[center][h1][color=a3cde3][b]Xian Haoran, The Black Jade [/b][/color][/h1][/center]
[center][color=bce4ec][i][b]-Surname: Xian (仙, Immortal or celestial, can denote “fairy”)
-Given Name: Tao (濤, the sound of the sea)
-Courtesy Name: Haoran (浩然, “vastness, greatness”)
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[center][img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/829042283478777866/1242959266822881382/IMG_3476.png?ex=664fbb86&is=664e6a06&hm=81964d160284f894d4d2b7716fa7ca7288c96469b17df417c99fce0652fcb590&[/img][/center]
[center][h2][color=bce4ec][i][b]"Why wait for death when I could give it to you so tenderly?"[/b][/i][/color][/h2][/center]

[center][h3][color=cee2eb][b]✚ BASICS ✚[/b][/color][/h3][/center]

[center][color=f1f8f6][i][b]⥼ AGE and BIRTHDAY ⥽[/b][/i][/color]
25 ─ November 4th[/center]

[center][color=f1f8f6][i][b]⥼ IDENTITY ⥽[/b][/i][/color]
male ─ cis man ─ he/him[/center]

[center][color=f1f8f6][i][b]⥼ STATISTICS ⥽[/b][/i][/color]
5’6” ─ 157 lbs ─ sleek and densely built[/center]

[center][h3][color=cee2eb][b]✚ APPEARANCE ✚[/b][/color][/h3][/center]
[center]Xian Haoran is a traveling cultivator, hailing from a cultivation sect in the northern islands. He wears traditional, noble Hanfu instead of cumbersome metal armor, opting for mostly blue and black shades of fabrics, and letting all of his beautiful layers of silk billow in the wind. He has a fairly sharp V-shaped face with undefined, pouty lips and an even, sloped button nose. His eyes are shaped like willow leaves, and the irises glitter a dark blue-purple shade like storms. The eyes themselves look tired, shadowed by his long, downcast lashes and a severe-looking set of brows. Haoran tends to wear his long, dark hair half-up, opting for tying a loose bun with a dark blue ribbon matching his deep-water eyes. Two moles speckle his otherwise jade-pale face, one under his right eye and one on the left side of his chin, under his lip. He always stands with dignity and great posture, a long neck framing his pristine and aloof face. 
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[center][h3][color=cee2eb][b]✚ PERSONALITY ✚[/b][/color][/h3][/center]
[center][color=edf6f6][b][i]Clever─ Playful ─ Protective[/i][/b][/color] ⤄ [color=8295bf][b][i]Distant ─ Vengeful ─ Hot-Headed [/i][/b][/color][/center]
[center]There was a long time ago when Haoran had compassion in his heart, when he’d sit and heal people, when he’d take as much time as needed to help others— almost as if he was making up for lost time, out in the west of the archipelago. He seldom showed his emotions, seeming stoic, but still had a gentle smile and a friendly shine in his once ocean blue eyes. Since he was little, he was trained in swordsmanship and magic, and all of this culminated into a strong, gentle, and infinitely patient young man— diligent in his teachings, never skipping or snuffing a single lesson, never raising his voice, able to wait and meditate and simply learn and teach to perfection. The Black Jade never repeated himself, always able to wait, to observe, and to flow with what others presented him. 
It seems, after such a long slumber, a switch flipped in Xian Haoran’s head. He can’t sit in peace and think of the world without thinking about why everything should die for the suffering he faced. He can’t train and hone his skills unless he pictures blood staining his blade and bones cracking under his fists. His gratefulness, his gentleness, it’s all been replaced with ever-flowing turmoil deep in his chest, and resentment in all forms bubble and boil. There’s no such thing as perfect moments anymore. He seldom waits, and when he waits, he waits for prey to fall into a trap. His heart got hollowed out by memories awoken, and he struggles to feel anything but rage and pain. Though, now that he has room to be more than a kindly and distant disposition, he’s become a little more mischievous, showing a quick wit and snark that has long been beaten down. There’s no more reason for him to sit and ponder and train in silence, unless it is to get revenge on a world that shred the fabric of his being into nothing but rags. 
Much has changed, and now, blood will run for the sake of his own solace.[/center]

[center][color=f1f8f6][i][b]⥼ ORIENTATION ⥽[/b][/i][/color]
Homosexual ─ homoromantic[/center]

[center][color=f1f8f6][b][i]⥼ THEME SONGS ⥽[/i][/b][/color]
[url=https://youtu.be/g756zrPWBw8?si=KjIHFNSlq5P4R8mI]“Magnolia (Cover)” ─ [i]zoozbuh[/i][/url]
[url=https://youtu.be/bF8QtjW-Qao?si=9RQ1vCc-oHMmTw0D]“Myosotis (Cover)” ─ [i]Chogakusei[/i][/url]
[url=https://youtu.be/ywzBa9AAHgM?si=Oxxmj0tbaHyVI6jT]“Marigold (Cover)” ─ [i]BEKAIN[/i][/url][/center]

[center][h3][color=cee2eb][b]✚ STRENGTHS ✚[/b][/color][/h3][/center]

[center][color=f1f8f6][b][i]⥼ FOCUS CORE ⥽[/i][/b][/color]
Blood, extremely advanced[/center]

[center][color=f1f8f6][b][i]⥼ APPLICATIONS ⥽[/i][/b][/color]
Haoran’s core was the strongest his sect had seen in generations, making him exceptionally talented in magic pertaining to his aspect. From a young age, this man has had a profound understanding of the aspect— for example, he can control water so acutely he can take it out from the humidity of the air, find water in plants, and even control the water in the blood of human beings and other animals. He understands water and the link with life it possesses, and through it he has spells so strange some people wouldn’t be able to guess where he managed to develop them from. Water-based magic, for Haoran, is almost second nature, to the point he may rely on his magic a bit too much— but what harm can that do..? He knows how to use water for healing, for blocking, for dodging, for moving, even for extending the edge of his crystalline sword with ice, or sending frozen dagger projectiles to any targets around him. Truly, his magic and form is the epitome of flexibility and flow, though… he often sees his magic as a first and last resort. The following “spells” are actually not properly named, just examples of his most common uses of his abilities.[/center]

[center][color=f1f8f6][b][i]⥼ SPELLS ⥽[/i][/b][/color]
[color=989ec9][b]Water Whip ─[/b][/color] a simple and low-cost spell involving Haoran taking a bit of water from a source such as a lake, a bottle, or even the humidity in the air, and using it for many things— including, but not limited to: literally whipping enemies, grabbing things out of Haoran’s reach, and defending his blind spot. 
[color=989ec9][b]Ice Travel ─[/b][/color] Haoran and his party is not limited to just the ground. He can easily summon pillars, bridges, and platforms with ice, and because of it can get places faster with people he cares about.
[color=989ec9][b]Healing ─[/b][/color] with water and some focus, Haoran can channel energy through water to heal various wounds and illnesses— he may use a whole body of water for intensive healing, or a palmful of water that floats on his hand to heal injuries in a pinch. 
[color=989ec9][b]Fluidity ─[/b][/color] water moves and adapts around anything it comes in contact with, and so does Haoran. With this spell, he stops and simply allows things to pass around him like fluid water— essentially a fast dodge. 
[color=989ec9][b]Shadow Hopping ─[/b][/color] with enough water, Haoran can vanish into the humidity of the air, or even a puddle, and quickly pop up somewhere else.
[color=989ec9][b]Shadow Puppeteer ─[/b][/color] Haoran can focus on the blood within living things and force them around, usually to grapple or incapacitate. Before his slumber, he never used this technique. Now, it’s one of his favorites to employ. 
[color=989ec9][b]Ice Blade ─[/b][/color] Haoran can use sharp daggers of ice, both as pure projectiles and as extensions or modifications to his attacks. He can even form ice on his sword if needed, using it as an extension or a power-up. [/center]

[center][color=f1f8f6][b][i]⥼ KEY of VIRTUE ⥽[/i][/b][/color]
His virtue key and primary weapon is a Chinese “jian,” in other words a two-edged sword, forged by Aleksei long ago based off of Haoran’s description of “good swords.” This sword was forged in some otherworldly manner— its blade extremely sharp and opalescent, as if a giant fiery opal was polished and honed into a lethal edge. it has an off-putting translucency to it, the hilt contrasting the glittering and ethereal blade with a simple but flowing hilt and a pommel with its name engraved in mandarin characters— “微光,” meaning “twilight.” It has the ability to use its stored magical energy to move on its own accord, and channel energy from Haoran to be controlled with just his mind. In the last days before his entombment, Haoran tied a dark blue sword tassel to the pommel, for “good luck.” The irony.[/center]

[center][color=f1f8f6][b][i]⥼ SKILLS and HOBBIES ⥽[/i][/b][/color]
Playing the dizi (a type of flute) ─ playing the guqin (a type of seven-stringed zither) ─ singing — swordsmanship[/center]

[center][h3][color=cee2eb][b]✚ HISTORY ✚[/b][/color][/h3][/center]
[center]Xian Tao was born in late autumn to a spiritual cultivation sect in the easternmost parts of the continent: the Xian sect. For generations, the Xian family and all the disciples have studied the various arts and schools of magic, learning how to strengthen themselves, their weapons, and their spirits. His mother, Hua Yuemeng, resented how small and delicate he was, expecting him deeper in the winter months— yes, she was married off very early, and yes, she herself was still very young… maybe her midwives were right, saying she needed to put on more weight to carry a baby better. Then again, she was only seventeen, being sent to the Xian sect to wed the eldest son of the sect leader and heir to that spiritual throne when she was sixteen. Sure, Xian Yichen was… thirty… but this marriage benefitted both of their families! And he was strong and tall, surely they’d have a great child, right..? 
The only good news was that Yuemeng’s firstborn was a son. That firstborn still came a month early, and… looked sick, tiny, almost like if she held the baby’s limbs too hard they’d snap. One of the midwives even suggested just “letting go” of the tiny thing in her arms, to let the earth retake him. Her major qualm with that was.. wouldn’t it be unlucky to spit the gods in the face, to say “this son isn’t good enough” to them? It’d certainly be too much to expect them to apologize and give her something better than the little baby boy in her arms. Along with that, she… didn’t want to go through those horrid seven or eight months again, and she didn’t want the pain of childbirth again. 
When she approached her husband and father in law, they didn’t seem too happy about Xian Tao’s existence, either. They probably expected a strong baby, a healthy baby who didn’t need medicine the second he came out of the womb, a baby who could hold the Xian family name. Little Xian Tao, while not killed by the grace of his mother, was still rejected by his father in every way but officially. It was actually Lady Xian who noticed her small and sickly son start using magic at 18 months, the same time he got a grasp on walking, and it was all on his own! He was seen playing with the water in a fishpond in the courtyard, stumbling around like toddlers like going, and Hua Yuemeng just had to call her husband over to witness the sickly child effortlessly move spheres of water with fish in them. 
Sometimes, Lady Xian wished she never pointed out their son’s talent to her husband. Maybe she would have kept raising the sickly child, and then he would’ve learned to laugh and smile. It was fine at first— Lady Xian often sat in the courtyard as Xian Yichen very gently taught their son more about the core of Blood that he seemed so talented in. When little Xian Tao was four, Xian Yichen started teaching him magic alongside the eight year old disciples. And then, when he was eight and already *stronger* than the masters when most children his age barely started to learn magic, Hua Yuemeng stopped seeing her sweet son. 
She never wanted to question how her son disappeared, how she barely saw the small child— and, when she saw him, he just stared.. absently. She pretended to ignore distant screams and cries, and she pretended to ignore the bruises she found at bath time, and she pretended to ignore all the signs that little Xian Tao was exhausted. Hua Yuemeng still sat there with her son, still comforted him, still tried her best to maybe ease the intense training he was thrown into far too soon, but… something changed in that child’s curious mind, and made his deep blue eyes ever distant. 
She still got to sit there and watch her son learn many other things— history, calligraphy, cultivation principles, how to play the seven-stringed guqin and the flute, how to shoot a with a bow and arrow how to fight, but… she never saw Xian Tao’s magic courses again. 
She learned why, when her son vanished at the end of fall, at his tenth birthday. Xian Tao returned to her with his beautiful, dark blue eyes, but… they were hollow. His skin, too, already pale like white jade, looked ashen instead of lively. The worst part was when her son asked for help with… an injury. 
The image burned into her mind. On her only child’s back, her once tender son, she saw the Xian insignia [i]branded[/i] onto him, the burn of a circle with a beautiful orchid upon it deep and welted and clear. Not only was that brand on his left shoulderblade, but she saw strange runes trailing down his entire left side, starting from below the shoulder blade and ending at his lower hip. As she put ointment on them, she noticed two things— these strange sigils were… [i]carved[/i] into her little Xian Tao, and they pulsed with a strange, blue energy. This… was the last straw. How could her husband treat [i]her[/i] son like that?! How could the sect itself be okay with this?! 
Lady Xian decided to look through the sect’s literature— she was sure whatever was going on was written into some of the scrolls kept in her wretched husband’s study. When she found the unassuming scroll, a simple roll of cream paper tied up and locked away with documents like the sect finances and trade agreements, she thought it was just another training manuscript. 
She was wrong. 
She almost gagged in disgust when she finally closed the thing— there were… experiments? Strange ramblings she barely could understand, trying to hone magic further and… using Xian Tao as the test subject, as the start— the median between the magical cultivation world and normal, weak people. It was simply [i]vile[/i] to think Xian Yichen was okay with torturing his only son for the sake of… science? Could she call this science? The bastard [i]hurt[/i] Xian Tao for years on end, and then [i]carved[/i] him up. Hua Yuemeng did the only thing she knew was the right thing— she had to confront her disgusting husband, the newly appointed and honorable sect leader who so honorably turned his [i]son[/i] into a magical weapon with absolutely no remorse. 
That’s how Xian Tao became alone. That’s how his single comfort, his mother, was taken away from him. He simply never heard from his mother again, after he saw the way she threw herself at the person he was forced to call “father.” That was when a truly awful waiting game began. 
Truth be told, Xian Haoran can’t remember those days, the days where he was always called ‘little Xian tao’ well. He just remembers pain in his back, and how long he waited for a chance to run away during a training mission when he was eighteen. He remembers the trek he took to the west, all on his own. He also remembers the days he spent honing *himself* into a fine, razor-sharp edge, instead of being sharpened and calloused by his father. 
He knew how to wait for his happy ending, and he knew that the magic in his body was [i]his own[/i] instead of anyone else’s. He learned what freedom was to him— it was the ability to wait, and the ability to help others. 
It’s a pity he became another tool for the council to use. It’s a pity he knows, now, that the hollowness eating him couldn’t be filled with endless diligence and compassion. It’s a pity all he has left is to finally lose his patience and rage against the world that threw him into slumber.[/center]