#fc:benbarnes

[artofmorehq]

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/Alias: Danielle

Age: 26

Pronouns: She/Her

IN CHARACTER – BASICS

First/Last Name: Sebastian Steele

Age: 31

Pronouns: He/Him

Occupation: Collector / Gallery Owner / Artist / Owner of Steele Tobacco

Face Claim: Ben Barnes

3 positive traits: not dead. bitchin’ face. money.

3 negative traits: poisonous. unattached. soulless.

IN CHARACTER – DETAILS (OPTIONAL)

[tw: blood, death, pregnancy]

Your museums are mausoleums. Why are you dying to be buried in one? Sebastian is an admirer of life, intrigued by its tenacity, its strength, its… undefined limitations. There are those who should be dead in the world, yet they walk around like small abominations, mocking God. As one of them, do you think that’s why he’s an atheist? Considering he’s the biggest abomination, the reasoning is there, but do you know why?

He is no Muse. He is not of the same kind that sometimes will hang in his gallery in NYC because he’s curious. Unfortunate for them that the gift of immortality came at the price of pain, but the world underground won’t mind the usage. His own slice of the black market would never ask the questions that they don’t want the answers to, especially when the Muses come in pieces on occasion.

Are you a psychologist? Then you don’t need to know about his childhood beyond to say that it was atypical. He’s always been creative, though, particularly when it comes to anatomy. He could have been a surgeon had he applied himself to a greater good, but the only good Sebastian is interested in is what is good for him.

Not too long ago, someone would have said otherwise. She was always so sentimental. Aren’t all Muses? The ones that have lived for thousands of years? So afraid of losing their immortality because death has never tempted them. She became his. He never became hers, not fully, only for the sake of a bond. He never needed her. She was his experiment, a means to slate a curiosity to a world he was walking into with the knowledge that he would own it one day.

What did she want to call the parasite growing inside of her? Don’t ask Sebastian. He only saw it in the same light as a doctor sees a bag of blood, his own blood. You should have seen the way she looked at him when he carved it out of her, the bond severed, his soul taken, her immortality revoked, screaming and screaming while her former artist internally fought to keep his ground, not willing to give into consequences that didn’t benefit him.

She was dying while he was thriving, taking her blood into his own veins, sustaining his conscious thought as whatever was left of his conscience was given to her to take when she bled out to die.

He cheated. He cheated Death. He cheated the Gods. He cheated his own child and the mother of it.

Isn’t that’s the beauty of life?