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about Ash
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Registration Date: 06-14-2013
Last Visit: 07-11-2013 01:48 AM Total Posts 10 Played By: Lexx 
 Total EXP
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| Ashbel Mosrael Finch's Info | |||||||||
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general information
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Relations:
Other Info:
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appearance
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Reference
Ashbel is an angular, eerie figure, with a frame that favors swift movement over brute force. His face is thin, with sharp violet eyes split by serpentine pupils; dark red fur sweeps under his eyes and marks his sharp cheekbones like the heads of spears. The fur lining the inside of his large, white ears is red; his paw pads and sharp claws are red as well. The rest of him is white, pure and lovely, the ends merely wisps floating about him in the wind. Ashbel is not quite albino, yet his fur has a lush sheen from his pigment-less skin underneath, his muzzle pale and his nose pink. He has the stance and build of a slender man trained in battle, capable of brutally swift movements and strength within his own right—even at the same time, however, he looks delicate, even lovely, as a prince should. His status as a highborn Windwalker, however, is clear; his forelegs are scaled and stick-thin, his forefeet widening into the long, searching toes of a bird, while two elegant, white wings unfurl from his angular shoulders. He is built for fast flight, with light bones and a broad chest that boasts hard muscle from the use of his wings; his lungs breathe fast and hard, helping him in high altitudes where only the truest of Windwalkers dare venture. He carries himself proudly, with a straight spine and shoulders rolled back, his chin lifted high, his tail raised in dominance. His noble blood pulses in him, demanding he walk like a man set to inherit a throne. | |||||||||
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personality
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Ashbel, in a word, is fierce—brave, headstrong, violent at will. He lingers at the edges of your vision like mist, partly ethereal and easy to miss. He gives off the image of being calm and patient, but this isn’t always the case—he can snap fast, like a strike of lightning, and with terrifying precision. He was raised as a warrior and a leader, after all, being the eldest Finch son, and he understands the art of war well; he is a tactician, intelligent and brave, though sometimes seeming unable to comprehend the weight of every life that he sends to battle. He has been known to act rashly or angrily, especially when backed into a corner or when his patience is whittled to the bone; he enjoys having iron control and forces at his command, and relishes the game of someone trying to outwit him—there is nothing more satisfying than the hard-won defeat of his opponent.
He’s serious and almost grim, rarely smiling, the line of his jaws hard and closed. His eyes seem cold, his posture tall and commanding. Ashbel was handpicked and groomed to be a king, and so he acts as one with every step and breath. He is a valiant and brave warrior, yes, but he understands politics just as well as he does tactics—perhaps more so. He negotiates and trades with ease, never letting his position weaken, seeking the benefit of both himself and those he leads. He likes conflict, though he has enough sense not to actively seek it; he merely accepts it when his pack looms on the edge of battle with another, and fights like a demon in the throes of war.
Ashbel is a dominant and enigmatic leader, but he certainly knows how to command an army. His voice is powerful and convincing, every word chosen carefully so that it will press its edge deepest into the thoughts of his warriors. His inscrutable mask belies the fire in his sharp eyes, concealed by his serious face, and yet always burning, always seeking. He’s strong, and that strength makes him courageous to a fault; when riled up, he’s too headstrong, too fearless, too aggressive. It’s a trait that likens him to the soldiers he was trained to lead, but it means he requires a tight hand to keep him sensible and reined in. He operates best with a companion both wily and every bit as intelligent as he; in his childhood, that spot always belonged to Erzulie. Now, in his adulthood, he walks a razor’s edge, without the counsel he requires.
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history
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He was always the eldest child of the Finches, born of good standing and noble blood. He was a prince, the beloved son of a king, and was specially groomed to inherit the throne his parents held, grasped within their iron paws. The wolves they governed treasured him from an early age, but Ashbel always found himself distrusting of this blatant adoration, thinking that it might stem from loyalty and fear rather than genuine love. His younger sister Erzulie, from the same litter as he, always flourished in front of their indulgent gazes—she was sweet to them, kind, everything a perfect lady should be.
But there was fire in her eyes. Ashbel saw it smoldering there, soft and subdued, like little embers, like glowing coals. She wasn’t vicious, but her blood was hard with iron. She was a Finch, and she would one day become a queen. He was affectionate to her, gentler with Erzulie than their younger brother—not because he was coddling her, but rather because he respected the woman he saw her becoming. He would confide in her, for he found her wisdom to be incredibly undervalued by others; she offered him a clear mind and the guidance he needed to be powerful. Alone, he was strong, but foolish; with Erzulie, he became fearsome.
They parted when their father announced it was time for the Finch children to spread out into the surrounding lands and spread their family’s blood and name. Their kingdom was great, but his ambition demanded that it become well-known in multiple lands. Ashbel could see the wisdom in it—more recognition meant better alliances and trade, after all—and so he went with his head high, ready to make himself and his family feared, so that wolves would whisper of the Finches in the dead of night, reverent and afraid, and so that he would become a man worthy of his father’s crown back at home.
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