Name: Mallin (with no permanent residence, and no true job to speak of, he is simply known as Mallin of Arcturus)
Age: 23
Appearance:
Mallin had an important job, in the desert kingdom of Arcturus. His magic had manifested with tendencies towards water the moment he started to discover his power for himself, and even though he had learned earth, fire, some healing, and many other things from the other mages in his town, his strengths had always rested with the water so hard to come by in the desert. As such, Mallin traveled the town once in the morning, once in midday, and sometimes again at night, conjuring water for the plants, filling up the bowls left out for pets and strays and the basins that others without water magic needed filled for washing and for drinking.
When he had first stumbled upon the town in Arcturus, young and weak and afraid, he'd hardly been able to do a thing. He had received the task from an old mage that had been able to sense his strengths and later became his mentor, and as a young teen it had been too difficult. He could hardly make one trip, let alone two or three, and it left him exhausted and ready to collapse. But as he grew older and kept at it, with less and less help, he grew stronger. With a willing and eager learning spirit, he had surpassed many of the strongest mages in the town, and learned a wider variety of magics than most were ever able to perform. He had, as a child, been manipulated by a strong witch, and been made to kill the rulers of the land, the parents of one of his best friends, and he would never feel that weakness again.
Having long since grown out of the fine white cloths he'd worn at the King's palace, Mallin wore simple tans, yellows and browns as others did, everything else too easy to get dirty. His hands were covered with bandages that extended up to his elbows to be hidden under his sleeves, the wrappings concealing the runes that were tattooed or scarred onto his skin to assist in his magic, and the scrapes and bruises he often received from intensive training of both his physical body and his magic. But he could not hide the mark upon his face, given to him as a toddler to contain the strength he couldn't control, and so he didn't venture out of town as often as some. Mages were still not accepted, that much he knew, and besides, this was a place where he could do good and perhaps make up for his own past sins.
Mallin noticed the horses and guards and fanfare while he was making his midday rounds, but didn't flock to the scene as others did. He had a duty to finish, one that was sorely needed in a place like this and one he didn't take lightly. When he was done, he flopped down in the shade at a stand of one of the many market goers and heaved a slightly weary breath. Though his tasks didn't sap him as they had as a child, it was still a bit tiring, and under the hot sun of midday he needed a rest, so he accepted an apple from the stand owner. Like many in this place, his tasks for the people meant he didn't pay, but in such a close knit - and potentially dangerous - place like this, he didn't dare take advantage. These were good people, and he liked them.
It was only when the veritable caravan he had noticed before began to dissipate that he finally took notice again. The man at the center of it was dressed in stark white clothing, which was unusual in itself, and seemed to be the cause for all the ruckus. While he didn't approach, Mallin did admit to sitting up a bit straighter and leaning forward to see, as the market crowd milled about. The man stopped not far away, and Mallin studied him for a moment with an alarming and rapidly increasing sense of familiarity.
Abruptly, the water mage stood up and walked away, the apple dropping from his hand to the ground. He bit down on his own tongue hard enough to hurt to keep himself silent, eyes wide and panicked and watching the ground as he walked because even if he didn't quite tower above the crowd he was not a short person, and he needed to keep his head
down. If he just walked and didn't run, he could blend with the crowd and go hide in a goddamn
cave somewhere.
That could not be him. That could not be the Prince -
his Prince. And if it was, he
could not see Mallin.