Under the cut, you will find a sample application for Lucius Ikashev.
- Admin Maya
—– OOC INFORMATION –—
Name/Alias: Maya Age: 19 Pronouns: she/her Timezone: EST Activity Level: 7-8; As an Admin of Wrath, there is nothing I want more than to see it’s success. I intend to be online as much as possible to play my characters, but also to answer questions, to queue posts into the promo blog, and to brainstorm events with Admin Lee. This said, I am also a college student entering her sophomore year, and my academics will always be my priority. Triggers: [withheld] Concerns: n/a
—– IC INFORMATION –—
Desired Character: Lucius ‘Kir’ Viktorovich Ikashev Why/how this character appeals to/inspires you:
Aside from the obvious – that Lucius is the leader of the Rosteks, and so it would make most sense for an admin to take his role – Lucius was one of the very first characters that I’d written, and in the three years we’ve been working on Wrath, my passion for him hasn’t once wavered. I’ve always been drawn to those dark characters who go bump at the night because I love to redeem them. I see Lucius as a hero in his own respect: he wants the best for his people, and he takes desperate measures to avoid their extinction. I want nothing more than the privilege of painting Lucius as this steely creature, but a human one as well.
Character Interpretation:
It was never about power. It was never about wealth, or recognition. Lucius rules out of perceived necessity; in his mind, he’s the only one capable of doing what needs to be done to ensure his race’s continued survival. While others are swayed by lust or by fear, Lucius stands a desensitized soldier. He is utterly prepared to kill or be killed all in the name of mutiny. He walks the same path tread by countless Rostek insurgents, and it made him stronger. He lives, breathes, talks, and bleeds history. He is history, and what a painful state of existence that must be. Lucius doesn’t survive. He writhes. He is half agony, half rage, and these emotions are the barking hounds that nip at his heels, urging him — even tipped over in fatigue — to press forward still. To see Lucius as the villain of this story is a grave mistake and an insult to his name. He truly believes that the only way vilas will ever be safe is if they are the ones in power, and he cannot name all of the sacrifices he’s made to bring upon the existence of this power. Lucius is motivated by his love of his species, and his grief at the prospect of their extermination. He rules with a firm hand, and if the circumstances demand blood dripping from his fingertips, so be it.
Para Sample:
CW || Violence
Rarely did they bring strangers to the Rostek Manor. Within those grandiose walls, vila life flourished. Kir’s chief priority, naturally, was protecting its inhabitants. Nevertheless, exceptions had been made in the past; on several occasions, Kir himself lead refugee families to those greeting steps and carried beaten boys through those tall, double doors. Inside, the visitors would be cleaned, clothed, and fed anything their hungry stomachs desired. This place was a haven to the deviates who needed it. But for a certain hydrokinetic Lesya, already split-lipped and bleeding, it would serve as a palace of execution.
Kir adjusted his cufflink as he made his way down a narrow staircase and into the cellar. It was dark down here, damp. He raised his hand to a metal door and willed it to unlock. It did, and on the other side of the concrete room slumped a significantly tousled bloodbath of a man. Kir smiled and leaned himself against the wall. “You look like a dream, my man. A very good dream.” He crossed his arms, and when he spoke, his voice was tight and pensive, “Did you dream, Nikolaevich, when you thought you could run from the Rosteks?”
From the floor, Victor let out a pained, curdling sound — it took a moment for Kir to recognize it as laughter. When he did, his eyes dropped to the man’s legs, which Kir knew were broken in at least twelve different places. He knew this because he felt this: his psychic touch traced the foul fragments of Victor’s femurs, tibias, and fibulas. Then suddenly, without warning, pressure manifested in the form of ghastly hands; they grabbed hold of those bones and crushed them in horrible fists. Victor couldn’t scream anymore, but he wheezed and a bubble of blood dripped from his lips and onto the floor. Kir closed the distance between the two of them and dropped into a squat. “The only reason I’m here is because you were one of us, once. I admire your resolve, Nikolaevich, but that is all.”
Victor’s remaining eye swiveled to meet Kir’s. It was tired and resigned and nothing like the first time they’d met. Then, Victor was only a boy, but he looked up to Kir with the admiration of his finest men. Victor wasn’t born a Rostek, but he could have been. He had the same unshakeable loyalty and fiery ambition. Kir even trained him once, personally, and made a point to show he was impressed. He’d stretched his psyche to rap the boy on the back, Stand up straighter, heroes don’t slouch. He’d given Victor praise and admiration and everything his simple mind could have wanted. Now, Kir blinked down at Victor’s sorry form and shook his head. He exhaled and shook it again.
Kir rose to his feet and returned to the door, where Yuri was waiting. He turned to Victor once more, and from 8 feet away, tousled his matted hair. He turned back to Yuri and handed her his gun, “Thank you, my friend. He’s yours now.”
Password: [withheld] Anything Else?: - Lucius’s Blog - Pinterest
