[A D O P T I O N]username; Drizzle
fichio name; Masque
fichio's background;It started with a name. A name that was given, exploited, and subsequently buried in the sands of time. Angelo, they called him, referencing his angelic coloration. But with names come stigmas, expectations, demands. When Angelo failed to meet these demands, he was rebuked. Why wasn't he nicer? Why was he always so sad? Why didn't he at least
try to be more friendly, was that really so hard? Introverted to begin with, he shrank further and further from the presence of what few friends he had, turning instead to the pages of books. They replaced friends and family, embracing him for the person he was without placing any expectations. They merely welcomed him in and transported him to different times, different worlds.
The human Edgar Allan Poe quickly became his favorite author. His dark writings thrilled some morbid part of Angelo's mind, the mysteries keeping him tense and riveted on the edge of his seat. His pulse pounded, skin itching with the claustrophobic idea of being walled into catacombs. His paranoia flared, ears constantly perking at any noise that even remotely sounded like the beating of a tell-tale heart. Let's not even get started on his feelings about ravens. But his favorite story by far was the Masque of the Red Death. The very words leapt off the pages and spun spiderwebs about his head.
Sagacious,
voluptuous,
arabesque, the words bled imagery through his mind, but the fear and the expectations surrounding the 'mockery' of the red figure resonated deep within himself. There was something vivid and intriguing and understandable about wealth and splendor being ruined by the mere addition of red.
why the roses?;Thus came the roses. Thus came Masque. Though he continues to weave a peaceful, death-less existence, the flowers serve as a metaphor, a message to any that may come close. He is not all that he seems, all that his former looks may once have indicated. That was all a masque that hid his true nature, one that he now wears like a warning bell, that spoke to him so dearly that he even changed his name to follow suit. Some names are given. Some names you make like a promise to yourself. And this is his.
other;