Zhe'a Yilma

WORK IN PROGESS - FULL TRANSLATION COMING SOON

EU|18+|Dark Fantasy|Paragraph/Plot RP|

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☾🌔

Born as a child of the night, the keeper still keeps the old habit of waking with the set of the sun. He feels at home in the tranquillity that only darkness can provide, which quite reflects the cornerstones of his personality, as he generally displays a highly reserved temper, whom only the fewest of things can elicit a genuine reaction from.



In spite of this lithic façade, he holds an unexpected fondness for the sweeter things in life in which he indulges all too often. The keeper might have simply wallowed in his vices for one too many times and thus has been left with a desolate and blunted affect - which could at least justify his withdrawn demeanour.



Acquisition of said “sweeter things” proves to be easiest when moving in the higher circles of society, which is why he prefers the company of those who, due to their standing, are much more likely to share his appreciation of the pleasures. Despite his childhood being a harsh lesson in humility, not much of it seems to have stuck with him to the present day and one would have an easy time to impute this egocentric with superficiality. Yet in his most inner depths there seethes a vestige of primitive aggression even to this day, which is best not brought forth to the surface.



As a whole he is an ambivalent personality, whose animalistic nature is interwoven with but very little warm-heartedness.

ages of delirium
curse of my oblivion.

♅

Zhe’s appearance boasts with monotony and downright invites to be overlooked; merely his above-average height sets him off of his people.

The keeper’s hair, almost tone in tone with the pallid anthracite of his skin, cascades in wild and wavy paths down over the entirety of his back, framing a lethargic visage where it meets the cheeks. Narrow lips, paired with clear-cut cheekbones and a prominent nose, would paint the face in broad strokes of aristocracy, was it not for a feral spark, persistently lingering inside the fire of his eyes, always preying, driving away all those fatuous souls who lend their ear to instinct, rather than reason.

For it is this haunting glow of the irides that, above all else, is capable of breaking through the otherwise grey and unmoved veil of his personhood and thus forms the most confessing part of his elseways reserved countenance. An untypically long topcoat of hair on both tail and ears however degrades his wolfish presence to that of a dishevelled mongrel.

As the most ornamental element of his semblance, a white pigmented piece of body art splits the torso into two segments. With strokes of a finger’s breadth yet branching into increasingly thinner lines, an aetheronomic geometry, consisting of many formulae based on different schools of magic, covers the right side of the keeper’s upper body, telling tales of archaic alchemy and astrology, even if only to the learned eye – Occult phrases and incantations directed towards the celestial bodies, which the more feral children of the twelveswood still pray to. Merely a single symbol upon his neck defies the established colour scheme and boasts a rich crimson hue instead.

He rarely clads himself in frippery, except for a few primitive talismans which are hardly ever cast off. These special trinkets count three in number - A fivefold perforated coin dangles on a simple band of leather, sharing its place on the keeper’s neck with other necklaces; One of fragile craft, yellowed splinters of bone beaded and knotted to a string, and another, with an elongated flask dangling on its end, in which, every now and a again, a shadow stirs.

breathe life
into this hollowed vessel of rebirth.
♆

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Junker

Selten hat man einen Sohn des Finsterwaldes derart manierlich sprechen hören. Durchaus eloquent, aber nur zeitweilig wirklich aufgeschlossen, scheint man eine außerordentlich vorbildliche Lehre in gebräuchlicher Etikette der Noblesse genossen zu haben, welche dem Schneid der Zunge jedoch nur nach eigenem Ermessen Einhalt gebietet.

Vater

Sollte man doch meinen, das kleine Mädchen an der Seite des Streuners sei nicht mehr als ein Werkzeug, scheint sie doch Vieles miteinander zu verbinden, wenn auch das Kind selten im Rahmen der Öffentlichkeit gesehen wird. Für Einkäufe gut genug, aber in unbeschwertem Spiel kaum draußen anzutreffen.

Theoretiker

Mit einer beachtlichen Sammlung akademischer Fachtexte über die verschiedensten Bereiche der Äthernutzung, sowie naturwissenschaftlicher Gewichtung rühmt er sich, allerdings auch mit verqueren Ansichten; Insbesondere Astrologie und okkulte Überlieferungen des Waldes betreffend. Obwohl dort reichlich Begabung für Anwendung magischer Spektren vorhanden scheint, wird man ihn so gut wie nie beim offensiven Wirken solcherlei erleben. Schleierhaft, wo dort die Affinitäten liegen mögen.

Wolf

Träumer, Denker und häufig nicht mehr als Tier. Wo die Grenzen verschwimmen und die Zügel der Kultiviertheit kaum mehr als schwacher Bindfaden greifen, findet das Gemüt sich im freien Fall zwischen Apathie und vernichtender Glut. Ein fragiler Zustand, der von kaum Jemandem zusammen gehalten werden kann, wird die bloße Gelegenheit dazu ohnehin noch seltener vergönnt.

Schamane

Okkultes Fasson der alten Sippschaft ist nicht verloren gegangen, wenn auch sie durch den Mantel der Zivilisiertheit kaum ans Tageslicht treten, werden jene primitiven Gebräuche doch weniger ehrenvoll bewahrt, als dass sie als Notwendigkeit betrachtet werden. Sterne und Blut; Seelenheil und Knochen eng miteinander verwoben.

Totenrufer

and in the paths of ash
another bond of burden seek.

♄