Post by Sokuro on Dec 23, 2008 4:54:59 GMT -5
Name: Sokuro
Age(human): 24
Race: Fallen Angelique
Physical Description: Sokuro held the appearance of a young man standing at about Five foot eleven inches- Raven locks drifting about his face and shoulders, drifting with a near constant breeze grazing between each strand. His eyes would carry a subtle, sapphire glow, eminating from the center of his pupils and fading to a near ocean blue at the edges of his iris...Captivating to some who had not seen such energies. When in public, Sokuro most often kept his wings, at a span of near fifteen feet from tip to tip, wrapped about his form; Hiding a slender, and yet agile figure. To those who would catch glimpse of the fallen one, they would find that he was neither bulky, nor slender. A "perfect" balance between strength and agility, ensuring a safer chance of either escape or victory should conflict arise. Both feathers and garments seemed matching in colour, and melted so wonderfully into the darkness of night- A deep, dark blue lining to each and every feather, like liquid sapphire had coated each edge, along with the trim and linings of his garments. The rest of both wings and clothing were black as a starless night, yet held those certain glimmers of stars themselves- peeking through a cloud's ominous sheen.
Personality: A refined yet reserved young man, who was, as they say "Old enough to know better. But young enough not to care." Sokuro often kept himself seperated from others in the world, knowing full well what he was- Or had been. Yet if one were so bold as to approach, or beckon this young man, they would find no darkness in his behavior, nor disrespect in his words. As proper as can be, to those deserving of such. And as honest a man as any who had learned the hard way, what deception can bring forth.
History: So few centuries ago, Sokuro had stumbled upon a small village, deep within the mountain's forests. The occupants ravaged by a vicious plague. Not flesh nor mind withstanding its grasp, nor that of its creators'. Amidst the pain and sorrow of this place, Sokuro had met a young woman with no illness to bare.. An oddity for these parts, it seemed. No hold of another would grip at her mind. It seemed so unlikely, she was the same- of their kind. Her face was slender and pale as the moon, yet graceful and tender as a fresh rose bloom. The plague that had ravaged so many before, had left not a scratch, not wound or sore. Determined to save one so fair as she, Sokuro had fled to the edges of the sea. With hopes that the gods would clense the villiage and people behind, he'd offered his being to those held high. For this was the last wish of the woman he'd saved. The distance between her and the villiage had caused her life to wane. With her final breaths and frailty of voice, this woman had offered a gift should he make such a choice.... No haven within the skies, and a life of mortality. Instead he would find no pain nor sorrow in heart. Nothing at all, was her gift to be. He'd feel not a thing for the beings he'd seen. Forgotten was sorrow, and pain alike. So now this fallen angel would wander the world, no memories of such a past- Mortality now, is his final act.
Age(human): 24
Race: Fallen Angelique
Physical Description: Sokuro held the appearance of a young man standing at about Five foot eleven inches- Raven locks drifting about his face and shoulders, drifting with a near constant breeze grazing between each strand. His eyes would carry a subtle, sapphire glow, eminating from the center of his pupils and fading to a near ocean blue at the edges of his iris...Captivating to some who had not seen such energies. When in public, Sokuro most often kept his wings, at a span of near fifteen feet from tip to tip, wrapped about his form; Hiding a slender, and yet agile figure. To those who would catch glimpse of the fallen one, they would find that he was neither bulky, nor slender. A "perfect" balance between strength and agility, ensuring a safer chance of either escape or victory should conflict arise. Both feathers and garments seemed matching in colour, and melted so wonderfully into the darkness of night- A deep, dark blue lining to each and every feather, like liquid sapphire had coated each edge, along with the trim and linings of his garments. The rest of both wings and clothing were black as a starless night, yet held those certain glimmers of stars themselves- peeking through a cloud's ominous sheen.
Personality: A refined yet reserved young man, who was, as they say "Old enough to know better. But young enough not to care." Sokuro often kept himself seperated from others in the world, knowing full well what he was- Or had been. Yet if one were so bold as to approach, or beckon this young man, they would find no darkness in his behavior, nor disrespect in his words. As proper as can be, to those deserving of such. And as honest a man as any who had learned the hard way, what deception can bring forth.
History: So few centuries ago, Sokuro had stumbled upon a small village, deep within the mountain's forests. The occupants ravaged by a vicious plague. Not flesh nor mind withstanding its grasp, nor that of its creators'. Amidst the pain and sorrow of this place, Sokuro had met a young woman with no illness to bare.. An oddity for these parts, it seemed. No hold of another would grip at her mind. It seemed so unlikely, she was the same- of their kind. Her face was slender and pale as the moon, yet graceful and tender as a fresh rose bloom. The plague that had ravaged so many before, had left not a scratch, not wound or sore. Determined to save one so fair as she, Sokuro had fled to the edges of the sea. With hopes that the gods would clense the villiage and people behind, he'd offered his being to those held high. For this was the last wish of the woman he'd saved. The distance between her and the villiage had caused her life to wane. With her final breaths and frailty of voice, this woman had offered a gift should he make such a choice.... No haven within the skies, and a life of mortality. Instead he would find no pain nor sorrow in heart. Nothing at all, was her gift to be. He'd feel not a thing for the beings he'd seen. Forgotten was sorrow, and pain alike. So now this fallen angel would wander the world, no memories of such a past- Mortality now, is his final act.
' Bloody heck, two jobs and a BUNCH of kerfuffle later, and I'm back AGAIN.