Ari Amari

Recalls Vesuvius erupting as a young child, so roughly 2000 years old? Give or take a few years. As for now, he’s taken on May 2nd as his birthday. He always enjoyed Spring.

Male

Bisexual

He’s had a lot of jobs in the past; Soldier, Assassin (Sshhh), Historian, Pilot... but now he’s settled down with Ghost Writing. Not just books, but some movie scripts, some songs – he likes it. It’s all anonymous, it’s well paid, and he doesn’t get drawn into the limelight. Ari likes to control when he’s being looked at and when he isn’t, after all.

As is common for most Sphinxes, they stop ageing around the 20 year mark; as such, Ari has looked to be in his mid-twenties for several centuries, and has used that eternal youth to his great advantage. His Egyptian heritage – having not actually been born in the Old Lands but in Roman Italy - makes itself known in his skin tone and bone structure; skin the colour of a creamy caramel; dark, thickly curled hair (usually worn in some cropped style); and a somewhat square jawed face, Ari has a look that certainly can draw the eye, or be ignored completely. He’s very good at blending in or standing out, whenever the occasion arises.

One curious thing about him are his eyes, and how far they stand out against his tanned skin – a light, almost shining blue, set beneath two dark brows and setting off his high cheekbones most marvellously. Oh, and his dimples. You can see them for miles.

Standing at 5’9 (a tall height among humans in Ancient Rome; he’s considerably shorter compared to others now. He can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not) with a wiry, well-toned frame, he doesn’t have much in the way of immediate muscles. He doesn’t need them – his strength comes from his spirit.

The skin on his body is not quite as flawless as one his face; after living through two World Wars, two Cold Wars, three (or was it four?) civil wars, and various other skirmishes that were all as pointless and exciting as each other, it’s quite the miracle that he’s still alive with all four limbs intact. Three bullet wounds can be found, two on his left shoulder, right next to one another, and one on his right shin; a crisscross of sword slashes on the right of his torso; even a bite mark on his wrist from where a Vampire had foolishly assumed he was food. Two thin, white lines can be found running down his back, parallel to one another; the scars are faded, but still obvious. They had been from his first - and hopefully last – time he had unfurled his wings. The pain was sickening.

As with most Sphinxes, Ari has the ability to usher forth more monstrous qualities – eyes can turn an almost glowing red at will, making it a stark contrast from his pure blue eyes; nails can lengthen into black, wickedly sharp claws; and his teeth become fangs. At this point, he’ll probably look more like a Werewolf than a Sphinx – but wait, there’s more! Pupils will become slits, giving him a distinctly more cat like look. His jaw will dislocate with a jarring crack, and the teeth will lengthen further into jagged fangs – the jaw is capable of opening wide enough to consume a whole human head in one bite.

Tasty.

As for Ari’s clothing style, it can usually be described as casual. Naturally, if he’s going somewhere fancy he’ll bust out a suit or something, but he much prefers more casual clothes. Jeans are preferred over trousers, just as tees and sweaters are favoured over button up shirts. He does enjoy his hoodies – something about having your head and ears all covered up is supremely comforting.

As is normal for some living in London, Ari has picked up the traditional English accent – the stereotypical, suave kind that you hear from the likes of Tom Hiddleston, the one that gets American girls weeping over the fact that they don’t have a “super-cute British Boyfriend”. All he’ll say to those girls, is that they obviously haven’t heard a boy from Liverpool talk. That’s a far better gauge of what many English accents are like rather than his own.

When regarding Ari, you wouldn’t assume he was one to be easily cowed by anything, really. He easily portrays that happy-go-lucky, confident type of air around him... but there’s plenty for him to worry about. He worries that he hasn’t lived a full life, that he’s wasted so many years just killing people; he worries that he’s never going to have children or find a permanent lover, and surely that isn’t going to aid his dying race? He worries that he’ll be found out, that a Coven of witches will hunt him down to extract all that is useful of him and kill him, because it’s happened before, surely it’ll happen again? As such, he can be quite insecure at times, and that can have a knock-on effect to his work and his life.

However, when not feeling any kind of negative emotion pressing on top of him, Ari is quite the amicable and mischievous fellow to be around. As obvious by his chosen career of this era, he’s quite creative – and it shows itself in a large manner of ways. His writing, his jokes, even his furniture. There’s gotta be a meaning behind stuff, y’know? For Ari, the meaning can be as simple as “I thought it looked pretty rad on my bedroom wall”, to “I wrote this in memory of that guy I shot and then ate during the civil war (I forgot which one). He tasted great, but the pellets were a real bitch to keep spitting out.”. Wittiness is one of his favourite forms of creativity – why rely on silly insults like “Your Mother is a pox-ridden wench” or “Your Dad’s on the dole”, when you can just baffle their brains with clever sass? As such, he can be quite laid-back in his insults. Your foe often gets more and more riled to see you perfectly unruffled; and calmness can always have a comical air about it in whatever situation you’re in.

✔ Jam Roly-Poly and Custard; You Brits may not have much, but GOOD GODS YOU NAILED PUDDINGS
✔ Dancing; Sweetheart, I practically invented the Tango. Well... I did it before it was cool. The bloody South Americans stole it off me, all right?
✔ Game of Thrones; It’s been too long since I’ve seen carnage like this. They really nailed the war scenes.
✔ Cats, in all shapes and sizes; If I could, I’d adopt a tiger and have it live in the flat with me. I think that’d annoy the neighbours though.
✔ Christmas; I don’t know how I survived winters without it. Presents, alcohol, food and decorations? PERFECT.
✔ Backrubs; Ooohhh yeah, right between the shoulder blades, that’s the spot.
✔ Parkourl; A fun past-time I picked up a few years ago. They have places where you can practice it now! With crash mats and everything! It works wonders for when I have too much energy to do anything productive. Cats do like to climb, after all.
✔ Raves; Ah – one of the better things about the 90’s. I do miss that atmosphere, with the music, the dancing, and the drugs. I make do now with modern nightclubs and modern drugs – cocaine does just as well as ecstasy, I’ve found.
✔ Various Vices; Oh, I’ve dabbled in a few. I remember when Opium became very popular – always gave me a rotten headache though. As of now, I drink, smoke occasionally, and enjoy a few lines of the white powder now and then.
✘ Olives; GODDAMNIT STOP PUTTING OLIVE OIL ON ALL THE FOOD I LIKE JESUS FUCKING CHRIST
✘ Dogs; Honestly, there’s a part of me that wished I liked them, because they’re just so adorable. But as soon as I get near one, instinct kicks in and suddenly I’m hissing at a snarling Terrier in the middle of the road.
✘ Belly rubs; Touch my belly, I bite your hand off. Capeche?
✘ Morons; If there’s one thing that rubs me the wrong way, it’s people acting ignorant on purpose. It’s even worse when these people are in positions of power.
✘ Werewolves: UGH. DON’T; JUST DON’T GET ME STARTED ON THE SMELLY BEASTS.
✘ Backaches; With all the hours I spend hunched at that desk, my spine needs cracking a lot. Also, parkour is not kind to the back muscles.
✘ Gin; There’s not many forms of alcohol I won’t drink, but good God, gin must have come straight from the teat of Anubis himself. I’d rather drink floor polish – there’s not much different in the taste anyway.
✘ Insomnia; When my worries really set in, I don’t get much in the way of sleep. It wouldn’t be so bad, but I can’t concentrate on much during these times. It’s a waste of my hours, really.
✘ Witches; I don’t trust them, not after what happened with my parents. I’m not really one to hold grudges, but I hears stories even now of Sphinxes dying at the hands of those meddlesome creatures.

Born sometime in the first few decades of the first century; he’s not sure of the date, but recalls seeing Vesuvius erupt, which was fun to watch. (Sarcasm; even for a man-eating Sphinx it was terrifying. Well, he was a kid at the time.) Additionally, he remembers his parents being killed when he was around his teen years; hunted by a coven of witches who wanted their blood. Bastards.

The rest of his history is as it would be for anyone as old as he is – seen a lot of shit, done a lot of shit. He’s seen Empires rise and fall, religions dashed to peaces or revered far enough to begin wars over; oh, and the wars. Humans are nothing without their conflict, it would seem. Even as the modern world began to take over, the wars still existed – except in more broad senses. Condemn a man for his preferred lover, his religion, his skin, his job – a common thing to be found, and despite the lack of battles, it still remains a war. And Ari has become sick of wars.

Obviously the two that remain freshest in his mind are the World Wars – the Great War, as it was called, was thrilling to him. Bloodshed, bodies to be eaten, the obvious advantage he had over the Huns. He even stumbled across a few good friends; famous authors by the name of Lewis and Tolkien. Casual racism from the pair regardless, they made the trenches easier. It was here he was shot for the first time.

The Second World War wasn’t half as easy as the First. He didn’t think much worse would happen, but when the Allies finally retook Europe and he saw the Camps, he saw how wrong he was. It was at this point in Ari’s life that he began to realise that there was more than just killing and eating humans. Keeping in contact with his old friends via letter (He couldn’t let them see him; as humans, they’d be instantly curious as to how he hadn’t aged a day from the war), they opened him up to the possibility of writing. However, it took several decades for him to take on board that advice.

He instead began focusing on other things – skills that will be of use for him. Visiting many different countries to learn languages, art styles, cultures; he opened himself up to how diverse the humans really were. Ari learned how to fly, how to speak and write several languages, even attempted cooking (Not a fantastic venture, as many blown up ovens will show). However, the taste of killing was still tempting to him, causing him to venture out and... “lease” himself to certain individuals. Remember Jimmy Hoffa? Yeah, that guy gave Ari indigestion.

Nowadays, Ari is far more easy-going to the human race. He’ll occasionally kill someone here or there, but as morals have seemingly caught up to him, they’re rarely innocent. Usually scumbags that he finds in the street or something. He much prefers regular food these days – pork is an extremely good substitute. He did take up his old – and now, sadly, dead – friends’ suggestion, and Ghost-writes for a good number of different famous celebrities, musicians, play-writes and directors. He also recently got into parkour, as running and climbing through urban settings has always been an enjoyable pastime for him – it’s only just now that it isn’t seen as crazy, however.

Probably has a few siblings and extended family running around Egypt; he’s never been one for family reunions.

Avalon Point – 1224 Lake Street

Can speak Aramaic, Ancient Greek, Latin, Spanish, and Egyptian. Oh, and some rusty hieroglyphics too. His Parents insisted, after all.
Has a hella big crush on Brendan Urie.
Owns three cats: Apollo, Artemis, and Ra. Why? Well, the first two are twins; one which won’t shut up singing yowling, the other keeps hunting mice and bringing shit back to the flat. The latter because... well, Ra was a bird-headed God and he appreciates the irony.