[the fool.]

Tilia // he / him // pan
-
- cute n he knows it
- eats lollipops to fit his cutie patoot aesthetic
- a v rude boy
- will run off w/o telling anyone
- somehow always smells like lavender ??
- can and will use anyone and everyone to get out of waking up early
- constantly fluffs hair to get attention
- would be that pastel pink aesthetic w/ something like "I don't really care" written in like the right corner
fivenight

username ; .Infinity. // name ; Tilia // gender ; male
personality ; estp "the doer" spontaneous // devious // deceptive

s p o n t a n e o u s
Tilia has never been one to follow, always on the move, not caring too much to walk in some other nameless ryn's shadow. His parents had never told him how to do something, always on a more figure-it-out system, making every day a new type of challenge, a new adventure for Til to figure out. This sort of on the fly childhood kept him from leaning on others, preferring to go out by himself, or only with his trusted friend, Seren, by his side.
Til thinks it's more exciting to delve into the forest at night, with only the lightning bugs to keep him company, rather than sit around, listening to the repetitive hunting plans of tomorrow.
It's no fun to live the same day twice, at least to Tilia.

d e v i o u s
The means justify the ends, as Til likes to think.
He's not rude, he's just practical, not cold, but smart, despite what the other ryns like to think, Tilia has a mapped out plan. Every word calculated, every move planned out to a T, and he'll take every chance to get the upper hand in an argument. Whatever it takes to get his way, he'll do it, after all, losing isn't in his job description, and it won't ever be.
This kid is a modern day Machiavelli, thinking not of what others think of him, but what he'll achieve, his unsavory way of obtaining his goals has gained him notoriety, but he doesn't mind it took much.
You have to crack a few eggs to make an omelette, after all.
d e c e p t i v e
Tilia knows he's pretty, it's not news to him. Of course, he'll act surprised when told while trotting around the camp, pretending to cover his cheeks with his paws, feigning embarrassment. Whatever'll bring the bacon home, he tells himself. He'll hang out with any ryn head over heels for him, until he can cash in a few favors, whether it's extra food from the hunt, or a bail from the guard party, and then he'll give the scripted it's not you, it's me, I'm sorry to let them down easy. They'll leave, tails between their hind paws, but it's all the same to Til. Anyryn's just a pawn in his giant game of chess.
And Til plays to win.

s u c k e r s
Tilia snacks on lollipops, whoever he can find one, at least. He likes to think that they give him a sort of purity to him, anything to bring in more suckers to get a few more hours of shut eye as they bail him out of another group activity. The pink ones have been his favorite, with no better reason than that they go with his fur color, further selling his goodie two shoes pastel spiel. He'll eat whichever lollipops he can scrounge though, as they are few and far between, as they remind him of when he was a young kit, the sweetness ringing the bells of the nice early morning spent with his family.