P R E S E N C E
Cécile moves like a mist over water—demure, graceful, ephemeral, a being caught between the world of the living and something far deeper, perhaps eternal. There is a quiet, understated grace about him, an aura that suggests still waters running deep beneath a surface of calm indifference. Cécile's silence is not the silence of apathy, quite the contrary, but of someone who listens to the quiet hum of existence, as if in communion with things most people overlook. When he speaks, his words come slowly, deliberately, as though each thought has been sifted through an ancient sieve of wisdom. His voice—gentle, hushed—makes others lean in, drawn by a magnetism they can't quite place, as if in Cécile's presence, the air itself feels more delicate.
Those around Cécile are inexplicably soothed or unnerved, depending on the weight of their own souls. Cécile doesn’t judge, but his steady gaze and the aura of solemnity he carries has a way of making people confront the truths they’ve hidden away. People often find themselves revealing more than they intended, offering up pieces of their soul like driftwood to the shore, their own edges softening, their anxieties dissolving in the gentle pull of Cécile's presence. It's easy to forget, in those moments, the boundaries that typically define the self.
Decisions are made with careful precision, not from a place of hesitation but from an innate understanding of the consequences each choice may bring. Cécile weighs his actions as one would weigh the stars, considering not only the immediate but the everlasting. The reality is that Cécile is quite afraid of the unknown. Having been tucked away in a small pocket of the universe for so long, relative isolation has made him wary of those from the mainland. Therefore, any action he takes is done with great sensitivity to ensure the least harmful outcome. Though Cécile is not entirely beholden to his natural naivete, there is so much about the world that he has yet to experience, so his confidence in traversing these new, foreign lands leaves much to be desired.
He does not give orders or commands; instead, he suggests, and others may feel compelled to follow as though it were their own decision. Communication, for him, is an art of listening as much as it is of speaking. And yet, despite the mystery that surrounds him, there is an undeniable gentleness. His empathy is not worn on the surface, but it radiates from him like the soft glow of a distant star—subtle, but ever-present.
There is a soft melancholy to Cécile's demeanor, a wistfulness that lingers in his gaze. It is the melancholia of someone who has touched the edges of death time and time again, tasted solitude like a vintage wine, and found in it a sort of beauty, and pain. He is never hurried, never impatient; time itself seems to slow in his presence, as if reality bends to match his rhythm. Others may struggle to define him—some see Cécile as a cold, others as profoundly kind—but all agree there is something ethereal about him, a quality that places him just beyond the reach of the mundane world.
As the Regalia of Anima, Cécile is an enigmatic but relatively well-known figure among the people of Eshea and, to an extent, in the immediate surrounding nations. His pure image and sacred role as a Funérailles has served him well in some respects—in furthering his identity as someone who is beloved and cherished with a sort of reverence one might bestow their innocent, first love. Cécile guides his followers and those abroad through their mournful hours and tempers their midnight terrors with pleasant, sweet dreams. It is only natural, then, that his innate temperance and virginhood is a virtue no one can deny romanticizing.C H R O N I C L E
Cécile’s story begins in the cradle of luxury, where golden light bathed his early years and marble halls whispered promises of power and privilege. The youngest of three, he was the delicate thread in the grand tapestry of his family’s legacy, his father Raynaldus, an eccentric politician of boundless ambition, and his mother, Hippolyta, a regal beauty with the blood of Dalmascan royalty running through her veins. Though he was born in the western country of Nibelheim, it would be in Eshea, his father’s homeland, that his life would be truly shaped.
"There is nothing more honorable in this world than a proper burial."
They moved back to Eshea when he was only four, settling in the gleaming city of Montá—the Citadel—a renowned city of old-world charm, encased in a fortress of metal, keeping its timeless beauty protected from the world outside. This was a place where the elite thrived and were shielded from the woes of the less fortunate. Raised under the Citadel’s silver skies, it was here where Cécile's childhood began (soft and sheltered)—his days filled with the luxury only the Montágasque could understand. His world was one of silks and gemstones, the quiet hum of politics brushing against the air, and the certainty that his future would be paved with the same power his father wielded so easily.
But Montá was a city of strange traditions, and fate or something far older, as it often does, had other plans for the noblesse, aristocratic youth. At the age of ten, the Council of the Citadel chose him for a role unlike any other—a Funérailles, or Hopekeeper—a role both revered and immeasurably isolating. They sent him away, far from the gleaming walls of Montá, to a small house adrift on the ocean’s endless horizon. His task was solemn and queer—he was to officiate the seaside burials of those who died at sea, a child shepherding souls into the depths. This custom of funeral rites was called Mer de rêves (The Sea of Dreams).
"Freed...from the chaos..."
His only companions were mourners who came to bid their final goodbyes, and the fragile höpes, delicate birds whose brief lives measured the time the friends and family of the departed should grieve/mourn. When a höpe died, so too did the mourning period. The silence of the sea was his constant companion, vast and unbroken, except for the occasional supplier from distant Tenshi, who brought sustenance and supplies.
"I never chose to be a Funérailles, a Hopekeeper, but I will continue to do what I must with dignity and respect, if only for those who can no longer do so for themselves. Perhaps, that is the only reason why I am here."
Isolation bore heavily on Cécile's spirit. The weight of solitude and the ever-present specter of death chipped away at the carefree child he once had been. Yet in his quiet despair, the Dominant of Dreams, Anima, took pity and reached out to him, her blessing falling over him like stardust on still waters. Her magic allowed Cécile to escape, if only in spirit. Through astral butterflies, delicate creatures spun from his very essence, he could soar beyond his floating home, seeing the world through their eyes. His butterflies danced over cities and mountains, entering the dreams of strangers and wandering through lives that were not his own. It was through these dreams that Cécile experienced the world he had been torn from—the bustling streets of far-off lands, the laughter of children, and the simple joy, sorrow, and love of human connection, though fleeting, as none of it truly belonged to him.
The years passed, and Cécile, now marked by Anima’s magic, became a Regalia—touched by her gracious divinity. This honor earned him a reprieve from his duties, a rare pardon from the Citadel council. He was granted passage to the Festival of Lights, where other Regalia would gather, each tethered to the divine in their own way, each worshipped by those who sought their favor. As Cécile stepped away from his floating prison for the first time in a decade, the world beyond the horizon shimmered with possibilities unknown. The Festival awaited, but so too did the changes that would shape his life in ways he could never have anticipated.H O M E
Eshea is a country of quiet grandeur, where the soft patter of rain on cobblestone streets is as constant as the gentle hum of political intrigue. Its capital, Océanteau, perched like a jewel upon the surface of a vast, tranquil lake, resembles a Venetian dream, with grand buildings rising from the water, their spires reflected in the endless ripples below. The lake’s narrow canals wind like veins through the city, connecting plazas adorned with marble statues and ancient cathedrals where whispers of worship rise like mist to the heavens. From this central heart, the River Léon weaves its way through the countryside, threading together the smaller cities (resembling the Cotswolds) that dot Eshea’s landscape like forgotten pearls, each distinct yet united by the lifeblood of their common river. It is a rainy land, where the skies seem perpetually veiled in soft gray clouds, and the air is always cool with the promise of a downpour. At the very least, Eshea does experience all four seasons, with Spring and Fall being the most prominent and rainy.
The people of Eshea, much like its landscape, are varied and diverse. Their language, the French-esque Eshiyaos, is flowing and melodic, resembling that of North Accadia, though spoken with subtle differences in inflection and dialect that create a unique harmony all their own. In Montá and Océanteau, the educated elite switch effortlessly between this native tongue, the Tenshi language, and the English language that dominates the entire world. Venture beyond these famed cities, and English is fleeting and unreliable. However, Eshea’s coastal cities are rich with the cultural remnants and dialects of Tenshi immigrants. Eshean society is most devout to Anima and Ultima. Those more in tune with their Tenshi culture and heritage, tend to be less enthralled by these two figures.
Eshea’s social order, however, remains rigidly defined. It is a land where prestige and wealth reign supreme, where influence is as valuable as gold. To truly belong here is not a matter of residence, but of power—whether by lineage, fortune, or political savvy. Power is traded like secrets, and survival means mastering the art of staying relevant in the eyes of those who hold the keys.
Though Cécile was born in country of Nibelheim, his earliest memories belong to Montá—the city encased in metal and privilege, known to many simply as The Citadel. Nestled in the foothills of the towering Montague Mountains, hence the city name, Montá stands as a testament to wealth and exclusivity. Its imposing metallic wall, gleaming like a fortress from ages past, encircles the city, guarding its treasures and residents from the outside world. Within those walls lay a contradiction—a city steeped in old-world beauty, where the streets are lined with elegant art nouveau façades and grand Edwardian mansions, yet ruled by cutting-edge technology and humanoid AI bots, which cater to the elites' every need and those who can afford to visit.
Despite the constant hum of automation, Montá feels more like a preserved relic of a bygone era, its cobblestone streets winding through low- and mid-rise buildings that echo an age of grandeur. The absence of towering skyscrapers lends the city a distinct intimacy, where ornate ironwork balconies and stained glass windows adorn nearly every structure. The influence of Tenshi culture is palpable here, too—rich silks, flowing robes, and delicately embroidered patterns mingle with the traditional Montágasque attire, a reminder of the wealthy Tenshi immigrants who had once made Montá their home. This diversity of culture, however, does not extend to a diversity of class. Montá’s ethos revolves around lineage, prestige, money, and the endless pursuit of political power. To become a Montágasque citizen requires more than just residency; it demands birthright, immense wealth, or the favor of the city's ruling council—a group that upholds the city’s oldest, most exclusionary traditions.
Amidst this affluence, Montá’s charm lay not only in its architectural splendor but also in its natural beauty. The city is known for its rolling hills, softened by the frequent rain that makes the landscape lush and vibrant. Roses—delicate, fragrant, and ever-present—cling to the walls and blossom in every garden, painting the city with their soft, transient beauty. The seasons in Montá unfold like a tapestry: spring brings life to the roses, summer glistens with rain, autumn wraps the hills in gold, and winter veils the city in mist. Yet through every season, the ever-present cloud of tradition lingers—a reminder that this is not a city for the ordinary, but a world where the wealthy thrive and those outside its walls remain forgotten. Cécile, once ensconced in this opulent life, grew under the watchful gaze of this insular society, learning the unspoken rules of its labyrinthine politics and old customs, until fate pulled him away from it all.T R I V I A
Likes:- Reading books
- Brewing tea
- Singing (Cécile has a really pretty singing voice and can often be found humming to himself)
- Chocolate, but anything sweet really
- Painting
- Caring for the höpes
- Dream journaling
- Stargazing
- Writing poetry
- Transcribing old sheet music
- Swimming
Dislikes:
- People touching him without consent, even friendly physical gestures he instinctively recoils from
- Technology, he's terrible at using it
- People with bad intentions
- Slimy things
Other:
- As a Funérailles (Hopekeeper is the more modern term people use), he can be identified by the "Mark of the Funerailles", which is a pair of symbols engraved in the palms of his hands by the previous Hopekeeper. He usually hides these marks by wearing a pair of violet gloves, which coordinate with his silk slip
- Usually has a small book on his person at all times
- Can usually be found carrying a parasol
- He is the ultimate waifu who can cook really well; he had to learn how to cook for himself since the age of 10
- He is a Montágasque citizen who also has citizenship in Nibelheim due to birth and Dalmasca due to maternal ancestry
- He speaks Montágasque, a dialect of the core Eshean language (the French-esque Eshiyaos), but he also speaks English with a posh/received pronunciation-style British accent, which is the primary accent in Montá.
S O C I A L
Cassiel
(Estranged Friends)
Cécile and Cassiel met by chance during a star-gazing festival on Cécile's last day of freedom before departing to become a Hopekeeper, a time when both were overwhelmed by their respective destinies. Cécile, afraid of a future he did not choose, found reassurance in Cassiel's company. They maintained a long-distance friendship for a few years, but Cassiel’s growing cynicism and detachment caused a rift, leaving Cécile hurt by his former friend's callousness. Once kindred spirits in the tender days of youth, they now drift like strangers in the twilight of adulthood.
Nyx
(Distant Cousins)
Cécile and Nyx share an eternal bond, bound by blood through a shared grandfather, a man whose infidelities shaped two families living worlds apart. In early childhood, Cécile’s days were spent with his cousin Nia and the Stryxs, but when the Heartfilias returned to Eshea when he was only four, their connection faded, leaving only faint memories of a fleeting time together. Now, both stand as Regalia, wielding immense power of the Dominants. How will the paths of these cousins converge again? Only time will tell.
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