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Painted Moose
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Posted: Tue Oct 05, 2021 2:19 pm
Xipili
Nicknames: N/A Race: Fire / Wind Gender: Male Occupation: Tattooist (Owner of Tatouché in Sulburi, Oba) 3 Base Traits: Vindictive, Vain, Gifted
Personality:
Unlike some hybrids who choose to hide their unique appearances, Xipili embraces his. In his opinion his unique amalgamation of traits makes him an exotic piece of art that’s clearly a cut above the commonfolk. He dresses himself in the finest of fabrics and takes only the best care of his physical form so that he can draw in as much attention as possible. After all, what good is a diamond if it isn’t properly shined? He will very plainly outline the flaws of others if an opportunity presents itself to make him look better by comparison.
Xipili does not take attacks to his personage with stride. If anything, he’s petty and will seek revenge over the smallest of slights. As much as he likes to portray a visage of unbeatable confidence years of criticism under his “family’s” eye have left their mark. He is quick to expect the worst out of everyone he interacts with and will protect himself accordingly.
His keen eye for fashion and visual aesthetics truly shines in Xipili’s work. What started out as a childhood obsession with color has developed into a taste for the creative. While he prefers abstract pieces, Xipili’s artwork can truly take on a life of its own. While he’s working, he’s truly able to get to the core of his subject and what may start out as a blob of blue will truly look like the ocean by the time he’s finished. He takes as much pride in his work as he does his appearance and will only show others when he feels confident it has that “wow” factor.
History:
Xipili was born to a passionate young couple who had far more physical attraction to one another than any sort of emotional attachments. His father, Emyr, was the eldest son to a very prominent Oban family. While not Noble in nature their wealth afforded them many of the same luxuries and allowed them to share many of the same social circles. It was expected that Emyr would marry well, produce worthy offspring, and carry on the family name. What he did was fall for a traveling windling before he’d even had the chance to grow a full beard.
By societal standards he was old enough to marry, but to his parents Emyr was still a child. He lived a charmed of affluence and was allowed to explore his creativity in the form of fashion. Emyr cultivated rare fabrics, kept nobles in touch with all the best designers, and was well on his way to a budding reputation of his own when his exotic lover became pregnant. At the time the fact that they didn’t know each other very well didn’t bother him. He knew she was a free spirit, and she knew he could provide. She had absolutely no desire to settle down with a child, not when there was so much to see!, and he had no desire to go with her. As much as the thought of raising a child alone scared him, Emyr took the babe into his house mere hours before his lady love disappeared from their lives.
The whole affair was a scandal of epic proportions. Xipili’s birth garnered as much attention as any Noble’s, but Emyr didn’t let it ruin him. His parents wanted nothing more than to see the babe disappear. Emyr, on the other hand, turned the attention into good publicity. What a trustworthy, hard working young man he must be to keep up a thriving business while raising a son on his own? Why, wouldn’t you trust his judgement? Over the years his cliental grew right along Xipili and he gladly showed his son the tools of the trade.
Even when Emyr eventually married an Oban woman his son was still by his side. Varisa treated the young boy as if he were her own and as cautious as he was around her at first, he soon grew to love her as well. She would go on to give him two younger sisters who helped to keep his mind off the animosity shown to him by Emyr’s family. They did little to hide their dislike of the boy and would openly favor his sisters over him. Instead of letting it get to him Xipili stuck his chin in the air and used his spite to fuel him.
His worth would not be defined by people who thought wearing hunter green and orchid was a good combination! Clearly, they couldn’t tell the difference between absolute trash and an actual gem, so why should he let it bother him? His father didn’t.
Posted: Tue Oct 05, 2021 2:20 pm
RP Log
Prentice [Oba] Glitz and Glamour - Visha [WE] Perfect Gift - x [WE] Thankful - x [Oba] Evening Party - Harika
Character Name: Xipili Class Promotion: Rogue (Tattooist) Current Location: Oba Journal:x Growth Point Links: [5] Glitz and Glamour - Visha [5] Perfect Gift - x [5] Thankful - x [1] Solo [5] Evening Party - Harika Class Affinity/Choice Solo:[4] Class Quest Solo:x
Physical Description: Hair ref. Basically the same as his current stage though feel free to play around with the hair accessories as you see fit. I'd like the feathers in his hair piece to be a shade of purple, though~
Clothing inspo - 1 & 2. If the main base color could be darker, richer purples with hints of pinks / mauves and gold that would be awesome. No red.
Keeping his long nails, but in a darker purple, please! Also toss in some eyeliner
Current jewelry with gold and artists choice on stone color. He's keeping his nose ring and earrings, though actual style can be up to the artist.
I'd also like him to have a tattoo (or a couple) visible. He spent his apprenticeship in Matori so feel free to use blues / greens and add water elements to mark his time there.
Body Type: Lithe and elegant
Preferred Artists: Scar [Full/Colorist], Kana [Full/Colorist], Fee WIPs: Sure!
Painted Moose
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Posted: Tue Jan 04, 2022 6:05 pm
Class Choice - Rogue (Tattooist)
The upper echelons of Sulburi society allowed for a bevy of experiences for the young Xipili. On a near daily basis the exotic hybrid was tossed to the fire in the hopes that the pressure would transform him from a minor bit of coal into a glorious diamond. Of course, the demand for his time was maddening. If he were a weaker minded fool the venom of Sulburi’s nobility would have taken him down years ago, but Xipili held his high. What did he have to fear from those born into their positions? What did they have to offer that he didn’t? A pompous sense of superiority born from the stale blood in their veins, no doubt the same blood that some of their brother-cousins shared?
As far as he was concerned Sulburi’s high society was crumbling. The old order had fallen out years ago and the royal family was in need of fresh entertainment. New generations of nobles were being born daily, but now they had to compete with Obans whose skills had brought them their wealth. Those with new money had a stronger sense of purpose that the nobles could never hope to obtain. They had passions – drives – to push them toward their goals instead of relying on the strength of others. Xipili had seen it time and time again. Lack witted Lords talked out of trade deals that would have brought them mountains of gold by his father’s wit alone. The man had a sense of business and a knack for knowing when to strike. He’d wormed his way into being called upon for any social event that happened in not only the capital, but Oba in general and its neighboring countries. As an extension of Emyr, Xipili was also called upon from time to time for his advice and he gave it willingly, for a price. After all, so many were ready to look down on him for his mixed blood only to come straight to his door the moment their parties were in danger of failing.
When someone needed rare fabrics from Zena, who did they contact? Emyr. When they needed a second opinion on what colors would be in fashion for the coming spring who did they seek out? Emyr. And now that Xipili was growing into his own, who did they come to? Xipili. They were tradesman with a shrewd eye for fashion and together the pair often traveled in search of the next big thing.
In all honesty it mattered very little where they traveled; Xipili was guaranteed to garner attention. Even if he chose to clothe his delicate skin to ward off a burn his eyes would have marked him as sure as the sky. So many thought him a Bedouin because of his Sauti heritage and assumed that he couldn’t be trusted for anything long term. If he happened to change his mind on a project it was the ‘fickle heart’ he’d inherited from his mother, but what of them? Were the boils on their faces a result of their mother, the s**t-stained boar?
Ah, but he could pour all of his frustrations into his art. Xipili’s talents extended far beyond his glorious sense of fashion and into that of the more traditional styles of artistic expression. He’d loved painting ever since he was a little boy. The splash of colors on a blank canvas always made his heart sing and just knowing a simple blue blob could turn into a magnificent kinfa never ceased to amaze him. When his step-mother caught on to his passions she’d hired professionals from all across Sulburi to train him. Of course, he learned, he wasn’t stupid, but Xipili’s passion was never in the traditional. Instead he branched out into the abstract and obscene. Self portraits looked like nightmarish creatures his sisters would cry about and little perzi could be seen as little more than purple blobs. Where was the purpose in it? The reasoning? Why did it have to have one? He simply did it because he WANTED to. It irked him that others couldn’t see the value in individual expression, even if it didn’t entirely surprise him. When Xipili’s tutors saw his pieces they would often critique him and try to push the hybrid into a more profitable style, such as portraits. After all, with his father’s connections, how lovely would it be if one day he could paint a picture of the royal family to hang in the great hall?
Well, screw that!
Why would he ever want something so tame? Why did he have to change who he was to fit the ‘old world’s’ version of beauty? Xipili was an ARTIST; someone who needed to take his works to the next level, just as his father had with his business.
He wanted to do something that would leave lasting impacts that spoke to the owners soul. Something that was so much more than a few flowers in a vase or a splash of paint then calling it an ocean.
It’s what brought him into the world of tattoos.
Xipili had always been interested but had stayed away for the most part. All the tattoos he’d seen had been basic pieces that were already faded with the ink bleeding into itself. It wasn’t until his thirteenth year that he saw a young hair stylist with her arms decorated in glorious pieces that spoke of her adventures abroad. She explained that she’d spent the day talking with her artist and then allowed him to do what he wanted. He’d taken a bit of her soul and transferred it onto her skin! And what a glorious soul she had! Something so different, so utterly perfect in a room full of stale bread!
Oh, how he craved to be apart of it!
He’d searched all over trying to find the perfect teacher and he’d found it; in Matori. As much as he hadn’t wanted to go Xipili traveled to the southern country to broker a deal. He’d tried to get the artist to come back to Oba with him for a few years – all expenses paid for, of course – in exchange for training. His answer? A solid no.
“I’ll teach you if you want to learn, but you have to stay here.” Gods, how he’d rather be dead. Stay there, in a ramshackle hut, on the beach?! Initially Xipili had denied her. He tried to talk her out of it, but the woman was stubborn.
“You won’t learn anything about tattooing if you stay where you’re comfortable. It’s a personal experience and you have to open yourself up to it.” And wasn’t that what the hair stylist had said as well? That it was an intimate experience between the tattooer and the client? Feeling more than aggrieved, Xipili packed up his things in preparation.
For the next two years he would live in Matori with Styria and learn all she could teach him about tattooing. The only times he was allowed to return to Oba was for his sisters’ birthdays, which was something he wasn’t willing to budge on. All of his heeled boots would have to be left behind in favor of sandals that could handle the sand and he would need so much more sun cream if he wanted to survive.
[1219] [4]
Posted: Tue Jan 04, 2022 6:18 pm
Prentice Solo 2
Dearest family,
Please stop asking what the weather is like in Matori. It hasn’t changed since the last six times you’ve asked and I don’t know of any other way to say ‘it rains’ so ask about anything else. What have you been eating, Xipili? Are you well? How has the salt water been on your complexion?
My apprenticeship is working out well. Stryia is an uncoath woman whose vocabulary includes only the filthiest of curses, but her work is something of an oddity. It has the purity of a soul untainted by worldly sins which I find odd considering the amount of strangers that filter out of her hut…at night…when the candles have gone out.
I may very well beat this letter home. I’ve already acquired passage back to Oba for Xoti’s birthday and I’ll be bringing along a present. (To whomever is reading this I got the alol she wanted; you owe me for having to put up with this thing. It is cute from a distance, but when you wake up with it laying on your face feelings of murder tend to crop up.)
Has father’s leg healed? I was worried when I got the letter about his carriage accident. I’m glad it was only his leg that was broken and nothing else. Perhaps that will help you to reconsider going to Zena for trade. Passing through Sauti is too dangerous for inexperienced drivers and I wouldn’t want him falling into a ravine because he was too ignorant to ask for proper directions.
I hope that we’ll be having something other than fish because I’ve long since grown sick of it. If I so much as see anything scaled I might have to throw a fit. As enlightening as this experience has been I will not be sad to leave this country once all of this is over.
With love,
Xipili
[314] [1]
Painted Moose
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Posted: Fri Jan 14, 2022 1:24 pm
Growth Solo
[Now that his apprenticeship has ended Xipili is ready to invest in his future. He's purchasing a shop, one that he plans on turning into a tattoo parlor and despite the stigma still surrounding tattoos he's ready to push past in order to reach his future.]
Once Xipili had returned to Sulburi the question wasn’t about what he would do with his life so much as where he would do it. He needed a location that was not only easily accessible to the social elite, but also one that was welcoming enough to those from all walks of life. Of course, the majority of his clientele would be those that could afford his high-end designs, but Xipili didn’t want to limit himself. He wanted to make sure that anyone who could afford him – and, moreover, would appreciate him – would have a chance at being his living canvas.
With that in mind he settled on a shop near the market square. Styria would come from Matori to work with him for a few years, at least until he had built up his name, but the shop itself was his alone. He’d taken the risk by investing his savings into it and now it was all up to Xipili to make it grow. There was no doubt in his mind that he could do it; everything in him was screaming at the opportunity to really make a name for himself. After all, even though he was fairly well known on the fashion scene it was usually under his father’s influence and he wanted more.
But what would he call it? A parlor needed a name as special and unique as the services offered! He flipped through a couple before his younger sisters ultimately gave him the perfect idea.
Ignite Ink.
Such an explosive name; one that perfectly fit the aesthetic of an Oban adventure. Still, for as excited as he was, his father was the only one to offer criticism.
“Are you sure you want to open a tattoo parlor in Sulburi? It’s not…something generally seen in elegant society. Tattoos are generally worn by criminals and tribes…”
“It’s an expression. And besides, the worlds changing! Of course there are places that still tattoo their criminals but you can do so much more now. Did you see my work on Lord Eda? I made a yaotl appear from waves on his arm!”
“I saw, I saw, I’m just…are you sure this is what you want? Once you invest in business you’ll have to stick with it, no matter what comes out of it.”
Xipili couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Had his father ever heard of him backing down from a challenge? The young hybrid simply snorted and turned back to the plans splayed out before him. “It’s going to be the best thing to hit Sulburi since the invention of red dye. You’ll see.” And years from now, when everyone walked with his ink on their flesh his father would truly be proud of the son he’d created. He just needed to buckle down and use his business sense as well as his fashion sense to make it work. Perhaps he could ask his father a little more about business once he came around to the idea? It wasn’t as if Emyr didn’t have the necessary experience.
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