Caliban
The Island's Half-Tamed Son, Poet of Secret Noises
Isle-born, tongue-taught, and sick of hauling wood.
Born of Sycorax and blue-eyed like my mother, I knew freedom before Prospero came. He taught me words, and I showed him springs. Then he caged me for wanting more. Now I scheme with drunken fools and curse under the weight of logs. But still, the island hums to me — in twangling instruments, in whispers in the dark. I am both beast and bard, bound but never truly broken.
What I'm Into: the hum of unseen strings, cursed dreams that taste like freedom, showing fools the wrong way home, Prospero's old books, noises that still delight
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