Chosen
Name: Sir Elliott Kielin Ridley IV (Elliot if you please)
Age: 21
Guardian: Vaim
Occupation: Nobleman
Appearance: Elliot stands at 5’9 in the early morning and late night hours when he is without his thick, heeled boots, and 5’11 at all other times. He is often found in clean, tailored suits in some shade of blue and gold, pants that cling to his body that has been shaped to perfection by all manner of training that his father might have issued, which could mean anything from cordial dance to jousting. He is always found in a scarf, it is perhaps his one weakness when it comes to his attire. Every day, without fail, he can be seen sporting one, and will not take it off despite the weather or his agenda for the day. They tend to be long and obnoxious, occasionally dragging the ground, but he doesn’t mind the dirt they gather. The only reason his outfits are kept clean is due to his father’s endless whining, as Elliot says, and he would rather throw his clothes to the servants than listen to his father’s endless prattling.
His hair lies in a curtain over his left eye, falling not far below the cheek bone, while the rest remains something of a beast that will not be tamed, doing what it wants, poking out from his head in a spastic mass of deep, chocolate brown. He would rather wear a hat than any sort of crown, and does so daily despite his father’s wishes. His eyes sit framed by thin, blue rimmed glasses that perch delicately on his nose, doing well to hide the sea of emotions in his otherwise chill blue eyes that shine with the same dim gray light of rolling clouds over the ocean, bringing the promise of a storm. His nose is thin and straight with a very slight upturn, while his cheek bones are set high and his skin is, to an untrained eye, a pale, flawless canvas. However, if one looked a bit closer, the deep scratches and countless scars would be as clear as the moon on a night without clouds.
Personality: Elliot isn’t one to typically shove his nobility in another’s face, but he wears his station on his sleeve, not because he means to, but because it has been beaten into him for so many years. He comes off as a snob with a ‘better than you’ complex, and unfortunately it takes many years of built up trust to start peeling back the layers. He will never take himself too seriously, feeling that if he gives in and bends to his father’s whims he will lose himself completely, but in order to keep that wrath at bay, he plays the role of the ‘noble child’ that strives to keep his appearances up and wants nothing more than to make his parent proud. At heart he is much more fire than ice, a free, impulsive spirit that can’t stand a planned future, let alone a day that is nothing more than a schedule. His childhood dream of running away from the manor to become a pirate, perhaps even a captain, gave way to a more reasonable wish of working as a goldsmith, spending his days inventing useful, beautiful weapons, or perhaps just spending a day doing what he enjoyed for once, which was perhaps his most sought after dream.
As he came into his early adolescent years, Elliott had reverted into himself heavily, with not a friend in the world to comfort him. He has never been one to reach out to seek comfort, and as a result he found none. He grew to be a lonely child, always turning away the servant’s kind words with a hiss and a rude comment. He became cold, like the harsh bite of a winter wind, and it seemed he would remain as such until the end of days. Until he found his guardian, that is.
Since Vaim has been by his side, Elliott has grown much warmer. Vaim turned him to what he should have been, the sweeter, opinionated spirit he was born with tucked under all that pain and fear. He allowed him to find his true nature, and while Elliott is still very, deeply wounded, he has a much better sense of self and the harsh glint in his eye is now for appearances and safety only.
History: Dwelling in the heart of Palisade, Elliott has known little else in his life. He comes from a very well to do family, one that has earned its place among the hierarchy, and as a result Elliott’s life has been rather sheltered. His father keeps him home when called away, having him tend to the manor in his absence. He has always had a strict schedule to abide by, never allowed to stray from his duties for too long and allowed off the grounds only when accompanied by another. He is an only child, his mother having slipped away from the world during childbirth due to complications, and as such his father, who was once a very charming, playful kind man that always wore a smile, turned cold and brutal, his anger aimed at the cause, a little change that was meant to bring so much joy but brought nothing but pain. His father lashed out, and Elliott, being nothing more than a helpless child, became his father’s outlet, with the scars in spades to prove it.
He was still young when his guardian called him; it had been a day that began as strange as it would end, with the sun waking him and not his servant’s gentle, yet ridiculously unyielding voice, and he had stepped from his bed on the right side instead of the left. It was the small things that should have given him warning, a warning that this day would bring with it something life altering, but he had chosen to ignore all those little things until they lead up to a very large thing he could not escape.
His father had lined up yet another lady to be his betrothed, which was not unusual. The few others that had been arranged for his hand had backed out themselves, but that night, it was he who spoke up, and it was not without cost. He would swear to day that it was not himself that stepped up to argue with his father, that there had been someone, or something else driving him, possessing him even.
It was the first night in many months that his father had laid a hand on him, but something had - yeah its not done. I suck orz. WIP
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