Even more Raider brats

Out-of-Character Name: Virgil
Parents: Jael x Modesty
Character's Name: Solomon Abraxas (Fallen? Still don't know, and I play like three of these hoes)
Gender: Male
Adult Height: 40" (RIP Jael)
Height: XL
Build: Light
Appearance Description:

(this, but put it on that one smooth collie lineart I see up there lol)

I'd be the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love
A night-born mistwalker. Less of a hellhound, more of a church-grim. Solomon is chiseled from dark marble in the worst of ways. The ways that cut and drink blood at the mere thought of a touch. Draped in a silken pelage of obsidian, it does nothing to soften his edges. He more a blade than a boy, and he glints and shines like well honed steel. All of the darkest parts of his lineage converge to paint him in an unbroken wash of jet black- the boy born in his funeral shroud. When he was thrust into the cold void of the whelping den, he could easily have been lost amid the shadows of firelight. In the weeks, months that pass after his birth, a few spots of light. Pinpricks of silver- the stars on a moonless night cast upon his raven coat. A small group of bright freckles cast upon the right side of his face- keen eyes might recognize the amalgam to match the stellar figure of Aries crossing over his features.

A creature of night, until you find yourself pinned beneath his stare. Bright. Too bright. Staring into the light beyond heaven's gate, his eyes are so impossibly pale that they could easily be mistaken for the bone enshrined in the meat which tethers him to mortality. Staring out from a living shadow, wreathed in long lashes that do nothing to soften that sharp, deadly stare.

The subtle curl of his coat, the silken shine of it- like the oil slick gleam of a raven's wing. Coupled with the downwards tilt of his eartips, one need not waste much time recognizing his collie lineage. But the narrow chest, the massive paws, those long legs. Those are all wolf. Solomon wears his lineage like a well-tailored suit. It simply fits, flatters, accentuates. He's an unearthly, unsettling thing. Not quite wolf, not quite dog. Not quite real, not quite seelie.

Mutations: If I can scrounge them up, I would. Probably give him ram horns? kudu horns? or weird(er) eyes.

Personality: themes - too sweet, hozier / burn your village, kiki rockwell / talk, hozier / holy water, tillian / it will come back, hozier

Quiet: though he has a voice, Solomon tends to prefer communicating with his eyes. With the movements of his slender form. All implications and intent and inference. Amidst the cacophony of a violent world, he would prefer to drift on the ebb and flow of unseen tides and allow his subtle machinations to speak for him. Even his movements are muted- muffled by carefully placed steps, slipping to and fro like a ghost. When Solomon opts to speak aloud, it is in riddles. He loves nothing more than his allegories and metaphors, eager to deliver prophecy couched in mystic symbolism.

Observant: in his marrow and his meat lives something that is always watching. Drinking it all in through the unsettling pale gaze of a wolf-dog. Aeons of selection for the sharpest, quickest wits with which to devour information and make snap decisions to keep herds and kin safe. The Shepherd must protect what is his, and to protect he must know every nook and cranny of his surroundings. So he picks up on little details, subtle shifts of posture and quick darting shadows in the peripheries. Hardly anything escapes his all-consuming gaze.

Devotee: a manifestation of divine obsession, a supplicant vessel burgeoning with adoration. Solomon imparts affection without shame, throws himself bodily at the feet of those whose power he recognizes as greater than his own. His mothers. His father. His most holy God. He exists at the beck and call of his most beloved, and within his cavernous heart there is a creche where he is eager to stuff them for eternity. Solomon's obsessive expressions of love and devotion to his kin can easily overwhelm as he grows and ages, his abilities becoming more refined, his sense of self more closely linked with the carving of flesh. A prowler in the night, hovering on the brink of insanity as he grapples with the intensity of his love love love love.

Hungry: were he to stumble upon a font of immortality, Solomon would readily cast himself unto its depths. To grant the boon of endless time to see, to learn, to know. One might go so far as to label him a bookworm, so keen is he to bury himself beneath stacks of ancient tomes and consume as much information as he can manage. With the passage of time, his study of whatever volumes he can acquire will expand to include experimentation. Carving apart carcasses to understand their mechanisms, to understand the ineffable divinity trapped within the blood and bile of mortality. To know what bends and what breaks, what cures and what kills, on and on until the end of time itself. Solomon is shamelessly greedy, as though he has lived a thousand years without a drop of water before he finally stumbled upon his oasis.

Ruthless: some disturbing mixture of collie- and god- bloods have created a tireless machine that will run until it dies. He would forgo sleep, food, blinking if it was necessary for the culmination of his task. Solomon should not be made an enemy of. He will spend the rest of his days orchestrating your violent death.

Alignment: Lawful Evil
Skills: Intellect & Navigation
Intended plots: be weird, generally off-putting, you know. Be a momma's boy except he won't pick a favourite momma. Maybe turn into a zealot like his grandma. Or become some kind of blood-scrying mad prophet. Hard to say, really.