Aerian Sunglow
I'm sure I've got a medication for that.
Pharmacist
*Pharmacist [ˈfärməsəst] [noun]
The ultimate drug dealer; kind of a big deal.
A mistake
He is, and always will be, labeled as such. No amount of affirmation will break past that trauma. Take everything he does and says at face value.
Don't question his loyalty
He will never break his promise.
Sticking to his roots
His job is astounding, as is his work ethic. He never shirks from the responsibilities he's tasked himself to do. There's never a job too messy for this man, and if there is a mess, he will be delighted to clean it up.
Adoration
He only has love for those he's familiar with and those he works so closely for. That is his world. That is his family, and he will die for that family.
History:Born from a selfish wench of a woman, who only wanted the healthiest, smartest children. Something that Aerian was not. A twin, the smaller of the two, and a curse to his bloodline. Mother dearest couldn't handle him being so ill or frail, and couldn't stand knowing that something with her bloodline could exist. She had to end the curse in the only way she thought was possible. Throwing the child away like trash in the snow, leaving him for dead beneath a tree in the cold of Ishgard. As luck would have it, a family found the small, pitiful creature, taking it with them on their travels. Near death was an understatement, as he died more than twice, only to be brought back each time. As much as a neglected being could, he began to thrive. Illness and immunity issues would continue to plague him, being born in such a state left him constantly weak. But where he lacked in physical prowess, he made up for in intellect. He was smart beyond reason, growing and learning alongside his father who worked as a chirurgeon. He was never able to follow him outside of home, the Studium only being open to those in high regard and those attending her classes. He spent time, learning, relearning and studying each and every thing his father had, reading notes and journal entries that his father had taken during his time as a student. Working hard towards that goal was something he put every onze of focus into, finally receiving an acceptance into the Studium. His adoptive parents were beyond pleased with this, sending him off to study alongside the best Sharlayan has to offer. He excelled in each study, proving his worth in each class. His work as a student came to an end with a graduation with honors. Medicinal medications, both aetheric and non-aetheric. He thrived in this.But then:The family who, in all accounts, discarded him like last night's leftovers, came scurrying back. The fellow had gil, which he had earned through all his hard work at the Studium, doing side jobs for the teachers. Of course they would want his gil. Seeing his success brought them crawling like the roaches they were. Apologizing and sniffling, telling him they were sorry and panicked, thinking he was already dead when they dropped him in the snow. As much as stupidity ran through their veins, he almost felt pity for them. Something short lived, of course as his feigned sympathy began to wear thin. He invited them in for tea, showing hospitality before abruptly ending their lives with a simple steaming teacups worth of poison. He watched, gleeful, as the expression of pain flashed before their eyes. What followed was panic, their lungs suddenly ceasing to function. And he waited, watching with a cup of his own tea, as they all suffocated on their own vomit. His anger had fueled his actions, having broken mentally the moment they found him. Several bodies, all of which he was now responsible for cleaning up. All his work towards a steady future was snuffed in an instant, knowing he hand to uproot himself and abandon everything he knew and loved, all because of a selfish murder of multiple nobles because of his own unchecked hatred. In his state of panic, he knew the only way to silence his family is to silence every last one, keeping the secret to himself.It was a massacre:Every last one, gone. Written in the annals of his mind. Nobody needed to know. They all died of natural causes, each and every one. Undetectable traces of poison, which only he knew of. He had no ties any longer. The family who adopted him could never know about anything he had been through. He would write them to save face, telling them of his travels, never giving them any opportunity to write back.
OOC Info:You've reached my ooc info. I only accept RP from those 21+. Please, for the love of everything good and holy, don't bleed IC into OOC. You will get swiftly ignored if you do so in any kind of chaotic way. My IRL will always come first, and you will take the back burner like a champ. My friends come in a close second. You don't like one of my friends? Buddy, that's on you. This is written with as much salt and sass as I can muster. Have a good rest of your read. ♥