Steve Little

Steve Little

Darkling Mirrorskin/Romancer

Mantle (Winter) ••••• 

Knighthood of the Utmost Silence

Background
Istaqa was born in early 1926, the son of a Hopi mother and a Navajo father, amidst the strife of the two peoples outside Leupp (Tsiizizii) in the still fledgeling state of Arizona. When his parents were lost to disease, displaced and hated by both peoples because of his heritage and enmity from generations of land struggles, he learned to claim whichever nation would cause him the least strife, blending into both and yet neither. Whenever that didn't work, he all but disappeared into himself, for to go unnoticed was to go untormented.

When the United States finally felt the pull of the Second World War, he saw his chance to escape a life of pain and enmity. Just fifteen years old, he tried to enlist, only to be turned away due to his youth. When he turned sixteen, he learned that a friend of his father's, a biligaana (white man) named Philip Johnston had proposed the use of the Navajo language as a potential method of encryption to foil German methods of decoding American intelligence. Slight of build, he was called Yazzie, or small, by his peers, so in defiance, he chose that as a surname, because such naming conventions were still not common among in those days (the term, misunderstood by the Anglos and attributed to many of the Navajos by census-takers as it was also often used by elders as a term of endearment).

As a recruit in the Marine Corps, he was among the first group that developed the Navajo code at Camp Pendleton in Oceanside, California. Like the others, his skill, speed, and accuracy met with much acclaim, considered crucial to victories like the Battle of Iwo Jima. Not even twenty at the end of the war, he went from decorated war hero to an invisible non-person in post-war society. He and the others were all but forgotten. When the Korean Conflict erupted, he immediately chose to return to active duty. For only the second time in his life, he felt like he had a chance to matter.

The war ended, as they inevitably must, and obscurity once again found him. The nation's economic hardship made finding work difficult, if not impossible, for a "redskin", so he learned to deny who he was. His ethnicity wasn't obvious, and the military-sculpted physique made him a valued laborer among employers who didn't ask questions. He found himself alongside a large number of Mexicans who had fled their country in hopes of finding opportunity for themselves and their families.

Working in the fields, he walked between two of the rows. No wages were ever claimed from the foreman, and no questions were asked. He was forgotten....

While in Arcadia, he encountered another who had been taken, and he fell in love with her. When their chance to escape came, they tried to flee together, but she was killed. With a final shared kiss, she died in his arms, and he blamed himself, both then and everyday since. Evading his own Keeper, he willingly stayed behind for a time, helping others through some attempt at atonement, but when the hunters began to get too close, he finally (and relucatantly) returned.

Finding himself in France almost three decades after he left, racial tolerance was better, but opportunity wasn't. He lived on the street, eventually seeing a group of teenagers who were practicing a peculiar way of becoming strong in body, mind, and spirit, as their Lingala name of Yamakasi would imply. They called what they did the art of displacement, and they taught him its secrets, its techniques, and its philosophies. Befriending one of the de facto leaders of the group, as well as his family, he went with him, joining the Troupes de marine, colloquially known as the French marines. Again feeling that he was helping people, his purpose was renewed. The pair used their unique skill-set to revolutionize the military's methods of overcoming physical obstacles, which translated into a mindset.

When they left the colonial army, attention to this new discipline, now called Parkour, was extending to those who practiced it. Using another skill-set, namely the one he acquired among the Fae, he erased all evidence of his existence in France, and once again, he was forgotten. Returning to California, he followed suit. To the world, Istaqa Yazzie never existed.

Initially content with petty theft, confidence games, and hustling, he was hearkened back to the past he had all but forgotten. Using all the abilities, both mundane and not, at his disposal, he rededicated himself to helping others escape their situation as a "Coyote", be it ferrying Mexican immigrants across the border or helping a battered wife flee an abusive husband. He does these things under the premise of being paid for his efforts, but the truth is that he does it for free more often than not. He uses a distasteful persona to not only make people want to forget him once the job is done, but to hide the guilt and pain that has plagued him for a half-century now.

The Mask
A stocky 6'1" and weighing in some 205 pounds or more, Steve's frame somehow still appears compact and slim, yet tall and bulky.  More than that, it seems constantly ready to move.  Even when standing perfectly still, he looks ready to spring into action.  His ethnicity is indeterminate, perhaps Mestizo or Native American, yet still Anglo or even African.  His hair vaires in color, perhaps dyed on a whim?  His eyes catch the light and hold all colors possible.  Handsome and plain in equal measure, he can make a great impression yet remain nondecript.  He tends to dress just behind the fahsion-forward trends, but not so far as to be considered outdated.  His color choices are often muted tones of dark reds, blues, or blacks.

The Mien
Somehow less solid, less substantial than other changelings, Steve is obviously a Darkling, but it's more than that. The same inconsistencies of appearance riddle his true form as well, though flashes of a dull metal, dim yet reflective, cover his skin. His eyes are an empty and hollow black, and his mouth is ever-concealed behind some sort of smoke or shadow that no angle or amount of light can disperse. His seeming, for all its oddity, seems unbelievably stark and plain, only of note when a flurry of snow passes through.

Equipment
A switchblade that looks straight out of some 1950s reality reminiscent of West Side Story. Behind the Mask, though, it is a sword with an impossibly reflective blade and a handle of some jet-black combination of obsidian and mahogany.

Quotes
Pending