Name
Varujan Silvasi (v-air-ooh-gin;sill-v-ah-see)
Varujan Silvasi (v-air-ooh-gin;sill-v-ah-see)
Height
Tall
Tall
Fur Color
several greys, obsidian, white
several greys, obsidian, white
Sex & Gender
Male
Male
Weight
Heavy
Heavy
Eyes
charcoal black with silver highlights
charcoal black with silver highlights
Age
6 years (2017-05-09)
6 years (2017-05-09)
Build
Athletic
Athletic
Species
Eurasian wolf
Eurasian wolf
Appearance
He wields his words like silver—knives as sharp as his smiles
There is steel on his tongue.
He wears his enemies’ ashes like a proud armour; silver splits obsidian in a war across his coat, shocked by the sparse fleeting of white and marred by the greying flecking that dyes his coat and shows its age. He is imposing, a face made ugly like a scar caught in a permanent glare, half a step away from a sneer which divulges into a contortion of whole, untouched aggression. His gait spells the dutiful standing of a soldier, a man wrought with wars all his own, given by his hand or that of another—straight backed, rigid muscle, squared shoulders, he is a well built machine that seethes beneath the contained sophistication of a composed gentleman, if he is anything but this then he is a wild animal in the waiting, the one truth that wriggles beneath the surface of his skin.
Varujan is always expecting something, and so he is always guarded, always reactive, a man of action to the consequence of others. Thus, he is explosive in every conceivable manner when given the chance to turn his teeth out onto another, and there are no allies in his mind, even amongst his own family. Everyone is an enemy, everyone will betray him. It is why he dreams of grander ideas, a life where every step he has gained through cunning and perseverance, by using others as a means to an end, a gain to his means. At his best, Varujan is one hell of a born and bred commander. At his worst, the Silvasi patriarch is a Hell born madman descending into an ever evolving case of manic ego.
He wears his enemies’ ashes like a proud armour; silver splits obsidian in a war across his coat, shocked by the sparse fleeting of white and marred by the greying flecking that dyes his coat and shows its age. He is imposing, a face made ugly like a scar caught in a permanent glare, half a step away from a sneer which divulges into a contortion of whole, untouched aggression. His gait spells the dutiful standing of a soldier, a man wrought with wars all his own, given by his hand or that of another—straight backed, rigid muscle, squared shoulders, he is a well built machine that seethes beneath the contained sophistication of a composed gentleman, if he is anything but this then he is a wild animal in the waiting, the one truth that wriggles beneath the surface of his skin.
Varujan is always expecting something, and so he is always guarded, always reactive, a man of action to the consequence of others. Thus, he is explosive in every conceivable manner when given the chance to turn his teeth out onto another, and there are no allies in his mind, even amongst his own family. Everyone is an enemy, everyone will betray him. It is why he dreams of grander ideas, a life where every step he has gained through cunning and perseverance, by using others as a means to an end, a gain to his means. At his best, Varujan is one hell of a born and bred commander. At his worst, the Silvasi patriarch is a Hell born madman descending into an ever evolving case of manic ego.
(lineart by Lewely on Deviantart.)
Relationships
Aristide Silvasi; Son.
"My greatest accomplishment—if he would only sever the parts of himself which make him weak, then I would be able to truly look upon him with pride...for all that I taught him, however, he is still but a child who has yet to learn from his mistakes."
"My greatest accomplishment—if he would only sever the parts of himself which make him weak, then I would be able to truly look upon him with pride...for all that I taught him, however, he is still but a child who has yet to learn from his mistakes."
Sabina Silvasi; Daughter.
"She reminds me of her mother too much, too deeply, and I cannot bring myself to look her in the eyes; and so I neglect her, and I amputate the memories behind my biting words. I will lay my guilt down and place my hatred upon your shoulders, for you are pitiable in the same way as your mother was."
"She reminds me of her mother too much, too deeply, and I cannot bring myself to look her in the eyes; and so I neglect her, and I amputate the memories behind my biting words. I will lay my guilt down and place my hatred upon your shoulders, for you are pitiable in the same way as your mother was."
Dragomir Silvasi; Son.
"How disgusting, to call this sniveling weakness my son, born from my own loins like a living cancer, and if it weren't for your brother I would rip your throat out myself. You can't even kill your own mother right. You will always be a wretched, cowering thing in my eyes."
"How disgusting, to call this sniveling weakness my son, born from my own loins like a living cancer, and if it weren't for your brother I would rip your throat out myself. You can't even kill your own mother right. You will always be a wretched, cowering thing in my eyes."
Recent Location
This character hasn't posted anywhere yet.
Skills
Achievements
Art Gallery
Fun Facts
Speaks Romanian & English.
Smells of metal—like iron; the heat of the sun, & a faint trace of cinnamon.
His favorite food is birds of prey.
His favorite pastime is sparring.
