Post by Zephyr de La Valette on Jun 6, 2011 10:01:03 GMT -5
Character Played By: Ruben Cortada
Name: Zephyr de La Valette
Title: Lord of La Valette, also known as the Spider
Age: 29
Race (Lineage Origin): D’Angeline (Kusheline/Namarrese) and Hellene
Gender: Male
Height: 6’5
Home Province/Country: Namarre
Appearance: How to describe perfection? His hair, black as a raven’s wing, falls to just past his shoulders. His eyes are a pale green. If the light hits his eyes just so, they turn a pale amber. He possesses typical D’Angeline symmetry, his naturally sun-kissed skin the legacy of his Hellene father. Lithe, yet muscular, his every movement is poetry in motion.
His desire for perfection extends to his clothing. Every piece is always clean and pressed. The finest fabrics caress his skin. Even the baubles he wears are polished, sometimes twice daily. He is truly without fault, without flaw, as fastidious with his appearance as any adept of Camellia House.
Well, that is how he once was…
His marque begins at his perfectly rounded buttocks and snakes up his spine. His is not a typical marquee, delicate camellia blossoms twine around a single stem, culminating in a sizable bloom, a bloom that is now almost completely obscured by scars. It is the one fault, a singular blemish, amidst complete perfection.
Personality (1-2 Paragraphs): Elegant, refined, educated, seductive, all of these things describe Zephyr, but beneath all of that is a man who is cold and calculating, who uses his charm and wit as tools, as weapons, if need be. Beneath even this layer, at his deepest core, is a man so consumed by self-loathing and hatred that he flies into a rage at the mere mention of Camellia House. Paradoxically, while he tries his best to distance himself from his past, he is (justifiably) proud of his skill in the bedroom arts. A single kiss, well-placed, the lightest caress, perfectly timed, can go a long way, especially when one deals in secrets.
He has a healthy appreciation for the finer things in life: the best clothes, the best food, the most beautiful music, the most charming personality, the brightest eyes, the loudest laughter. When he does choose to bring someone to his bed, he will go to great lengths to please them, up to and including indulging in the sharper pleasures. One thing is constant, however, and that is that he allows no one to view his ruined marque, the source of his shame.
A man of few scruples, he will broker deals with opium smugglers only to betray them to the city guard in a matter of moments. Despite his willingness to foster criminal activities (and be caught for doing so), authorities seem to regard him as the “lesser evil”, noting the bizarre correlation between how often he receives visits from slavers and how soon those slavers are apprehended. He might peddle flesh on the side, but as he points out, his flesh is willing and paid for their trouble. If it can be said that he harbours affection for anyone, the members of his household would certainly qualify. Zephyr does not suffer those who offer insult to his “spiderlings”.
History (At least 2 detailed Paragraphs): Zephyr’s mother was an adept of Camellia House who joined Naamah’s Order after completing her marque. His father was archon of Paphos in Cythera, sacred to Aphrodite. His mother, having reached the end of her Year of Service, returned to Terre d’Ange to give birth to her son, who she named Zephyr, after the gentle west wind of Hellene myth.
From an early age, it was apparent that he would follow in his mother’s footsteps, and so he was given to Camellia House to foster there. To his mother’s delight, he excelled in his studies. His debut was well-attended and his virginity managed to fetch quite a handsome price. He was a child of Naamah and Aphrodite, how could he possibly fail at mastering the arts of the bedchamber? His patrons paid handsomely for his services, vying for his kisses, his caresses, and more, much more. As his marque neared completion, he began to dream of serving as a royal companion, of being one of the most sought-after courtesans in all of Terre d’Ange. His mother died during his apprenticeship, and although he was saddened by her death, he did not once entertain the thought of leaving Naamah’s service. He would become a famous courtesan, he would honour his mother’s memory by achieving his goal, by seeing his dream become a reality.
His dreams were shattered on the point of a knife.
He had been one patron gift away from making his marque before a jealous rival stabbed him in the back—literally. The blow had been meant to kill him. Miraculously, he survived.
Everything has a price, and the price that Zephyr paid for his life was his dream, his hope, his ambition. His marque, once flawless, was ruined, the camellia blossom at its apex was permanently disfigured, now considered imperfect, Zephyr was forced to leave Naamah’s service, paying off his debt to the house by hard labour.
From then on, he turned to darker pursuits.
It happened by chance, a noble he knew from his assignations glimpsed in flagrante delicto while his unsuspecting wife was occupied with his coinpurse. It was a simple matter to follow the man and politely inquire if his wife knew about her as she knew of his visits to the Night Court. One brief exchange later and Zephyr found himself with access to the letch’s social circles, it was hardly the sort of company he had kept as an adept, but it was a start.
He spent the next few years building a reputation as an information broker, dealing in secrets and rumors, making use of the skills he learned as an adept and using them to ferret out the nation’s dirty secrets. The Spider, they came to call him, the one whose web reached all corners of the City of Elua, and if he didn’t know someone, chances are that he knew someone who did. One of the first things he did upon establishing a foothold in his chosen profession (as rumor would have it) was blackmail a minor noble into giving him his mother’s title and land, a title which she had lost when she had chosen to enter Naamah’s service.
Not content to rest his thumb on the pulse of the nation’s rumour mill, Zephyr began taking certain individuals under his wing: former adepts rejected by the Night Court, as he was, for their “imperfections”, children rescued from a life on the streets, others with no place to go. He found a place for all who came to him: spies, messengers, yes, even whores, making it clear that anyone who offered insult to any member of his household would be dealt with, oftentimes viciously.