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  • Baol Vivec DeArc

    age

    2

    gender

    Male

    birth

    Winter

    size

    Large

    eye color

    Blue

    first color

    Tan

    second color

    Black

    third color

    Cream

    fourth color

    None

    alignment

    Chaotic Neutral

    constellation

    skills

  • TOKENS

    blessings

    IC Achievements

  • Amphi

    status

    Offline

    birth

    05-27-1991 (27 years old)

    time

    12-12-2018 at 07:27 AM

    registration

    07-14-2018

    characters

    threads

    5 (Find All Threads)

    posts

    22 ( Find All Posts)

    message

    click

    email

    click

Appearance

details

➣ large, muscular body

➣ laid-back and casual demeanor

➣ usually has an easy-going, half-lidded smirk

➣ possesses an intense scar- left lip is ripped to expose his main canine and molar directly after canine


You’ve stolen your father’s wardrobe. You snatched his pale flaxen linens, procured those tawny silken robes, borrowed the night-like stole and mask and jewelry-- shamelessly. You wear it all like it was never anybody else’s, solely yours and yours alone.

But what of your mother? From her, you stole those gems. You pulled them from her (maybe even from your ancient Mahuat lineage, unkowningly), placed them resolutely within your skull and own them the same way you own your garments. You may have borrowed them, but they are yours and your alone. They may reflect your mother’s calculative stare, may embody the strange coolness all the same-- but to them you added charm. They glow in a way that your mother’s do not, inviting almost-- easy spark glinting in any lighting or lack of. They are bright.

Oh, and that scar? Do you want to talk about that? How eery and frightening, that your entire lip is gone, that your left fangs are exposed permanently.

Baol's Sta.sh

Personality

easy-going || lack of morals || bit of an anarchist || lazy || humorous


But what are you, really? A devoted servant? A rebel? A liar?

Is your light nature a ruse, is your smile bearing something heavier, something more formidable? Does your forthcoming chuckle hide your snide remarks and scatter sprinkles over your pitiless words? What’s with that smile, anyway-- no, that [b]smirk[/b]? Why does it always press into your lips, creating those folds at the corners of your mouth, even when you’re being insulted? You rebel! You ignoble beast! Does nothing fluster you at all? Does that stoic, charming, agreeable facade always grace your features? ... Yes?

Are you an actor? Do the gods really call you to purpose, can you hear their holy voices reverberating in your ears? Can you feel their pull, their power, their influence? Or is your devotion a performance, part of the routine, just one more show? Do you flaunt and flare for the sake of ease, for the sake of not having to argue or explain or create a belief of your own? What-- is it laziness that coddles you? Is it slothfulness that gleans your every movement and motivation so dully? You are an actor, aren’t you? You’ve got us all fooled-- you truly don’t care about your born religion at all? You’re truly an unbeliever? You’d go so far as to mock it in your private time and dramatically douse yourself in it with an audience? You’re not ashamed of your flatness? Do you not think your nature shallow? What do yo [b]actually[/b] believe in? Care about?

What about your family? Do you actually hold them highly-- dare I say, [b] care[/b] about them? That grin still graces your muzzle. Maybe it’s just easier to play the dutiful, loyal son. Is that it? You’re rebelling without actually rebelling? Do you truly see yourself as alone, even amidst your strong familial bonds? Even amongst the prominent Dragon Crest into which you were born? How can you not care about power, prestige, glory? Is there a coldness that touches your soul? An ice that settles over the majority of your emotions, allowing you to play a perfect prince with a perfect grin? Is anything about you actually real?

But sometimes something must get to you. Right? Ah, yes. Sometimes. Something. Something can skewer into you and disintegrate that beautiful shell you’ve built, right? And it would reveal the ice within your soul, wouldn’t it? It would leave your normally glinting eyes empty, your grinning face blank. You wouldn’t... become violent, would you? Would you? You... would...? What is it that could leave you so bare? So raw? So savage, unbridled, passionate? You don’t know...? Could it be someone? Maybe you do have the capability to care, and you won’t admit to it? No? Whatever you say.

Family

History



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