Post by Dreamer on Sept 10, 2009 1:54:16 GMT -5
Desmond Severi
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...The Face Behind the Mask
[/size][/center][/b]Name: Dreamer
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Roleplaying Experience: lots
How you came to our lovely site?: admin
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...New Face..Ever Changing Place
[/size][/center][/b]Name: Desmond Octavius Severi
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Hair Color: black, sleak...a bit past shoulder length-usually adorned by a silver ornament
Eye Color: deep blue
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 165 Lbs.
Sexual Preferance: Pansexual
Parents: Lord Malik Severi and Lady Camilla Severi - Both Deceased
Sibling/s[If Any]: None [/size]
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...Deep Down..What Makes you Itch..Makes You Tick
[/size][/center][/b]Likes:
*Moonlit nights
*Reading
*Tactics
*Knowledge
*Music
*Intelligent company
*Weaponry
*Quiet
Dislikes:
*Loud, uncouth people
*Nosey people
*Things that are overly sweet
*Being crowded
*Betrayal
*Disloyal individuals
*Being lied to
*People in his way
Nervous Habits:
*He fidgets, though he'd never admit it
*He paces
Fears:
*Letting another into his heart
*Being trapped in a closed dark space
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...What Do You See In The Mirror And Believe..
[/size][/center][/b]Appearance:
Neither short, nor outstandingly tall...he is a man of average height. However, nothing else about him is average. He's exceptionally handsome, with refined elegant features. Every bit the cold, almost beautiful noble. His body is well kept, firm. Lithe, rather than bulky. While his features carry a slim regal nose and a sensual mouth. High sculpted features accent deep endless blue eyes, while dark hair falls against broad shoulders. Ever adorned with a silver ornament in his hair.
Personality:
Outwardly, he is cold. A stoic noble, who remains held at a distance from the rest of the world. Untouchable, aloof. Everything is perceived with a sense of duty, and that duty is placed first and foremost. Beneath it all, he's an intelligent man with a great sense of depth. Little escapes his notice; there isn't much his sharp eyes doesn't see. Save perhaps when it comes to matters of the heart. Eerily calm, he has the distinct ability to cut people down with a direct if not rather sharp comment and tends to intimidate people quite easily with a mere glance.
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...A Touch Of The Past..
[/size][/center][/b]History:
The life of Desmond Octavius Severi.
It began, as most noble children do, born to parents out of arrangement rather than love. Something, neither the Lord or Lady cared to hide from him. His was a birth of necessity and it would be something they assured he never forgot. Even through the mediocrums of care and pampering that he received, there was a thinly veiled distance between his family. Desmond however took no notice of it.
To him, it was a normal life. His grandparents doted upon him, adored where his parents wouldn't ever. It allowed him to learn the things he needed as heir and be kept out of his father and mother's way. At least, until both his grandparents were killed in a house fire. Life changed drastically as he knew it, after that. There was no shelter against the world. His father was a heavy handed man, his mother no better. They both had there own ideals about how a Lord should be raised, and they set to task now that Desmond's grandparents were no longer in the way.
Humiliation came second hand with discipline, and his father quite happily dealt it out to him. Shaping, what he believed to be, a firm heir. Instead however, it merely bred coldness within the breast of the once vibrant boy. Every action serving to kill the warm child that had once been. On his sixteenth birthday, his mother was taken from the world, during the birth of what would have been his younger sister.
His father, gone a wife, was more determined than ever to assure his son grew as he wished. Lessons became harsher, and on his eighteenth birthday he to was given over to an arranged marriage. She was a beautiful woman. With hair of honeyed gold and eyes the shade of the unending sea. Right away, she stole his heart. Her personality was warm, inviting, and for a young man who'd known little gentleness in life, she was a haven. To Desmond, Lisabeta de Mauriac was everything he could have wanted in a woman. And he married her straight away.
For once, he was happy. Truly, happy. The cold recesses of his long since hidden heart had opened once more and allowed his Joy within. Two years, they lived a wonderful life. She was everything to him. Only friend, confidant, companion. But all was not meant to last. Estate business, and training with the familial guardians kept him quite occupied. He was to be as much a diplomat and lord as he was a warrior.
One evening, he arrived home early, only to find the giggling form of his wife and father in there own wedding bed together. He was struck, hurt...even more so when she denied ever having loved him at all. It had been his father she was after. Not him; a poor love struck child. Furious, he left. Unable to do anything more than stand asside and watch because it was his father who was Lord and not he; his heart hurting with a betrayal.
Some weeks later, his father was struck ill with illness. The very same that took his mother swept in like some avenging justice to take his life as well. By default, Desmond was given the title he'd needed to kick his wife to the curve. Divorce, an easy thing to accomplish. The wench was furious; her true nature coming to the forefront. Hateful, gold digging, manipulative. She'd intended to rid the world of her husband and take his riches, his title. And in a vengeful fury, she sought to do so anyway. Going as far, as to sneak into the manor and attempt to poison his food.
By right, she was executed. The reason: treason. And she went, spitting hatred and mocking the years he spent a devoted and loving husband. Her last act before her death, to spit at his feet. That was the final straw. His heart, locked away where it wouldn't be broken again.
