Post by Mystery on Mar 12, 2013 20:51:41 GMT -5
Damion
Name: Damion
Pronunciation: Day – Me - On
Age: 24
Season Born In: Winter
Gender: Male
Sexuality:
Appearance:
Damion is to put it simply, a very handsome man. Appeal just seems to roll off him like a wave, confidence flowing from every single one of his pores. That’s just one of the things about Damion, and without that, perhaps he wouldn’t be quite so attractive. No one can really say what it is about him that causes such a stir, for everyone, it’s something different. For one, he’s a large man, standing at a good four inches over six feet (6’4”), and with a broad chest that tapers into lean hips, every inch of him hard, solid muscle. There seems to be no delicateness to this man whatsoever and yet, he can move with the agility of a cat and the silence of a shadow. He is light on his feet, never giving warning of his approach whereabouts – why warn the prey when the predator approaches? And do not perceive wrong, Damion is a predator to the marrow within his bones.
Everything about him screams danger, the kind that makes bad girls realise why they’re bad and good girls seriously consider the dark side.
Pale skinned, Damion’s skin seems almost eerily clear of blemish or mark where others can see it, not even dusted with freckles or marks for the most part, though there is a slight tan to his flesh, it is faint, leaving him fair but underneath his clothes
For most, it is the eyes that draw the most attention; a faint, ice blue that constantly seems lacking of all emotion and any warmth for those who can read them. His hair is a bright, natural blonde, drawing even more attention to his eyes. Though there is much about Damion that sticks in the mind, be it his smile – the warm, charming one or the cold, calculating sneer – the thing that will forever haunt nightmares in the eyes of his victims is his eyes. It is his goal, for his eyes to be the last thing a person remembers before they sleep and the first thing they think of when their eyes open in the day.
Personality:
There is very little about Damion that is good. The few traits that might redeem him are pale and slim in comparison to his vices. There is no lying about Damion’s true nature. His mother, the poor woman that she is maintains she has no idea how this child was born of her, how he came to be what he is. He is a predator, a thing of nightmares; a creature of darkness if ever there was one. Damion moves with the silence and grace of a cat, rarely making even the faintest of sounds when he does walk from place to place, and yet moves with the ease and confidence of someone who fears nothing. To Damion, fear is just something to feed off. He lives on it, thrives on it, and that’s why there’s very little to admire about Damion.
It’s almost impossible to catch his true nature however, when he’s with other people. The face he shows others is one of brightness, eagerness and playfulness constantly laced with innuendo that usually leads into him getting one or more people into his bed. And if he fails, it’s a rare thing indeed. Damion is charming and charismatic to most people, keeping his true colours well hidden under a delightfully intelligent demeanor. Everything is a game to Damion, he refers to people as his “games” and loves to gamble and play no matter the stakes – in fact, the higher the better as far as he is personally concerned. What others see and what he is, however, are very different things.
What he is, is a psychopath.
There is a part of Damion – a very large part of him – that thrives on blood, pain and fear. He thrives on the screams people make and has a very dark fascination with blood. Knives and the skills he has as a tanner come into play when he picks a new “toy”, but so does the rest of the weyr. Damion wants nothing to do with the politics of the weyr, he just wants to be left alone to play with his toys. For all that this darker side to him is constantly present, there is something even darker constantly pushing at the surface of his mind, ready to rear up at even a moments notice. This is what he calls “snapping” and going into the “cold”. A state of no emotion, no feeling whatsoever but that of the desire to hurt, bleed and kill people – it’s not uncommon for games to end up with his name carved in them – whether they be a victim or a lover; often the two are interchangeable.
Family: Dayan / Father / Tanner
Mijara / Mother / Healer
Jamessan / Older Brother / Healer
Location: Rebellion
Rank: Wingrider/Wingthird etc
Wing/Pack:
History:
Damion was born to a small family, one that was broken from the very beginning. No one knew just what was waiting for them with the birth of Damion, and certainly not his mother, who smiled at him one moment and pushed him onto a wetnurse in the next. She had no time for the boy, though he followed her constantly to watch her stitch her patients up. That should have been her first warning that her son wasn’t exactly the same as all other boys his age. What she didn’t know, was that the day he turned seven, Damion got his first taste of death – and loved it. It had been an innocent game, really, playing with their new belt knives to see who could be the better guard, when the other made a mistake, Damion, all in play, cried his triumph, but the blade missed the shoulder and instead his friend was killed. He should have felt guilt. He should have felt horror. There was nothing, just the rush of power and exhilaration that came with it.
Of course, he wasn’t stupid, he told no one and his older brother helped hide the truth so that he could keep his Dami by his side.
From that moment, something changed within the boy. Something that had always been dark, and yet now was just darker. When he was nine, his father accepted him into the tanner craft, allowing him to watch his mother work and learn the intricacies of the healer craft as well – he just didn’t know that those lessons were going to be used for a much darker purpose. At ten, his mother finally seemed to realise something was wrong with her youngest boy and took his brother and left. Leaving Damion only with his father. The loss changed him too, suddenly he was obsessed with perfection and making Damion perfect as well.
Nothing would have pleased him more, but the more he pressed him, the more Damion rebelled.
He ran away at fifteen, and began seducing men and women alike to get by in the world. It was one of these brief flames that ended him with his bonded. At twenty, Damion was more than capable of doing just about whatever he wanted, and had been for turns. That first taste of blood left a trail behind him that just wasn’t traceable unfortunately. One of these loves, hoping to keep Damion with him for longer, took him to a wher hatching to witness how the gold chose her babies new handlers. Finally, an egg was pushed into a boys hands, and a garnet hatched. The lean, quick baby took one look at the child smiling at him, and attacked. When the would-be-handler was well and truly mauled to the brink of death, the garnet was finally dragged from the boy, still snarling as he turned on Damion.
Kill. Mine. Kill.[/i]
“It was a bit… messy really. You hardly played with him at all.” The bite that he received on his hip in punishment for his mockery was what sealed the bond between Damion and Damiosk, and with that Damion went on his way.
A close call a few turns later finally convinced him to leave home, and go to Rindell and the rebellion, where he might enjoy the blood of more people, play more games, without getting caught.
Damiosk
Name: Damiosk
Pronunciation: Day – me - ohsk
Age: Four
Rank: Garnet
Size: 6.
Color Codes: 330000, 990000
Appearance:
A large garnet, Damiosk is the kind of garnet that makes people wary right from the first look. While he might be lean and streamlined and even rather pretty for a wher, there’s something about his colouring that just makes the blood run cold. While his base line colour is a dark red that almost borders on black, the top of his skull, his claws and his tail tip are dipped in a bright, crimson red so close to the colour of blood it’s eerie.
Personality:
If Damion is a psychopath, Damiosk is just as bad as his handler, but with no control added to it. The only thing keeping him under control is Damion's intelligence. Otherwise, the only thing this wher lives for is blood. Blood. More blood. If he can get it, anywhere he can. He doesn't care if it's a person, child or another wher when the blood lust hits, and the worst part of it all is knowing that there is almost nothing that can stop him when he wnats something. Damion is more likely to just let him have fun and claim that he couldn't control him afterwards.
Oops. Sorry.
Damiosk just doesn't care. He lives only to serve Damion's desires and his own, getting him to obey authority is almost impossible. If ever there was a rogue, it was Damiosk, no sir. he's got no time for any of them. It's his way, or no way.
Mind-Voice (If applicable):
Kill. Rip. Watch. Blood. Kill them. Rip them. Watch them die, DamiMine.
Damiosk is cold. There's no other way to describe the tone in his voice, or how he might be heard. It's just cold. Chilling, eerie and painful to listen to.
