just a fun little character game. fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by. repost & tag away !
tagged: @ziinariya
tagging: if you wanna do this, just say i tagged you !
EMOTIONS / FEELINGS: unsettled, like the hair of your neck standing on end, eyes glancing over your shoulder when you stand with your back to the darkness. when you are too deep in the water and you’re just keeping your head above water and something runs against your foot - you scream, and the waves overtake you, over your head; the panic sitting underneath your sternum as whatever it was against your foot pulls you down, into the current, and you can’t escape, and you’re screaming. your friend escapes, head breaking through the waves to gasp and suck in lungfuls of air as your lungs burn with the lack of oxygen. when the water wraps itself around you and you become weak and the darkness settles in across your vision and you’re trying to stay awake but it’s so hard, you can’t do it anymore, you’re too cold. acceptance of the fate.
GREETINGS: he sneaks, leaning against the wall or door with arms crossed. still, as if he were a shade in the dark, silent as could be. he never speaks first, watching, observing. “stars, why do you always have to do that?” he doesn’t spend time expelling pleasantries, immediately throwing himself full throttle into the conversation.
COLORS: black, black, BLACK ——— the darkness of the Styx is nothing compared to his favourite black; the bright blood red of his saber, of cut wrists, of cauterized self inflicted wounds. ivory and cream dipped in ink, the paleness of the white light that calls to him tainted by the ruin. thunderstorm cloud greys and silvers like jewellery.
SCENTS: worn leather - the scent of his father’s jacket, of his boots. petrichor. right after storms, the air still sharp with electric currents and water. the ocean air, salty but cool. sharp copper, the smell of blood, iron sharp. sweat.
CLOTHING: flowing robes, a cinched waist; warmth and insulated knits. calve length boots, with too tight laces. breasts bound by handmade binders. pants tight around his thighs; leather, cotton. gloves just tight enough for him to move but not enough to hurt.
OBJECTS: ancient holocrons, holding the knowledge of fallen empires. a crossguard saber; a damaged crystal, found when he was just a child. chipped glasses. propaganda posters, model ships. opalized wood. smouldering rubble.
VICES / BAD HABITS: bloodied fingers from nervous picking and biting; sores in his mouth from frequent inner bites. sleeplessness, leaving him rougher and harsher. impulsiveness, recklessness. violent outbursts, leaving behind rubble. being too cautious or not enough about boundaries. cracking knuckles.
BODY LANGUAGE: military straight back. heavy footfalls. nervous picking. clenching jaws; nigh constant glancing from corners of eyes. rarely turns his head when being spoken to. tilting head when intrigued; fingers playing with the plushness of his lips. clenched fists.
AESTHETICS: words of white on black backgrounds; lightning storms. dark blood in hands, in milk, on pale skin. unsafe binding. patchy red skin, heavy blue bags under his eyes. red glows, sunlight halos. stigmata, burnt edges, paper crumpling in a fire. the ash of a thousand enemies - graffiti on first order ships and walls.
SONGS: Monster - Starset // It Has Begun - Starset // Glass Heart Hymn - Paper Route // You Don’t Own Me - Grace // Chasing Twisters - Delta Rae
titsay
gummygunk
2087
discoholicmusic
