DUSK || LOOKS TWENTY-ONE || NYMPH || TAKEN
"Cold is the water, it freezes your already cold mind, already cold, cold mind. And death is at your doorstep, and it will steal your innocence, but it will not steal your substance."â â
Dusk is as ancient as the name he is known by. Some have assumed they are simply synonymous, that he is the creeping shadows of the trees just before sunset, the last call of the birds before nightfall. He was a thought made palpable, as if wished into being by the very gloom he is called. If there was a beginning to him, he could not remember, but an end has not found him yet; years, decades, centuries and he is still alive. In times past, he simply watched the world around him, never made his presence known until it was suddenly too dark to see, when the light of a torch sent him shrinking away; the cruel deeds of men and beast alike have found him an unlikely spectator. As it goes, the dark hides what the day cannot bear to witness, and Dusk has witnessed it all, seen malevolence more times than he has seen benevolence. The ways of men have tainted him, and the recent bloodshed is no different.
Not what most would think of when confronted with a nymph, Dusk is rather remote from most people, even others of his kind. He is not exactly bound to the time of night he is called, roaming more than other nymphs, but he has perfected the art of moving without being seen, of become the blind spot in anotherâs vision. That is not to say he shies away from the dark, on the contrary, itâs where he thrives; if Dusk shows himself to you, it should be considered an honor of sorts. In current times, he has been more active in the comings and goings of the Islands inhabitants. The cannibalistic urges of the Devils, the tomfoolery of the Wild Boys, even the sporadic, wheezing death of any lone wanderers were not kept from Duskâs visage. He is privy to most secrets and dealings, and could hold great influence over others, if he deemed such things anything but trivial. Still, if one is brave enough and shrewd enough, they might be able to pry this and that from the nymphâs mind.
As such, Dusk is as one would assume, or is to be assumed: he is distant, realistic and uncompromising in his pessimism, having known nothing but the stillness of the moon and the last warm traces of the sun. Look into his eyes and one would see the shadow of doubt alive in them, a wound that never closed. To say he is a haunted creature would not be true, but to say he was scarred would be, scarred into being cagey, being calculating. By nature rather than nurture, he is a thinker, a philosopher of sorts, and has tended to give out his advice only when he has deemed it essential and only to those he considers capable of doing the most with his words. It is to be noted, though, that his unfeeling attitude should not be mistaken for not caring. Dusk is perceptive and rather clever, and has a knack for dry humor that becomes him. Intelligent and calm, he is every shadow under an owlâs wing, in every rustle of the wind on the cusp of twilight, and his curiosity is insatiable, as is his anger if crossed. Be cautious of Dusk, for he will be of you.
â˛Â HONEST - CLEVER - REALISTIC
âźÂ DISTANT - MELANCHOLY - MOCKING
FC:Â NATHAN STEWART-JARRETT
