#ive been really interested in renaissance landscapes recently and wanted to make a character that reflected that

[foreverephemeral-art]

rare non-fandom oc content!

This is Clemente, an easy-going artist from renaissance era Italy who also kind of accidentally wound up involved with a literal devil

[alltheworldsrpg-blog]

WELCOME TO ROSWELL, ADONIS PETYR

Admin Ais: Adonis is absolutely perfect as The Holo, and such an interesting contribution to the political game being played out in the rp. You managed to create a wonderfully complex and manipulative character, and I loved reading about his personal feelings on his position and his motivations.

You’ve been accepted as THE HOLO with the faceclaim of KIM WOO-BIN. Please follow all rules and regulations as laid out by the Roswell Town Council, especially concerning any non pre-approved biologic. All UFO’s outside of city limits must be stickered or will be towed. Enjoy your stay in the first city of extraterrestrials. 

OUT OF CHARACTER.

NAME/ALIAS + PRONOUNS:

Kael, he/him.

AGE:

Nineteen years old.

TIMEZONE + ACTIVITY:

Y’all know I go through college and I’m a human disaster–I’m at GMT+8:00 and I’d put my activity at a solid 6 for the moment because of fast paced summer classes, but afterwards? 8 or a higher probably before school.

TRIGGERS:

Removed for privacy. 

ANYTHING ELSE?: X.

IN CHARACTER.

SKELETON TITLE: The Holo

FULL NAME: Adonis Petyr

GENDER + PRONOUNS: Cis male, he/him

SEXUAL + ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Homosexual homoromantic.

DATE OF BIRTH + AGE: November 5th + 26 years old

OCCUPATION: Protege to the current Chosen.

FACECLAIM: Kim Woo-bin

BIOGRAPHY:

Your life is not your own. It is the first lesson you learn.

You were something made to propel everyone else into the great unknowns of the future, bringing about altruistic change to the world that you’d grown up on. You were to be of great importance, your parents said, a child whose destiny was to be part of something that could give rise to a new age that would tip the fates of many. You were the promise of a Starweaver to your parents, and you were going to deliver on that, whether you liked it or not.

You learned the cost of a new world early on–an assemblage of teachers, of tutors and groomers that would make you into a Chosen that the people deserved, that Proxima deserved. They built you up and stripped you down in to be who they wanted you to be. The golden child, the savior, the foothold in politics, and when they were done, they marveled at who you were, a child scrubbed clean of his identity. After that, the dream soured into a nightmare, making it feel like servitude–forced indenture, rather than a choice you would have gladly made for yourself. But you smile, and grin, and bear it because there is no other choice to make.

At least, for now.

Like Atlas, you bore the weight of everything on your shoulders, of a destiny from a Starweaver, of the pressure from your parents to run and be the Chosen, even the people who never met you, but expected you to save them from themselves even though you wanted nothing more than to be one of the men who waited for deliverance. It was tiring, walking up to people and putting on facade after facade, only having moments to discard it and resent ever having to put a mask on before walking around and shaking hands and answering questions once more.

You felt the cracks on your face, on the carefully manufactured visage that they had constructed for yourself, weathered and worn, until the bubbling from the inside had to be released somehow, for fear you would burst from the sheer pressure. Haunting bars, haunting people in the dark of night was one of the only ways you could maintain everything thrown at you, shore up the supports for the cracks in your foundation. It was intoxicating, to say the least, always coming back for more under another name and another guise just to relax and live a life that seemed better than yours.

As the years leading up to the election went by, resentment grew and blackened within your heart because you were–you are more than what they made you to be, an obedient puppet, serving the whims of the people that you should so dearly think of. But in your bones, you knew that you were never meant to bend the knee or serve the masses, but to rule over them with sweet words and a sweeter tongue.

( You remember winning by a mere thousand votes–crocodile tears on the stand, hugging your opponent as a show of good faith, and you deliver your speech with the hammering of your heart inside your chest. It is good, you think, to show them emotion while you still have your plan in the works. Win their hearts over and they will bow down and smile when they do it.

And for a second, you feel yourself again, show through the cracks–even just for a while. )

Playing Luther’s protege did take some getting used to, the new impositions and rules chafing into your skin as if they were chaining you to the floor, but you managed to pull through, enjoying the little diplomatic acts that they had done for themselves on a regular basis. You were going to be in it for the long haul, you thought, as every board meeting, every public appearance, ever last one of Luther’s missions to some backwater place had to make you think of what to do when he was going to step down.

But this time, you control the moves you were going to set into place, the pace you were going to go, and you feel yourself return to something greater, something meant to wear a crown and preside over the masses. You smile and nod to the public as your mentor watches you at your periphery, a subtle glance, as if he hears the whispers of those in power and believes them. ( For a petty old fool, he knows how to listen, you’ll give him that. )

Though you watch as he self-destructs before you, his impartial leanings towards the masses making them walk into his arms every second he gets up on that pulpit, or consults with a foreign leader, and you barely have to lift a finger. You watch and laugh in private, for Luther was an age long past, and you are the harbinger of a brighter future.

( Once, you asked a Starweaver under cover of night, in cloak and hood, if what you wanted was going to come true. They smiled at you, a tense smile, full of nervousness and worry, and told you that if he was going to let himself be what they wanted to be, it would. If he was going to.

But if recent events have shown you, that’s not really a question for you anymore. Not really.

And with Luther, it wasn’t ever a question of if you would take the helm anymore—it was a question of when. )

MUSING + HEAD-CANONS.

HEAD-CANONS:

i. miss me, lover?

Your first tryst is with a boy you don’t remember–maybe he never was worth remembering.

You remember looking at the bright neon, the glare of the lights and the bodies, the strobing of the nearby clubs as you skulked down what was a dark alleyway into a den of vice and debauchery. It was against all they taught you, against everything that you’ve learned from sacred texts and philosophy–no leader should be attracted to the allures of the forbidden, but when did happiness and duty ever meet?

But what you remembered the most wasn’t the bright lights or the the allure of it all, it was the intoxicating power that came with it, every moan, every hitch of his breath that you made happen in a matter of minutes. He was putty in your hands, and you can’t forget about the look in his eyes, the unmistakable devotion that he gave you as you held his tenderness in your hand and made him see brightness in the skies.

( Pleasure is the most intoxicating drug you know. )

ii. moving forward.

You see glamour and technology as you walk within the streets, and you curse yourself for not coming to Earth sooner.

Technological marvels are wondrous and many-faced, and you want so badly for the future to be as bright and as gleaming as the cities that dot the Earth’s landscape, of a Proxima that rivaled that of the Luytan’s home with might that rivaled that of Earth. For an observer in a foreign land, there is much to be learned from watching and waiting at the wings, not that your mentor has any reason to want for a modern world.

But you are determined to bring this to your backwater world, a forceful renaissance in the history of Proxima, for you have grown tired of horses and candlelit houses, and seek the beauties of metal and technology. There is so much to learn, so much to do, if Proxima could just leave the past behind and walk towards the future.

( And if they resist? Well, everyone needed a little push. )

TIDBITS:

i. Adonis likes black tea and often prefers an overpriced coffee milkshake to an economical black coffee, just because he’s worth it. He also has a really long order that he sticks to most of the time, but no one could ever get right.

ii. While he has a handle on sex, he has more of an awkward time trying to actually date someone, since almost all his exposure was through seedy bathrooms and secret motels. He does try to be romantic sometimes, but it just doesn’t have the same effect.

iii. After finding out that his “protector” was not on his side, Adonis is currently trying to learn martial arts and weapons handling for fear of being assassinated in a dark alley with no one to defend him. It’s a fear he’s kept on the back of his mind ever since, and it’s not one he’s going to stop having for a long time.

iv. He doesn’t talk to his parents, not after they basically moulded him into being their perfect little pawn for political and financial gain. They’re his dirty little secret that he wouldn’t share for the world, even if it gave him the throne.

v. Though he is supposed to dress modestly, he wears his clothes with a little bit of flair for people to remember him by. He doesn’t remember visually, so he mixes and matches and it mostly looks like the same thing, though with little alterations.

vi. Adonis has one tattoo. He’ll show you where if you ask nicely.

vii. Luther is cold and unfeeling and is full of secrets, much like him–Adonis thinks that he wanted to impress him once, but not anymore. These days, he’s much too busy plotting for himself rather than caring about what Luther thinks of him.

PLOTS + CONNECTIONS:

story arcs:

i. the pieces are all set.

The passing of the torch is meant to happen sometime, and Adonis prefers having all his duck in a row when he’s made the new Chosen among his people–I’d like to see him try and curry favor amongst political leaders and the Centaurian council members to at least get them on his side. It’s going to take some charisma and political will, but he thinks he can manage that, even with the several dangers that are on all sides.

There’s also the fact that he needs to get public perception on his side if he ever wants a chance of ever taking power for himself, and so I’d like him to try to be the golden boy that the Centaurians see, though we all know it’s a facade.

ii. the fallout.

This arc could go one of two ways–success or failure.

Either way, it involves him doing damage control with the affected groups that would have him taken out of his rightful place ( or so he thinks. ) Suppression and eradication in the shadows would be done, attracting support from the populace or sympathy, if the event calls for it.

For success, keeping the throne and making plans to get to Proxima Centauri to consolidate forces are of paramount importance, as well as silencing any opposition to his rule, from council member to guards. Adonis doesn’t tolerate unloyalty when he succeeds, and he does not suffer traitors for the life of him.

For failure to take the throne, he will try to muster support to his cause to take the throne from Luther or any insurgents that may threaten his ascent. I’d like to see him combat the insurgents with any political power that he may still have and piece together his reputation back up again.

I’d like to see him use his guile to survive the new reality he finds himself in when he makes a beeline for the Centaurian leadership.

connections:

i. darling, my mouth is poison.

You’re a regular Casanova, and you know it, using your good image and blinding white smile to consistently string along a number of guys, and it is so enjoyable to have them be at your beck and call when you ask. But political intrigue and information is your main goal now, and this is why you’ve seduced–or at least tried to seduce, them. They don’t know your agenda yet, and you’re not keen on letting them know, but you’re patient and persistent, and you’ll get something out of them yet.

ii. the ties that bind.

Allies are hard to come by, and in this current political climate and the hplots against you, it’s harder to find anyone who would knowingly align themselves with you, knowing what you have in store. And yet, they are by your side, an alliance–either momentary or permanent, where both of you could come out on top, seeking higher power and farther reaches beyond your meager stations. You don’t know if they’re by your side for the long run, or if they’re going to ditch you when they get what they want, but you’re grateful to have at least one person reaching for the same goals as you.

iii. my most beloved harbinger.

A willing follower, your first, and one of your closest friends. Adoration may scare some leaders, and may even be unadvisable for most, but you see it as a tool to use when necessary. They believe in the vision you share, even if it is just fragments, and you are grateful for their utter passion to your cause, their unwavering belief in you. You’ve needed a right hand for so long, a second to throw down the iron gauntlets, as your guard and protector has chosen such a contrary side to the aspirations that you have.

WRITING SAMPLE:

Removed for privacy. 

ETC:

pinterest board: x

moodboard: x