Your name is Kankri Vantas, or at least that is what Those Who Smell Of Herbs call you. They say, you survived a four-wheeled device accident. They say, you were lucky enough to turn the vehicle in time for your side not to be crashed. They say, you were lucky enough to stay alive, albeit losing your eyesight and memory. They say, you were alone.
Sometimes you know they have left you in what you presume is your room. And sometimes you can feel there is still somebody there. Sometimes you can feel it’s not them that have stayed in your room. And sometimes you feel better that it’s not. Sometimes it is awfully quiet when it’s not them who stayed. And sometimes you feel gentle warmth wrap around you when it’s not them.
Sometimes you can hear them talk very quietly to each other. Sometimes you can hear them mention you. Sometimes you can hear them say something very familiar. But no matter how hard you try, you cannot remember.
Sometimes you feel like a part of you has been taken away. Sometimes you wonder if it is your memory playing tricks on you or if it was something very important that you cannot remember.
Your name is Kankri Vantas, and your life seems unbearably empty.
commission by tchakladar for some mitulakri: what if the three trolls (who by beforan standards should have been culled) had been able to live and mature and grow up together?
Kankri Vantas has lived a life of comfort and incessant coddling, of being provided with every basic need and fiercely protected from any harm.
He never wanted for anything–anything but his own autonomy, that is. A glorified trophy in his hemonomaly, Kankri’s short life span prevents him from joining society and as such making a difference. Beforus is ruled by the culling system that offers no place for any off-spectrum or disabled troll but in a glass case to be fawned over.
Sweeps of concerted dismissal, stifling and patronizing has severely stunted Kankri’s social skills. He uses his anger as a weapon to combat his days of being a pet, fueling his righteous campaign to spread awareness–but mostly to rebel against an oppressive system bent on depriving those who don't fit in as oiled machines of their inherent qualities.
All of this smothering has stripped Kankri of his own self-knowledge; truthfully he doesn’t even know his own worth, and so he hides behind his words.