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Name: Zeneth ("Ebony") Iceglaze Nickname: Zen Gender: Male Race: Kelvic (Okomo) Age: 7 years Birthplace: Lhavit
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Physical (Human)
Born into the remote Western city of Lhavit, Zeneth appears just as any other normal citizen when in a human guise. He is exceptionally tall for a man of this area, standing at roughly 6', and has a physique that was formed by an innate love of mountaineering. His skin is a fair olive tone, and his hair is a jet black, falling just below his chin and perpetually mussed up. Zen's eyes, however, are sometimes unusual to behold, holding the same distinct characteristics of his animal body, the Okomo.
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Physical (Okomo)
Zeneth's Okomo body is slightly larger than normal for a male of his kind. He stands at 62 inches in height with a pelt of the deepest obsidian hue and an underlying layer of shimmering blues. Okomo Zeneth sports sweeping crystalline horns and hooves and his eyes are tinted a cool greyish blue. His body greatly resembles an equine, but his features are a hybrid mix between an antelope and a goat. He is strong, formidable and surprisingly exotic. Underneath the layer of skin and muscle lies a skeleton entirely made of skyglass, this unique skeletal structure persists in his human form as well.
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Character Concept
Zeneth is an atypical Kelvic. There will never be a right word to describe him as he is. Capable of being completely feral, passionate or cold, he has the capacity for analyzing and calculating. Rebellious at heart, he never sways from the path of utter devotion to his bondmate, but he can and is prone to bursts of violence.
In a human perspective, he may very well pass as one, having been raised to behave as a normal man would, but there would always be something odd about him. An animalistic nature that fails to be concealed in the wake of battle or when his love is threatened by an outside source.
At times a faithful steed, others a man yearning for his love, and most indefinitely a beast within.
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History
To be continued!
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Gnosis
1 Mark from Leth (Telepathy)
The Story :
He was an Okeum. He was a blessing to a family of nearly noble status. He was a sacred creature revered by Lhavitians to be the creation of Zintila. There was no room for mistakes; no room for dishonor or disobedience. Not in a family where social status was everything and rules were strict. But despite the harsh words from his Architect father, Zarkan, Zeneth could hardly be contained. No matter what his parents wished of him, he was still an animal; a creature who longed for partnership. Zen couldn’t understand this sensation he felt, despite all the teachings he received from his parents. His heart ached for companionship and comfort, but each day he was denied this.
He was a prisoner in his own home. Kept from the prying eyes of the “common folk” until the day he was ready to be engaged. But the confinement soon began to change him. Zeneth became short-tempered, irritated and increasingly rebellious. During the morning, when the household was asleep he would escape into the streets, relishing in his short-lived freedom until his parents sent for guards who escorted him back and once again and confined him to his room.
The only comfort he felt was in the presence of a young woman; a shimobe servant who worked in the household. Each night she arrived at his door and brought him a meal. The first days she rarely ever spoke, merely eyeing him with a small smile that belied her hidden wisdom. Gradually, however, it was Zeneth that initiated a conversation.
“Do you enjoy it?” He asked. “Enjoy what, sir?” “Being a servant.” “It’s the only thing I’ve ever known.”
Her name was Irelia, and she held a simple beauty that only enhanced her serene demeanor. It was as he watched her that he noticed her gentle sway as she walked, and her slender fingers as they passed over his belongings. There was suddenly no prejudice towards her as his parents would surely have imparted. She was a glimmer of hope in a dim world, and their attraction, at first subtle, now blossomed, yet hidden under the watchful eye of his mother and father. Over time they shared in physical union, where their love was consummated, but it would be short-lived.
Their meeting was interrupted by the abrupt arrival of his father with an entourage of guards. A servant had seen them together, and exposed the relationship. Zarkan raged at his son, and the kelvic could only retaliate with his own fury. Irelia was seized and sentenced to death, and in Zeneth’s rage he knocked a guard to the floor and cracked his skull, his fists flying until he was finally detained by several men.
“Spare her.” He pleaded, “Spare her and I will do as you say. I’ll remain an obedient son, but spare her, please.”
To his relief, Zarkan spared Irelia and instead banished her from the premises at the cost of the remainder of his freedom. Only the window from which he stared into the glimmering night sky did anything to comfort him. From within, Zeneth ached for his love, and the prospect of losing her brought about his newfound animosity and anger. Without a thought, he struck the wall with a closed fist; hardly a flinch. With a clenched jaw and list of swears, he turned to approach his bed, only to find what appeared to be a man leaning against the wall of his room. Startled was he before he scrutinized the stranger, glancing from the closed door to the window then back to the man.
“Who the petch are you? How did you get in here? The door is locked.”
The man, pale-skinned with almost wild dark hair, had been leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, one foot against it. "I was you once," he pushed himself off of the wall with his foot. "The better question, is who are -you-?"
Zeneth scrutinized him, noting that he wasn't part of any of the servants that were employed in the household. Could he be an apparition? Or even a divine? He stood still as he responded, "I'm a prisoner." He definitely wasn't Lhavitian, that much was for sure. "You wear no chains," the man observed, hooking his thumbs into the belt around his waist. "I might as well," He replied vehemently, "This is no life, when all you greet each day is walls. And my heart, it aches for her, it aches too much for me stand." He didn't speak her name, though there was no doubt the stranger knew of whom he spoke. In his distress he had sat down, his hands massaging his temples. "I don't know how much more of this I can stand," He confessed.
"You think you're a beast?" the man indicated the wall, jerking his head towards the hole "You're an amateur. I know what it's like, Zeneth. We're beasts that trap ourselves... but won't chew our paw off to free ourselves from the trap."
"How do you do it? How do you free yourself when you fear the death of a... a bondmate?" He said, the word something he rarely ever used. Alien on his tongue.
"It's the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live," the man stood in front of him, regarding him, his head tilted slightly, almost as if he was sizing him up. "Death is never forever. One only has to look at my Sister to know that."
Zen's eyes widened. He knew who this was. He understood. In his distress and anxiety he had forgotten the prevailance of Leth in Lhavitian society. They revered him as much as Zintila and Akajia, lords and ladies of the night. In an instant he had bowed his head, his respect genuine. "Lord Leth, I should have known. Forgive my ignorance," He said, "I'm shamed by the way I behaved; I'm afraid of her death but every second apart is like a void sucking my energy. I'm angry... all the time, like I can't control it. It's as you say, a beast and a burden. But with her... with her it changes. I would gladly accept Death if it means we were together."
"We love," Leth looked out the window where Zen had been glaring only moments earlier. "We would kill for them. We would die for them... and yet, that frightens them. Feral and pure though it is... If you love her, I doubt killing her is your intention."
"No," He replied, "I would never kill her. But if I leave for her she will surely die. And if she dies, if they kill her, I would go with her." "Then the path is clear," Leth told him, simply. His pale hand reached forward and touched Zeneth lightly on the sternum. A soft tingling rushed through his skin, and Zeneth glanced down to see a silver ring engraved on his chest. “Sometimes, they say that wishes upon a fallen star comes true,” Leth added, but before Zen could glance up to ask him what he meant the God had vanished.
He knew what he must do.
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Languages
Vani (Fluent) Common (Conversational) Fratava (Poor)
by Zeneth on May 4th, 2011, 6:14 am 
