{ i. caius. ii. faolan. iii. male. }


- If you were to ask what Faolan thought of legends, he would pause for a moment. His hands may droop a bit, setting a glass of almost empty liquor on the table and grinning. Those piercing eyes of his, oh so amber and full of secrets, may glitter in response. Faolan may smile, lips curling into a grin revealing sharp fans and deadly precision.
"Legends, my dear boy? What an amusing question."
Because, you seen, Faolan grew up in a world of destruction and unsavory practices. He believes not of legends. He believes in the power of your fists, the sharpness of your teeth, the edge of your words -- to him, you must believe in yourself. Faolan scoffs in the face of deities and legends, and those who may mention it very quickly lose his interest. Those around him are much the same mentality and Faolan allows no one more willing to believe in those supposedly living among the stars than their own hearts to run with them.
It's best to avoid asking at all, really. He is bitter, for during a time long, long ago, he believed in those watching over them. They did not hear his cries for help, and Faolan watched his parents be stolen from their world by bandits. A darkness bloomed in his heart and the plunge into sinister ventures was almost immediate. So he may laugh and smile and stop to converse with you, but it's wise not to fall for his pretty face.
"Legends are kit stories, boy. You must believe in your own strength."