of things i am certain. // bashiñigo

on sebastían.

    "Sebastían Rafael Cade was pulled from his mother's corpse on October twenty-ninth, the year nineteen-ninety-four, at precisely half-past four in the afternoon. Coincidentally, and unfortunately, this was also how and when he was born.

    Most think of this as fate's cruelty. The guilt of celebrating his birth on the day of his mother's passing turned into guilt over anything at all to do with himself. But selfish tendencies are often nurtured in children by the very self-indulgent nature of birthdays, and so they were never nurtured in Sebastían. It could be argued, then, that fate's cruelty became fate's gift; to him, in his unmatched selflessness, and to the world, in him.

    And a gift to me, I suppose. Yes... Yes, I think I can say that.

    Sebastían is that guy. He's always been that guy—the kind whose name echoes back before you get the chance to say it, before it dares pry open your lips and find intrigue in the ears of others. Particularly the four letters which compose its stellar conclusion, C - A - D - E. It is the name of historical figures, presumed holier-than-thou folk, a family of legends and myths and lore. Rulers of the emerald isle, Isla de Creyendo, Creede. The greatest country there's ever been.

    Those unaware see Sebastían, a wolf, third in line to the world's most prestigious and powerful position, better regarded and respected than royalty. Hell, he's about as royal as they come. Those who are Aware, though, see the first nonmagical Cade there has ever been. To them, he is marveled at for simply existing, and they shun him for his apparently shameful Normalcy.

    Much like any obstacle life has thrown at him, though, Sebastían has managed to make this Normalcy his very brand of uniqueness. His lack of the powers of convenience fostered a deep, attentive wondering—which was eventually only satiated by an equally impressive education (even for a boy of his background). His intellect is frustratingly impressive, his level-headedness admirable, and his scholarly accomplishments already well past the mark perhaps anyone thought he'd make.

    Sebastían is modest and well-mannered. Quiet, but well-spoken when provoked or prompted. He can slip into a room for brief moments and change it forever, all in a humble, otherworldly effect. Everyone already knows this of Sebastían, so I need not elaborate.

    This, however, cannot go unmentioned—his true name is Bash.

    That's what he called himself, at the age of three, unable to say anything other than Se-bash-an when asked for his name. This later became bash-man, when we were around six or seven, and I bought him his first comic books. I had no way of knowing it would develop into that ridiculous childhood obsession. At first, I think he liked the idea of a superhero without powers, you know? He saw a little of himself between those pages right away. But then, one day, his father passed away too, and there he was, also orphaned. Suddenly Bash was Bruce Wayne. Eerie to think of, still.

    The best parts of Bash are random and inordinate. Sometimes absolutely senseless. Like how he wears his father's glasses but avoids mirrors since the face he sees there looks more and more like his father every day. Or how he owns about half a dozen versions of the same sweater. He likes black jeans, sweaters, plain clothes like that. He only ever has two pairs of shoes at a time — the most expensive Oxfords you'll ever find anywhere, and the dirtiest pair of black, Chuck Taylor All-Stars you'll ever see (the low tops, since he thinks the high ones make him look short. He is short, but don't tell him, since he doesn't seem to know and it's kind of funny to watch him act tall). He wears them interchangeably until they're worn through, at which point he will purchase fresh shoes.

    He can name every kind of uppity spoon or fork there is, but he can't tell you what he wants to eat at a given moment, even when he complains that he's hungry. Scream at him, Hungry for what?! and he'll smack you at the back of the head, violently.