Home Personal Name: Aegis Bright Age: 20 Gender: Male Sexuality: Heterosexual Class: Adventurer Race: N/A Rank: D-rank Guild: Lamia Scale Tattoo: Dark green, on the outer side of the left arm right beneath the shoulder. Face: Vergil, Devil May Cry. Appearance Height: 185 cm. Weight: 75 kg. Hair: Platinum with a blueish tint. Eyes: Deep violet. Sometimes catch a golden glitter under sunlight. Overall: Cold elegance. That is what the man's visage emits, weaving together plainness and light ornamentation. His coat, the largest piece of clothing he often wears, is of slightly muted, dark azure colour. It fits his slender figure perfectly, perhaps being the only reason his attire looks light and graceful despite the general weightiness associated with trench coats. Especially those that reach below the knee, such as his. Its blockiness is also further suppressed by its tail being slit not once down the middle, but twice -- splitting it into three equal parts. There are two pairs of straps spanning between adjacent "tails" in the top end of each slit. There are straps on the shoulders and forearms as well, though these are buttoned where the previous ones are buckled. Additionally, the colar, cuffs and tails' inner edges feature mute ivory ornamentation of flowing, entwined streaks which seem to soften appearance of the coat. Under the outerwear Aegis has a ridged black leather vest with matching black trousers and high-ancle boots. Apart from the vest's relief and angular, scarf-hosting v-neck, these are free of detail. The peculiar combination of his clothing lends an air of crude regality, or perhaps practical elegance. Above the clothes rests Aegis' often serene youthful expression adorned with soft platinum-coloured hair which is said to resemble flowing water when swept up in the breeze, for when graced by sunlight often reveals a peculiar blueish tint. Aegis often keeps the back of his hair tied in a tail. His bangs are usually kept swept back as they are not long enough to be tied to the rest. Situated between the noticable blue of his coat and striking silvery hair are the strikingly purple eyes the man was gifted with. Strangely crisp in texture, they often compliment his relaxed aura by lending a touch of cool mystery, yet should he peer at anything their almost welcoming serenity quickly disperses before the sheer intensity with which he can lock onto his target. Someone would name them Aegis' most expressive part, for where he chooses to speak little a single glance from those amethysts of his can often express an entire sea of meaning, thought and emotion. Perhaps one has no need for words with such an alternative at hand, yet if the eyes are said to be the mirror of the soul then it may be worth wondering what his eyes mirror when, under appropriate lighting, they attain a golden, sparkling hue. Extra: Though something he takes care not to reveal, Aegis' body is almost entirely covered in scars, some significantly more gruesome than others.Cuts, tears, burns... is it even possible to survive such wounds? Apparently so, though not without the cost of being unsightly to many -- a fact he is certainly aware of. Perhaps that is why he wears the clothes that he does. Another thing mostly concealed by cloth is his strangely pale skin. Aegis also has a rather rich voice which contains a deep, resounding undertone. It adds a soothing effect to his regular speech, though it can just as easily be harnessed to produce a shaking boom of a shout. Personality Personality:Aegis Bright. A curious name for one so weary of people, though "weary" isn't entirely an accurate word to use for the man. He treats people the same as he would a flower -- free of prejudice, basking in merely an appreciation of their existence for what they are. But just the same he would find it hard to be particularly attached to neither the flower nor the person, as to him they are just more observable facts of reality. Make no mistake, he has no delusions regarding the lack or presence of substance within anyone; he will neither disregard nor endorse any existing thing solely for being. So what exactly is he around people? It largely depends on the given individual, but what is always present is his openness as if to spite Aegis' crippled empathy. Indeed, the man has notable difficulty connecting with others on an emotional level. It's not that he can't understand feelings -- he has striking clarity about the human condition. What he fails to do is perceive another's feelings in relation to himself; that is, he often observes other people much like an artist would his craft, or a scientist would his experiment. Understanding, yes, and certainly comprehensive, but he does so in a maner detached from his own emotions. Though sensitive to the human condition, Aegis seems to almost have difficulty perceiving himself as a part of it, or perhaps as part of the same kind of condition everyone else seems to share. Apart from his strange inhibitions, Aegis does little to neither protest nor encourage social interactions. He just lets things be what they are: at times he would be entirely silent, savoring the feel of the moment while at others he may even speak with a passion if the topic allows it. The only overarching consistency across all his moods is the sensation of distance with which he speaks. No matter what he says or how he does it, he always sounds as if in recollection of a long-faded memory, like he himself may disperse into thin air at any moment, leaving behind only an echo of his thoughts. There seem to be few things Aegis is passionate about, yet those are also what he regards as core to living itself -- presence in the moment, training and spirituality. These, of course, aren't the only things he cares for, but rather the keystones of his being, thus they are what he most often and most easily engages with. In a way, they are the only friends he knows how to keep, so is it any surprise that he changes around them? Where the man fails with emotional expression he makes up for when he acts. Seeing him pick up his weapon to train, to fight; breathing in rhythm to the moment, it is as if he knows no strife, only the music of being. Each moment is a beat to which he listens earnestly, and spends his days learning to respond to in tact. Suddenly, he would be full of vitality and vigor where but a moment before his gait would appear lax just at the point of deflation. And sometimes, very rarely, he would even smile. Likes:
Dislikes:
Motivations:
Fears:
Magic Magic Name: None. Magic Element: None. Magic Description: None. History History: There was once a family of reclusive warriors named the Brights who lived far from any civilization. Though their mansion was towering and grand, the forest surrounding it was even more so, which allowed even something as grand and beautiful as that regal structure to be unknown outside of scarce mention in folk tales. This is why when one day the Brights found a little boy abandoned at their doorstep naught but surprise coated their minds. In the child's basked lay only one other thing -- a note, containing presumably his name, Aegis. The child was accepted as a sigh of hope and salvation, for the clan was waning with each generation. Aegis Bright, their adopted son with his strange features was truly a magical sight to behold; so it is, they thought, a mark of destiny that he was bestowed upon them. A great warrior: that would be his calling. It was, undoubtedly, preordained. This groundless preconception would later become the fulcrum on which the tender body of childhood would be placed, teetering. A strained balance. From his earliest childhood, Aegis was given only two things. His clothes, simple and practical. And his sword. The only "toy" of his childhood. The birth of true self-awareness marked Aegis' first memory of himself and that memory was of rigorous, merciless training. Why was he forced to do these things? There was no answer, but there was also no room for the question to begin with. Training was the first thing he ever knew of the world. Training was his world. But the gods are not always kind. For their arrogance, the boy's adoptive parents were punished with failure. Their presumptuous guesswork of destiny proved lacking, for the boy wasn't just unfit for heroism; he was a failure from the very first day. Physically unfit and sickly, little Aegis could hardly keep up everyone else. The tender balance shattered. The elders of the clan in their wisdom believed that to truly invoke Aegis' prophesized prowess they had to devise creative methods of stimulation. Punishments. For each instance of failure, the little boy would be beaten and locked away in the mansion dungeons, often without food. Before long his imprisonment was so often necessitated that his parents opted to simply leave him there, making his cell the boy's new permanent home. After all, he deserved it for not working hard enough. For denying the Brights their prophesized, heroic heir. As the years grew and the boy crawled towards adulthood, so too did his punishments grow in severity. Beatings became more aggressive and frequent. Food was administered infrequently. Months and years passed without sunlight at a time. When beating only seemed to toughen the boy and was no longer an adequate punishment, torture was employed. Agony by way of cutting, tearing, twisting and burning. Day after day, broken bone after broken bone, it was as if by miracle that his sickly childhood gave way to an unnaturally healthy adolescence. That alone seemed to be the reason his body avoided deformation under the hellish destruction it faced from Aegis' adoptive family. In a way, the boy was fortunate. He was too young to realize the exact extent of his own misery, too indoctrinated in suffering to grasp just how wrong it was. He had run out of tears and screams long ago. Pain was his only friend; nay, it was a lover, one possessive and cruel. But more years passed and a small voice grew in Aegis' mind. A quiet little whisper that with itself brought a question. Why must I hurt? The years of his incompetence had faded into obscurity beyond anyone's memory, yet the routine of his 'punishment' still persisted. Why? Why had the Brights' manic coveting of a worthy heir grown into an obsession? And their shattered hope into hatred... It was no punishment that they dealt. Aegis had become a vessel for their bitterness, a convenient vase to shatter in anger at the cruelty of the reality they did not want to accept. Their lineage was dying. Their prophecy was wrong. Could it have been their own fault? Of course not. It was him. The child. He forswore his duty Their suffering is his fault. He must pay. How long since the disappointed teachers turned vile? How long since they began attending Aegis not to teach, but to manifest and punish his supposed imperfections? The boy became a man, but that man was empty like the darkness in which he had lived all his life. Empty except for one thing: hatred. He hated himself for not being good enough. He hated his family for hurting him. He hated them for not loving him. Aegis, the man, hated the entire world. But deep inside was a little boy that was drowning in its own tears. That is when it happened. The Night of Crimson Fire. No one saw it coming. Not a soul even managed to react. Even the darkness of the deepest dungeons was torn by tongues of flame, seemingly spontaneous. The stone of his cell melted. Frantic, Aegis dashed out of his cell, madly fleeing his demise as blood-red fires danced on every surface, even some of his own skin. "I don't want to die!" his mind screamed, suppressing the well-familiar sensation of his own burning flesh. Was it, perhaps, a cruel irony that he be grateful for the prior experience he had accrued? Aegis broke free from the melting catacombs only to be met with the even more hellish scene of his home in flames. The manor, his home before being banished to the dungeons... burning. His family, the people he claimed to hate... burning. Hatred... but in spite of it, tears. Why was he crying? Why? Why were they the only people he ever had? Why did he have to lose them? His only family... ... why? The crimson flames, red like blood crackled mercilessly. Yet they were not his answer. Dragging himself outside, half-conscious and barely breathing, Aegis saw him. The red man. Smiling. Cackling. And in that bloodied darkness, the boy's dying breath bore but one utterance. "What... a demon..." The following morning Aegis awoke as a man with no ties to the past left. He lied burnt and broken in a sea of ash where once a great forest lay, no tears left to cry. No fear. No meaning. No memory. Only the image of the red man burnt into his mind for the rest of his days. ======================================== Reference: Snowflake, the sneaky fox. <.< |
Aegis Bright
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Tue Mar 20, 2018 5:36 pm
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