Character's Name: Fairfax
Nicknames: Fax
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Species: Kelahati
Abilities:
As with others of his kind, Fairfax is gifted with the ability to communicate with animals, both wild and domesticated; his success at bending them to his will depends on the strength of his relationship with them, which, much to his chagrin, often means wild animals won't pay him any attention at all. In this, his sister, Eathelin, surpasses him, and as such it is a skill he rarely practices in her presence.
Instead, he takes great pride in his second form - that of a juvenile lion. Gifted with all the speed and strength of the animal, whether walking on two legs or four, he is drawn to the art of hunting, and will take on prey well outside his level of skill for the pure joy of it. Sometimes he succeeds; sometimes he does not. In the case of the latter, he has grown just as good at escaping.
Appearance:
As a human, Fairfax appears as a strong young man a handful of years out of adolescence. He had thick golden hair cut raggedly around his neck and a distinct muscular build born of years of hard labor, tanned from the sun. He is careless of his clothing, preferring a sturdy leather vest, or, when summer dictates it, to go shirtless altogether; his breeches are homespun wool like that of his sister's dress, and typically tucked into boots that lace up the calf. An unusually fine, if old, dagger is usually sheathed and belted to his side. Though his face is not precisely catlike, his eyes have the same almond shape, in addition to slitted pupils. His nails are also reminiscent of a feline's; though they do not retract, they are opaque white and come to sharp barbed points on every finger and toe (much to the woe of his boots). He has a slender tail with a puff of golden fur that is prone to giving away his moods, much to his dismay.
Unlike Eathelin, Fairfax has no reservations about shifting, and revels in his leonine form. Lithe and golden, with a youthful mane that lacks the heavy fullness of a mature male, Fairfax is nevertheless a fearsome hunter in this body, and enjoys running down his prey as a lion every bit as much as he does on the back of a horse. Like his sister, Fairfax has the blue eyes of a cloudless sky, and this remains the same whatever form he chooses to take.
Personality:
If the old adage about opposite siblings needed any weight at all, Fairfax and Eathelin could well provide it. Where she is shy and reserved, he is spontaneous, uncontained energy, leaping from one task to the other with the gusto of three men. He thrives from meeting strangers, but is quick to form judgments of them, and will eagerly join into the jeering and harassment of those he deems unworthy. He dislikes to be shown weakness in himself and will avoid tasks that might otherwise display his incompetence, though he is a source of hearty encouragement to his friends. Most of all, however, he treasures his little sister. A slight against her is an excuse for a fight, and more than a few of the young men from nearby settlements have lost a tooth making presumptions about the quiet lamb girl.
Though it would seem that Fairfax and Eathelin have little enough in common, there is a side of him that others rarely see; a serious, patient side, remnants from a childhood cut too short. He learns slowly but will not allow himself not to learn at all, and comes to Eathelin, unabashed, when injured from his escapades. This quiet bond is unique to the pair - not hidden out of shame, but deemed too valuable for the everyday, and could, quite conceivably, be called moments of love.
History:
Where Eathelin was too young to remember much of their parents, Fairfax has memories of them before the sickness; of their father, a tall, dark haired man with a wolfish face and quiet confidence, and their mother, a light, beautiful woman who laughed and sang like a bird. The illness that took their lives marked him much more deeply than his baby sister, and the graves where they lie are the one place in the farm's pastures he does not go, too consumed with the pain of their passing to bear witness.
Instead, he threw himself into the tasks of the farm. Too young and, to the eyes of many, too weak, he blundered time and again, falling prey to heartless merchants and wolf packs that roamed the forests near the Blodet River. But he learned. And as he learned, he watched Eathelin, unburdened by loss, grow into a happy child. Bit by bit, he reclaimed his own confidence, guiding them away from starvation into comfort and even, he dared to say, prosperity.
But as their comfort grew and the dangers of failure receded, Fairfax was... bored. Gone was the drive to save every penny; he indulged himself at the tavern, making friends and hearing stories. Of course, many were exaggerated and few knew the land better than Fairfax did... but every now and then, a stranger would come to market, and bring with them wild tales of far off lands and beautiful things. Consumed by curiosity, he avoided the farm more and more, resenting its predictability, its unending mundanity. Though he hated to disappoint Eathelin, he could not shake his wonder. No more, he would tell himself at night, would he be chained to the grave of his father.
Why couldn't Eathelin just see?
Nicknames: Fax
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Species: Kelahati
Abilities:
As with others of his kind, Fairfax is gifted with the ability to communicate with animals, both wild and domesticated; his success at bending them to his will depends on the strength of his relationship with them, which, much to his chagrin, often means wild animals won't pay him any attention at all. In this, his sister, Eathelin, surpasses him, and as such it is a skill he rarely practices in her presence.
Instead, he takes great pride in his second form - that of a juvenile lion. Gifted with all the speed and strength of the animal, whether walking on two legs or four, he is drawn to the art of hunting, and will take on prey well outside his level of skill for the pure joy of it. Sometimes he succeeds; sometimes he does not. In the case of the latter, he has grown just as good at escaping.
Appearance:
As a human, Fairfax appears as a strong young man a handful of years out of adolescence. He had thick golden hair cut raggedly around his neck and a distinct muscular build born of years of hard labor, tanned from the sun. He is careless of his clothing, preferring a sturdy leather vest, or, when summer dictates it, to go shirtless altogether; his breeches are homespun wool like that of his sister's dress, and typically tucked into boots that lace up the calf. An unusually fine, if old, dagger is usually sheathed and belted to his side. Though his face is not precisely catlike, his eyes have the same almond shape, in addition to slitted pupils. His nails are also reminiscent of a feline's; though they do not retract, they are opaque white and come to sharp barbed points on every finger and toe (much to the woe of his boots). He has a slender tail with a puff of golden fur that is prone to giving away his moods, much to his dismay.
Unlike Eathelin, Fairfax has no reservations about shifting, and revels in his leonine form. Lithe and golden, with a youthful mane that lacks the heavy fullness of a mature male, Fairfax is nevertheless a fearsome hunter in this body, and enjoys running down his prey as a lion every bit as much as he does on the back of a horse. Like his sister, Fairfax has the blue eyes of a cloudless sky, and this remains the same whatever form he chooses to take.
Personality:
If the old adage about opposite siblings needed any weight at all, Fairfax and Eathelin could well provide it. Where she is shy and reserved, he is spontaneous, uncontained energy, leaping from one task to the other with the gusto of three men. He thrives from meeting strangers, but is quick to form judgments of them, and will eagerly join into the jeering and harassment of those he deems unworthy. He dislikes to be shown weakness in himself and will avoid tasks that might otherwise display his incompetence, though he is a source of hearty encouragement to his friends. Most of all, however, he treasures his little sister. A slight against her is an excuse for a fight, and more than a few of the young men from nearby settlements have lost a tooth making presumptions about the quiet lamb girl.
Though it would seem that Fairfax and Eathelin have little enough in common, there is a side of him that others rarely see; a serious, patient side, remnants from a childhood cut too short. He learns slowly but will not allow himself not to learn at all, and comes to Eathelin, unabashed, when injured from his escapades. This quiet bond is unique to the pair - not hidden out of shame, but deemed too valuable for the everyday, and could, quite conceivably, be called moments of love.
History:
Where Eathelin was too young to remember much of their parents, Fairfax has memories of them before the sickness; of their father, a tall, dark haired man with a wolfish face and quiet confidence, and their mother, a light, beautiful woman who laughed and sang like a bird. The illness that took their lives marked him much more deeply than his baby sister, and the graves where they lie are the one place in the farm's pastures he does not go, too consumed with the pain of their passing to bear witness.
Instead, he threw himself into the tasks of the farm. Too young and, to the eyes of many, too weak, he blundered time and again, falling prey to heartless merchants and wolf packs that roamed the forests near the Blodet River. But he learned. And as he learned, he watched Eathelin, unburdened by loss, grow into a happy child. Bit by bit, he reclaimed his own confidence, guiding them away from starvation into comfort and even, he dared to say, prosperity.
But as their comfort grew and the dangers of failure receded, Fairfax was... bored. Gone was the drive to save every penny; he indulged himself at the tavern, making friends and hearing stories. Of course, many were exaggerated and few knew the land better than Fairfax did... but every now and then, a stranger would come to market, and bring with them wild tales of far off lands and beautiful things. Consumed by curiosity, he avoided the farm more and more, resenting its predictability, its unending mundanity. Though he hated to disappoint Eathelin, he could not shake his wonder. No more, he would tell himself at night, would he be chained to the grave of his father.
Why couldn't Eathelin just see?
