DIVERONA @archivesdiveronarpg - Tumblr Blog

Congratulations, LOTZO! You’ve been accepted for the role of CASSIUS. Admin Taryn: I think the greatest testament to this application is the fact that Cassian was developed in ways and areas that I hadn’t even started to consider. Lotzo, yours is the first application for Cassius we’ve received, but without a doubt I don’t need any others to know you have his portrayal nailed. Your initial analysis of my darling conspirator was what gripped me and didn’t let go; you brought up corners and edges of his self and morality that I’m not sure I would have been able to come up with should I have been left alone to ponder Cassius for hours. And THAT’S why I’m so happy to hand this character over to you – he’s no longer mine, but entirely yours! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Lotzo

Age | 18+

Preferred Pronouns | They/them

Activity Level | I’m currently on my gap year, so this will probably change week to week. But I am a consistent writer - I write one response every two days as a minimum (no matter what else is going on), and may write faster at times. I am also normally available to chat with (I’ve got Discord, and Skype) because I get bored and like plotting with people. But this also means I have no definite commitments or school, but I might be on a plane. So it depends on my internet level and where I am, but a solid 5/10.

Timezone | ???? Right now, I’m at GMT +8, but next week I will be at GMT +9, and in two months I will be at GMT +11, and then in six months I might change again.

In Character

Character |

Cassius - Julius Caesar. Cassian Kun Hee - DiVerona

Cassian - Narcissistic, Vain. Latin

Kun Hee - No direct translation. Korean.

Face Claim - Lee Soohyuk

What drew you to this character? |

I’m an English Korean so asian characters immediately endear themselves to me. But the more I read Cassian’s biography, the more I fell in love and realise that I have no choice but to get dragged back into RPing (blame Ark).

Also, disclaimer : I’m planning on going into physics and philosophy at university and have spent alot of time in my local art museums and indie spaces, so I apologise for any rambling or things that don’t really make sense.

To start with, his parents are Korean. This is always an interesting dynamic, especially if they grew up in Western civilisation. What things do they keep, do they treasure, do they reject, do they find outdated? For Cassian, his obvious lack of care for his mother (the way he would willingly use her to further his own goals) was striking, and felt wrong. You never do ill of your elders in society, and especially not your parents. They are often all you have, and you respect them no matter what. What sort of thoughts were going through his head (she’ll get her name back, nothing permanent is actually happening, she’ll die anyway, I won’t be suspected, 엄마, I’m sorry, I don’t feel sorry, nothing matters) how would she react if she found out? My father is English, but I know how Korean fathers can be. They are often distant because of the work load and the desire to earn money for their children (I know one father who doesn’t get home till 1 am, but does this to earn money for the child to go to tuition, so the child feels the pressure to do the best with the opportunities provided, but it creates an interesting dynamic). They push and have expectations and this pressure to be as his father was - known - is something that shaped Cassian’s ambition.

Then the idea that his father influenced the world of philosophy. How could you change it? What ideas could you add to change the world? Modern understanding is founded in Aristotle and other ideas, but now we are branching into a new area, and what scholar wouldn’t want to expand on that? The Ancient’s ideas of categories and standards and relationships is something that we can no longer apply to us today. 90% of our universe is something we don’t even know exists, quantum has changed the way we research, time isn’t real, so how can Greeks be right anymore? I think that Lucien was working with ideas of truth and eternal nature, but to explain that would take a book.

But here’s my thought - there’s no such thing as truth in the modern age. People have struggled since the beginning to define it, and now we question whether definitions of anything can truly exist. So there’s a mix of existentialism and nihilism and if the only truth you have is the truth you choose to give yourself (but what is it to be human other than to have the freedom to shape the way you want your life to move), though Cassian has words to tell Satre about how he was wrong but maybe so close to being right, then Cassian knows that the only thing that is real is himself (I think, therefore I am). Everything will one day die, so while he lives he will pull everything out of the world for himself because one day everything will die, so who cares about morality and consequences when this is his life and he needs to make the most of it.

And those with ambition can only make it in two places - crime and politics. But aren’t they the same thing anyway? And there must always be a backup plan - so always know the game that you are playing. So Cassian went into law (this is the one area that I am not so fluent in :P) to understand and to learn and to grow and to strive because he needs to go up. He was bored all the time, even as a child no-one could keep up, nothing entertained him. So, being human, he still strove for attention - but did it in the safest way possible. He pushed the boundaries, and he found just how malleable they were. Marble could only bend so far, but people, they were easy.

Then the frustration, the palpable desire, the conflict in his head. Is he the pedestal, the power behind the throne? Or does he take credit, does he take his rightful place? Because he doesn’t want to be seen on throne, but he doesn’t want anyone else to be seen there instead. I also like how this mirrors the play - the desire to overthrow a tyrant (though for ambition, not personal freedom / Is Faron the modern Caesar? ) his manipulation of others, by whatever means to achieve his goal. (A pity we don’t have a Brutus) But the question is whether he wishes power for selfish ambition - or plain envy. He likes to be the top person in the room, the one with the power, the one others seek to gain affection and approval from.

So basically, I love the little details of Cassian’s life and how it all builds up to create the person that he is today, married, embroiled in the mob, confused as to what direction he wants to take his future. That motivation and that history is what draws me to writing him.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

~~ Ruin and Rumination

And this man/

Is now become a god, and Cassius is/

A wretched creature and must bend his body/

Cassian had sought out Faron, had sought out the power the other man could give him. But as is all things ambitious, there can never be enough. The play uses Caesar to describe him as having a “lean and hungry” look, and this is how to best describe him.

Cassian had given himself a goal, one that he had since achieved, and now he wanted more. He had said that he wanted to be the neck, and the neck only, removed and therefore protected. But this invisibility comes with a cost - no one can see that you are there, no one appreciates the effort. And Cassian is narcissistic, he wants the adoration and reverence that other people have gifted him since he was a child, and how can you receive that when you stay in the shadows?

So now Cassian is pulling at his leash (self imposed and otherwise), straining so hard that soon something must break, though who and what is still to be seen. I want to explore what will happen with his desire for power, whether he will get it or whether it will all come crumbling down around his ears.

~~ Power requires people

They are the faction. O conspiracy/

One cannot bring down a kingdom by yourself, one cannot have ears in every corner, but it is possible to hire them, bribe them, force them, manipulate them.

To sit on a throne has no meaning unless there are people to do your will, to adore you, to flatter you.

Power requires people, so Cassian needs to build his network, men loyal to him and only him. He tells others “spies, only, to gather information for the Spades, do I not have the authority to do at least that?” But Ajax, Hector, others who seek to stay with the final winners, they pledge themselves to Cassian. But do they know that they sell themselves to the Devil and not the gods who seek to rule Verona?

I want to explore how he relates to people, how he is charming and forthright and how he builds those relationships, how he makes them sign themselves to him. How does he manipulate them, how do they react when the future is a train barreling right into him?

~~ Wedding Bells Ring

Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience./

And not my husband’s secrets?/

For so many, their greatest day is when they get married, when you have an equal, a partner, someone to trust wholly and will be loyal till the end. For Cassian, the day he got engaged was the day he felt himself signing away his freedom, a leash in the form of a metal ring on his finger.

Still, Cassian must adapt, because he can’t let the water rise over his head, needs to deal with the unpredictability of humanity - even if this means a new wife. Even if this puts new standards on his image, to the way he must adapt to involve a human being in his personal life, to how vulnerable it makes him (when you can’t hide inside your house you can’t hide at all, and one day it might all come spilling out).

I want to explore their dynamic, their relationship and the way that it could develop. Do the seek to get rid of each other? Tolerate the other? Merely using each other until they can be thrown away? Or are they protective of each other (no, it’s just my name), or realising just how human each other are?

~~ Great Art Depicts Emotion

He is a great observer and he looks/

Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays/

As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music/

Adulthood is a progression of childhood, so marble begets marble. While his parents showed emotion, were dutiful in their duties, there’s only so much you can do for someone so totally surrounded by wealth and finery and never being allowed to be wrong.

But who cares about emotion when everything is destined to fade into dust and then into nothingness, the chaos and entropy of a closed system set only to increase. Who has time for the way that other people think or react? Emotions and passion are things that Cassian doesn’t understand, doesn’t normally experience. (Frustration, anger, care, adoration, but rarely happiness, rarely sadness, never love)

Art is art because it is a way to convey a meaning or emotion to others. This was where he learn what the extremes of emotion were, so while he doesn’t love art, doesn’t love displays of passion, he finds himself constantly drawn to the theatre and the museum and the church, trying to understand this riddle that he can barely see.

I want to explore how Cassian related to others, how he displays emotion, how this varies from person to person, how much of it is actually an act. I want someone to try and break those walls down and realise that it a futile job - because there is nothing behind those walls. I want someone to merely exist in his life, and suddenly there is weakness, and how does Cassian react?

In Depth

Broad red strikes crisscross over the hint of a blue background, white scratches scored deep with a palette knife. Acrylic and oil, sliding over each other, refusing to react, red leaving gaping wounds on the canvas. Gold leaf brushed over the top, highlighting texture. A small plaque reads “F®iend”.

It looks like the taste of the champagne he is drinking, one hand curled around the stem, the other buried in a trouser pocket, head tilted as he examines the work. Fury and hatred trying to mar a bright history, but unable to, richness in the dark and regret buried in the heart.

He can’t feel it.

Something almost present on the back of his tongue, an ache in his molars and a heaviness on his chest. But there is still something missing, so Cassian continues to stand there, one hand buried in his pocket, one curled around the stem of a glass. But the taste is bitter, dirt lingering on his tongue, and he tries to find something more in the paint.

Behind him, the sound of footsteps come close, then stop, muted in the occupied room. A voice enquires from behind him, “Do you mind if I ask you some questions Mr Kun Hee?” Nervous, tight, some anxiety at approaching, but still a deep voice. Cassian doesn’t bother to turn around, relaxed eyes still breathing in the vivid motion on canvas. He shrugs, then takes another sip of the champagne. (Yet still the bitterness lingers on his tongue)

The person coughs, then asks, “What is your favourite place in Verona?”

His fingers tap idly on the glass, the moment stretching out between them. He can hear the shifting of a jacket as the person moves, and Cassian breathes in, out, in, then replies, “I daresay I haven’t been here long enough to give that question the full answer it deserves. You architecture is much more grand than America, your religion a lot more steeped in history, your shops in vice. A day at a time though, I think.”

There was much in Verona to inspire, to claim and conquer, but they were all just buildings. They each brought out different aspects, required a different style of thought to appreciate. The bridge allowed freedom of thought, the museum enhanced appreciation, the library for knowledge.

Still, he tended to revisit the galleries most often, like a mystery he couldn’t walk away from. He stood in front of the painting, in front of the sculptures, trying to make sense of the emotion portrayed, tried to imagine his own throat bared back in a parody of marble. He hated not knowing, walking around with something hollow, some piece of the puzzle, some thread that connects creation and leaves him stranded in the dirt. He hates it.

But still he returns.

The person hums, and then the sound of scratching of pencil on paper, like a buzz behind his ears. “You didn’t really answer the question, Mr Kun Hee.”

The next painting was as tall as person, a steady gradient of gold to burgundy, brush strokes nearly invisible, the faint impression of silver clouds broiling on the horizon at eye level. “Ruin”. Cassian steps towards it, eyes closing for a moment, the hint of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he hears the person fumble, quick steps as they move to stand behind him again.

“But that’s alright, I’ll just move onto the next question, shall I? What does your typical day look like?”

His glass motions towards the painting in front of him, “I wake, I exercise, I go to work, I appreciate.” This painting was darker, no pastels or brighter colours, no white to highlight motion. It seemed to suggest the steady decay of everything, the dark red on top threatening to swallow the clouds and gold below.

“I-, what does your work normally look like?”

Cassian scoffs, the only movement a brief eye roll. “Do you want a detailed description on attorneys operate and the information on my clients, or will you take what I have given you?” The constant sound of movement from behind him threatened to tear him away from the paintings, the heels of leather shoes scuffing the floor, the movement of a jacket against a shirt. And now, a cough, and the shuffling of paper.

In truth, his work involved legally representing people, but also ensuring that the law was always on the side of the Spades, and doing whatever Faron needed next. There was also the gathering of his own intelligence and background work that needed to be done to ensure loyalty, though that tended to take up far less time and far more of his mind compared to his day job.

The detail of the painting was highly technical, the stroked all leading to a nebulous center, the clouds barely emerging from the background once you looked closer, though so clear from further away. Latex mixed with paint, softening the edges so the paints could move together, gel added to the background, dimming the colours.

“That will be fine, thank you. Final question, what are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?”

Cassian stilled, chin tilting upwards, an eyebrow barely raising. This was popular gossip in Verona, especially with recent developments, so not unusual. But unexpected. The sound of the person grew quieter as Cassian didn’t answer, before his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Is it a war? I thought it was only a blood feud, though it has yet to cross into my court. However, I have heard rumours of a new group, the Diamonds? But perhaps this means that there is no war anymore, which can only be a good thing.”

And this was true, to an extent. It was a silly little battle between two groups that had once had the potential to be so much more, but were reduced to petty bickering and local conflict. It was good that it was over, good that power had come to the Spades. (To them, not to him, and for a moment all Cassian could feel was an itch under his skin, his breath catching in his lungs as the red on the painting seemed to overtake the canvas.

“But why do you ask?” Cassian said, the hint of curiosity turning him away from the painting to face the questionnaire. But there was no-one within twenty feet, and he would have heard the sound of footsteps moving away.

In-Character Para Sample:

The rasp of cash sliding against a palm is smothered, the heat on the night damping all noise around them. Notes slipping between people, instructions to be given from person to person to person. He was never involved.

The wind whips away his breath, and his stomach feels cold even as the humidity chokes everyone else. Cassian can’t tell if he’s falling or flying anymore, whether he’ll hit the ground or rise above heaven.

But one things is true - he is no longer bored.

—

The table is opulent, yellow and pink flowers in a vase on the table, several members on the local government invited to a dinner. His mother sits at his right, adorned in a delicate white dress, his father on her right. Inane conversation, gentle laughter, “who takes care of checking financial records?”

—

The sound of the TV was a constant drone in the background, something to fill the dead air as they worked, a blank faced news reporter with a monotone voice.

The sound of his mother’s pen stopped, and Cassian looked over to see her staring intently at the TV, so his head titled that way as well.

“There have been more recent developments with the call for impeachment for the South Korean President, Park Geun-hye. It has recently been revealed that her friend, Choi Soon-sil, was the daughter of a cult founder, and that her father was also a close mentor to the current President. Additionally, the corruption charges against her continue to mount, and a lot of Koreans are now more conscious about their government’s fiscal responsibilities, and many major companies are being looked into.”

—

Seollal was a major festival, Koreans’ inviting family over to celebrate a time of new things. Normally, they would go to South Korea and visit the extended family, but this year they were staying at home. New allegations were continuously being brought against them, and a case file was being built.

It was the beginning of a new year, Seollal, and the three of them were gathered around a table. Normally, they would go and visit South Korea and the rest of the family, but this year there were mounting pressures as new allegations were brought against Hana, the threat of a court case keeping them nearby.

Silence echoed throughout the small dining room, the faint clink of cutlery against plates the only conversation in the room.

Clink.

Mechanically chewing the food, turkey and rice and kimchi and ddukgukk and carrots. Only five side dishes, but three courses, and silent looks shared between his parents.

Clink.

Cli- “Cassian, I want to ask a favour.”

The three put down their cutlery, the farce of a meal paused for a moment, and his gaze flickers between them.

“Anything, 엄마, what do you need?”

His father this time, leaning forwards with his elbows on the table, tidy beard darkened as his face tugs into a frown. “You know that there are rumours going around about Hana, and, with the current political climate it may begin to escalate even further. There isn’t any truth in the matter, but.”

His mother interrupts, placing a hand on Lucien’s shoulder, troubled eyes turning to pin him into his chair. (Did he make a horrible mistake?) “But if it does go any further, we want you to be my legal counsel. I trust you with this.”

Emotions, that’s what is expected with family. Trust and vulnerability and sharing emotion.

Cassian coughs. “I, I’m sure that won’t be necessary Mother, but, if it means that much to you, then of course.” Her face brightened, and Cassian has to struggle to keep the guilt pushed down (why does he feel so much guilt? He shouldn’t, it doesn’t mean anything, he’ll get her out of it, it might even help) and he chokes a little. He turns his face away and takes a sip of water, ignoring the way the slope of her shoulders rounds out, the way the wrinkles around the corners of his father’s eyes soften.

Something burns in his chest. It burns, hot and fiery, before it goes cold.

Cassian continues to eat his meal

—

She wants to hug him. He can tell, that after every court session and every time they see each other there. She reaches forward, about to pull him down, about to kiss him on the cheek or say something, before she notices were she is. He feels no regret in pulling away every time, at leaving her calls. He’s her lawyer after all, it just wouldn’t be professional.

—

The court case is over, and Hana immediately throws her arms over him, pulling him in for a close hug. Cassian stiffens, every instinct urging him to run away, before he rests his head on her shoulder. “I knew you could do it,” she whispers into his ear, pulling him tighter for a second, before letting go.

He hasn’t been hugged like that since he went to university. He can’t tell if he misses it.

Her face is shining again, relief banishing the worry, though there is now much more grey in her hair, now wrinkles on her forehead. But the smile on her face is the biggest for a while. Can he fool himself, can he say that it was okay because she would be happy again at the end?

No.

His face tightens and Cassian grimaces, before turning away and packing up his papers. There will be people who want to congratulate him.

—

Extras

MBTI : ISTJ

Date of Birth : Sunday 27th March 1988

Favourite Drink : Mint Julep

Mock Blog : cassianmock.tumblr.com

Contains

Aesthetic x2

Playlist

Headcanons x2