#azedamus

Character Meme: Layers

LAYER ONE : THE OUTSIDE

Name: Azedamus Zsha'kor

Eye Color: Yellow

Hair Style/Color: Straight, jaw to shoulder length, black

Height: 5'10"

Clothing style: Depends on the occasion.  There is a preference for long (potentially trailing) sleeves, and covering cloaks and robes that hide figure if given a choice.  However, whatever is most efficient for what needs to be done (within reason) will suffice.  (Lots of monochrome darks, typically dirty / tattered somewhere from use.  Likes the 'darker aspect' of things. [will dress like a Dementor if left unchecked.])

Best physical feature: ... The hand that will choke the life out of you.  (Az isn't all that pretty [if I can help it], looks sort of frail / thin / gaunt, but has a notable amount of physical strength despite that for reasons.  He also doesn't believe he's pretty at all.  u_u)

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

Your fears: That I will not find a place for us, and we will continue to be downtrodden and shunned for nothing.  Failure.  Loss of power with no way to reclaim it.  That nothing will be left behind for the rest of them to pick up.

Your guilty pleasure:  ... Caring.

Your biggest pet peeve: When plans fail due to another's incompetence.

Your ambitions for the future:  To cease the discrimination, mistreatment, imposed taboo, and otherwise restriction of necromancers and my family.  To be powerful, and 'master' death to the greatest degree that can be achieved, while still owing it what is due.  To open a path for them to find the respect they deserve.  (depends on the canon, so I half merged them together generally)

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

Your first thoughts waking up: ... That I must get up.

What you think about most: Death, in various degrees.

What you think about before bed: . . ... How it will be when I succeed.

You think your best quality is: Proficiency, Knowledge, Mastery, Skill, and Determination.  I will do what must be done. (That is not one quality Az, stop.)

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

Single or group dates: . . . Neither.

To be loved or respected: Respected.

Beauty or brains: Brains, in various forms.

Dogs or cats: ... Cats.

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Lie: When I must.

Believe in yourself: Of course.

Believe in love: ... There is something that exists which people call that.

Want someone: Want someone to what. (that was a question, btw.)

LAYER SIX: EVER?

Been on stage: Depends.

Done drugs: ... Depends.

Changed who you were to fit in: Yes, unfortunately.  

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

Favorite color: Deep purple.

Favorite animal: ... Dead ones.

Favorite movie: . . .

Favorite game: The 'game' of reanimating your corpse. 

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

Day your next birthday will be: ...

How old will you be: Older than I was.

Age you lost your virginity: ....... This is irrelevant.

Does age matter: No, which is why your questions will remain unanswered.

LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

Best personality: Intelligent.  Insightful.  Useful.  Proficient.  Knows when to listen, when to act, when to stop, and when to take matters into their own hands.  Self - sufficient.  Logical.  Unafraid of what must be done.

Best eye color: Green.  Violet would be interesting.

Best hair color: Black.

Best thing to do with a partner: ... Necromancy. (8| )

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: the intricacies of Death, the dominion it holds, all its power and way it's woven through the lives of all who live as an inevitable fate. 

I feel: cold.

I hide: what must be hidden.

I miss: before.

Tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap…

The skeletal fingers met the desk in twos while the necromancer’s impassive gaze bore through the papers before him.  Though, they sat untouched and unread in all of their descriptive glory.  Focus, focus.  He certainly was not focusing.  At least not on what he should be, he told himself, and his piercing eyes drifted from the pages towards the window and the gloomy tangle of trees beyond it.  He could not get what he’d passed up earlier from his mind.  The evening was fast approaching.  But if he made his way now, he could still get there in time.  He could still…

Azedamus rose.  All of this can wait, and for the sake of proper focus, he told himself, sometimes one simply must indulge.  His stride was quick and heavy from the room.  Rounding the corner and down the stairs of his dark abode he went, the worn rags he called robes trailing behind him.  A brief pause was made before a much less decayed ensemble, hanging mostly forgotten by the end of the stairway.  He had actually considered it.  The faintest twitch at the corners of his lips made a transient stop on his face.  That he might care to ‘dress up’ for this.  That he might care to make it ‘an occasion’.  What a thought.  What a thought indeed…

No.  He will be received as he is, no more, and no less.  That was the appeal of it all, was it not?  It most certainly was, and with a grab at his staff, some unbolting of locks and a wave off of wards, the large doors swung open and out he went.

The gnarled woods creaked and moaned beneath the necromancer’s steps.  Feet deftly missed the subtle twisting of roots meant to trip, or the slithering vines of a snare.  Warded as he was, he knew it only drew the resentful wilderness nearer, which was just at well at times, but for now, it would have to wait.  Hush.  I will see to you soon. He was actually doing this.  He wanted to be disgusted, but instead that passing touch of an expression came from hiding then hid again.  Almost there.

Then ruins stood before him.  He paused only a brief moment, looking over the rubble that was once a gateway, before making his quick entrance stepping over the fallen stones and debris.  The small settlement was ravaged just earlier today.  But he knew just where he cared to go.  He could feel the death around him, and hastened his steps just a smidge.  Almost –

The groan of a woman made him stop in his tracks, eyes snapping over to the sound.  “Y-You…” A weak voice rose hoarse from a damaged shanty, the smell of blood thick in the air.  “And you.”   The murmur drew Azedamus closer, his haste having melted away into much slower, softer steps when he came near. 

“… I am..-“ her voice quivered, pained and scared as the man knelt near her.  “You are.”  A small hint of softness tints his speech, and as her eyes search up for him, his calm is almost a relief in the torrid of panic that had surrounded her.  “C-Can … y- … stay-“  Her words rasped, and she tried to shift a little but could not manage.  She found it even harder when the man drew up beside her, like a heavy blanket had settled over her as he came near, and she did not wish to come out from beneath it.

“It is why I am here.”  He said simply.  His arm wrapped around her then, holding her shaking at first, but slowly the trembles stopped too and she leaned into him.  He gently wiped the blood-matted hair from her face, her eyes coming in and out of focus as the weight grew around her.  It was close now. 

He felt the quieting of her heart, the delicate way the life in her seeped out her fingers and brought with it her breath… Slower… slower…  It was beautiful.    One of her hands had grasped at his robes, but they then relinquished it.  And with that, she gave her life to him.  He looked down quietly at her half open eyes staring far beyond him, and closed them with a gentle hand.  The slight twitch of his lips this time grew into a small smile.  How beautiful death was… how different.  How telling.  How intimate.

Carefully, he picked her up from her place of rest and held her.  Looking down at her but for a moment, he continued slowly through the ruins.  There were others that gave their lives to him that evening.  But she was the only one he brought back with him.