Application for Paradisa + Ashura Info Post
CHARACTER NAME: Ashura-ou
FANDOM: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles (Chapters 58-65)
CANON:The very end, just as the castle is collapsing (Chapter 65)
WHAT THEY LOST: Ashura will loose all memories of the man Yasha, who was both his sworn enemy and the man he loved (Note: Though he does not remember who Yasha is or what he looks like, he will retain the memories of fighting someone, though he cannot make out the features of said person, their name, or his connection to them other than that they were the enemy to keep with his cannon)
PERSONALITY: Ashura’s overall personality is relaxed and friendly, even though he is a king. While he expects some levels of formality considering whom and what he is, Ashura would prefer people treat him more as a friend rather than their ruling king. But while he does not like standing on formality, Ashura can summon such a persona when he wishes it. He is not shy about making necessary decisions for the sake of his people, and metes out punishment and reward alike with an even hand. On that same note, Ashura is highly protective of his subjects, and measures almost all his actions against the consequences that will ensue for his people. However, Ashura does have breaking points, and if one is breached he can become frightening. He takes on a full ‘royal’ persona, looking down at a person and has no problem letting loose a fraction of his power as a scare tactic.But for those he sees as close, personal friends or if he is merely feeling playful, Ashura is known to be something of a social butterfly and flirt. It’s never anything serious, but he has no problems adopting the persona in order to get information or manipulate a person if necessary. Another little quirk is that Ashura is very aware of his feminine looks, and never actively dissuades people from believing him a woman unless it’s truly necessary. He gets a modicum of amusement out of it. In battle Ashura is calm and collected, often seen smiling amongst the carnage. This is misleading and makes some people think him to be cold hearted, but Ashura has been fighting this war for so long he has simply become immune to the shock of a battlefield. He takes care of himself, not wanting his soldiers to have to worry over his well being, but at the same time is not seen running to every subordinate’s aid. His people do die, and while that upsets him he acknowledges it as a fact of war. He maintains that his position is to counter the attacks of Yasha, as he is the only one with enough power to do so. In truth he hates having to go to war every night, but also accepts this as a part of the inevitableness of life. On a more person level, to those who know him well, Ashura is a rather tortured soul. His smiling façade is just that - a mask. Inside he feels almost physically ill each night when they are done fighting and the bodies of the dead are left behind. And more than that, Ashura has trouble letting people in to deeply. He holds them at just enough length that they are considered friends, but never enough to be considered someone intimate, not even his oldest friend Kumara.
THIRD-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE: It was a small comfort the creature did not let out a death scream as it died. Ashura heard to many of those over the years, and the silence of this death was a boon. But regardless of that, the added blood to his already stained hands burned. He looked down, absently rubbing the slick liquid between his fingers, smudging the blackness like ink across his pale skin. As an afterthought his eyes slid back over to the mangled form of the creature, flesh sizzling and cooked where his sword and run it through. His hand still tingled from the impact, a phantom feeling that would take but minutes to fade. Still, he never liked it, the buzzing in his nerves. He hated the numbness that came to his fingers, to his whole body as he floated through the movements, cut down his opponents; charred the earth and the sky. He hated the left over taste of ash on his lips, the humming taste of salt and iron from spilt blood, and the fact he knew how beautifully red blood shone beneath moonlight or how it sparkled against orange flame. But these were the burdens of kings and of warriors, and if his men must carry those memories, then so would he. He could not let them travel this path alone, despite the fact his own had already diverged from theirs. He took comfort in the fact he at least saw them to the end; prayed that theirs was not yet done. Granted, his men were not here in this moment. None of them had perished beneath the onslaught of this beast, a creature of metal like scales and innards as black as the blood upon his fingers. Surely not natural beast could bleed such a color? Could house within itself so much rot? He wondered briefly, then, if this thing were even real? But no, that was a selfish thought. It had been real, and it had died at his blade. He would respect the creature for that. He pressed his fingers to his lips, tasting the sick, sour taste of its blood on his lips and leaned down, pressing those fingers to the bright crimson eye, now sadly dull. “Rest in peace,” he murmured. He stood, clutching his sword once more and turned, looking upwards and smiling grimly at the floating twin to the destroyed carcass at his feet. The twin eyes glowed venomously red, and while Ashura could feel no murderous intent or even anger, he knew its purpose. He raised the blade in salute, reaching inside himself to the vast wellspring of his power, fire rising up in response, coursing through him like a lover’s kiss. His eyes burned fiery red, the irises narrowing to slits. Yes, an honorable death for this one, same as its brother. This much he could do. “Come.”
FIRST-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE: You’ll have to forgive me if this is an inappropriate means of communication, but I’m unsure how to work these devices. All the same, it seems I have arrived here at the disadvantage. My name is Ashura-ou. To be honest I have no idea where I am, nor even how I arrived here. While I am aware that it may be impossible to explain my arrival, I hope that the question of where I am is easier to answer. This... Sentience has informed me of the name of this place: Marina Asylum; though I am not entirely sure what an 'asylum' is or why it insists on addressing me as 'criminal'.
I would appreciate it if I could receive answers as soon as possible. I do not wish to be an imposition, but there’s little I can do about that if I am ignorant of your ways.
FANDOM: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles (Chapters 58-65)
CANON:The very end, just as the castle is collapsing (Chapter 65)
WHAT THEY LOST: Ashura will loose all memories of the man Yasha, who was both his sworn enemy and the man he loved (Note: Though he does not remember who Yasha is or what he looks like, he will retain the memories of fighting someone, though he cannot make out the features of said person, their name, or his connection to them other than that they were the enemy to keep with his cannon)
PERSONALITY: Ashura’s overall personality is relaxed and friendly, even though he is a king. While he expects some levels of formality considering whom and what he is, Ashura would prefer people treat him more as a friend rather than their ruling king. But while he does not like standing on formality, Ashura can summon such a persona when he wishes it. He is not shy about making necessary decisions for the sake of his people, and metes out punishment and reward alike with an even hand. On that same note, Ashura is highly protective of his subjects, and measures almost all his actions against the consequences that will ensue for his people. However, Ashura does have breaking points, and if one is breached he can become frightening. He takes on a full ‘royal’ persona, looking down at a person and has no problem letting loose a fraction of his power as a scare tactic.But for those he sees as close, personal friends or if he is merely feeling playful, Ashura is known to be something of a social butterfly and flirt. It’s never anything serious, but he has no problems adopting the persona in order to get information or manipulate a person if necessary. Another little quirk is that Ashura is very aware of his feminine looks, and never actively dissuades people from believing him a woman unless it’s truly necessary. He gets a modicum of amusement out of it. In battle Ashura is calm and collected, often seen smiling amongst the carnage. This is misleading and makes some people think him to be cold hearted, but Ashura has been fighting this war for so long he has simply become immune to the shock of a battlefield. He takes care of himself, not wanting his soldiers to have to worry over his well being, but at the same time is not seen running to every subordinate’s aid. His people do die, and while that upsets him he acknowledges it as a fact of war. He maintains that his position is to counter the attacks of Yasha, as he is the only one with enough power to do so. In truth he hates having to go to war every night, but also accepts this as a part of the inevitableness of life. On a more person level, to those who know him well, Ashura is a rather tortured soul. His smiling façade is just that - a mask. Inside he feels almost physically ill each night when they are done fighting and the bodies of the dead are left behind. And more than that, Ashura has trouble letting people in to deeply. He holds them at just enough length that they are considered friends, but never enough to be considered someone intimate, not even his oldest friend Kumara.
THIRD-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE: It was a small comfort the creature did not let out a death scream as it died. Ashura heard to many of those over the years, and the silence of this death was a boon. But regardless of that, the added blood to his already stained hands burned. He looked down, absently rubbing the slick liquid between his fingers, smudging the blackness like ink across his pale skin. As an afterthought his eyes slid back over to the mangled form of the creature, flesh sizzling and cooked where his sword and run it through. His hand still tingled from the impact, a phantom feeling that would take but minutes to fade. Still, he never liked it, the buzzing in his nerves. He hated the numbness that came to his fingers, to his whole body as he floated through the movements, cut down his opponents; charred the earth and the sky. He hated the left over taste of ash on his lips, the humming taste of salt and iron from spilt blood, and the fact he knew how beautifully red blood shone beneath moonlight or how it sparkled against orange flame. But these were the burdens of kings and of warriors, and if his men must carry those memories, then so would he. He could not let them travel this path alone, despite the fact his own had already diverged from theirs. He took comfort in the fact he at least saw them to the end; prayed that theirs was not yet done. Granted, his men were not here in this moment. None of them had perished beneath the onslaught of this beast, a creature of metal like scales and innards as black as the blood upon his fingers. Surely not natural beast could bleed such a color? Could house within itself so much rot? He wondered briefly, then, if this thing were even real? But no, that was a selfish thought. It had been real, and it had died at his blade. He would respect the creature for that. He pressed his fingers to his lips, tasting the sick, sour taste of its blood on his lips and leaned down, pressing those fingers to the bright crimson eye, now sadly dull. “Rest in peace,” he murmured. He stood, clutching his sword once more and turned, looking upwards and smiling grimly at the floating twin to the destroyed carcass at his feet. The twin eyes glowed venomously red, and while Ashura could feel no murderous intent or even anger, he knew its purpose. He raised the blade in salute, reaching inside himself to the vast wellspring of his power, fire rising up in response, coursing through him like a lover’s kiss. His eyes burned fiery red, the irises narrowing to slits. Yes, an honorable death for this one, same as its brother. This much he could do. “Come.”
FIRST-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE: You’ll have to forgive me if this is an inappropriate means of communication, but I’m unsure how to work these devices. All the same, it seems I have arrived here at the disadvantage. My name is Ashura-ou. To be honest I have no idea where I am, nor even how I arrived here. While I am aware that it may be impossible to explain my arrival, I hope that the question of where I am is easier to answer. This... Sentience has informed me of the name of this place: Marina Asylum; though I am not entirely sure what an 'asylum' is or why it insists on addressing me as 'criminal'.
I would appreciate it if I could receive answers as soon as possible. I do not wish to be an imposition, but there’s little I can do about that if I am ignorant of your ways.