Re: Armand | The Vampire Chronicles | Reserved final posteternally17October 18 2011, 01:51:22 UTC
Sample Journal Post: [The camera flashes to show a boy with auburn curls, looking to be about 17. He has an innocent, youthful face, and seemingly impossibly pale skin, matched with flushed pink lips pulled into a slight pout.] Oh, come now, ah, [it turns out that he still has some issues with technology that is completely new to him, it seems, but now that it's working his expression has softened to seem more like the serene looks of Botticelli's angels.]
Hello. I am Armand, and I would be glad for some explanations. Perhaps more importantly, has anyone seen a young woman obsessed with playing the piano named Sybelle, or a young tanned boy named Benji?
Sample RP: Most would think him a monster for this.
Most didn't know what wickedness this girl had managed.
Not that he was free of wickedness himself- far from it. He had for so many years embraced all that was evil, and made it his way. The perfect little follower of Satan. He might not have subscribed to these laws for a long time, but they now served also as a convenient excuse for a personal vendetta.
But he had never been lawless. He had his own laws, the laws of the Children of Darkness. One of those forbid that you kill your maker, and yet that was what this child tried so hard to do. Now he could forgive her showing herself to mortals, living in the light. It was easy enough to give her that much leeway, having done the same now. But how could he forgive even the attempted murder of her maker?
He had her bound to a bed, and he had oil, and matches. He had intended to cover her with it in this old house and burn her, but instead he found himself caressing her fair skin, marvelling at her pallor, and then at her glorious curls. She looked as fair as the angels his own master once had painted him as. What would others looking into this scene see them as? Two angels, or an angel and a devil, and who would each be?
He chuckled to himself, imagining himself again the devil as he used the knife he had used to cut the ropes to cut a line down her face. He sat beside her on the bed, watching the cut heal itself as if there was no line ever created in the skin. He could not help himself, he licked the blood from her skin, that little bit that stayed after the cut had healed.
So long he was the dealer of judgement, the coven master, then the troupe leader, but now he almost felt to be under her spell, and that made the rebel in him loved that it was him leaning over her, as she was bound to the bed, even if it was her beauty that, for now, kept her alive.
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Personality Revision:eternally17October 25 2011, 09:12:12 UTC
Armand is still in many ways like a young, spoiled teenager. He can be petty and childish, and still has quite a bit of work to do in finding his own. He doesn't like to be outdone or outshone, and will respond to that, along with anyone who might try to look down on him with snideness and sarcasm. While Lestat might have been called the “Brat Prince”, Armand gives him a good run for his money. He's rebellious, doing actions almost to spite someone he perceives as an authority, but his true bratty-ness comes from his self-centred behaviour. He is usually more concerned about himself than other people, for example, when he turned Daniel so that he could still have his company even though he felt that vampirism was a curse more than a gift. He doesn't handle disappointment very well either- going so far as to burn his entire coven when they dissented, even if there were other motivations behind that as well.
He has a habit of picking up one thing then the next, and making them his religion, starting with God in Kiev Ruz, then to Marius, then to the Children of Darkness, then Lestat for a short time, followed by the Theatre des Vampires, then Louis, next was Daniel, then God again, and finally his dear Sybelle and her Apassionato. He requires something to cling to as his Everything, and becomes lost if there is nothing for him to make a religion, a worship, of. This may become the Animus in Adstringendum, or it may become another character, and it may even fluctuate, but for as long as it can carry him, he will follow it with a passion, however hollow that passion might be in truth.
He can be quite melancholy, but so long as he has something to put his whole life into, and so long as that thing allows for happiness, he can be quite amiable. Even when he is in his darkest place, he has a sort of charm to him, his innocence shining through all his dark history, and his ignorance at some of the more complex ideas of socializing and how the world works.
Perhaps because of the blood, perhaps because of his past, or maybe even a combination of the two, Armand has a sort of dark fascination in things as well, very much like the child that rips wings from a fly to see the wings better, and then see how the fly survives. It isn't always quite so violent, and after meeting Lestat he returns to his original methods of hunting only the evil-doer, but even then, he has a sort of controlling possessiveness that leads him to have the desire to rip the hair off of one of his victims after they already died because it was beautiful, though he planned to toss it aside later. It was mostly morbid curiosity.
This is something that has lasted through the centuries, along with many of his qualities. He has always been resistant to change, and staunch in is beliefs, an impossible problem being the only thing driving him from one obsession to the next. As Gabrielle said once, “The only thing that is important for you is that you go to an extreme.” He has gotten better over the years with dealing with the time between, but to sustain himself, he still needs something of the sort, much like a child needs their parents, though they are also the games he plays to learn how to make his own way in the world. Paint for him a pretty picture, with words or thoughts, and he will gladly subscribe to that fantasy, almost as if he was living outside reality like a child, even if his thoughts are like those of old monks in the reverence of God. He seems to be cursed to be eternally caught between these two opposite sides, his old wisdom, and his child's innocence, and this creates with him a dark humour and bitter smile. He seems to know all much of the time, his Mind Gift being of great help, but he also seems to have trouble understanding it, but when he is the the throws of passion over one spiritual call or another, he can feel as if it all does make sense, and create for himself the illusion of understanding.
Personality Revision: 2/2eternally17October 25 2011, 09:12:33 UTC
His desire to understand also lead him to seek Daniel's help in learning about technolgy, which developed into a deep fascination with the topic. For hours he would sit infront of the TV, watching things as seemingly mundane as himself sleep, or as incredible to him as a vampire as the sun rise. He developed a love for the new technology and it's simplicity, while that simplicity being offered by such a complex source. He even builds an entire island filled with the most advanced technology, as well as everything that could be needed for humans to party and enjoy themselves. In his own private areas he has all sorts of pieces of technology, and even will take apart things to try to see how they work.
Oh, come now, ah, [it turns out that he still has some issues with technology that is completely new to him, it seems, but now that it's working his expression has softened to seem more like the serene looks of Botticelli's angels.]
Hello. I am Armand, and I would be glad for some explanations. Perhaps more importantly, has anyone seen a young woman obsessed with playing the piano named Sybelle, or a young tanned boy named Benji?
Sample RP: Most would think him a monster for this.
Most didn't know what wickedness this girl had managed.
Not that he was free of wickedness himself- far from it. He had for so many years embraced all that was evil, and made it his way. The perfect little follower of Satan. He might not have subscribed to these laws for a long time, but they now served also as a convenient excuse for a personal vendetta.
But he had never been lawless. He had his own laws, the laws of the Children of Darkness. One of those forbid that you kill your maker, and yet that was what this child tried so hard to do. Now he could forgive her showing herself to mortals, living in the light. It was easy enough to give her that much leeway, having done the same now. But how could he forgive even the attempted murder of her maker?
He had her bound to a bed, and he had oil, and matches. He had intended to cover her with it in this old house and burn her, but instead he found himself caressing her fair skin, marvelling at her pallor, and then at her glorious curls. She looked as fair as the angels his own master once had painted him as. What would others looking into this scene see them as? Two angels, or an angel and a devil, and who would each be?
He chuckled to himself, imagining himself again the devil as he used the knife he had used to cut the ropes to cut a line down her face. He sat beside her on the bed, watching the cut heal itself as if there was no line ever created in the skin. He could not help himself, he licked the blood from her skin, that little bit that stayed after the cut had healed.
So long he was the dealer of judgement, the coven master, then the troupe leader, but now he almost felt to be under her spell, and that made the rebel in him loved that it was him leaning over her, as she was bound to the bed, even if it was her beauty that, for now, kept her alive.
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He has a habit of picking up one thing then the next, and making them his religion, starting with God in Kiev Ruz, then to Marius, then to the Children of Darkness, then Lestat for a short time, followed by the Theatre des Vampires, then Louis, next was Daniel, then God again, and finally his dear Sybelle and her Apassionato. He requires something to cling to as his Everything, and becomes lost if there is nothing for him to make a religion, a worship, of. This may become the Animus in Adstringendum, or it may become another character, and it may even fluctuate, but for as long as it can carry him, he will follow it with a passion, however hollow that passion might be in truth.
He can be quite melancholy, but so long as he has something to put his whole life into, and so long as that thing allows for happiness, he can be quite amiable. Even when he is in his darkest place, he has a sort of charm to him, his innocence shining through all his dark history, and his ignorance at some of the more complex ideas of socializing and how the world works.
Perhaps because of the blood, perhaps because of his past, or maybe even a combination of the two, Armand has a sort of dark fascination in things as well, very much like the child that rips wings from a fly to see the wings better, and then see how the fly survives. It isn't always quite so violent, and after meeting Lestat he returns to his original methods of hunting only the evil-doer, but even then, he has a sort of controlling possessiveness that leads him to have the desire to rip the hair off of one of his victims after they already died because it was beautiful, though he planned to toss it aside later. It was mostly morbid curiosity.
This is something that has lasted through the centuries, along with many of his qualities. He has always been resistant to change, and staunch in is beliefs, an impossible problem being the only thing driving him from one obsession to the next. As Gabrielle said once, “The only thing that is important for you is that you go to an extreme.” He has gotten better over the years with dealing with the time between, but to sustain himself, he still needs something of the sort, much like a child needs their parents, though they are also the games he plays to learn how to make his own way in the world. Paint for him a pretty picture, with words or thoughts, and he will gladly subscribe to that fantasy, almost as if he was living outside reality like a child, even if his thoughts are like those of old monks in the reverence of God. He seems to be cursed to be eternally caught between these two opposite sides, his old wisdom, and his child's innocence, and this creates with him a dark humour and bitter smile. He seems to know all much of the time, his Mind Gift being of great help, but he also seems to have trouble understanding it, but when he is the the throws of passion over one spiritual call or another, he can feel as if it all does make sense, and create for himself the illusion of understanding.
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