[Manx]

I'm trying out for Kiamara 3

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╔═════════════════════╗
~ I'm trying out for Kiamara 3 ~

▻Username :: Manx

▻Name :: Laisren

▻Gender :: Male

╚═════════════════════╝

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

▻Personality ::
Laisren has been described in many a way, yet there are a few traits that all can agree on. Exuberant, optimistic, and eccentric are only a few of the many words that could be used to describe him. With a powerful love of life as vivid as the markings upon his body, Laisren is a rather quirky character that never ceases to enthral and baffle all those that meet him. Creativity is a characteristic he places great value on, and has resulted in a fierce love of unique ideas and individuality, as well as a strong compulsion to seek it out, wherever it may exist. Never one to settle down for long, he is a traveler of many words and is constantly on the lookout for new opportunities to seize. There are few experiences that succeed in daunting him, and as such it is not often that he will turn down an offer of adventure.

╔══════════════════════════╗
▻Art ::
-By Sonia Nevermind
-yoyo8888
-By Levina
╚══════════════════════════╝

Radiating a certain charisma that has always managed to attract others to his presence, he’s also quite an outgoing and friendly individual. These are traits that have often served him well in the past, for, as a perpetual traveler, Laisren has always been able to find shelter and kind individuals with ease. While many view his optimism and enthusiasm as boundless, this is typically only true if he is doing that which he loves; which is, in general, experiencing life. To become trapped in a monotonous routine, a void filled only by repetition and tedious tasks, is a fate worse than death in his mind. Rather, Laisren lives his life by the philosophy that life itself is a powerful tool, able to influence and inspire; if only you know how to use it.

Perhaps his most remarkable trait, however, is his capability of speech. Laisren possesses a grasp on the complexity words that few could ever, and have ever, claimed. Weaving words into intricate tales and eloquent speeches, his passion is never subtle, and the fiery light that dances in his eyes when he speaks rarely fails to entrance his audience. Even a simply story can find great meaning when spoken with purpose and strength. There are few things as powerful as literature in culture, both that which is written and that which is spoken, and has intrigued Laisren for as long as he can remember.

*Note: All responses ultimately lead to the same outcome,
so don't worry about going back through it multiple times!

▻Relationship with Siblings ::
Laisren is a bit of a... Wild card, when it comes to his family. While he remains fiercely devoted and loyal to each of his siblings, and would be there in an instant if any needed him, his wandering nature often results in a loss of contact for rather large spans of time. Often, it is rare for any to know precisely where he is at any given time. He is the kind that none may hear from for months on end, only to have him unexpectedly show up on their door step with a grin, and at least a dozen new stories to eagerly tell. Laisren has been known to be notoriously flaky, often becoming distracted from his current task by one thing, or another. In his life, things so very rarely stay constant enough that he can take the time to make -and keep- definite plans. While some may find his antics irresponsible and exhausting, others brush it off with a laugh and a simple, "that's my brother."

Despite this, Laisren truly does care for each and every one of his siblings. They are his rocks in an ever-changing world, offering support and assistance when even he can not keep up with all that occurs. With this in mind, he adores showing up when his siblings least expect it, and is quite willing to remain awake into the depths of the night simply to talk and catch up. Family reunions are some of the few plans he actually does go out of his way to keep. Many have the luxury of of childhood memories to reassure and comfort them in times of need, offering influential support to help and guide. Yet, the only memories Laisren manages to recall are vague and scattered in nature, rarely offering any solid knowledge of his past. As such, only his family as they are now can truly offer support and guidance for him. It's something he finds both reassuring and rather suiting. After all, while the past may shape and teach us, only the future holds life and potential; to remain trapped in a past long since gone would be quite a pity indeed.

▻Necklace ::
When all is said and done, one of the most common questions Laisren receives concerns a necklace that he often keeps tucked against his chest. A worn piece of parchment rolled into a clear, glass container, it is a rather odd adornment. Still, it is one of the few material items Laisren places great sentimental value on, although few will receive a clear answer if they ask. In truth, Laisren is unsure where such an item came from, only that he has a powerful compulsion to keep it ever close. Scrawled in black ink across the ancient paper reads the following letter;

Words.
Powerful forces unbidden by time, ever changing, and yet ever constant. They have brought down more empires than any man, and soothed more souls than any medication. To lose the knowledge of words to lose far more the ability to communicate. It is the loss of freedom, the loss of expression, and furthermore, the loss of oneself. Keep them close, keep them near, and never forget...

Yours truly,
Laisren

He has no recollection of ever writing such statements, and is not completely sure of their meaning, although has still kept this parchment with him for as long as he can remember. Neither him nor any of his siblings have a inkling where such a message could have came from, and in the back of his mind is a question that, in all his travels, he is constantly searching an answer for. Perhaps, only time will tell...

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

[oriole]

never stop exploring x

I'm trying out for Kiamara 4!

┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛*

I T A L W A Y S rains H A RD E S T
O N T H E people W H O D E S E R V E T H E SUN

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
{before we get started....}
username :
this is sharkkpaws
name :
hey its wes
gender :
i am male



{getting to know you....} quiet . calm . peace-lover . level-headed .

►Think of Wes as that guy who attends every party, but isn't a whole lot into it. he would be that quiet
guy who smiles at you, and when a fight breaks out, he's the one that everyone turns to.

►Wes cannot live without other people, and is not at all anti-social (contrary to a common first impression!)
Usually, its just that he wont talk to people unless they talk to /him/ first, because he's afraid of saying the
wrong thing and hurting their feelings.

► Wes has a thing with people -- he's great at fixing problems. If you need a shoulder to lean on, he's always
there for you. He's very good at breaking up fights for some reason.

► Virtually nothing can make Wes mad. He always stays calm in bad situations, working out a way to fix it.
Of course, there are times that Wes may get annoyed, but those times are very rare.

► Wes is quite mature for his age and works hard to try and understand people, including his enemies, but
has a slight irritation toward "punk-rock rebels" type people; but from the way he treats them you could never tell.

►Wes's idea of relaxation is hiking somewhere, or hanging out at a lake/beach/river. The sound of nature is always
extremely calming towards him, and he gradually forgets all of his problems; country life over city life.

► Has a hidden fun spunky side he would never show to anyone unless you're extremely close to him.

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓

Wes shielded his eyes from the only mildly blinding sun and stared into the horizon. The view from a cliff was amazing. In the distance, birds chirped and sang their afternoon song and splashes from a nearby river, or perhaps a lake, were pleasantly interrupting the nature silence. The green-blue kia brushed his bangs out of his face and sighed. What a nice scene, he thought. Too bad no one else is here with me.
The kiamara stopped for a rest at a small spring. The beautiful, crystal clear water was faintly bubbling and gurgling. Tossing his bag to the side, Wes climbed onto a khaki rock and sprawled his body across the rough surface. Cotton-candy clouds drifted across a picture-perfect blue sky, the soft bubbling of the spring was soothing and Wes began to relax and pulled out his journal.
Day 3: Blue Mountain
It appears that the mountains are untouched by mankind’s technology. Places like this are hard to find, where humans’ advances have seemed to move by and ignore. Nature truly is a wonder of the world.
Blue Mountain has a lot of springs, rivers, and creeks. Pristine water is just the thing that would make a perfect scene. I’ve got lots of exploring to do.
The sea-green kia shut his leather bound book and picked up his bag and sighed.
Gazing longingly and the warm spring and shady rocks, he wished he could take a bath but he had to move on. The sun was slowly fading behind the mountain-filled horizon. Wes padded along a seemingly plant-carved stone path heading towards the sun. A vivid red flower brushed along his leg and vibrant green leaves rustled. How beautiful, nature is. In the unimaginable distance, more water crashed against slick rocks polished by years of eroding. Wes continued walking and reeds rustled along the path. He arrived at the waterfall.
If you could imagine crystals shattering against perfectly round glass stones, then you know what he saw at the moment. Mesmerized by the shining rising and crashing, he padded closer. The water was crystal clear -- you could see all the way to the bottom. He set down his backpack sat on a large boulder nearby and took out a sandwich. Wes chewed slowly, then opened his journal to enter this waterfall in the map. He set the journal down and rested his head on the boulder. Things turned blurrier as he fell asleep.


┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

{how are the siblings?...}*
••••••••••••••••••••
wes feels as if he cant 'fit in' with his siblings. being the only one that enjoys the country side, vice versa to his siblings' city style, he naturally dosen't take interest in or understand some things they talk about, such as the latest popular rapper or attractions. but -- dont get him wrong, wes loves his siblings with all his heart, and would do anything for them. he tends to stay away from them, always being that awkward guy who hangs out near the edges. wes feels indifferent towards each one, as if they were just all one person instead of 4 others. when talked to by them, he tends to space off and change subject, and dosen't notice it. because of this, his often offends his siblings without meaning to. thus, wes tries his best to stay away from them.
*may change if the winners' personalities are different.

[SpartanAmethyst]

Brief note: If you're reading this from the search function, please click "Jump to Post".
Otherwise the coding won't show up in its correct formatting! c:

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┈┈┈☆┈┈┈
ωє нι∂єαωαу ιη ∂αуℓιgнт,
ωє gσ υη∂єя¢σνєя
ωнєη υη∂єя тнє ѕυη;
gσт α ѕє¢яєт ѕι∂є
ιη ρℓαιη ѕιgнт.
ωнєяє тнє ѕтяєєтѕ αяє ємρту,
тнαт’ѕ ωнєяє ωє яυη.

αηувσ∂у’ѕ gσт тнє ρσωєя;
тнєу ∂ση’т ѕєє ιт вє¢αυѕє
тнєу ∂ση’т υη∂єяѕтαη∂.
ѕριη αяσυη∂ & яυη ƒσя нσυяѕ,
уσυ αη∂ мє, ωє gσт тнє
ωσяℓ∂ ιη συя нαη∂ѕ.

єνєяу∂αу ρєσρℓє ∂σ
єνєяу∂αу тнιηgѕ вυт ι
¢αη’т вє σηє σƒ тнєм.
ι кησω уσυ нєαя мє ησω,
ωє αяє α ∂郃єяєηт кιη∂.
ωє ¢αη ∂σ αηутнιηg.

ωє ¢συℓ∂ вє нєяσєѕ,
мє αη∂ уσυ.
ωє ¢συℓ∂ вє нєяσєѕ,
мє αη∂ уσυ,
ωє ¢συℓ∂ вє...
┈┈┈☆┈┈┈

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⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰
⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱

⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰
⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱

тнє вєαυтιƒυℓ тнιηg αвσυт мυѕι¢ ιѕ тнαт ωσя∂ѕ αяє ησт яєqυιяє∂ тσ ¢σηνєу тнє ємσтισηѕ уσυ ƒєєℓ.

-Brysonxxxxxxxxxx

αят:
► [Click icons for full view c:] ◄

[url=coming][img]soon[/img][/url]

[url=coming][img]soon[/img][/url]

(limit 5 pieces, one may be of
the siblings if you wish,
not required)

I'm trying out for Kiamara 4!

υѕєяηαмє:
SpartanAmethyst

ηαмє:
Bryson Ancii Avidre
[Pronunciations:]
Brai-sun Ahn-chee Ah-vee-dray
A link to the meaning of the name "Bryson" has been provided.

gєη∂єя:
Male

ρєяѕσηαℓιту:
кιη∂ ★ ¢нιναℓяσυѕ ★ ѕєℓƒ-¢яιтι¢αℓ ★ qυιєт
In three words, Bryson can be described as "The White Knight".

Kind and chivalrous, Bryson has a child-like innocence that he uses in writing his songs. Bryson has an old-fashioned sense of character, making him loyal, dependable, and agreeable to be around. He balances optimism with honesty, and on occasion his honesty can be slightly on the brutal side. Bryson is almost constantly giving out what's his to those he deems deserving, while he lives only off of what he truly needs. His shopping trips are always short and precise, never one to waste money on frivolous things. Idealistic and intuitive, he loves to listen to others talk and learn about them, even though he himself is never heard. Bryson has always been modest, though, never basking in his own glory or flaunting his talents; he lives to make others happy, not jealous. A peaceful Kiamara, Bryson is slow to anger, and has only lost his temper once. Want to make him angry? Then either try touching his instruments (it's a pet peeve), or harming/offending/terrorizing a woman or child. Bryson adores children, and his gentlemanly ways prevent him from allowing a woman to be hurt. He abhors fighting, but isn't afraid to defend them.

An almost overwhelming positive figure, Bryson is not without his own flaws. Not having a proper education, Bryson has more street smarts than book smarts, and can get easily frustrated when he can't find the right words. He's intensely self-critical, finding anything and everything wrong with a performance; if it's big enough, he mentally berates himself for it, but then turns around to improve the next. And despite his love for being out and performing for an audience, Bryson is slightly introverted; minus his concerts and autograph sessions, Bryson prefers to keep to himself, usually sitting in his apartment and either practicing or writing new songs to perform. He's very private, careful not to give much information away, even though he can trust too easily, and he's very quiet. Not like "talks in a whisper" or "talks very little"; quiet as in he never talks ever. No one has ever heard Bryson's voice, besides the bookstore owner and only rarely one of the children in the hospital. Many people wrongly assume he's mute, but in all reality he just lacks the confidence to let his voice be heard.
[399 words]

єχтяα:
αвσυт тнє αятιѕт:
Talented in the musical arts, Bryson has been a performer ever since the day he and his siblings were separated. Born with an ear for music, he immediately began to pick instruments up and learn, often self-taught. It began with the piano, then the violin, flute, and the electric guitar. The most recent instrument was the electric violin, and it has fast become the favorite of his repertoire. A lesser known fact, Bryson is also a magnificent vocalist, though because of his lack in self-confidence, no one has ever heard him actually sing his own vocals. He prefers to collaborate with other artists, and lets them perform the vocals. The Kiamara is famous for his electric violin performances, whether it's songs he's written himself or instrumentals of popular songs. Both seem to carry equal popularity with his growing fanbase.

Unlike your typical artists, Bryson isn't in the music industry for money nor fame; instead, he seeks to brighten lives with his music in whatever way he can. Living in a small apartment in the inner city, he dedicates most of his time to his passion, unable to carry any real job due to lack of identification papers, and he likes it that way. Street performances and private gigs, such as weddings or various kinds of parties, are his main source of income, as well as disc sales and the signed posters the bookstore sells just below his apartment.

At the end of every month, Bryson counts his earnings. He takes enough money for rent, bills, food, and a little bit for savings, then takes the rest down to the nearby Childrens' Hospital as a donation, and spends the rest of the day visiting the children and giving private performances. The Kiamara is known to have a soft spot for children.
[300 words]

яєℓαтισηѕ:
Amicable as he is, Bryson tends to get along very well with all of his other siblings. Though they all have their obvious differences, not only in coats but in personalities and lifestyles, Bryson tends to act like the peacemaker of them, doing his best to keep everyone happy and together. The male Kiamara has a strong sense of family, and craves that feeling of being surrounded by all of his brothers and sisters, laughing and catching up with them. So more times than not, he's putting himself out and doing more than he needs to just to ensure that everyone else is happy and healthy when he can. He'd never turn one of them away should they ask for help, unless what they need is immoral or illegal, such as murder, thievery, or drugs. They're the only ones to ever hear Bryson's voice with some consistency, even though he's still quiet. He still prefers his music to talk for him.

He loves to ask his siblings opinions, and 9/10 one of them will hear a song before it's ever performed publicly or otherwise released. He trusts them infinitely, and has a "blood is thicker than water" mentality: they come first, along with his future mate and children. He loves all of his siblings equally, though Bryson tends to gravitate more towards his sisters than his brothers, finding more interest in their activities than sports or other things that his brothers do. He will play sports and rough house with his brothers every now and again, but Bryson truly isn't much of an athlete, despite how fit he is.

But on the downside, his siblings have a very strong effect on him. If two of them are having a serious fight, it causes him severe stress and can influence his mood and writing style. But on the same hand, he often writes some of his happiest, non-romantic songs about his siblings and the happy times shared together; they're one of his greatest sources of muse, and they play a huge role in his life. He loves them all unconditionally, even when they're fighting or otherwise disagreeing with one another, and in those times his sole purpose is to find a happy solution that everyone agrees to. And Bryson wouldn't have it any other way.
[385 words]

ѕтσяу:
Another paper ball hit the trash bin, bouncing off of the rim and onto the floor. It was one of close to 200 that now adorned the male Kiamara's apartment, and in frustration he tossed his notebook onto the coffee table in front of him. Rubbing his face, Bryson leaned back into the blue fabric of his couch, giving a soft growl as he tried to settle the pounding in his head.

He was $300 short. That was all he needed,

There was a girl at the hospital he'd grown attached to; she was very ill, and her parents were not able to pay for her operation. So Bryson did. He doubled up on his concerts, signed more posters, signed CD cases to sell them a little higher, and the bookstore owner even helped him order T-shirts to sell for little Ella. Now here he was, $300 short because his old refrigerator broke down and Bryson had to buy a new one. Tomorrow the last payment was due for a surgery that would probably save Ella's life. Rubbing his tired eyes, Bryson's eyes eventually settled on his black coat, and he stopped to think. A last minute street performance? He usually came out of those pretty well off; if he performed all morning, then he might just make it. Eyes wandering to the clock across the room; it was already midnight? He stood quickly, stretching his tall form. He could at least get a couple of hours, and be up in time to catch the earliest commuters.

-----------------

Buttoning the jacket to its formal appearance (also to fight off the early morning cold from winter), Bryson pulled the trolley that held his amplifier and violin in his left hand. Snow flurries ghosted through the air, wetting his nose and ticking his eyelashes when the breeze swept down between the buildings, before blowing his hair back into his face. It made it even messier than it had been before He looked around at his "stage", a small sitting area in front of a library. He had permission to play, and it was perfect because of the high volume of traffic and people. As the green Kiamara began setting up the amp and connecting his violin, checking all of the strings and their tension with a critical eye, Bryson could see people already beginning to gather at a distance. Some of them seemed like they knew who he was, while others were confused and curious.

Bringing his amplifier to life, Bryson did a quick tuning session and set out a small sign, then paused to steel his nerves and square his shoulders. Tuned, ready, begin. As the first notes left his violin, he watched the people around him begin to smile, and in turn he smiled too.

-----------------

Six hours later, Bryson was on his way to the hospital. He'd gone home to count cash, shower, change and purchase Ella a gift before taking to the streets again, the money in his jacket pocket and the giant teddy bear under one arm. The Kiamara walked with purpose, long strides creating a relaxed gait, but as he came closer, Bryson could no longer hide his excitement. Lips forming an ecstatic grin as he walked through the sliding door, he was met by the sight of Ella's parents crying happily; he learned that she'd gone through surgery earlier that morning, and that everything had gone fine. Things looked to be getting better for the young girl. He hugged them each in turn, wordlessly expressing his happiness before handing the last payment over to the nurse, and left them to finish the paperwork.

Softly knocking on her door, Bryson was greeted by a weak "come in". He closed the door behind him, holding her gift in front of him. Her dark eyes lit up, and he smiled. She'd gone through enough that Bryson could let her hear his secret.

"I heard you were strong for me," he spoke, voice like spun gold. She nodded and smiled, and he leaned forward to softly kiss her forehead. "Good girl." He loved this job.

After all, someone had to show others that there was still good in the world.
[700 words]

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

[Little Fish]

► I'm trying out for Kiamara (# 3) ◄
ıllıllılıllıllııllıllılıllıllııllıllılıllıllııllıllıllıl

xxxxxxxx✘ ✘ ✘ ✘ ✘

xxxxxxxx✘ ✘ ✘ ✘ ✘

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◉Username
Little Fish

◉ Name
Scout

◉ Gender
Female

By;; fluffspot

◉ Personality

▲Positive Traits ;;
~ Feisty - Lively, determined, and courageous.
~ Tomboy - Meaning
~ Loquacious - Tending to talk a great deal; talkative.
~ Uncanny - Strange/mysterious, especially in an unsettling way.
~ Somber - Oppressively solemn/sober in mood; serious.
~ Loving - Feeling/showing love or great care.

▼Negative Traits ;;
~ Finicky - Fussy about one's needs/requirements.
~ Reckless - Without thinking/caring about the consequences of an action.
~ Chaotic - In a state of complete confusion & disorder.
~ Obnoxious - Extremely unpleasant.
~ ADD - Meaning.
~ Feisty - Touchy and aggressive.

"One who takes the world....and rules it"
Would be the easiest way to explain such the mess Scout is. Most simply call her annoying and try their best to avoid her, but once it is known to her that you find her as such, things can only get worse. Though Scout can't really help but to be an absolute disaster, it runs deeper then the blood in her veins and the bone marrow that produces it. The chaotic matter, thankfully, is not the only thing that makes up this beautiful mess, but what is scarier then her usual self is the frightening, bone crushing serious voice she gets when you piss her off. It can be compared to nails on a chalk board as some one eats wall paper with a frightening undertone that can only mean worse for the both of you. Luckily for anyone whom does mange to make Scout mad, it is easily avoided, most of the time, since she can never keep her focus on just one thing. The one thing she can focus on for extended periods of time is herself, everything needs to meet her expectations or it shall simply fall under her as she walks over it like dirt.

(Word Count 282)

By;; fluffspot

◉ The Mess Within The Beauty

WORDSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

(Word Count ---)700

By;; fluffspot

◉ Relations with other siblings

Scout doesn't see her siblings to often and when she does they always fight and argue with her, the very differentiating parts that once argued within now live in harmony between each other. All except Scout. That's how she sees it anyway. The very though of once being 'one' with such beings makes her stomach turn uncontrollably at times. She simply can't see how she dealt with them in the first place. Chaos is part of the world and if she will be the only one to spread it so be it, but don't get in her way. The arguments are always the same between her and a few of the siblings, why can't she spread good, if the chaotic masses that she is causing are driven from the world for good there could be forever peace. Scout can't see it any other way and her stubbornness takes over causing major fights between the siblings. She, after all, wants to cause pure chaos wherever she possibly can.

(Word Count 167)

"Have you ever hear of the story about the five siblings who were born from a beast?"

◉ Broken Memories

WORDSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

(Word Count ---)300

By;; fluffspot

[peppermintleo]

Clairvoyent
"Clear"

I'm trying out for Kiamara 5
username: PureCrazy

name: Clairvoyent "Clear"
gender: Male
personality: (word limit 400)
art: (limit 5 pieces, one may be of the siblings if you wish, not required)
short story about this kiamara: (limit 700 words)
relations with other siblings: (limit 400 words)
1 extra of choice: (if words, limit 300; if art, limit 1)

MAJOR WIP OMG AGGGGG

[♡John♥Dave♡]

Res for #3
Res name: Frugal

[siennacereal]

I'm trying out for Kiamara #5
username: .Joker.
name: Bahari, which means ocean in Swahili.
gender: female
personality: (word limit 400)
art: (limit 5 pieces, one may be of the siblings if you wish, not required)
short story about this kiamara: (limit 700 words)
relations with other siblings: (limit 400 words)
1 extra of choice: (if words, limit 300; if art, limit 1)

[Doglike]

I'm trying out for Kiamara # 5
username: wolfbane.
name: Creed
gender: Male
personality: (word limit 400)
art: (limit 5 pieces, one may be of the siblings if you wish, not required)
short story about this kiamara: (limit 700 words)
relations with other siblings: (limit 400 words)
1 extra of choice: (if words, limit 300; if art, limit 1)

MASSIVE WIP ADGHSJFX

[broodingtulip]

woa :o

possible res <3

[Ralonica]

┏________________________________┓
~ I'm trying out for Kiamara 5 ~
┗________________________________┛

♫___♫___♫

┏_________________________________┓

___username | Ralonica Thorondor
___name | Haste
___gender | male

┗_________________________________┛

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❝ The most dangerous weapon
___________________is your imagination ❞

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

___The young man ran.

___Home was just around the corner. Well, not quite. But it was closer than before, and the first hint of hope illuminated his weary features since the sun began to set. Now there was the possibility he would make it before night.

___He was attractive. Even with his dark hair tousled in a frantic mop, covered in perspiration, he looked good. He was running, but he was doing it in style.
His wary eyes caught the sight of a slim, tall figure, leaning easily against the wall of the alleyway. He sported a head of silky white hair, brushing past his shoulders, his face showing fresh, smooth features of youth. With a charming smile, the figure detached himself from the wall and strode up to the fearful young man on his long, lean legs.

___“My friend, where are you going?” His voice was deep and gentle, his eyes calm and reassuring. The young man slumped, pausing to regard the stranger with cautious eyes.
“The sorcerer Haste comes out at night. If I don’t get home, he’ll find me.”
The stranger chuckled musically. “Not every story you hear is true. But if you’re scared, come with me. You’ll be safe until morning.”

___The young man smiled with relief, and walked up next to the stranger. In a smooth, unwavering movement of hospitality, the stranger removed his coat and settled it on the shoulders of the young man.

___“My name is Silas. Tell me about yourself.” The young man looked up, his eyes meeting those of the stranger. Those eyes made him want to speak, to tell the stranger everything. And so he did, unable to tear his gaze away.

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relations with siblings | {247/400}

♦ As a brother, Haste loves all his siblings equally. Fair and just, he treats his brethren with equal love and attention. Which translates into just enough socialisation to keep them away.

♦ To some extent, this apathy can be justified. Family loses meaning when you don’t recall any childhood memories with the relatives – even more so when you don’t remember your childhood at all. He doesn’t understand why he must keep up this constant socialisation, but he does anyway. Maybe, in some strange way, it’s a last show of love towards his siblings. Visiting them even though he doesn’t want to, for their happiness.

♦ If he could, Haste would sever the connection and do it with vigour. But when the word ‘family’ comes into play, individuals become sentimental about the whole matter. If he left, then his siblings would start reflecting over their past interactions with the same nostalgia that came with the childhood they never had. If they saw him on the street, they would recognise him and come to him, eagerly wanting to renew the past. No matter what name he had taken up, no matter what reputation he had, they would tear it all down in seconds. So he keeps up the act, and continues to visit at timely intervals. Just enough to keep them in touch, and prevent them from missing him.

♦ Maybe, if they sought create a friendship regardless of their past, his views would alter. But nothing changes, and his apathy remains.

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___“You’re looking for Haste? The sorcerer? My dear fellow, you should pray you never meet that man.”

___The locals weave you stories, telling of how Haste devours the hearts of the young and beautiful so he can retain his own youth. They whisper that even the strapping young merchant, Cillian, had a brush with fate when a white-haired youth was seen knocking on his door. One says they lost their daughter, another that their son has yet to come home.

___What an annoying bunch of people. You are looking for Haste. Not horror stories.

___You take the next logical step – find Cillian. Surely he must know something, having had such a close encounter. He isn’t difficult to find, and you soon find yourself knocking on the door of Cillian Drake’s mansion.




___The door is opened by–


___A strapping young man with white hair. How amusing. Wasn’t he supposed to meet his demise by such a man? But this fellow assures you that he is, in fact, Cillian. He even has a butler to confirm this.

___Cillian displays exemplary manners by ushering you inside, his butler taking your coat and even offering you a glass of lemonade. With a charming smile, he leads you through the house to the living room. Passing an open door, you sneak a glimpse of full bookshelves and jars before being ushered onwards.

___You enter the lounge room, and take a moment to marvel at how extraordinary it is. Bookshelves line the walls, and a hefty volume fills the coffee table. Cillian murmurs an apology while relocating the tome to a nearby couch, seating himself next to it. In a split-second, he’s produced a fountain pen and is poised, book in lap, ready to write.

___“So, my friend. What brings you here today?”

___You make the mistake of meeting Cillian’s eyes. You don’t have the strength to look away.

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personality | {300/400}

♦ Haste is a shifty individual, one who is difficult to pin down – let alone set into the mould of a personality. Ever-changing, restless and dissatisfied, he has gone beyond the confines of his own individuality to form more than one persona for himself. He is not merely ‘Haste’ - some know him as Silas, Cillian Drake, or another name on an extensive list of aliases. Yet there is one constant in all of the turmoil, possibly the only thing that can define him. He does not remember his past. And he yearns to know.

♦ Without a history, you lose meaning. If you cannot remember your past, then how can you remember your defining moments, the events which made you into who you are today? This plagues Haste’s mind, and his whole being is consumed into finding the past he cannot remember. He digs up the life stories of strangers and creates new personas for himself, hoping that in doing this he’ll find some clue – some trigger to discover where he came from.

♦ Haste himself has a very definite reputation, the reputation of a cruel sorcerer. Those who have heard of him are more than certain of who he is, but if only this was really true for Haste. Any reputation he has, alongside his aliases, is purely fictional. Any sliver of definition he once had vanished completely once he created his first persona. In creating new personalities, Haste has forgotten his own – so immersed in being someone else, he can no longer be himself. When caught alone, Haste is erratic, appearing as a glitch in a seemingly seamless environment. He switches between false personalities, hoping one may be his own, while consumed in waves of aggression and false charm. And this is how he remains, as the search goes on.

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___Cillian lowers his pen and smiles.

___“That’s quite a story.” He nods to you, and the book closes with a dull thud. You return his smile, and it’s a smile of friendship.

___“Thank you. Which reminds me, have you seen anything of the sorcerer? Haste?” The question leaps to the forefront of your mind. It’s odd that you hadn’t thought of it earlier.

___Cillian responds with a gentle laugh. “I met him, once. But he is no sorcerer.”

___“Then who is he?” You’re shown to the door, and the butler hands you your coat. Cillian opens the door, and smiles.

___“That’s for you to decide.”
{700/700}

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art | {2/5}

Eyes ♦ Ralonica Thorondor
Cillian Drake ♦ Ralonica Thorondor

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[IMAGE]

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credits
coding © soulBridge.