Darsidian (No Surname)
Apr 2, 2012 22:36:37 GMT -6
Post by Darsidian on Apr 2, 2012 22:36:37 GMT -6
Kit Harington
NAME: Darsidian (ne Thomas)
TITLE: The Beast
PLACE OF RESIDENCE: Sol
AGE: 21
OCCUPATION: Scrivener
LIKES:
-Quiet - he has some antisocial tendencies and prefers to keep to himself. As a scrivener, he doesn't have to deal too much with the outside world and more importantly, he gets the chance to find out more information on his affliction.
-Being outdoors - the beast in him enjoys the sense of nature rather than the confinement of a house.
-Being in control of the situation - he likes to be able to manipulate things to go his way. He likes to know that he has the know-how to keep a situation within his realm of influence and he likes watching others as they fall into line with his intentions. Because he is good at reading people and knowing how to manipulate him, it makes him a bit arrogant, though he covers it with false humility.
-Flirting - Darsidian knows that he will attract more flies with honey than with vinegar. So instead of putting on a gruff facade, he flirts with the ladies and charms up the gentlemen so that they learn to trust him and he can hear the news of the realms from all different points of view.
-Reading - Darsidian lives by the words that "knowledge is power." As such, he reads everything that he can get his hands on. He is well versed in ancient lore and poetry, history and battle tactics. His acute memory allows him to retain much that he reads. It is what allows him to quote poetry to the ladies and plan out tactical procedures. Knowing so much can put him in some tight situations, especially when he knows something that he shouldn't have and he lets it slip out of arrogance.
-Chess - This is the only game that Darsidian enjoys. He is an intellectual and looks it. You probably wouldn't guess at first glance that there is a predator lurking beneath his skin. This is why he took to chess. It stimulates him intellectually in a way that reading sometimes doesn't. One of his greatest pleasures comes from matching wits with other people, and thus it is his favorite pastime.
DISLIKES:
-Cats - almost a given as his beast is of a canine lineage
-The painful transformation - Darsidian does not care one way or the other which form he takes. He does not mind being the beast, nor does he mind roaming the streets as a human. It is the painful transformation as he rips out of his skin becoming the beast, or as his muscles become condensed when he goes back to being human.
-His own duality - Despite accepting that there is a beast within him and knowing how to coexist with this darker side, he often is frustrated when the dual identities that he possesses do not always align themselves in the same goal. Both the Beast and Darsidian are separate minds in the same body, and as such he hates the struggle to claim mastery over the beast he was saddled with.
-Being Ignorant - if there is one thing that vexes Darsidian more than anything it is being put into a situation where he realizes that he is ignorant of some fact that is important. He hates being put in a position where he has to say "I don't know" and mean it.
-The sight of blood - he is by no means squeamish and can handle a bleeding wound as well as the next man, but a part of his subconscious brings him back to the day that his family was slaughtered.
QUIRKS/HABITS:
-Even when not the beast itself, Darsidian maintains his heightened senses of vision and hearing. As such, he is prone to headaches when in an area that is loud or has too much stimulation. As a result of these headaches he can become irritable and lose a bit of his charm.
-He also maintains the sharper canines, but they are not so noticeable that they would make anyone suspicious upon seeing him smile.
-This may surprise no one, but he is not exactly a morning person. He prefers to sleep in a bit later, though he knows he can't sleep in too late without risking his livelihood.
-Will only drink red wine if offered wine. He doesn't like the taste of white wine, and the color of it appeals to the beast within him.
FEARS:
-That the change will one day become permanent and he will be unable to take his human form on the dawn again.
-Being caged or locked in somewhere that he can't get himself out of. He hates the feeling of being confined. He needs the freedom to do as he pleases.
TOXIC SECRET: Darsidian's toxic secret stems from the fact that he is the beast, but that is not his secret. It is that when he was young, he didn't know how to control the beast within him. As a result, the beast slaughtered his family. Most thought him dead due to illness, so it was easy for him to create a life for himself after the deaths of his family. Oddly, with the passage of time, he has accepted the beast and though he laments the loss of his family, there is a part of him that accepts it as a necessary part of his life.
FATHER: Robert, deceased
MOTHER: Elena, deceased
OTHERS: brother Jace and sister Tallis, both deceased
HISTORY:**
Darsidian was not born in Solraya, nor was he born with the name Darsidian. He was born in a quiet village just over Solraya's borders and given the birth name of Thomas. He lived a happy childhood with his family, despite being born a bit on the scrawny side. His father Robert was a blacksmith, his mother Elena was a healer. He was the youngest of three children. His brother Jace was older by six years, his sister older by only two. He looked up to Jace as a role model, knowing that he lacked the physical strength necessary to take on their father's craft when he grew too old. From his mother, Thomas learned the plants that would heal wounds and those that were dangerous to ingest.
The thing about small villages is that when a new religion rolls around in their kingdom, they are the most averse to change. Thomas's hometown was no different, and rather than take on the religion of their new king, they remained faithful to the old gods, worshiping the pagan spirits of the earth. This was what later saved Thomas's life, though he is loath to admit it.
When Thomas was eight years old, he took ill with a fever that kept him bed-ridden for days. His fever worsened and he began to become delusional. Even with all her skill as a healer, his mother could do nothing to break the fever and she knew that it was only a matter of time until she buried her youngest son. Instead, she did the only thing that she could think of to save the child that she couldn't bear to lose: she sent up prayers to the pagan gods. Though she knew that their power was dwindling because the people no longer believed in them, she threw her last hopes onto the prayers that they would listen and answer her prayers.
That very night, Thomas dreamt of a dark wolf coming from the forest and to his bedside. Or at least, he thought that it was a wolf. It appeared to have the characteristics of a man shadowed over the form of the wolf. Thomas wasn't sure if he was delusional, or if the wolf man actually existed. Whatever he had come for, the lad was too sick and further weakened by fever that even if he had deemed the wolf man a threat, he could not have done anything to defend himself. He dreamt of the wolf man drawing a claw across his chest, drawing blood in a thin line. He remembered the man saying something in a language he couldn't understand. After that, he dreamed no more, but fell into an even darker sleep.
The next day he awoke, no longer seemingly comatose. His fever had broken and his health had seemed to take a complete turnaround overnight. His mother was overjoyed and praised the gods for saving her son, calling him god-touched and reveling in the miracle that she had been given. Thomas knew there was something different about him. He felt dark and cold inside, where before he had felt the warmth and laughter that had flooded his childhood. He knew that the man from his dreams must have done something to him, but what?
That night, he heard the calling of the wolves as the sun began to set, an eerie chorus of howls drifting through the forest. He felt something in him react to it and before he knew it, a wrenching pain brought him to his knees. He felt his fingers lengthening into claws and his body taking on a new form. Fear welled inside him as he felt the darkness suffocate him. He didn't remember anything after the change. It wasn't until he awoke the next day, lying on the floor of his home, that he realized something horrible had happened. Whatever that monster was that had taken over his body, it had killed his family. There was no more laughter, no more joy. Now the house was quiet.
Only eight years old, he was understandably frightened and he took one of the bags his father used to transport his wares and began to fill it with his clothes and personal effects. If there was one thing that he understood unbelievably well, it was that if they found him among the carnage, they would think that he himself had done it, not the monster he knew was inside him. With a farewell kiss to the forehead of each of his family members, Thomas left the house, his country, and his identity behind to form a new life away from what he had done. No longer was he Thomas. He became Darsidian, a name he remembered whispered in his dreams.
He made his way into Sol and found apprentice work with a scribe. He began to learn his letters and numbers from him and soon was reading and writing. He caught on very quickly to the job and when he had reached the end of his apprenticeship, he became a scrivener himself. He saw the kind of information that a scrivener was privy to, thanks to the nature of the work. Always thirsting for knowledge and for some way to understand what he was, he took up the job, and remains a scrivener in his town.
Though he is not noble, he is careful enough with his money that he lives comfortably, though not lavishly. His bed is of decent quality, he is able to buy enough food, and his home and shop are in a decent state. Through his various readings, he has discovered the nature of the beast within him, and has been able to tame it to a certain extent. Though still afraid the power that the beast has, he is unafraid to wield it if it will benefit him in the end.
RP SAMPLE:
Layla tightened her fingers around the neck of her savior's shirt as she adjusted to the fact that she was no longer falling. She still couldn't believe that some guy had just sprung up out of nowhere and caught her right before she was about to fall. Things like that just didn't happen to her. She always had her brother to pick her up, but people didn't come out of the blue to save the day for her. She wasn't worth it. She was just a poor girl with a sob story that no one wanted to hear.
She could tell when she looked at him that his hazel eyes were searching her, trying to find the answers to a million questions. She could barely keep eye contact with him. She didn't want to have to face the questions she was sure were coming.
Why are you wearing long sleeves at this time of year, it's not even fall yet? Why do you keep adjusting your sleeves? Why aren't you looking at me? Why can't you keep eye contact? What is wrong with you? Will you tell me about your past?
She couldn't bear to face those kinds of questions. She'd been asked one too many times and she hated going back and reliving those memories. All she wanted was for her past to be left alone. That didn't mean that she wanted to be alone, but she supposed that the two went hand in hand. In order to keep people from asking about her past, she had to keep them at arm's length or even farther, and that's why she couldn't have any friends. The thought was enough to cause her to sniffle slightly. Great, now he was going to think he made her cry. And goddammit she wasn't crying.
She swallowed hard and forced herself to look at his lips, she couldn't meet his eyes. She was damn well going to force herself to talk to him. he deserved at least that much. There were several moments' hesitation where she plucked up the courage before she spoke.
"I....thank you...for catching me..." her voice was almost too soft to be heard. "I...was afraid I'd break something...have to go to the hospital..." She laid her head on his chest, giving her the opportunity to look away. God she was such a coward. Couldn't even carry on a normal conversation without her brother around to give her his support. "It's...very nice to meet you too Butch..."
She bit her lip slightly. "If...you want to put me down...I'm sure I can stand..." Great, now she sounded like some damned damsel in distress. "I'm probably heavy anyway...I don't know..." She slowly loosened her arms around his neck. She looked over her shoulder to see where her journal and pen had fallen. She didn't much care as long as they were relatively unscathed. Her journals were always built to last, sturdy little things. She needed them to be, because she couldn't be all the time.
"Umm....if you want to know....about me...then...umm...I guess...you can ask..." She bit her lip and looked down again, lowering her voice so that if you didn't know she was speaking, you might not have caught the words. "But if you don't want to be around me I can understand that. Nobody else wants to."
ALIAS: Rylah
HOW DID YOU FIND US?: Caution
PREFERRED METHOD OF CONTACT: PM
**If this history does not work for whatever reason, I do have another idea for how I could fit everything in.
