Hi guys it's a new oc hahaha hw his name is riven um kinda lore idk down there look down I said look down

Riven doesn’t speak, not because he can’t, but because he wasn’t meant to. He was born under a crooked sky, the result of a pact that should never have been made, between a human and something that wasn’t. A lesser demon, cast out and spiteful, left behind a child not out of love, but defiance. From the moment he opened his eyes, Riven was a mistake that no one wanted to acknowledge. His mouth, stitched shut with a living zipper, was the first warning. Not magic. Not metal. Something in between. When he was young, they tried to open it, to cut it free, to pry it apart. But the wound would only reseal, and worse, the few words he managed to speak in those early moments weren’t a child’s babble. They were truths. Heavy ones. Things no one wanted to hear. Painful. Precise. Almost prophetic. So they zipped him shut, left him in a sanctuary far from cities and prayers, and forgot about him.

He grew up quiet, and not by choice. Over time, even when the zipper loosened and the magic faded slightly, the silence stayed. His voice had become a source of fear—not just for others, but for himself. He developed selective mutism, a deep-rooted anxiety that made speaking feel impossible, like pulling sound through waterlogged lungs. People didn’t know what to do with him. The staff said he gave them headaches when he stared too long. That his voice stayed in their heads long after he was silent. He learned to keep to himself, to sit in corners, to watch instead of speak. His only constants were his scarf, which he never let anyone touch, and the small yellow pin he found in a donation box: a worn-out Batman logo that someone had tossed away. It made him feel like maybe even broken things could be heroes. The bat-like wings sprouting from his head, once soft and curled, hardened as he aged. They flared with emotion, moved when he was anxious, and twitched when he thought too hard. They weren’t just for show. They were part of his sensory system, reading the air like feelers, reacting faster than his hands ever could. He hated them. Loved them. Wanted to cut them off sometimes. But they were him.

Now he hides in plain sight, out in a world that doesn’t understand what he is. The wings get him stares. The zipper gets him whispers. But he doesn’t unzip it, not unless he has to. Because when he does, his voice carries weight. It doesn’t echo in the room, it echoes in the heart. It unearths buried guilt. Forgotten promises. Things people never wanted to admit. Some say his words are cursed. Others say he’s a mirror. All Riven knows is that silence is easier. Safer. Because the truth doesn’t set people free when it comes from his mouth. It cuts. And it never misses.

Some references in the drawing hehe😛