Elías Durant
Posts : 4
Total Experience Points : 4
Join date : 2012-12-24
Character Sheet
OOC: Saeyer
Classification: Citizen
Experience:
    (4/30)
 |  Subject: Elías Durant  Mon Dec 24, 2012 3:44 am | |
| The Basics Name: Elías Adrien Apollinar Durant Age: 20 Element: Water Classification: Citizen Birth Kingdom: Unda Home Kingdom: Valetudo Appearance Playby: Ezra Miller Appearance:Elías is a slender young man, with little muscle to speak of. He is not frail, but where his height of almost six feet might be intimidating in another person, he simply looks willowy. His shoulders are wide enough to fill out a shirt nicely, but that's about it. While his limbs are long and graceful like a dancer's and he has fine, delicate hands, they are so soft it is clear he does very little with them. There is a bird like quality to him, a regal yet flighty bearing accompanied by the way he sometimes rises onto the balls of his feet that makes him appear about to take flight at any moment. His hair is long and curls into to loose black ringlets that fall to his collarbones. Through the use of his own concoctions it is always soft and clean, often smelling faintly of jasmine or orange blossoms. He wears it down or up in deceptively simple looking styles that often take his attendants quite awhile to put together. His eyes are hazel with flecks of dark brown and his face has the defined cheekbones and jawline often attributed to cats. With soft, feminine lips and a straight nose, he's good looking and he knows it. Personality Personality:Elías grew up as a prince and has all of the personality markers of it. He wants what he wants when and where he wants it, and isn't above pitching a minor fit if that doesn't happen. He has, thankfully, grown out of throwing full-out tantrums, but he is not yet above sulking and snide comments. It came to his attention at a very young age that he was attractive, and what it could get him. A pout could get him an extra sweet, a smile might get him a compliment or simply an adoring look, and tears could get him anything. His mother was wise to this so it never worked on her, and his siblings gently instilled in him that if he was well behaved and sweet, he could get what he wanted without needing to make himself cry. His current personality is a mixture of both of these things: a generally sweet disposition with the ability and knowledge of how to manipulate those around him to get what he wants with as little effort as possible.
He is, in essence, a decent person. Spoiled rotten and naive, but decent. While obviously flawed, he doesn't try to hide it mostly because he has yet to understand that those personality traits are flaws. They're the way he is, so they must be right. His close friends and relatives are the first to understand that he isn't selfish out of malice, but thoughtlessness. What the boy needs is some tough love from a person he can't frighten off by acting like a willful child, and that actually is invested enough in him to take the shit and keep trying. Those people, unfortunately, are difficult to come by.
Though it may seem a dubious point in his favor, Elías does not actually desire power in any of its traditional forms. He does not want to unite the kingdoms of Unda under one banner (his), or conquest new lands; he isn't even particularly interested in retaking Glacies. He understands why his mother is so adamant, but even though he grew up knowing it was an eventual goal of their regime, he has never felt a strong desire to make people bend to him. To him, being a prince is about eating and dressing well, not making war. He wants to be respected, absolutely, but loved rather than feared. So far he honestly doesn't understand what that entails, but that's part of why his mother has sent him away from home for the first time in his life. Likes:- fashion
As a prince, he has always been expected to be on the cutting edge of fashion, and as a person he has always loved looking good. His clothes are well made, tailored to fit him like a glove, and dyed in rich but subtle colors. He has a love of drama in clothing: high collars, bright colors, jewels and shoes with sharply pointed toes, but has carved out a different niche for himself. For all his love of ostentation, he dresses himself with a refined taste that many find surprising. He prefers dove grey, peach, golden tones and rich blues. Silks are his favorite, but fine linen and leather are good too. Small moments of opulence do not escape him, however, and he has a taste for minimal but strikingly flamboyant jewelry.
romanceBrought up on stories of courtly love, assignations and betrayal, Elías has high hops for his own love life. The tales that always appealed to him the most were those of lovers who were separated by distance but who love held strong: they met in passing or for a week at some grand event, then went their separate ways with nothing but letters to hold them together. Naturally, when these love-torn people are together again, their love burns true, etc etc and everyone goes home happy. The main flaw in his logic at the moment is that he doesn't quite understand that the person (or people) he falls in love with might not love him back; he has no contingency plan, and no means of falling back without losing face. poetryHe enjoys reading the poetry of others, feeling their emotions through the words on the page and delights in deciphering the references within the verse. Well-read and educated, he is often the first to notice that this line is from an elegy written 100 years ago by a famous poet, and what the current author hopes to achieve by pulling in such a distant piece of writing. He attempts to write his own verse, which often comes out overwrought and derivative, but perhaps in time he will improve. his siblingsGrowing up the youngest of seven children gave his siblings a lot of opportunity to pick on him. Instead, by the time he was born the majority of them were of an age where they thought babies were cute, not just screaming, irritating balls of vomit. He went though his early childhood with much love and doting on their behalves, and even the siblings who were closer in age to him were kind. When he began to develop his abilities for the use of creating perfumes and other cosmetics, his sisters became his first customers and even his brothers humored him on occasion. He is still very much the baby of the family, and though they love him Elías has yet to understand that they might love him even more if he grew up a little. parties, balls & feasts!Elías loves fancy to-do's for many reasons. Its a chance to dress up with extra flare, eat delicious food, drink more than normal and dance with pretty girls; what's not to like? Its also a chance for him to meet and connect with people he might want to know politically. Depending on the type of event, he may also end up with a group of adoring lower level courtiers around him, hanging on his every word. Dislikes:
- being told no
Raised with most every desire pandered to, Elías is unused to people telling him that he can't have something. While it usually does not result in an all-out fit, he usually skulks away to sulk somewhere, with brief interludes where he comes back to let you know how unhappy he is before he disappears again. This can go on for an indefinite amount of time, until either the person who has denied him gets fed up and gives in, or something else catches his eye.
being boredThe longer he's left alone without something to do or someone to talk to, Elías becomes more and more likely to become brooding and unpleasant to be around. Its a bit of circular logic: he's bored, so he's pissy, and then because he's pissy no one wants to be around him and thus he stays bored. Eventually he works himself out of his funk or someone else sucks it up and goes to cheer him up and give him something to do, but even a minor thing such as being asked to give someone advice on what to wear to a secret meeting with a lover can keep him occupied for a whole day. coarse languageHe really doesn't see the appeal of it and it offends his often delicate sensibilities. While more often than not he won't say anything about it, because he feels a little cowed by it (more than likely the intended goal), it makes him uncomfortable and less likely to believe that the other person is particularly intelligent. If they were, they wouldn't need to resort to such things to get what they want. being so far from everyone he knowsWhile he has no doubt that he will be able to make new friends in Valetudo, the woman he is supposed to marry notwithstanding, he misses his family and the people he knew in Unda. Even he knows that some of them were merely friendships of convenience or politics, but they were still good for a drink and a chat over cake and a favorite book of poetry. Instead, he is currently lonely and a long way from the people and culture he knows best. This breeds moodiness and general discontent. being laughed atFairly self explanatory. Unless he's told a joke and people are laughing with him, people should not be laughing at what he says. It makes him feel like people are looking down on him, another thing he hates. Elemental Strengths- dyes & perfumes
Not needing to use his element for practical reasons lead to him developing skill at doing things that brought him pleasure, such as the mixing of dyes and perfumes. While he is, by all accounts, foppish, he also has surprisingly good taste: he knows which scents are too subtle, too intense, too sour, too sweet. He often gave small vials of perfume to people he wanted to show favor to, back in Unda, of scents he had mixed specifically for them. His own taste in perfume tends more toward traditionally feminine elements, but he understands that most men are unwilling to wear them; mixing perfume is a task with which he is exceptionally thoughtful, far beyond what people expect of him.
The creation of hair dyes is another thing he is quite adept at: his dark hair often has a second tone when sunlight hits it, ranging from blues to reds depending on his mood, the season, and the colors he is wearing for the day. These as well he would be willing to mix for another person, though for the most part people are loathe to ask a prince to mix them up a hair dye.
Clothing dye is something he has dabbled with, but the smell that accompanies it is often off-putting. It was also not always seen as particularly noble to be seen to be dying your own clothing, though he still does it on occasion if he likes a particular garment enough.
Elemental Weaknesses- most anything useful
Elías' mastery of his element is very weak. Growing up he was hardly ever asked to train his element or do much concerning it. Coddled as he was, he may have been asked to rewarm his own bathwater once in awhile. His ability to push or pull water is very limited, he can only heat or cool it a few degrees and he couldn't tell you if water was pure if he tried. If your'e in a pinch that might require someone with control of Water, he's not your man. He can, however, mix you a fabulous hair dye.
Background Family:Mother - Amélie Durant; Water Citizen (NPC) Father - Sylvain Gaetan; Plant Consular Siblings - With Ignace Herriot; Ice Master
- Bérengère Durant; (f) 40; Water Consular
- Aubin Durant; (m) 37; Water Citizen
With Diodore Sartre; Earth Citizen
- Sabine Durant; (f) 32; Water Master
With Félicien Travert; Water Consular
- Anaïs Durant; (f) 30; Ice Consular
With Sylvain Gaetan; Plant Consular
- Baudouin Durant; (m) 28; Ice Citizen
- Corentin Durant; (m) 26; Plant Apprentice
History:Born to Amélie Durant, the queen of the Collective Kingdoms of Unda, and her most recent consort, Sylvain Gaetan, Elías was the youngest of her six children. His early childhood he remembers as a flurry of imported silks and spices fresh off of the ships in the harbors. The ocean was everywhere, out any window and hiding in the foundations of all the buildings; dig down a few feet and there it was. Before he was old enough to be taught to read, he believed that they were the only nation in the world: their islands were the only land and the ocean went on forever, miles and miles of it, a whole world of water. He later couldn't decide where he had thought the ships sailed to and from, they just sailed; that's what ships did. There were long elaborate daydreams on summer afternoons about when he was older and how he would set off in his own ship and sail until he found some fantastic new place, some vast new treasure he could bring home to his mother. They saw very little of each other when he was small, as she was attending to political matters almost as soon as he was out of the womb. She couldn't afford to wait around and let advisers do the work for her; once the baby could be weaned he was and that was that.
His siblings, however, were more than happy to fill in for her. Sabine in particular, twelve when he was born, took a shine to him. Sabine and Anaïs were the first to see Elías walk and then to run, almost immediately after. As soon as he could be trusted not to fall down every fifth step, they took him everywhere with them. They played together, ate together and sometimes he fell asleep in their rooms, curled up in the clothes they had been trying to fit onto his pudgy baby arms. Baudouin and Corentin, 6 and 8 years older than him, soon became jealous and started to follow their older sisters around as well. In the end, however, they also fell in love with their bumbling younger brother the five of them were inseparable until Sabine turned 20 and sent to govern one of the collective kingdoms under her mother's dominion. Elías at that point was 8 and sulked monstrously when his sister went away. Frequent visits from his sister Bérengère and brother Aubin appeased him, as they often brought gifts and told him stories he hadn't heard before, but he clung to Anaïs even more tightly.
By the time he was ten and she was twenty, he had begun to realize that he wasn't interested in the same things as his brothers. They loved each other dearly, but the other boys wanted to act out the fight scenes from their favorite stories while he wanted to talk about what the people involved had been wearing and whether or not they kissed. Anaïs was soon sent off to govern yet another of the kingdoms in the collective and Elías became a little more reclusive. Soon afterward he began to discover his proclivity for the mixing of perfumes and soon he was the finest smelling prince around. He sent samples of his experiments, some more successful than others, to his sisters and mother; his older brother Aubin declined politely. He also began reading extensively, holing himself away in the capital's libraries for days on end, appearing only to eat or change his clothes. He loved the stories of romance the best, great affection breaking all barriers that stood in its path and reuniting people that cared strongly enough for each other. He even began writing his own poems, mostly for Anaïs and Sabine but he recognized that they were primitive works and never sent them.
When he turned thirteen his mother allowed him to make visits to his siblings, provided his tutors (of which there were many) went with him. He said yes, of course, and loved nothing more than to visit the collective kingdoms. He loved the change of scenery, the minor differences in fashion and who wore what. What scents were in fashion and what colors were right out this year. Of course, given that most of Unda was fishing villages most of the scents were of fish and the fashion was limited, but he loved it none the less. It was also around this time that he began to notice girls, for all that his brothers had teased him about being interested in men for years. He wrote some fairly ill-conceived poetry about the elegant shape of one such interests eyebrows that put that love in its grave fairly quickly, but for the most part he kept his affections to himself. Pining in secret was, of course, a large part of romance as he understood it.
At seventeen he finally realized that someday he was actually going to be expected to rule something someday. His mother sat him down and they had a serious discussion, while she attempted to ignore the lovely fuchsia undertones to his black hair from his most recent foray into hair dyes. He was no longer left alone to read and pine and mix perfume while making sad eyes at girls he imagined didn't know he existed even though they obviously did. They even would have talked to him, too. His tutors changed and soon he was being instructed on policies and diplomatics and any manner of things he had no heart for. When it became clear to Amélie that he wasn't even really trying, she tried to enforce a stricter regimen on him. Certain privileges were revoked, certain sweets or liquors were no longer available to him. Unfortunately for her his siblings ruined this by smuggling them to him with a wink and a kiss on the cheek.
Fed up with him, the queen latched onto a tentative offer from the queen of Valetudo. They had common goals concerning Glacies and a chance to strengthen trade relations with the wealthiest nation around wasn't something to sneeze at. As a learning experience for Elías, he was sent to Valetudo to meet with his prospective family in law and in particular his bride-to-be, with the understanding that once they were married, they would eventually return to Unda. At least, that was the plan. OOC RP Sample:It was a warm evening outside Cahaya, a village seated deep in the Seran jungles; unseasonably warm, in truth. Humidity made the air thick and close, the night sticking like sap to Stian's skin as she walked, her footsteps quiet on the damp earth. Still somewhat accustomed to the weather of South Glacies, though more acclimated to temperate weather now, she still had a fairly low tolerance for heat. Her thick soled leather boots had long since been traded in for the sandals the locals wore. In all honesty she would happily have gone barefoot, but walking barefoot through an unfamiliar stretch of jungle seemed unwise, especially with all the poisonous snakes and amphibians in the area. Her cold weather clothes had likewise been exchanged for a light homespun linen tunic worn threadbare at the elbows, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Raising one arm to wipe sweat from her brow, she let her fingers probe the pins she had keeping her hair in place and off of her face, the familiar braid wound around her head in a way she had seen local women use, but didn't quite understand the mechanics of herself.
Insects swarmed around her bare arms, buzzing by her ears and trying their best to alight in Mercy's mane, which he shook fitfully every few steps. Running a slim hand down his damp neck in a calming gesture, Stian regretted bringing him for the hundredth time. She hadn't wanted to leave him behind, but jungles weren't exactly the best environment for a horse, especially one from northern Unda. He was coping admirably, but he certainly wasn't enjoying himself. Holding onto a fistful of his dirty mane for support, she glanced around herself, taking in the jungle. The well-beaten dirt beneath them was the only indication that the direction they went lead anywhere: Stian had been told that there was a town this way, one with a very wise old herb woman. Hoping to study with her, she had set off before she really understood how far it was. If she had realized she would need to walk through the night, alone in the jungle, she might have hired a guide. Or waited for the next caravan that was headed this way. No matter which way she should have done it, the current situation left her feeling exposed and unsure of how far she was from her goal.
The sky above the thick canopy of trees looked to be fading from dusky blue, a slight peach gilt to the underside of the clouds she could see between the branches. Below the canopy it was already on the verge of full night, with dregs of light filtering down from above to touch this branch or that leaf, illuminate the bole of a tree with some mysterious tangle of limbs shuffling inside. The rustling of underbrush nearby drew her dark gaze but quickly subsided. More than anything she was concerned about the large predators of the jungle, those huge cats that could sneak up behind a person with hardly a whisper. She remembered wistfully the small tribe she had met that wore masks on the backs of their heads to deter such attacks: they believed that if the cat thought they were looking at them, they would wait for an easier kill. Resisting the urge to look over her shoulder, she ran her fingers through the bit of Mercy's tangled mane in her grasp.
She had just caught site of what she believed were the outlying torches of Cahaya when Mercy stopped dead, shifting his feed nervously. Stian had learned to trust his reactions many months ago and crouched slightly, trying to spot what he had sensed. He snorted, shook his head violently and took several steps back, looking down the path ahead of them.
"What is it, darlin' boy?" Stian's voice was low and hoarse from disuse; one of Mercy's ears flicked back to acknowledge that he heard her, but his dark eyes stayed locked on the dusky trail ahead. And then she saw them, figures emerging from the underbrush ahead of her and to her right. The snap of a twig behind her made her tense, her heart pounding painfully in her throat. They were quiet, as quiet as the large cats she had feared: it had been complacent of her to forget that people were just as dangerous as animals.
The people in front of her and to her right stopped a short distance away, their faces covered by wrapped cloths. She felt the jagged tip of a weapon dig into her lower back, just hard enough to be uncomfortable but not enough to break the skin; if she could judge by what the two in front of her were holding, she assumed the third person also had a spear. Standing slowly, she kept a firm grip on Mercy's mane.
No one spoke for a long moment and Stian looked between them. Her voice still gruff fatigue, she said, "Well? What do you want?" She was in no position to fight off three people, but it didn't mean she wouldn't try. The person in front of her thrust his jaw out and pointed with his spear, toward Mercy.
"Give us your beast," the man said in lilting, musical words. Or at least that was what Stian understood of it, her Seran not being perfect, but the intent was clear. Tightening the hand on her horse into a fist, Stian shook her head, two decisive movements and then a dead stop, no room for misunderstanding.
"No." She knew her Seran was accented, she knew her complexion gave her away as a foreigner, but she most certainly was not going to give her horse over. Not only did she need him, he had become a friend to her, an amiably disinterested companion. He was certainly not going to turn into someone's dinner, as she could think of few other uses they might have for him in such a dense landscape.
There was a rumble of disapproval behind her and the spear pressed harder against her back, reminding her of exactly what the terms of this situation were. "Give us the beast, now." Taking advantage of the time it took for him to speak, Stian whirled and grabbed the spear from the masked man behind her, jerking it out of his hands and whipping it around to point at him. He took a step back, surprised, but quickly drew a thick bladed knife from his belt. His two companions began to close in, pressing the advantage of their numbers. Looking between them, Stian backed herself up against Mercy's flank and crouched lower, trying desperately to think of something clever, as her own merit as a fighter was completely negligible. As one stepped too close she snarled and lunged, missing him by a mile but making him retreat as the other stepped forward and like that, the fight began. Alias: Saeyer | |
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