Post by Deleted on Dec 13, 2014 16:58:17 GMT -5
[attr="class","main"] [attr="class","imgdiv"] [attr="class","name"]Cyrel Baern [attr="class","race"]Ferelden, Elf
[attr="class","infoh"]Physical Attributes
[attr="class","infoc"]Cyrel is a thin, small elf - someone clearly not getting enough to eat. He has untidy, uncut dark brown hair that falls around his ears neatly, exposing them in their elvishness. His brown eyes match his hair, and his skin is a deep brown to boot. However, his clothes are slightly brighter, a light green color - he wears a simple green robe, in tune with his former profession as a mage, though he has pants and a shirt if a robe is not suitable clothing. Around his head - underneath his hair - he wears a black bandanna as a headband, covering up his tranquil marking. He is a worn and simple elf, overall, with no scars to speak of. [attr="class","infoh"]Personality
[attr="class","infoc"]Cyrel comes across as a kind young man who is a bit socially awkward, a little unaware of how to react to others well, and genuinely likes to help. He likes to know, but prefers to quietly observe, staying at the fringes of conversation unless seeing something particularly interesting or is invited it; naturally, the kind of guy who doesn't make many friends, though traveling frequently doesn't really help that much. Simply put: a kind, quiet outsider. Underneath that, of course, is the emotionless, intelligent tranquil. He has learned how to mimic emotions and come across as the kind man he wishes to appear; he does not desire to interact much, most of the time, and mimicking does not mean understanding, so he comes across as socially awkward. His notebooks are filled with observations on how people react, and he has memorized most of it, in order to apply it to himself - someone it comes across as stilted, as Cyrel is forcing himself, but it is never contradicting with his own emotions, so it merely seems awkward. Below his acting, Cyrel is a focused, determined individual; he feels no attachment to any specific location, merely tries to get a job, and when he loses it (or cannot get one) he moves on. Questions are something he prefers to normal conversation, as he likes gathering information, and he has certain preferences for things within life. Trust is not a commodity he hands out easily, nor is anything related to intimacy - Tranquil are not sexless beings, as many seem to think - however, he can be won over by time and continual proving that the trust is worthwhile. In short: There's much more below the surface when it comes to this young elf. [attr="class","infoh"]Background [attr="class","infoc"]Cyrel would have a preference, even in the current time, to not speak of his past. Born to a city and a dalish elf who had fallen in love, residing within the Highever Alienage, Cyrel had a good, but poor upbringing. A smart boy, and enthusiastic, he got his hands on every book he could, eagerly devouring them and absorbing all the information. Knowledge was fun - though he didn't neglect his family, nor his assorted friends around him, and was always a delighted child. True, he had his rough patches, and people could be too much for him, thus causing him to hole up in his room for a little bit, but overall, he was a happy child, and their life was good. His mother was actually pregnant with another child - thank the Creators - when it went topsy-turvy. When he was eight years old, he realized that he possessed magic. His mother was horrified - her immediate thought was that they needed to alert the Chantry; she didn't want him to be branded as an apostate, and was very hesitant about the thought of a mage in the house. His father, on the other hand, the former Dalish elf, put his foot down. He couldn't stand to have his son locked away because of what he could do - it was antithetical to what he believed, and he didn't like the Chantry, to boot. Thus, for four years, Cyrel got to hide away in the Alienage; he kept his powers secret and his head down, and it was alright. At least, until he was twelve years old - apparently, he hadn't been careful enough, and there were Templars coming for him. His mother got her way this time, keeping back his father and allowing him to be taken. Cyrel didn't begrudge her, but he didn't want to go; he cried the whole way there, tears unquenchable. When he got to the tower, it wasn't much better. While he took to his learning with a passion, reading as much as he could every day, he pretty much refused to interact with other people. The templars got sullen, red-eyed glares (the tears didn't stop, almost ever, he was too much of a homebody), and as time passed... Well, having an elvish boy who followed the Creators, resented the Chantry for bringing him there, and who wasn't taken until the absolute last year that mages were usually taken in? It was clear he was dangerous. Thus, when time rolled around... Cyrel didn't find himself undergoing the Harrowing. Instead, the terrified elf awoke one night, scared out of his mind - and never felt another emotion again. His eyes were dull, voice dull, head shaved and sun brand planted firmly on his head. Unwilling to stay with the Circle - trust was something he did not possess towards the Chantry and the Circle, even lacking emotions - and he left, choosing to seek work elsewhere. It was not commonly done by Tranquil, but it was done; the only problem with such an action was the common people's trepidation for how they acted. At first, travelling to Kinloch Hold, Redcliffe, and beyond, Cyrel found just that. Though many people didn't recognize the mark on his head, his attitude quickly halted them. Some realized, once observing him, some asked questions and then understood, and others didn't even try to know, but just sent him away, horrified. He quickly realized that acting as would be his preference would not be efficient - thus, Cyrel had to observe. For the next five years, as he traveled, Cyrel watched. What people did when they were happy. How their eyes crinkled up at the corners, the thinning of lips, the furrow of brows, and the way their hands moved. The Chantry was happy to employ him - as much as he distrusted them, it was a good amount of work that gave him access to many people. Whenever they came to pray, he would observe. Whenever they came to donate, to speak with someone, whenever the people who worked at the Chantry came by... he watched, observed, and took note. Books were filled by the time he was done at the Chantry, and he had changed greatly, superficially. He knew how to smile in a fashion that would not unnerve, crinkle his brow, and manipulate his body movements. Cyrel seemed an understated man, quiet and not very emotional, but he still seemed normal. Buying a bandanna to cover up his tattoo was the topper, allowing people to become more comfortable with him, and thus ease conversation and make finding employment more efficient. In short, it was better. Continuing with his role as a scholar, though he did occasionally take up employment as a simple worker - he was not very physically fit, hence his lack of taking on such a job - Cyrel traveled, choosing to remain within Ferelden. He observed, learning more and more how to act 'normal' for the sake of easiness, and moved on whenever a job was complete. It was a simple life, but it wasn't as if he could be disappointed in it. |