Arthur Phoenix/Introduction: Difference between revisions

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Mien: Most notable about Arthur is his hands. Scorched soot black, it's a wonder they don't crumble into charcoal dust with their near constant motion. The sooty nature travels midway up his forearms fading into pallid skin. Beneath that thin flesh are veins coursing with molten metal, glowing orangeish yellow as if waiting to be poured out into a mold. Both his fingernails and the irises of his eyes are a shiny metallic gold. The messy mop of hair on his head is as black as his hands except at the roots which are a starkly contrasted pale yellow giving the impression his locks are just so filthy or dyed.
Mien: Most notable about Arthur is his hands. Scorched soot black, it's a wonder they don't crumble into charcoal dust with their near constant motion. The sooty nature travels midway up his forearms fading into pallid skin. Beneath that thin flesh are veins coursing with molten metal, glowing orangeish yellow as if waiting to be poured out into a mold. Both his fingernails and the irises of his eyes are a shiny metallic gold. The messy mop of hair on his head is as black as his hands except at the roots which are a starkly contrasted pale yellow giving the impression his locks are just so filthy or dyed.


His molten blood leaves his skin almost uncomfortably warm to the touch. When he works up a sweat, the room begins to smell like smoke.
His molten blood leaves his skin almost uncomfortably hot to the touch. When he works up a sweat, the room begins to smell like smoke.





Revision as of 17:09, 9 May 2020

Arthur is a young Wizened who has settled in Philly only in the last year or so. Shy and unassuming, he tends to keep to himself most of the time. He is far more suited to staying at home on the internet or reading comic books.

Standing at a modest 5'9", Arthur tries to go unnoticed most of the time.

Mien: Most notable about Arthur is his hands. Scorched soot black, it's a wonder they don't crumble into charcoal dust with their near constant motion. The sooty nature travels midway up his forearms fading into pallid skin. Beneath that thin flesh are veins coursing with molten metal, glowing orangeish yellow as if waiting to be poured out into a mold. Both his fingernails and the irises of his eyes are a shiny metallic gold. The messy mop of hair on his head is as black as his hands except at the roots which are a starkly contrasted pale yellow giving the impression his locks are just so filthy or dyed.

His molten blood leaves his skin almost uncomfortably hot to the touch. When he works up a sweat, the room begins to smell like smoke.


Mask: A somewhat lanky, dark haired young man. He always has pale skin and an odd glint in his eye or near his hands.

Mantle: the scent of freshly cut grass and the wavering air of summer heat warp the air around him. This mantle changes slightly with his mood, the heat seeming to focus and intensify when he gets angrier or the light around him almost seeming to brighten as he grows more cheerful and dim when he saddens.