The World that Never Was
Name: Reynar Smithson
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 25; both
Appearance: Long jet hair falls in waves just passed Reynar's shoulders, framing the lithe sharp features of his face. Keen silver eyes shine from the shadows of his pale visage cast by heavy black brows. A light grin usually curves his lips ever so slightly, it's intent unknowable. Tattoos run along the underside of his jaw and around his neck stretching underneath his clothes. Strong muscles cling to his tall lithe frame (6'0", 170lbs), carrying the posture of a king, never daunted. A black leather jacket holds his frame tight with a white t-shit that stretches over the endless tattoos that move across his body. His tattooed hands usually rest in the pockets of his black, fitting jeans.
Soul Branch: Hunger of Famine
Soul/Cursed weapon: White armor plating that spans the length of his right arm. Used primarily to guard, but also aids in strong hand to hand blows. It also helps to channel soul essence more effectively.
Cursed Equipment: NA
Soul Radiance: The radiance of Reynar's soul is powerful and adaptive, much like he is. It's attuned more to element of the skis as it rests calm, free, yet always holds the capabilities of a destructive tempest if the right conditions are seen. He is able to use the nature of the element to speed his movement, and even leap some great distances. This could also be used to create greater impact force when he uses hand to hand. The possibilities of the adaptive nature of wind and the creative nature of his mind seem to unfold endlessly. An affinity for barriers also sprouts from his need to protect. Again, he likes to rely on creative ways to implement them.
Personality: Reynar's strength of will surmounted any other quality, not letting anything stop him from reaching his goals, and his goals never fell short of perfection. In life he explored many creative outlets, music, art, etc., and everyday was a struggle to improve, to reach whatever it was he was looking for. To that end, he couldn't quite find what that was, but he never stopped. However, as a person he was far less harsh, opting for compassion and kindness, if not in his own unique way. However, pushing people to do better, be better, always seemed to be a priority, even when unwelcomed. Other than that, Reynar was described as accepting, caring, always ready for a new experience, a new day, a new chance to be better, and always ready to share it with who ever happened to be close. Essentially, the opposite of what other's assumed at first glance of his dark exterior. Another dominating quality was his need to keep moving, figuring if he wasn't moving, he wasn't going forward. Despite this, he always found people to care about and who cared for him, and he hoped to leave them better than when he found them. However arrogant, he figure his intentions to be good. He found a way to become attached to these people, and often he found himself in the role of a mentor or protector for those in need. This is one of the things that seemed most fulfilling to him. Then like the winds of change, he'd be gone. Still, at the end of the day, he felt empty, and even until death he couldn't fill that hole.
History: The resounding plunk plunk of water smacking a pot placed bellow echoed in the dull empty room, accompanied only by the zipping sound of a brush running over the deep ridges of a thick paint canvas. It's wielder's expression grew stern as he paused to observe. A chill in the air made the hair on his bare skin raise as he sat cross-legged on a worn wood tile. He had no reaction, the painting being his sole concern. Nothing else existed. A switch had gone off in his mind, one that caused ever fiber of his being to be draw to the canvas, and every detail became his world, every stroke like a breath that lead to another and another. A grin crossed his face and he quickly began to swipe across the painting again, each stoke he grew with excitement. Maybe this time, he'd get it. Frantic movements forced him back to his feet allowing him to reach the far corners of the large canvas. The air became electric and the dull room seemed to buzz with the bright colors of his mind. Suddenly, he stopped. He sighed. The muscles of his jaw tensed, and in one quick movement he tore through the canvas with a growl. The man turned and took a few measured steps as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. The energy died, and the room again became reminiscent of a prison cell. "Not good enough," he whispered. He gripped the copper locket sitting against his bare chest, remembering the moment he first wrapped his finger's around it. He'd opened it to behold it contents, and whispered, "perfect."
She gave it to Reynar what seemed like an eternity ago. A youthfulness still filled him, and eternity sat at his fingertips. Though, that hardly matter when she was there. He sat in amazement as she would work across her art with precision, never doubting what it would be, if she'd done something wrong, if it would be exactly what she envisioned for it. When she finished, the girl turned into the twilight sun flooding her small studio, and perfection never seemed more attainable. Reynar smiled as he stood and looked it over with awe. "Like it?" her voice carried with a softly but ever so sweetly.
Reynar chuckled lightly, "Yeah, but I think I hate you now," he joked. She laughed with him, and moved closer as he turned. Only a breath separated the two. With a nervous smile, he brushed back a lock of her golden hair. His awe faded as an odd sensation washed over him, consuming him and leaving only contentment, joy.
"What's the matter, Rey?" she asked, with a sincerity that he'd never heard again.
A warm grin spread across his face, "Nothing, Sky, nothing at all," and it seemed that things could stay that way forever.
Her head leaned ever so slightly in curiosity, but it passed as something caught her attention, "I got you something," she reached into her pocket, pulling the locket and raising it into the sun's brilliant rays for it to glisten as it swung in and out of the light.
Reynar raised an eyebrow, "Jewelry?" he chuckled.
"Open it," she said with playful exasperation, and pushed it against his chest for him to catch. With a clicked, it snapped open, and for the briefest of moments, he found what he was looking for. Sky fidgeted briefly, "You know, it's...it's," a softly laughter escaping him interrupted her.
"It's perfect," and she let the brightest smile escape her lips, the one he'd not forget in a lifetime, or more.
What is your favorite part about RPing: Writing in general, but if I were to say my favorite part of writing, it would be developing characters. Not just seeing how they grow individually, but to see how characters grow together, how they connect and interact. It's really quite fascinating to me.
