Leslie
Hunter of The Wilds
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✧ Reflection of genetic abnormality plagues his flesh in marks of albinism and a more shocking display of partial diprosopus/craniofacial duplication.
✦ Albinism: All color appears drained as porcelain skin clings to a near emaciated frame and a snowy mess of hair shields his features. Leaving the only true mark of vibrancy to shine through mismatched hues framed by pale lashes. ✦ Diprosopus: Often concealed with a mask forged in a mix of draconian and avian details yet beneath it lies mutation. A mouth stretched too far with a threat of dual fangs as what should have been two became one, leaving an extra tongue housed within. That which cannot be covered as easily though is a central eye bearing multiple pupils, each chasing the motion natural gaze follows. ✦ Feathering: (present after blood bond) Dual set of wings adorn his back, those often folded and kept tightly wrapped about his frame as if to hide them away amidst other feathering. Far smaller wings sprout behind his ears, each one bears a multitude of eyes of various size mirroring the colors of a natural tri-gaze. ✧ Wild wisps of fluffy white twist against his crown, each curl unmatched as if cut with his own blade rather than by any of true skill. Still it manages to hide the point of elven ears. ✧ Soft eyes peer out into the world reflecting internal sadness though to those merely observing the color which shimmers against the light, they shine in reddish-pink hues ringed by blue. Dark slitted pupils rest at their centers. ✧ Fairly small in stature Leslie is far from reaching a general status of well-being as both physical and mental maladies often hinder progression. This unimpressive frame is marred by numerous injuries, many he refuses to speak of.
✦ Right ear is unevenly notched through the outer rim along the central lower edge. A mark of property accompany other engravings of ownership. ✦ Carvings of an ex-master’s tusks lace over each side of his throat though, after more recent burns, only the etchings on the left side can be seen clearly. ✦ The dragging fangs of an animal’s bite mar a left forearm while the dual slash of a blade lay across the edge of his wrist, trailing onto the back of his hand. Higher upon the same limb clawing mars the shoulder only to stop short from the center of his chest. ✦ Downward arch of a knife mark the left side of his chest, moving across the sternum to barely reach the right side near the ribcage. ✦ Various other scarring decorates his skin - those of curving fangs and slashing talon, mark of tusk and blade - each fading with time with many hardly visible now, paling in comparison to all else which adorns him.
✧ Remnants of a fallen draconian naïve . distrustful . grim . curious . sarcastic . fearful From the very start it was clear one cannot rely on others. It is up to an individual to survive and yet he finds himself greedily latching on to beings who treat him with a shred of civility, offer more than aggression or disdain. Leslie is one who clings to softened phrases, easily drawn into the embrace of those who speak with dulcet tones. He was taught to serve, to bend to another’s whims without question, surely it would lessen any punishment for thoughtless acts whenever courage managed to rear its ugly head; banishing flourishing unease. Yet no matter how one may hope - he knows better - disappointment could be death and while one may have wished for such an embrace there have been passing moments in this walking realm which drive him to hold ever tighter to an ever flickering flame. Slow to form trusting bonds he looks upon others - whether they be stranger or not - with suspicion lacing his gaze. A constant worry that they may turn on him at any given moment, the second he is seen as useless to them. Such a time no doubt lurking just around the bend. However, despite this distrustful nature Leslie is rather gullible. Easy to sway into doing things he knows one shouldn’t, acts that go against his better judgment. Naivety plagues him. The boy aiming to please any that grow close to him or at least manage to weasel their way into his mind. Hovering around such beings for a passing sense of stability even if it will never calm high strung nerves. Festering anxieties that will never quiet for he’s convinced danger lies upon every rising sound or motion, illusions blending with reality. But no matter his worries, he is dangerously curious, forcing himself to ignore both real and fabricated dangers for that fleeting chance of something better. Despite being bore into the volatile ranks of the Drih'liri Leslie was seen as nothing more than an outsider to this supposed ‘family’. True parents slaughtered he became a slave beneath a proclaimed master’s claw, trained via violent reaction to bend to the whims of his betters. A youth taught just enough to survive and serve, to hunt and tend to the maladies which may plague, to communicate with the clan and no other. Over time he earned enough leniency, falsely placed trust that terror would keep him grounded, bid him to come crawling back time and time again. Instead, while hesitant at first, he slipped away under the guidance of another - one he worries may still trail his steps. Leaving paranoia to flood an already unstable mind.
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