Limerick [Character Form]

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Author Games: Empty Night

Synopsis: This Limerick is simply sublime,
But still he atones for his crimes,

And he watches them fall,
He, his friends, one and all,
They'll burn by his flame in due time.

Name: Limerick

Age: Youth is natural on him, and it's been so long that keeping track has become a trivial thing. He doesn't know.

Gender: Male, he supposes.

Faction: Fallen

Appearance: Limerick, like any other Fallen, is marked by the sheer beauty that anyone who has ever laid foot in the Above possesses. While he does not shine as bright as those who still reside up there, he shines enough to send the common mortal into a trance of staring, thinking. His skin is dark and clear and smooth, unblemished aside from the markings on his back that he gained from his jarring impact with the ground (but it's not like anyone gets to see those, anyhow, so what's it matter?). The body itself is sharp and broad, and tall enough to draw a person's attention on its own if his other attributes were erased. There is a certain strength about him, but a certain delicacy at the same time, a fragility and grace in how he walks and regards other souls. It is a thing that makes one wonder what it'd be like to know and care for him, and it is a thing that makes one wonder what it'd be like if ever you cracked or crossed him. God help whoever does. 

Personality: It's been mentioned that Limerick doesn't share the same beauty as those still in the Above; it is now vital to note that he doesn't share the same glow as other Fallens, either. He has become dull in comparison for a few reasons, but this is the most primary: he refuses to feed on human souls to keep up his health, and he only does so to keep the madness away. There is a remorse that comes with feeding, and ever since his violent crash to dirt and grime, he's tried to atone for his crimes and the crimes of his counterparts, even if they refuse to play the same game as he. If he does feed, he'll do so only on those who suffer, and even then he approaches with the gentleness of a guardian angel (what else could he mask himself as?). He is soft and careful and obedient, always willing to please, and spends his time amongst flowers and candlesticks and poetry, but there's an instability in this routine of his - he moves with trembling hands, gripping things too tightly, accidentally snapping the wax, and you can tell he's starving and ready to snap more than just a candlestick to release the tension of his hunger.

Other: The last time Limerick came across a Child of Hell, he nearly exhausted all of his energy trying to kill the damned thing. It'd looked at him wrong. He's not sure how well his restraint would fare if this happened again. 

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