Romarique Xavalien
 Romarique Xavalien
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| Gender | Male |
| Race | Elezen |
| Clan | Wildwood |
| Citizenship | Limsa Lominsa |
| Sexuality | Gay |
| Age | 18 |
| Height | 6'4.4" |
| Weight | Thin (144lb) |
| Profession | "Prodigy Sorcerer" |
| Patron Deity | Althyk, The Keeper |
Contents
Appearance
Romarique is very petite for typical Elezen (6'4.'4) with short styled ebony hair, light brown eyes plagued by shadows from lack of sleep, and black ear clasps. He's often seen blushing for no apparent reason aside from the fact he's perpetually embarrassed. His build is spindly from lack of proper nutrition and heredity, as no one in his family had ever been muscularly built. The sound of his voice is typically soft and can be difficult to hear in area's with many people. His speech is usually filled with the occasional stuttering but keeps his mannerisms polite.
History
Romarique was born and raised in Gridania to parents who had an incredible affinity with magic’s. As an only child he was taught to read and write at a very early age and was to be their prodigy son. The moment he was able to walk and for the most part, hold a wand, his parents wasted no time in teaching him the ways of magic. Unlike most children who grew up with friends, Romarique was completely isolated from those his own age. The only people in his life were his parents and the many tutors who came from far reaches of Eorzea to teach him their expansive knowledge.
The concept of having fun was completely torn from his vocabulary. He only had the time to study or to be relentlessly practicing spells. Rarely did he smile, and never laughed in fear of being scolded for not taking his lessons seriously. The strict lifestyle he was forced to have often left him emotionally drained, vulnerable to bouts of tears, and episodes of anxiety attacks in the late night when he was finally alone.
He was scared of disappointing his parents, of letting them down when it was obvious they bragged about him to other families with children not as adept. Romarique couldn’t even imagine the thought of speaking out against what his parents wanted for him. He was the child who always did as he was told and only spoke when spoken to. Even though he was never physically punished, verbally scolded felt just as awful. With how many times he was screamed at and a finger pointed in his face, it left him with a lasting flinch whenever someone raised their voice.
Every time he cried when they yelled only made them more furious, so he did his best to break down when no one was around. From this kind of treatment for many years, he developed severe anxiety.
By the age of 11 he was skilled, if not more so than his parents in the arts of magic. The teachings didn’t become any less however, in fact he was given more in etiquette and exotic languages.
He hated the idea of using his spells in order to cause harm to other’s, and so in the rare times where he wasn’t in lessons or trying to sleep he would go out on his own into the Shroud. He used his abilities in order to help the wildlife. Even if an aggressive creature tried to attack he would run until it no longer pursued. Only in absolute desperation would he cast destructive spells, and they were never used to kill but to cause only minor injury. Violence terrified him, meaning to run away was always his preferred option.
At 16 he was forced to frequent gatherings and parties for the higher classes of nobility around Eorzea. He visited Ul’Dah and Limsa what felt like every other week. His parents and many other Elezen he didn’t know but clearly knew him, put his achievements in high regard when their race came into question. He usually remained silent and forced a smile on his face whenever making eye contact with someone. Never did he question the way they treated him like some kind of trophy. He only did as he was told and for some reason people respected him.
He began to notice the way older people looked at him. They watched him with some kind of wanting expression on their faces. He was told often how youthful and cute his face was, but he had always considered his appearance to be average. Women he didn’t know treated him like a son, and most men seemed to sneer in jealousy or want him in a completely different way. He didn’t like being flirted, it made him anxious and he typically dismissed all of their comments while still being polite.
All of the attention he received on a daily basis made him uneasy and uncomfortable. Being stared at only provoked his anxiety, and he was too shy and considerate to ask them to stop. It was around this time a small group of Elezen nobility around their 20′s approached and “adopted” him to their circle of friends. He didn’t like any of them, and usually kept his head down without saying a word when they forced him to hang out with them. Apparently it had something to do with his rise in popularity that made him be noticed by them, and they were willing to do anything for the attention they got.
They were inconsiderate, racist against anyone who wasn’t Wildwood, and Xenophobic. Often did he have to listen to them insult other races and laugh at crude jokes they made about them. Romarique was too threatened by their dominating presence over him to speak out against it. His parents were completely approving of this group, saying it was good exposure for him to be seen with them and to do whatever they asked. He obeyed without question.
It got to a point where one of the male Elezen in the group guilt him into a relationship where their age gap was seven years and Romarique wasn’t an adult yet. No one judged it or spoke of it, or at least not in public. All he seemed to want was the privilege to say they were together and often kissed him even though it felt like the most awful thing in the world. This was what everyone wanted for him, he just wanted to please the people in his life so that he could feel like he was worth something.
After two years of going through this, when he was finally 18 he left. Without a word and in the dead of night. He couldn’t take the life that was forced upon him anymore. He was tired of crying and being objectified every single day. He didn’t want to live like this anymore, for once he wanted to do something on his own without anyone to control him. He knew that if he stayed, nothing would get better. Romarique didn't have the courage to confront anyone about how he felt. If he tried, he knew his parents would talk him out of it or they would make him feel guilty for even considering it.
He spent many weeks on the road and through the wilds of the Black Shroud, mooching from the kindness of strangers and sleeping anywhere there was a decent roof. This kind of lifestyle was so drastically different than what he had been used to, it was difficult to mentally adjust. He made sure no one could recognize him by changing his style of clothing and cutting his hair, something his parents would be furious to know. Yet, it made him feel alive for once. That he could make his own decisions. They finally could no longer tell him how to live. He was free to be his own person, to live how he chose to and decide on what he felt was right.
When reaching Ul’Dah, it became known to him that his parents considered him kidnapped and dead. From the rumors, apparently they hadn’t even tried to find him or were saddened by his absence. They used it only to gain more foothold and sympathy from the rich. This news made him burst into tears in the middle of a busy street within Ul’Dah. He didn’t care who saw, but he ran to the most deserted ally he could find and sobbed. Days begin to feel like weeks, the poor definitely weren't welcome in the desert city-state. He no longer had anything to his name, and thus had to start small.
Most of his work was with the ill, as he provided much free healing to those in need and with no Gil to their name. He always refused payment even though he desperately needed it. Most of the time he'd end up walking away with family heirlooms or food from those who wouldn't let him leave without taking something.
