iason returned to the kind of lives that had given him a sense of purpose. Of using his gift of continued life to become a mighty warrior. He explored the world, continues to train himself in the variety of combat styles natural to each new life and culture he was born into. He tried devoting himself to various religions, looking for answers that never came. Lives spent amongst holy men in various cultures, studying religions of the east and west but nothing brought him peace, he had no answer to why he kept returning, what he should do with immortality. He tried every life that promised adventure, anything that seemed even slightly different than what he’d lived before, and slowly everything became more and more hollow. Life it seemed, had no one answer, no one meaning, other than what he wished to give it. Life could have so many meanings, but with so many different lives he was running out of answers and meanings to give.
He wasn’t there for the others when the first vampire was created, no he was off trying to insert meaning into another tired life. He was the selfish one; off looking for adventure while one of his few true friends was having their heart cut out and eaten in front of them. Iason blames himself for that, for not doing anything to stop the creation of vampires. After all, what is the point of dedicating centuries to becoming a warrior if he wasn’t going to be there to help those like him? He was so angry with himself, so ashamed to have failed to have even tried. He had wasted his immortality, he realized he should have been using it to hunt down and stop those who sought to create more unnatural creatures, that both vampires and witches alike were his true enemy. That was the fight that mattered, that is what he needed to do with his immortality; make sure no one ever created something so cursed and unnatural again. He no longer had any illusion that immortality was a gift, all it had ever brought him was pain and isolation.
He spent several lives hunting both witches and vampires. For a short while, this gave new meaning, a sense of vengeance against the witches who had cursed him. Vampires became an exciting new challenge, he hated them, for he knew how they had come to be. Vampires, and the pain they cause mortals, was something he needed to set right. He allowed himself to be consumed by hate. Even after so many years the memory of the helpless rage he felt the night he was sacrificed burned within him. He saw that same helpless feeling in the victims of those terrible creatures he hunted. Eventually, this led him to slaughter an entire family, a family believed to be witches, both by himself and the other hunter he worked with. As it turned out they were simply people who used herbs for healing, and he had let his hate drive him to murder innocents. The guilt drove him mad. After ending that life he spent the next few lives as a drunk, occasionally ending up in rudimentary mental institutions and prisons trying to punish himself. It didn’t help, no matter the pain he put himself through, the guilt was still there.
Iason eventually concluded that immortality was the cruelest curse. Making connections to people was too painful, knowing that they would die and he would be left with only memories and the longing. It was so hard to find new experiences, everything was tedious and he was stuck with the baggage of every life he had lived. Reincarnation should leave the spirit with a clean slate, make it fresh and new again. But Iason was further tarnished by every life, every painful experience, every mistake and left to dwell for eternity. He changed drastically, became bitter and withdrawn, every life drove him deeper into a depression. He saw no point in making connections with mortal people; one lifetime was so fleeting. No mortal could understand what immortality was like, there were only five other people who could understand. Slowly he began to return to the Guardians and to meet up with the other five but he never returned to the idealistic free spirit he once was. He still feels a spark of the fire he used to have with a righteous fight, and that is one of the few things left that still allows him to feel truly alive. All he has to hope for is to one day break his cycle of immortality, and that is the only way he’ll ever know peace.
His current life is one he’s found just as hollow and empty as the many before it. His parents were decent people and he was thankful they had more than one child. He didn’t allow himself to grow attached to them, or his siblings, there was always the knowledge that they were impermanent, they’d be gone and it would start again with a different family. He was a quiet and withdrawn child. School meant nothing to him and nothing ever seemed difficult for him. Subjects he’d learned about before, history lessons he’d already lived through, but he made sure nothing appeared too easy. Made sure he didn’t draw attention to himself and stayed above average but just shy of excellent. He grew up in Boston, took up boxing as a hobby, and was told he was a natural at it. A skill he’d had for hundreds of lifetimes, but it was something to do, keeping fit, staying strong brought him some mild form of comfort. He graduated but skipped college and instead joined the army to ensure his skills stayed sharp. Modern wars lacked the clarity of ancient ones he’d used to enjoy, or maybe he’d just grown wiser. The modern world and all its marvels would have been a great excitement several years ago, and even as the world advances so much faster than it ever did, it interested him less and less.
After so many lives he’s found so many ways to accumulate wealth, but he chooses to own and manage an antique bookstore. It’s something to do, and there's still some hope left that maybe he’ll find a way to end his immortality. The rest of his time is spent drinking or hunting down vampires, there is so little else that interests him. He enjoys talking to mortals but never lets them close to him. He doesn't need to add to the pain. Though he fits it, Iason hates the stereotype of the brooding immortal, behaves as much as he can like the friendly optimistic man he was. It has been a few lifetimes since he had contact with any of the other six; he misses them. He’s caught between wanting to reach out to them if only to be around those who can understand, and a fear that he’ll eventually find those relationships too will feel as hollow as those made with mortals. His relationships with the others are the only company that doesn’t make him even lonelier. If he lost those connections, then, he might actually go mad.
Other/Extra:-Cigarettes, whiskey, and a fight, some of the few comforts he still looks forward to.
-He also enjoys people watching, live music, art, and dusty old books.
-Never found himself interested in subjects like science, math, or learning how the latest technology actually worked. He likes having something in the world that remains a mystery, it makes the world feel bigger and more magical and leaves something that might provide a fresh experience when he one day truly needs it.
-Still can’t quite shake his fear of fire, and of all the ways he’s died burning to death remains his least favorite, and it's not so much the pain, but the terror that gets to him.
-His clearest and most terrifying memory is of his first death, he still finds himself waking from the nightmare of it.
-Iason can’t help himself from lending a helping hand when he sees someone who needs it.
-Though he doesn’t get close to people, he loves them, all of the messy stupid mortals out there who at least try to do right. Even after all the terrible things he’s witnessed, he still believes humanity as a whole, is good and beautiful. It is something worth protecting and fighting for.
-Has a strong appreciation for the almost deep conversations only had with strangers late at a bar, several drinks in. In the brief connections that are destined to fade before morning, and the kind of honesty people can have with someone they know they’ll never see again. The simple and fleeting joy of encounters that fend off loneliness but never stick enough to hurt later on.
-Has an obsession with keeping fit, the memory of being helpless drives him to ensure he can always protect himself and others.
-Occasionally he finds himself a wholly new experience, something that reminds him that life can still hold surprises and enjoyment, and to stumble upon one of these is a brief glimpse of pure joy.
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