Post by jeremiah silos on Jun 24, 2015 18:23:55 GMT -5
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[attr="class","appbg"]
[attr="class","appn"]jeremiah silos
[attr="class","appc"]age 041
[attr="class","appc"]group magician
[attr="class","appc"]sex male
[attr="class","appc"]occupation high minister
[attr="class","appp"]
jeremiah is a ghost of a man; one always recalls seeing him, but is hard-pressed to find him at the moment of recollection. his hair falls down his back like curls of spun snow, his lashes like painted butterflies. indeed, it’s a wonder how he managed to wrestle for himself a seat on the high council when a genial pat on the back has the potential to bruise.[break][break]
when jeremiah turned eight, his magical education was turned over to black. he never knew his master’s first chosen name or the reason for his apprenticeship with him in the first place, for the arrangement was characterized by hatred on both sides: openly by black, poorly hidden by jeremiah. black favoured reptiles and perfect obedience, which jeremiah learned very quickly was a marriage of interests not to be trifled with. he is intimate with the click of something sharp scraping against his bedroom floor, the feeling of something large uncoiling at the foot of his bed. when black was finally devoured, jeremiah did not weep.[break][break]
now he sits in the safety net--spider’s web--that he’s created for himself, waiting on a tangle of gossamer and dew drops for so much as a twitch. the cracks between castle bricks he fills with his eyes; that street urchin’s ear--the one who so sweetly squeezes your hand--is cold with his breath. he is the one who raises the hairs on the back of your neck with a lift of the finger and, when your back is turned, he speaks to your shadow. the words that escape him are silken as the clothing he wears, but lies that aren’t sweet like honey are likewise hard to swallow.
[attr="class","appi"]
jeremiah is a ghost of a man; one always recalls seeing him, but is hard-pressed to find him at the moment of recollection. his hair falls down his back like curls of spun snow, his lashes like painted butterflies. indeed, it’s a wonder how he managed to wrestle for himself a seat on the high council when a genial pat on the back has the potential to bruise.[break][break]
when jeremiah turned eight, his magical education was turned over to black. he never knew his master’s first chosen name or the reason for his apprenticeship with him in the first place, for the arrangement was characterized by hatred on both sides: openly by black, poorly hidden by jeremiah. black favoured reptiles and perfect obedience, which jeremiah learned very quickly was a marriage of interests not to be trifled with. he is intimate with the click of something sharp scraping against his bedroom floor, the feeling of something large uncoiling at the foot of his bed. when black was finally devoured, jeremiah did not weep.[break][break]
now he sits in the safety net--spider’s web--that he’s created for himself, waiting on a tangle of gossamer and dew drops for so much as a twitch. the cracks between castle bricks he fills with his eyes; that street urchin’s ear--the one who so sweetly squeezes your hand--is cold with his breath. he is the one who raises the hairs on the back of your neck with a lift of the finger and, when your back is turned, he speaks to your shadow. the words that escape him are silken as the clothing he wears, but lies that aren’t sweet like honey are likewise hard to swallow.
[attr="class","appd"]
with black’s body yet warm six feet underground, jeremiah had his master’s djinni summoned. he has no practical use for them though: his former master’s djinni are locked away in mournful orbs, where jeremiah will never set eye upon them ever again.[break][break]
few have bore witness to jeremiah at work. over the course of his years as a powerful magician, and later a high minister, he has amassed for himself an invisible guard; invisible, for no one knows the exact details of the djinni under his employ. they flit in and out of his service quietly, their magic subtle and slight. were the conditions of their summons any less specific they would feed jeremiah cotton candy lies until their teeth rotted something dreadful, but jeremiah is nothing if not perfect; and anyway, jeremiah nurses a penchant for sweets.
[attr="class","apph2"]
with black’s body yet warm six feet underground, jeremiah had his master’s djinni summoned. he has no practical use for them though: his former master’s djinni are locked away in mournful orbs, where jeremiah will never set eye upon them ever again.[break][break]
few have bore witness to jeremiah at work. over the course of his years as a powerful magician, and later a high minister, he has amassed for himself an invisible guard; invisible, for no one knows the exact details of the djinni under his employ. they flit in and out of his service quietly, their magic subtle and slight. were the conditions of their summons any less specific they would feed jeremiah cotton candy lies until their teeth rotted something dreadful, but jeremiah is nothing if not perfect; and anyway, jeremiah nurses a penchant for sweets.
[attr="class","appf"]
played by: senri [break]
face claim: [b]dragon nest,[/b] [i]ian[/i] - jeremiah silos
[attr="class","apph2"]
played by: senri [break]
face claim: [b]dragon nest,[/b] [i]ian[/i] - jeremiah silos
