Coming from a family of wealth, he dresses with casual flashes of it. He prefers being comfortable in his own clothes, ones of quality, but should he be anywhere close to his mother, George, or a Sun event, Lance will put himself together more respectfully.

Gloves, especially with a texture to the tips of fingers, are a common addition to outfits to hide any left over magic still showing through on hands and circumvent the loss of feeling so as to still be able to interact with screens.

He has a burn scar up his arm and a few others from various powers or tools of torture that are hidden under clothes, most notably on his back and front.

TW: substance abuse, mental health

Despite their relationship, Lance is a Mama’s boy through and through. He’d take a bullet for Linda Maker and do whatever he’s told without much second thought. If its something Linda wants, then it’ll be done. To have misgivings is to question the very fabric of their existence and he was born to serve her and the Sun.

He does his best, but slipping to addiction is an ongoing war within himself. A failing others might call it, but it can feel like a prophetic experience, though more often than not, its simply a way to forget any responsibilities and a cold childhood. At times, especially those moments where he is especially down on himself or stressed, he holes himself up at a bar, in his room, anywhere that’s away to just deal with himself for a few hours and forget the world.

Lance has an unfortunate trait of becoming dependent on others for validation and self image, even when it comes to his power use, something that makes him extremely easy to manipulate. It feeds into negative self talk and may lead to an outburst, but we are not given battles we cannot handle and he’d rather eat them than ever talk through feelings. Nothing is wrong with anyone else, only himself and that’s something he has to work on.

Under all of this, is a sincere want to be recognized for the skills he does have and a burning loyalty to those in the Sun. Despite any pain he might go through, all of it is a test for something better and if he can help bring more to the cleansing light then its a life worth lived. With dreams of greatness, he’s one to put in the hard work and continue to push himself even when a smart person would’ve given up a long time ago.

“What is to give light must endure burning”
- Viktore E Frankl

TW: abuse, torture, general cult vibes

Memories of his father are hazy at best and anything he’s been told about him has at this point, mostly written over those. It feels like a different lifetime all together when thinking back and feels hardly relevant to life now.

Growing up within the cult, he viewed George as a figurehead of the household, a pedestal to always grab appeasement from, especially with his mother so enraptured. To become the best in his mother’s gaze, he had to be the best at everything and fight for it — George had to actually be proud of him. This inevitably led to constantly feeling like second fiddle and there were nonstop comparisons to others that became his own self mantra with how much it was said aloud. His mother did little to help in this and became the source of most of it with how strict she was and the constant expectation of perfection from him that Lance never could seem to achieve. There was no winning, only walking on eggshells and being able to stand your ground, hiding tears for when you were alone.

At the age of ten, his begging to be given the gift was finally allowed as if a great honor. During the trial, something snapped within him and the need to escape, that little boy trapped and calling for help, was smothered. After what felt like days of nonstop pain and torture, his mother only offering a cold gaze of comfort and George reminding him it was for the good of them all, that he was becoming a man, Lance was finally able to throw a wall of flame back as the remnants of one burned through his arm. He was immediately praised for his abilities and all felt like it was finally right in the world. He had done it! He had earned his right and was the son his mother always wanted, no doubt to climb the ranks and lead the future as a herald to the flame. Such a feat brang to him the mother he’d always wanted, caring and loving — proud of him. It was only upon the next few uses that it became clear that his power was not fire, but rather, the ability to mimic anyone else’s gifts. Disappointment was palpable, something deeply internalized and soured. He was no second coming that his mother had hoped for, simply a reflection of anyone else, a mirror. A fall from grace happened instantly, his mother’s face said enough and just as fast as it had come, hopes and dreams were doused. There was no kindness at home despite whatever outside appearances showed, and conditions worsened considerably.

It would take some time, but as he got older, responsibilities were given to him now that he was of age and had been training since his awakening. His mother soon took notice that his skills could easily be used, that they had value, after pairing him up with other members to complete a task. They highlighted and praised his skills, the ability to pull from a well of similar abilities was exceptionally helpful and the Right Hand’s son had not failed them. With this and the knowledge that he was so eager to please, to mold, she grabbed hold of it and twisted as needed. Even so, once trials were offered to him again, he began to take part in each when able, hoping this time would be different and Lance could offer more.

Around eighteen, jobs became more complicated and eventually he was locked up for aggravated assault, a prelude to a revolving door of minor offenses, leading to several years in and out of the system. Some of these were of his own volition, others were done in regards to helping the Rising Sun. Most of the time, he was let out soon enough with hardly more than an uncomfortable few nights in a cell and a slap on the wrist. He’d do them all again with little care of his person and his people would be there for him.

When Phe joined, he grew a friendship with her, easy with the close proximity. It gave him someone to latch onto that sort of got it and through the years she pulled him out of being too self wallowing, Lance leaning on her many times over, simply grateful to have a friend in the family, someone to talk to that wasn’t his mother or another member that would quickly share to her anything he said.

The night of the fire at George’s, he raged at the received call, at pulling up to pick up his mother, at trying to put together pieces that were broken of his family. He’s since helped scour the streets for the little dragon and come up short every time. Since then, he’s done what he could to find Oliver who’d nearly killed their leader. A thankless kid he’d run across several times in the past with a small twinge of jealousy, led astray with whispers from the devil. He needed to be found, made to seek penance or simply put down.

With the info that Colorado was bound to pull up some surprises in regards to where he’d gone, Lance stayed behind to finish up a few loose ends before joining his mother and Phe.