Mytho was a quiet boy - rarely ever interacting with anyone outside of the two people that kept him on a ball and chain, Rue and Fakir. His white hair was always messy, never properly brushed unless Fakir sat him down with harsh scolding. He never reacted to it - he had no heart to feel the weight of the frustration Fakir laid to him.

He was like a silent dog, doing as he was told by the two without a second thought. All he knew was them, their harsh words of command were just seen as guidance to the heartless boy, and that was that. Though, to any stranger - it was questionable abuse. The way Fakir would punish Mytho, leaving him alone in the dark for hours, or the way Rue would run away from him with harsh words of insult. Sure, had he a heart he would have cried at the phrases they threw at him, but he just stood there - silent and obeying.

It was an empty feeling in his heart, his ballet had no feeling, leaving any audience to feel somehow so full of emotion. He was like some sort of a wind-up doll, and there was nothing he could do about it.

But when the sharp pains in his chest begun, he was scared. Why, all of a sudden, was he so spent with fear - crying out to not be abandoned as he was shoved into a closet as punishment, or when Rue would storm off from him, leaving him shaking where he stood, almost hyperventilating. Why, all of a sudden, was the empty feeling so deep in his chest beginning to cry to his throat, begging for a feeling of relief?

It was new - and it terrified him.

He was like an infant - barely able to process if anything was safe anymore, if anything he was going to do was worth the deep and terrifying feeling of fear. The overbearing feeling alone sometimes kept him from leaving his room, Fakir always being too harsh on him.

“You don’t need to think, just do as I say - you will be fine.” The dark haired boy would say, scornfully. Though, if you looked hard enough into Fakir’s harsh gaze, you could swear there was some sort of semblance of care and worry, maybe even a hint of fear, too.

It was so strange for Mytho to be outside of his room, walking the academy grounds late at night - but you were no stranger to it. Walking the dark, pebbled sidewalks with just a small guide of light from the street posts - you caught him in the corner of your eye. Mytho was stumbling through the dark, quaking in every step, calling out for anyone to find him, yet nobody had even came to his rescue.