i. in general;

i am an adult with a day job and fluctuating moods, my motivation to write may not be 100% and i also reserve the right to end a scene early if it i don't feel comfortable with it. ic =/= ooc, the thoughts and actions of my ocs are not my own, any blurred lines of the two is not tolerated, nor do i tolerate someone becoming possessive of me or my ocs.   my time does not belong to just one person.  

iii. explicit rp;

unfortunately i'm kind of picky about erp and don't engage in it often, especially with people i'm not familiar. i ask that you don't approach me to set up rp with the sole intention of fucking my ocs, even as promiscuous and open about their sexuality as they are. i have pretty specific preferences that require me to at least know someone a fair bit before i let our barbie dolls scissor, sorry!
saint is married and monogamous, anyhow. open to sexual relations, but unbudging on his relationship status.

ii. do not interact;

while a lot of what i rp delves into darker themes and a lot of moral ambiguity (or just straight up apprehensible), a hard line is drawn at anything relating to non-con/sa, incest, or the usual shit that makes people's heads turn in a very bad way. i will also not write with minors, be it an underaged character or their author, and   anyone under the age of 18 interacting with me in my spaces will be blocked and reported.  

ii. godmodding;

ah yes, the staple rule in ever roleplay community: stay in your lane and don't take over someone else's oc. that's the short way of saying, when in character, only use knowledge your own character has available to them, instead of magically knowing something about mine that they wouldn't ordinarily. saint is, for sure, no ordinary little guy, but the exact details are deliberately well hidden. you can notice that there's something off with him, but clocking him immediately as something more crosses a line.

well with all the important bits out of the way, about me! except that i suck at talking about myself. my name's basil, ive been rping for gods knows how long now but about 3-4 years within ffxiv! with a strong preference for darker themes and saint no exception to it by the earful you got on the home page, i just like to preface that saint is not an easy person to get along with, despite appearances.
i however, try to be approachable! i value communication a lot and so long as you don't come to me with a bunch of bullshit, then we're clear! we'll get along just fine :]

   name       ███ ███ █████
   aliases       " saint ".
   age       thirty-three.
   dob       11 / 22
   pronouns       he / they.
   gender       nonbinary.
   orientation       yes.
   race       mixed - veena viera & keeper miqo'te.
   status       taken, engaged. monogamous.
   location       the east shroud.

quiet. too quiet.
he is nothing if not a private person, who keeps to himself and says little. not a word about his home, his life; there is a balance to maintain between work and after hours, and he makes it clear. yet it's not just his distant nature and the blunt way he delivers his words that make him be seen as cold and quiet-- he's like a ghost passing through the real world.
listen close, hear for yourself how there's no sound as he walks. feel how it's as if you're being watched, and there are claws down your back.

   height       4'9" / 144.8 cm.
   build       soft with time. thick :)
   skin       very pale. freckled, rosy in places.
   hair color       white, streaked in black.
   hair style       curly & very long. braided.
   eye color       pale lilac.

   notable features;   
- spotted ears.
- thick black fur from neck to chest, and hip to digitigrade peets.
- freckles! all over!
- miqo'te clanmarks around his eyes and on his body.
- floral tattoos down his arms and blackened hands.
- claws. long, sharp claws.

   alignment       true neutral.
   likes;   
- lazy days at home with his wife, their dogs;
- fire, in a totally normal, non-destructive way;
- alcohol. who doesn't?
   dislikes;   
- authority figures. wood wailers especially.
- imperial loyalists. lots of trauma there lmao.
- rain, it messes up his hair :/
   virtues       amazingly stubborn; brutally honest at times; stays calm in difficult situations; unafraid to get their hands dirty (unless it comes to wet food in the bottom of the sink).
   negatives       awfully stubborn; difficulty empathising with others; often comes off as cold; habitual liar; would rather die than have to rely on someone or ask for help.

i.  in the shroud; saint, as it is his home in later years, is often found hanging around whether it be for business or other. he's a bit nervous around locals, as they are of him -- but those of the east and south know him will enough to be comfortable, or gossip about his odd tendencies.

iv.  looking for work; if his fetch quests don't sound appealing, then kept around the apothecary are flyers for an up and coming adventurers' guild, or handbills from the twin adders. he is, of course, a hunter first, but the shroud is big for just one man. care to take a load off his shoulders?

ii.  in the apothecary; saint runs a small business just a bit away from the hawthorne hut, should you be looking for some kind of tea or tonic. maybe you're looking for work, too; some things he doesn't have the time to fetch himself and is looking for someone to help lend a hand.

v.  when seeking refuge; should you end up on his doorstep, saint is more than willing to help and with few questions, especially to hosts of voidsent or other aetherical anomalies-- so long as you're not a threat to himself or anyone else, rest assured that you'll be safe here.

iii.  the best tracker in the woods; if you're needing someone found or conveniently to go missing too. should you convince saint that your cause is worth his time and have the gil or compelling story to back it up, he's a fast and efficient bloodhound, quick on the trail.

v.  quiet, ghostly hare; how his steps are completely silent, how he drifts like a passing spirit, his presence in the shroud is uncanny and almost eerie. focus too hard, trying to place what exactly is wrong with him, you might just feel the sensation of cobwebs on your skin: a warning.

i.  in hingashi, until three years ago; under a number of aliases, saint had a reputation for two things: information, and fire. with an expansive web of connections, he was your man for secrets at a price; or should you have pissed him off, maybe you were victim of his little "incidents".

ii.  tba.

a brief history ;

it's clear enough that he isn't from the woods he calls home, that's obvious. but it's where he belongs and is accepted, so why should it matter any further? as per usual, saint is exceedingly cold when it comes to questions about himself- but there is the occasional fact that slips through the cracks of his facade, or a hint to be pieced together.present in his voice to this day, however much he tries to bury it, still lies the distinct accents of dalmasca and bozja, the two languages he grew up speaking as his native tongues. he himself originally comes from rabanastre, the diverse gem of the otherwise wastelandish desert. born to a vieran mother an miqo'te father, that much explains the strange look about him, though about as much good you could expect could come out of being raised in an imperial occupied city. the two of them passed on early in his life, and his upbringing was then handled by a distant friend of theirs - t'soni zyrae.that too, does not last, but the grizzled miqo'te did the best he could. somewhere in saint's teens did another uprising split the city apart in fire and chaos, and split the two of them, too- presuming his mentor, his father, to be dead, there was nothing keeping him in this living hell. it was a long trek to Nagxia with a caravan of others looking to escape, but they would make it eventually- and from there, saint traveled to hingashi.that in of itself is one hell of a ride- he grew up fast and he grew up mean, doing whatever it took to survive; selling one man out, burning down the home of the next. he was wild and unchecked, with a temper to fear and the potent magic to back it up, but each incident threatening his life made him humble at least, made him paranoid. nearly ten years of that, a couple of his own deaths and a shitty void pact at one point, his life slows down and moves elsewhere. the shroud became a quiet home, away from his past, and where he might fix things for once, and make amends.

❝ mothers tell their children, "take care of the shroud and the shroud will take care of you. forsake the shroud, and it forsakes you." we all laugh it off as a worried mother hen clucking over her chicks, never to put her concerns to rest- until a day later the awful news came. uncle bobby from the homestead next door was found in a pool of his own blood, his head bitten clean off his body. the wailers say it was just hungry coyotes, looking for a meal in the dead of winter, but we know coyotes and they're too smart to barge into a man's house and think of him the most suitable meal.even if the wailers say it were rabid beasts, the village talks about his kids' bodies, and ma talks of wickers. that the bruises on their corpses, and the chunk ripped out of jen's neck, was no coyote and in fact, a beast of the woods making right of what was wrong. ❞-- journal of an unnamed young man, deceased.

largely considered to be folklore, "wickers" are what look to be amalgamations of half a dozen other animals, but all with the same purpose: to hunt down large gatherings of woodsin to the source, and snuff them out. consider them as nature's pest control, in a sort; heeding the whims of elementals, they carry on the bidding the shroud can no longer do itself. large, always donned with a skull of some manner of beast or another as a face, they are functionally blind-- but they don't need to see you in order to continue the hunt.saint just so happens to be one of them. the human nature of those made of the woods are called wildlings- in some cases, they're made from people so drenched in sin that the only chance of saving them is conversion; and in others, like his, it is a gift granted to the dying. in a way, their will is no longer entirely theirs, as the pull of the wild is irresistable to most, unless you get good at tuning out the endless whispers of elementals; but nonetheless each one of them feel the same hunger for blood that is never quite satiated, no matter how much you consume.the proper name for a wicker is a kvist, actually, pronounced as it reads. wildlings and kvists exist as two separate souls sharing one vessel, one being dormant while the other is awake. full moons will always draw a kvist from it's host, having the inexplicable urge to hunt-- but there is always work to be done. prey to be found.

i.  kvist. saint and his kvist have some... differing opinions on matters, like how to go about a hunt, their thoughts and feelings on someone; but at least kvist is generally much more pleasant to talk to. it is an odd creature, and least of all you wouldn't expect the carnivorous forest beast to be good company, but they are! provided they are not hunting you.
they see the shroud as their territory, you as their flock; and they, the shepherd. their love for life is uncontested, and even sinners are met with apologies and well wishes in the next life.

ii.  hunger. no matter how much you feed the wolf, the wolf always hungers. the fact that a predator in fact, lives in the small body of an unassuming man, amazes many-- not as many as those he occasionally hunts down for food. a fresh meal is not limited to animals, sometimes it's another human being that becomes his prey- and perhaps, you were unlucky enough to come across him during feeding time.

iii.  void hunters. as custodians and protectors of these woods, any threat, large or small, is their responsibility-- and it's voidsent who often disturb the natural order. both saint and kvist are aware of any voidsent or void-touched within their neck of the woods like a sixth sense, but it's typically only those more powerful who are met with open hostility- either way, there will be strong words.

ahzrukhal delarus

♕ engaged ✧ trusted

domesticity, when the both of them have known so much strife in their lives. she is the one thing making life worth living again; she, who keeps him well fed, well loved, the happiest he's been in years.
they might as well be already married, at this point. long before they ever confessed their love and loyalty, they knew they were the other's -- and now, saint has overcome the fear of saying "i love you."

adrius vharsei

✧ trusted
✧ would (and has) died for

he isn't kidding. saint has died for him before, as their history is complicated and chaotic. how the two, one a former imperial and another, seen enough hurt at the hands of imperials, came together as something once more than friends is... a long story.
and though that chapter has ended, adrius is saint's closest friend- one of his only friends at all, really.

cjvre kisne

☼ friends!

they're friends! simple as that. the company is nice and each of them are welcome to keep their secrets- saint is ever willing to lend a helping hand should cjvre need it, they don't have to talk about the whats or whys.