heroic . . . ?

VINCENT von VESSALIUS frigid air starts to thaw; take all of me.

[ufvincent]

hello friends ( lets choose to ignore how late this is. punctuality is not one of my strong suits hahehe ) excited to be here & write ! fun facts abt me before we get started: i work fulltime & tend to knock out as soon as im home thus the lack of activity + i luv fe3h but have yet to finish a single playthru ... #badgamerthings. wiki is my best friend 4ever.  here is his portfolio page & read on to find more :^)

cue rambling & hoping it makes some semblance of sense:

second born (but heir) of the duke of vessalius (a state within gleerium), thus holds the title of ‘marquess’ (which is for the first son of a duke, but he inherited at a young age from his older brother after his death)

early childhood has him loved as the family’s baby but has since been forced to adapt to a certain loneliness as per life’s circumstances 

(the turning point being the aforementioned brother’s death @ the hands of a protester, a grief his parents basically never got over, and in turn is the start of his loneliness, worsens after his mother died a few years back)

anger @ the circumstances leads to many bad decisions, inclination towards self ruination, a lack of respect for both himself and the world at large. (violence Is the key)

father has him oblige to using an alternative outlet for his anger, reminds him of the good his mother represented (as a former star champion for his ppl & known for her warrior prowess, which she put on the backburner to build a family but continued supporting in more of a figurehead position)

pledges to follow in her footsteps and become a good soldier, thus begins his post-grad fixation with training

mostly devotes himself to his training simply bc he feels he no longer has any other purpose in life, there is no passion, its his competitive behavior & need to prove himself that enables him to work hard; moves up the ranks until recently, when a form of self sabotage (re: physical brawling) leaves him injured.  knee takes time to recover, and by then his peers have rushed ahead and begun making names for themselves within the ranks. 

re: aforementioned injury; sometimes u can see him limping around, tho he tries to mask any discomfort. while the pain is real as his injury isnt too old, it is also psychogenic (when fixated on how much hes failed, the pain flares up more)

simply existing. accepted he’s a good for nothing, but reluctant to admit he’s miserable.  pretends he can accept anything that comes his way b/c he has lost the energy to care any further. adopts an  ‘it is what it is’ philosophy to hide behind

(but is also moody, like the type to say ‘lol ok’ b/c he thinks theres no point arguing and then approach u again in 2 min like ‘ok but actually. wtf’.) 

currently on a (forced) journey of a self discovery to 1) figure out what he Can Do before 2) hes subjected to his father’s responsibilities evermore as the role of the dutiful son requires of him. currently favors charity work / going into town to see what needs to be done in order to be helpful (also b/c it keeps him out of their home)

tense r/s with father now, as he essentially hasnt been given the time of day since he became his heir & believes hes his fathers biggest disappointment. 

has no will to care for his own life, exists to date b/c he cares more for his baby sister than anything else/his own self

tl;dr he’s waiting to die

idk what else to put here im crossing fingers ive mentioned all i need to!

plot wise! 

honestly open to anything, i feel there’s more room for antagonism generally considering his family’s position but also. he is slated to be a little infuriating. 

specifically open to filling the younger sister slot since that would be fun! overprotective vincent + family trauma. what a fun time 

pseudo siblings are so imp and so fun. found family is beautiful

in a similar vein, ppl that have known him all his life (whether it means a positive or negative r/s)

he went to lotus academy until he was 18, so possibilities for meeting there! 

or someone he met during/closely trained with during the last 4 years before injury, comrades haha... heart_emoji (open possibilities, with re: training = moving around a lot so ability to meet more ppl (& with or w/o the pretense of his title))

or during his random escapades into town where he can typically get away w/o being noticed. he adopts a new name each time - u know him as like.... nick.,....... subin, ...... bobby.

besties keep u sane. vincent will be the exception 2 the rule (befriend him. its fun!)

i am the worst at jotting down plots but genuinely open to anything, lmk if smth comes to mind and we will make it work!

if u got this far. my liege ... i applaud u  (bowing_person_emoji)

[ufvincent]

—> thunder in our hearts.

5 years ago with @finnuf

somberness is the theme for his last year at the lotus academy, despite his family’s initial enthusiasm for him to officially step into his new responsibilities as an ‘educated’ gleerium noble. the past summer came and went, leaving behind a lesson long since learnt, more akin to salt to a wound you forgot existed — death has its own timeline, and it will often come without announcement. 

the lotus tower is akin to a refuge from the stifling reality that awaits him down below — responsibility, duty, acceptance. it’s almost funny, the knowledge most of the children here have faced loss of some kind, parental near the top of the list itself, and yet the piteous looks haunt his backside, stick to him like an unwanted leech. 

his self-imposed solitude is interrupted by a shadow in his peripheral, but he doesn’t need to turn much to detect who it is. years of watching his back have trained him to sense those most familiar to him with even less of indicators — those that despise his guts need less. 

“finnian,” he greets, stiffly. there is an inherent awkwardness that besets him upon the arrival of the other, one that erects every time he finds himself around the other. unavoidable, inevitable, absolute — vincent is borne from a legacy that pleads allegiance and spills blood in the name of the true ruler, in the name of the king.

vessalius represents itself in history as a state ever present in war and turmoil — and how it borders the small but proud nation of eltia, there is reason for the awkward tension (there is reason for any and all tension, though typically more often than not stained with red, hot fury and flying fists). more than enough reason, decided and absolute since before their births even, this idea of unity and prosperity as one whole nation. the inevitable. 

he turns away completely, eyes moving to fixate upon a point in the distance but nothing specifically. ‘nothing’ encapsulates the energy well; here stands nothing in the shadow of the vessalius marquess, a shell of the man he once thought himself to be. that he, on better days, still festers enough care to pretend to be.

"the tower’s occupied; return later.” there’s little energy to summon the usual tone mixed between fire and something mocking, falling upon ever-present lethargy, much like how the rest of the year has gone by. it’s the lesser than of the two opposing personas he’s adopted; there is something more alive about the one that contrasts the quiet of his profile now, one akin to rage itself, picking petty fights and prone to throwing the first punch to get his blood pumping, to feel something.  “i have little desire to argue or fight tonight.”

for now, he settles for the empty void that festers in the pit of his stomach, of his chest. the grievance the lucinier heir holds against him feels lackluster to the nothingness that devours him whole as the sun sets upon the horizon to welcome the night, for grief awakens alongside the moon. 

[ufvincent]

—> hello? (goodbye!)

@ufnathaniel

one might conclude he’s seeking out trouble — the usual, others may chime in, for often does the mood strike him, to allow violent intents to run its course when called upon. in this case, however, upon this mundane day filled with mindless chatter and the mediocre bustle of the afternoon crowds, there is little reason for him to be loitering around the streets of ouros. little to none, really.

vincent has absolutely no business being in ouros. (lie) 

maybe it’s more a half-truth camouflaged by falsities he wished were true. a contradiction to his inner philosophies; as if the (so proclaimed) heart of ouros itself wasn’t the very person he’s successfully avoided encountering since their last ill tendered farewell, and the very one he has absolutely no business nor intentions to see. 

and yet  —  perhaps the more accurate sentiment that would more aptly fit the circumstances in lieu of ‘avoidance’ would(/could/should) be ‘yearning to see’.

perhaps. perhaps.  

to set the scene, there is an elegantly dressed lady before him in this corner of town square sans much privacy. there’s a smile that promises something delightfully wicked as his hand sits perched against the wall before him —  thus, with a picture perfect distraction entrapped between his torso and the wall, and sweet nothings conjured too easily to chapped lips for willing ears; vincent has a reason to be in the city this fateful day. 

a solid reason. a real reason. 

(lie. or is it truly a lie if he can’t remember the excuse’s name; a fact instead diluted with affectionate pet names as placeholders and half a prayer for her continued ignorance  —  as he’d hoped for with the man he entertained before her,  and the one before them,  and so forth; all doomed to become just another name, another face in the crowd.  see, here and now, in a city that holds the given name of ouros — the name on his mind is inevitable).

his eyes begin to wander without much thought, potential conquest caught up in a story he cares little to hear, and they seek for something he’s not bound to find. or perhaps it’s simply boredom with the scene, for people generally can hold his attention for only so long (outside the very privileged chosen ones, of course. others (read: normal people) may call these so-called chosen ones his loved ones).

it feels as if his eyes are playing a trick at first.  

its automatic —  the way his free hand clenches into a fist, as he fixates on that newly sighted, familiar curve of a back within the crowd, as he wills the individual to turn to face him from where they patrol, as he locks eyes with someone that looks awfully identical to the object of his turmoil. 

there’s a nudge to his shoulder he’s keen on ignoring, fixed upon the figure that easily captures his attention without a moment’s thought  —  his more criminal vice will always be this; the hold he’s allowed the other to have upon him, to a sickening extent. 

“gil?” his once-potential conquest chimes in with his alias of the day, another touch to the forearm in search of the attention that had been present moments prior. the sweet persona he’d adorned has all but melted away now, and with a dismissive wave, he detaches himself from her touch,  interest gone altogether for the woman he’d been entertaining since the start of the night as she scoffs in place.

instead, he keeps his gaze unnervingly fixed, willing the other to approach him upon his own free will. he doesn’t dare call out his name.

[yeonjune]

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