Post by Haoma on Dec 29, 2017 1:07:06 GMT -5
I'M GONNA MARRY THE NIGHT,
"Hate? It is love that carries my blade.
Not that it matters much to the slain."
"Hate? It is love that carries my blade.
Not that it matters much to the slain."
I WON'T GIVE UP ON MY LIFE,
NAME: Haoma
GENDER: Male
AGE: Twenty five
AFFILIATION: Sun Clan
GONNA MAKE LOVE TO THE STARS,
PERSONALITY: A calm and soothing figure, outwardly. Indifferent and cool-headed, but also alert and with no shortage of self-discipline. He can be suspicious of new people or things sometimes, but overall he doesn't let the little things get to him, and he's willing to shrug off the pettier things in life. In spite of this, he is a deeply curious man at heart. While it might not be obvious at times, he loves his family and friends. He loves to be around them, and there is little he wouldn't drop for them. Haoma does not particularly dislike those of the Moon Clan per se. He does recognize them as an enemy though, and knows they feel the same toward him, and so they are met with distrust regardless
LIKES: Self-improvement; meditation; painting; insects; sweets; music, the rain
DISLIKES: Those from the forbidden shore, getting sick, wasting food, medicinal odors, birds, braggarts, gratuitous cruelty
I'M NOT GONNA CRY ANYMORE,
HISTORY: Haoma has no memories of his father. He knows that he was a bard of sorts - a gatherer of song, story, and poem - and that he passed from illness before his son was even a year old. His mother found new love in two years time, and so it has always been them: a scribe and a warrior. His father's remnants live on in the writings and footnotes of his work, but he carries no special connection to the man beyond a relapsing curiosity. Haoma would have liked to meet him even once, but his loss is not felt. Not truly.
In his youth, Haoma was nothing less than a brat. He was impulsive, temperamental, and short sighted. From as early as ten it wasn't uncommon for him to start a fistfight with the neighborhood boys, even if he lost more often than he won. When it was twelve it had become enough. He had expressed interest in becoming a warrior one day, but with his current attitude he would only find a quick and undignified death. His mothers had been lenient, but they knew they had to crack down. They instilled discipline in him. A sense of responsibility, and the knowledge that he could be emotional without letting those emotions guide his life. He pushed back at first. Said things he regrets to the present day. But it worked in the end. The Haoma at sixteen years of age was a completely different person.
Still declaring that he would seek a warrior's path, his sword-trained mother declared that she would teach him everything she knew. He officially took up arms at seventeen, and while Haoma is not the clan's mightiest defender, he has served with distinction and made a name for himself as a rare calm mind in the tempest of battle. Seeking to better himself, he was later trained in the use of heat magic to further bolster his usefulness. He has never enjoyed the kill, but he faces it with grim determination, and it's always gotten him through.
And so he lives. Sleep, eat, train, and then more dirty work. A red cloud, once raging, but now at peace.
FAMILY: Two mothers; the one who birthed him, and her new partner following his father's death.
POWERS: Heat magic; Haoma can absorb heat from his surroundings or an object he is touching, and then expel it for a wide variety of uses. Taking something's heat will of course rapidly cool it, possibly even to freezing point if he takes enough, so in this sense it can double as contact-range ice magic as well.
WEAPONS: A khopesh. Has some experience with hand-to-hand.
DOWN THE STREETS I LOVE,
OOC NAME: Gemini
HOW DID YOU FIND US: Ad
PASSWORD: Moon Cookies
CUSTOM TITLE: Scarlet Cloud
ROLEPLAY SAMPLE:His eyes were closed. His body was still. The world - and his heart - were at peace.
Meditation had been hard at first. Haoma was an unruly child. The concept of doing nothing for extended periods of time held little appeal. But fool that he was, for thinking meditation was "nothing." It was hard work. The hardest of his life. But not without great reward. He had gone his whole life acting on every thought that entered his head. He only learned this to be folly when he finally forced those thoughts still.
And so it was that he sat before his bed. Legs folded, eyes closed. His breathing calm, meticulous. There were no thoughts, no worries. There was the distant rustle of the wind. The ambient creak of wood. The settling of a beetle. The hum of the earth. All worldly desire melted into the world around him, and he along with it. It was relaxing. The world required so much thought. Little things that pulled forth greater things, until even sleep was an impossibility. But now there was only awareness. Awareness that he was not those thoughts. That he was not a mere observer. Haoma was himself, and for these two hours every morning, he was more himself than ever.
There was no escaping reality's pace, but any good activity required a healthy break. If only more people realized this.
He felt the first tingle of heat upon his bare back. Dim rays of light trickling through his window. It seemed the sun was finally rising. That meant his two hours were over. Haoma opened his eyes, greeting the gentle light that had not lingered prior. He would meditate longer, if he could. But taking a break did not mean reality took one with you. The world moved on, and so as important as these little sessions were to him, it also became important not to be left behind. He rose, refreshed and alert. A top lay across the bed at his back, and he slipped it over his head without a moment's hesitation. The wooly fabric felt electric against his skin, revitalized and open as he now was.
It was only dawn now. That meant there was still time for a brisk jog, if he hurried.- - - - - - - - - -
TEMPLATE MADE BY PANDA.
MODIFIED BY LOTTI.
LYRICS FROM LADY GAGA'S "MARRY THE NIGHT".