[☉] N A M E
Sullivan Ray Hart
[☉] N I C K N A M E
Sol
[☉] A G E
27
[☉] G E N D E R
Male
[☉] O R I E N T A T I O N
Homosexual
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[☉] A P P E A R A N C E
"Mirrors like to lie: it calls me human and gives me a face."
Lovely is the day when Sullivan can look up and see something he doesn't hate. Whether it's the curve of his cheekbones, prominent and jutting, wide and impactful. Or the curve of his eyes, tilted away from the center to hang with the dark bangs under his lids - too much attention to the bags and not the startling grey-blue steel swirling in the darkness around his pupils. People always wondering, "you look tired. You get enough sleep?" and the answer always, "No," but that look wouldn't fade. Just like the plaster of his forehead, covered in stress and worry, pinching the spot between his brows. Strong jaw, square face, square shoulders slumped and alluding to a strength garnered by carrying burdens rather than weights. An exhausted 5'11", a whole inch shaved in a slouch he could hardly notice impacted by heavy footfalls in a pair of black converse a few years over worn just like the jeans that cling to his strong thighs and calves and small hips. Just this shy of too skinny if not for the hundred pound of muscles that carry the worn, weary bones they curl around.
For all intents and purposes, Sullivan is perfectly healthy. Even if that's a stark lie.
[☉] M U T A T I O N
WIP
[☉] P E R S O N A L I T Y
WIP
[☉] B I O
WIP
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[☉] M I S C E L L A N E O U S
WIP