Physical Appearance
Unfinished. That is what the young man looks like. Untempered by life, unweathered, not even a little chipped. Like a pristine statue abandoned in the sculptor's workshop before the final touches could be applied. His body striking a not always graceful balance between both the ascetic ideal and the athletic. While the amount of muscle his body carries is in no way prodigous the almost complete lack of fat boldly outlines the corded bundles. The end result is too muscular to afford him the ephemereal grace of similarly slender builds, but too light to really want to fit the exact and sweeping gestures he affects.
Dariel's face might seem pleasing at a distance.If symmetry is the measure of beauty it'd be impossible to call him ugly. But once distance is lost and the image sharpens it becomes obvious that the sculptor did not give this part of him the proper finish either. The jaw angular, the nose a sharp triangle, cheekbones casting stark shadows. More a porcelain mask than a face, seeming not fit to smile or cry or show much of anything but polite disinterest.
The impression of a statue is rounded out by the pallor of his skin, considered noble in some parts of the world, or simply a sign of spending too much time indoors elsewhere. Likewise his chin-length hair is a platinum shade of blonde, approaching white in the proper light, even if a gentler light may cast them in warmer hues. And while his eyes are nominally green even that color seems to have drained to a degree, spiralling towards grey at certain times of day.
Personality
The notion that his face looks like a porcelain mask is not far from the truth. The young man does not seem to wish to be known too well and makes no effort to hide it. His speech is clear but formal, littered with very few telling idiosynchrasies, and so is his posture. Standing up straight, his motions are economical and swift with just a touch of flourish. Wide steps seize space like a conqueror, a cloak or scarf or so dramatically fluttering behind. Sharp turns on the balls of his toes, hands shooting forward to grasp and retreating as quickly once their prey is seized, gaze forever hopping from sight to sight. Only the pauses serve to demonstrate that the speed is not borne of a hectic personality or urgent circumstances.
As a proper if only recently repatriated Lavithian he appears to hold no bias towards any man or woman, regardless of their stature or lot in life. Indeed one may see him cut his straight path this way and that. One night he may argue in the Basilika with cold conviction, the next he may be haggling in the Azure Market with polite zeal. In fact, arguing, disagreeing or in some other way challenging matters verbally seems to be the one pastime he openly indulges. And though he may never raise his voice, there is the tension in it, the way his body settles into a ready position like a predator poised to pounce, the stare of his eyes. There is passion there. Maybe even enjoyment.
Character History
Over a decade ago, Keper Masute, Lavithian bookbinder and papermaker was falling on hard times as proper Wadj paper began trickling in from Eyktol. At the time he honestly had to fear for the future of his trade and his family. One day when he was out in the Azure Market peddling his wares with his son Dariel, one of Masute's customers seemed to take a particular notice of the boy. The customer, a tall broad-shouldered and somewhat dashing looking travelling scholar, was willing to swear by the heavens that he noticed at the very least a glimmer ofmagical potential in the boy. Without much ado, the man offered to take the boy on as his apprentice, though that would lead him away from the city.
Keper more than hesitated. Dariel was an only child and very dear to his parents. The stranger misinterpreted this hesitation. He noted that he understood that Keper would be loath to lose the helping hand around his business and dropped a clanking purse on top of a stack of vellum. The purse's content should be enough to hire an errand boy the stranger argued. Weighing it heavily in his hand, truly weighing it against the love he bore his son, Keper only decided that he couldn't decide alone. If the stranger came by his house as his dinner guest tonight they might talk the matter through in detail.
And so it came to pass that when the stranger who'd never given his name (and which seemingly nobody ever thought to inquire after) left Lhavit with the boy in tow a few days later.
A dozen years later, a haggard and ragged young man enters the Amaranthine Gate. Struggling to walk tall and proud despite the limp in his gait, a harrowing tale tucked near his heart.
Residence
[To be determined but permanent and local; either Solar Winds Appartments or Towers' Respite.]
Family
Keper Masute Dariel's father. A bookbinder and paper maker by trade, his tall frame is stooped from all his work. A gentle soft-spoken man in his late 50s characterized by a softly tanned skin betraying his distant Eyktol heritage and a smile that shows more wrinkles than a man his age has a right to possess.
Hasara Masute Dariel's mother. A very down to earth woman not given to flights of fancy. While her husband spends the daylight hours plying his trade it falls to her to keep the household together, juggling the economic realities of Keper's business between meals. |