Character Name: Caelestis De Neige
Race: Human
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Character Description:
Short, frail and so androgynous that even Elves cannot easily decide if Caelestis is a male or female, the wheelchair bound young man was as pale as the driven snow. It stood in stark contrast with hair spun from midnight's most lightless heart, carefully cut into pleasant bangs at the front and kept absurdly long at the back. It was even layered, with portions pinned and held in place by a crystal pin.
His eyes are a startling shade of cyan, peaking out between the concealing bangs like painted noon skies parting dusk veils. Caelestis' features are long and relatively sharp, with a pointed small nose and a chin in a diamond face shape. Small grooves, odd sweeping scars, sit under the eyes like painted lines and are in fact often lightly brushed over with make-up to keep the delicate appearance.
Otherwise, he enjoys layers and layers of fine clothing and usually has a rose surrounded by green feathers on the left side of his head. If he could stand he would be 5'7'' but as is he is most frequently found with his most supportive friend: wheelchair.
Virtually all of the illusion of androgyny is dispelled the moment he speaks; Caelestis has a fairly deep male voice.
Character Occupation: (Optional)
Librarian, mentalist, Falconeer.
Character Personality/Traits:
Usually polite, Caelestis is an individual who frequently enjoys observations and quiet moments to reflect. A conversationalist, he enjoys speaking with most any who dwell near him too long. He likes people watching.
Character Biography:
All settlements suffered when the Pact came. Some fell immediately, as with Falkvard. Others earned a slower, more insidious demise; the slow poison of starvation leading to sudden outbursts of violence as the Orcs, Goblins and cultists fell upon the increasingly isolated communites. Some had the dubious honor to hold out, but at incredible cost. They became specters, mere shades of their former glory until Barkamsted was the only true safe haven left.
One such place was the island of Rosenrot. Affectionally referred to as the Bird Cage, it was a tall land mass that towered over the waves below, primarily dominated by forests. Were it not for the many bridges erected the island would have been a nightmare to traverse, a collection of cliffs and impenetrable wood with something resembling a village in its most tamable spaces. The forest was famously red-leafed in most times of the year, pink at others. Green seldomly. It was a rose on the blue, a pretty distraction with a large manor built into its highest reaches.
There, the self-styled Lord Rozenwald ruled the land with silver, syrup, wines and quality wood. The forest had legends surrounding it and any legend could be profitable. The Rozenwald family had seized the space and enjoyed trade with Falkvard and Camars in the past. Under the monopoly of the island's resources, the place grew prosperous for the few and dreadful for the many. The tiered town was a quick visual representation of the castes that existed there, where the closer to the top one lived the higher in the chain they sat.
Among the merchant elites grew a group of doctors and specialist who imagined themselves as artists and individuals of class. Many grew around the Rozenwald family's peculiar tastes. De Neige, 'of the snow,' was chief among these.
Even with the fall of its two greatest customers three decades prior, the island had never known such success as it had then. The latest 'Lord' Rozenwald had an obsession with dolls and perfect families as well as a close kinship with Silvius De Neige, his personal mentalist. Silvius had spent years tending to the mental fortitude of the leaders of the island and upon request put his meager understanding of medical practices, herbology and therapy to use in conditioning the adopted family of Lord Rozenwald, lovingly referred to as his canaries. Many were custom tailored for success while others were made, simply, to be polite and pretty. With no heir of his own, he collected dolls and preferred they speak.
With a powerful patron, Silvius could afford the luxuries of a minor God. He had an ideal home, a loving wife and a large family of strapping young lads and lasses. Each was educated in different theories of philosophy, art and medical fields. Most were made to keep a balance of brilliant physique and sharpened minds. It was the unfortunate fourth child who could only manage one of these: Caelestis De Neige.
When he was born it was thought passing odd that he moved less than the others. He was tiny and frail, a whisper of a living being that his father was certain would grow to be as breathtaking as the rest of his family. And indeed, the youth immediately took after his mother, with startling cyan eyes and an early crown of black hair. But he struggled and bore unpleasant deformities on his lower back.
It was years before Silvius could admit to himself that his son would never walk. He was raised with love and care, as his siblings were. Caelestis was shown utmost kindness and acceptance by his siblings, his mother Ariane De Neige and his father, the usually cold Silvius. They tried again and again to employ herbs, speak him through the process by teaching mind over matter.
When it became apparent that none of that was going to work and they had to invest in specialized chairs to help Caelestis move, they reached out to a world at war to try to find any who wanted a profit. All manner of old world doctors and mages came, flocking for an opportunity to move away from the terror of the Pact, coming in from the many small port towns that remained. All to find Caelestis a happy young man who spent his time in libraries.
So it was that Caelestis grew up among these individuals as his peers, hearing stories of travels and forests that brought night to daylit skies with how they towered toward the stars. He heard of mountains formed like claws, of frozen lands that never knew summer. They came with books, fairytales and fables on the spirit of man. Caelestis, for all his inability to walk, felt as if he flew through legends and through vivid dreams. His was an active mind, one that created worlds where he could do whatever he pleased.
It was an escape from concealed pain. Though his legs were numb and lifeless, his body ached from constant sitting and it would issue random complaints that required painkillers and more. He grew used to these agonies, suffering them in relative silence until their dull throb was background music. While some days were worse than others, he rarely found any of it more distracting than a book.
And the best library belonged to Lord Rozenwald. The Lord took an unhealthy interest in Caelestis, even going so far as to fund special ramps and access routes between their two homes. There were fights behind closed doors as Silvius and Rozenwald had their relationship strained; the discomforting Rozenwald floated the idea of Caelestis joining his family at dinners more than once. Instead, Caelestis said he would visit often and take up the practice of De Neige's oldest traditions, those of the mentalist.
It was propelled by guilt in part, by fascination in the other hand. He desired to be useful for the family. He was not so daft as to not notice the absolute fortune they were spending on him and how little he contributed in turn. He had tried his hand at figures and trade but found it all so very boring. He could not manage labor, was no grand warrior to go and die offshore like his eldest brother had. Needless loss to the Pact. But he could draw. He could write in script so elegant and precise that he found mimicking styles easy, pleasant and enoyable while developing his own specific approach. Difficult diagrams were challenges.
While people were something fascinating that he could record and discover. He could find new worlds in others. So it was agreed and Rozenwald returned to being his father's friend and unusual lover while Caelestis spent a great amount of time among the Canaries and their palatial cages.
He spent his years with these orphans who had taken on the Rozenwald name, training under his father and in turn educating the Canaries, helping them in their conditioning. He found the task a little repulsive and so focused on their mental health instead. Rather than fully keep them complacent, he urged them to find their joy and create the masks they needed to safeguard their true selves. Ironically, it was these more honest beings that pleased Rozenwald the most.
It was there that he met Sebastian Rozenwald. The two bonded on their physical maladies, where one was bound by chair and the other was growing increasingly more blind. Sebastian had been among the rough crowds of the mean streets, raised in privilege only recently while Caelestis had always known a fine life, yet they found incredible union in their strange positions for their families. Both had the eye of their fathers, who fixated on them more than others.
Soon enough, Rhapsody was introduced into the group as well, an old friend of Sebastian's who had been taken on as a servant to the household. They spent years together, pursuing their interests. Sebastian would create small moving puzzles for Caelestis and had upgraded his wheelchair, finding its mechanisms intriguing and talking constantly about how tinkerers could change the world for the better. Caelestis offered a release for Sebastian's growing anger and resentment at being caged by a doting adoptive, uncanny father. He drew for Sebastian, he wrote stories and read for the older young man to help fight the dizzying depression that came with diminishing sight. Rhapsody took up music and occasionally entertained his little sister who would visit from the horrors of below, herself moving up to more and more pleasant homes due to the money Rhapsody brought in. They pooled together their funds to fetch a lovely owl for Caelestis, so he might join them in hunts and play in the forest in his own way. It did him wonders to take up falconry, to whisper tales to the feathered friend.
This was a wonderful time. It spanned for years. Unfortunately, his father's obsession never faded and so more doctors came. Tenifae had fallen. Caelestis had a harder and harder time rising from sleep, drifting into dreams that felt as if they spanned for years and waking to increasing confusion. He spent long periods in utter apathy, reduced to drooling from drugs that were meant to help. He was left in miserable, tearing pain after doctors used crude alteration to try to improve upon his body, only making matters worse.
He was so spent and so hurt that he could no longer visit Sebastian and Rhapsody. This angered Rozenwald, who said this negligence of duty was costing Sebastian; he was taking a slow dive down into further rebellions, pretending to play nice but slipping into the lower sections seeking fights. Sebastian had no outlet and Rhapsody was the only one who could visit the De Neige estate to give news. Each time they tried their best to pass letters to Sebastian or to accompany him.
Worse still, the family fortune had essentially grown dry due to Rozenwald's angry tithes that he levelled upon De Neige coupled with the mountain of silver spent on visiting mystics, doctors, dreamers and even cultists. None of them could fix Caelestis, who finally and firmly refused further treatment. He swore he'd die before he let anyone touch him to fix him again, for he had harmed his family enough. There was a great fight from that proclamation and Caelestis was wheeled out by Rhapsody. They both sought Sebastian and were accosted on multiple occasions by enemies to the blonde man.
They managed, but they were tired and bruised. Rhapsody had fended off the brutes and took a moment to rest at a bridge, his smile growing wide and bright when he finally saw Sebastian. It was shortlived. Rhapsody's sister shoved Caelestis aside, flinging him from his seat and shocking Rhapsody. He was flung over the edge with a single, strong push to land in the street below. He rose, dazed and confused, blood running down his head when the cart struck him. The series of crunches that followed were sickening and Caelestis vaguely recalled a shriek. Perhaps even three; he may have screamed, but he did not remember.
Much of what followed was a blur. He had grown more tired again, as if a mountain of feathers were pushing his brow down. He remembered Sebastian angrily telling him that Rhapsody's sister had killed herself and Sebastian couldn't tell more if he was angry at her not making amends or if he was furious he couldn't bring her to justice himself. But all of it was fading. Words traced out in the wind, drowned by the faint flap of wings. His owl had landed on his seat and he heard a voice composed of many whisper. 'SlEeP. tO fulFilL.'
The whispers told him that Sebastian had made a deal. A much older Sebastian, a broken hearted Sebastian in a distant land, in a distant time. The lonely Half-Elf had struck a deal that took the loneliness away, replaced his heart with gears and fluff. But Caelestis would one day remind him of what he had and to do that, he needed to sleep.
So he slept. His already long dreams spanned into unceasing infinities where he lived out entire histories, where he could walk and jump and climb. Where he had families and adventures, where he was an owl and then a raven and then a murder of crows. He experienced pains and pleasures both, but all in vague dream states. He could dream, but he could not change. Time had been taken away from him, so he lived in a bubble that had no beginning or end, his mind playing with stars while his body lay with a stressed family determined to keep him alive.
Rosenrot bore the dubious honor; it did not fall properly. It fell when it was cut off from the mainland and from trade, rotting from within until rage spilled through the streets. De Neige fled the island while Rozenwald was rumored to have formed some horrific pact. The island grew silent, presumably dead and gone, ruled over by the master of the bird cage and the lord of broken dolls.
De Neige moved into Barkamsted and tended to their family. The last of their fortune was spent keeping the unaging, undying sleeping beauty in as much peace as they could manage. Many had to set aside their higher education to join in military actions, slowly contributing to the retaking of cities and lands.
Years passed, decades. Over forty years drifted by. Finally, Caelestis woke to find the world changed. He returned from his play through the cosmos to find himself wondering where he might find Sebastian. And what he might do with a life shattered by a poorly worded deal he did not make and had no hand in.
His parents both lived, now ancient figures who cracked their craggy faces to smile at him awakening once more. His siblings were far older, even his youngest ones now exceeding him in age and newer ones born after his rest. There was so much to catch up on, so many new things. And his family assured him, there were many who could use the help of a properly trained mentalist.
He had a new chance at life, even as his dreams remained horrifically long each night. He would return to a broken body after seeming years and wheel into the streets of Falkvard to help against the traumas of memory stealing curses, all consuming plagues, and the most recent conflicts at crossroads.
Other/Extra:
His stats are overall lower: Strength: 5
Speed: 2
Agility: 4
Constitution: 4
He will come in with a wheelchair and a lovely red crystal hair pin, crafted from the lightly glowing amber of Rosenrot.
This application is... Accepted! Such a lovely app, I read it out loud, my voice hurts now, go run around and have fun you brilliant nerd! I'll get these items lored and to you soon!