[hider=Faolán Black][center]
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[/center][hr][hr] [sup][color=b2b8cc][h3]Name[/h3][/color][/sup][sup][u]_________[/u][/sup]
[indent]Faolán Black[/indent]
[sup][color=b2b8cc][h3]Age[/h3][/color][/sup][sup][u]______[/u][/sup]
[indent]Twenty-Four[/indent]

[sup][color=b2b8cc][h3]Gender[/h3][/color][/sup][sup][u]__________[/u][/sup]
[indent]Male[/indent]

[sup][color=b2b8cc][h3]Relationship Status[/h3][/color][/sup][sup][u]____________________________[/u][/sup]
[indent]Single[/indent]

[sup][color=b2b8cc][h3]Job[/h3][/color][/sup][sup][u]______[/u][/sup]
[indent]Faolán is a guardsman who protects and serves the Royal City. At least one son in each generation of his family has served in the guard faithfully, and as a good, respectable profession, pressure usually falls on the eldest son to do so. In the hierarchy, he is in the strange middle ground between nobility and peasantry: high enough to receive a decent education, but low enough to still be considered 'commonfolk'.[/indent]

[sup][color=b2b8cc][h3]Element/Abilities[/h3][/color][/sup][sup][u]__________________________[/u][/sup]
[indent]Light
[list][*]Faolán doesn't use his powers often, preferring to live as average a life as possible. Occasionally, he'll conjure a light to read by (when he goes without candles in his house) or heal a shallow wound. He received less than a year of mentoring for his Elemental abilities in his youth before quitting, so while he knows the theory – it didn't all go in one ear and out the other – he's more than rusty. At the very least, his control will always be impeccable. He spends so much time concentrating on not accidentally creating a flash of light that his powers are always locked down and under his control.[/list][/indent]

[sup][color=b2b8cc][h3]In-Depth Appearance[/h3][/color][/sup][sup][u]______________________________[/u][/sup]
[indent]Faolán would be a handsome man, if only he took a comb to his hair once in a while, and shaved away his messy stubble that creeps in whenever there's not any pageantry required for his duties. He is wealthy enough that he is never unclean, although it is not surprising to see black marks on him from the charcoal he uses to sketch with. Instead, Faolán is unkempt only as a result of his permanent state of distraction; his eyes on the sky and his head in the clouds too often to worry about looking sharp.

As a guardsman, Faolán is physically fit, boasting an athletic build improved over time through drills and the daily challenges he faces. It suits him well. He might not be the tallest of men (5'10" is [i]short[/i] compared to his siblings) but he has an imposing presence about him – he takes up space, commands attention. Some things aren't masked by general scruffiness. Pale blue eyes are made brighter by the dark circles under them, remnants of long nights spent awake, squinting at the pages of a book by candlelight.

His Mark rests on his right wrist, same as everyone else who has one, but he covers it up. It is hidden under crisp white bandages or leather wristguards when he is on duty; otherwise, it can be found underneath fashionable beaded bracelets. Repeated observation would betray that Faolán holds said arm close to his chest or behind his back, and has at some point made the decision to switch to using his non-dominant hand for every task from writing to sword-fighting.[/indent]

[sup][color=b2b8cc][h3]Likes[/h3][/color][/sup][sup][u]________[/u][/sup]
[list][*]Drawing and figure-sketching.
[*]Late night patrols; the city at night.
[*]Visiting his family out of town.
[*]Cheap wine imported from overseas.
[*]Chasing down troublemakers.
[/list]

[sup][color=b2b8cc][h3]Dislikes[/h3][/color][/sup][sup][u]___________[/u][/sup]
[list][*]Heights, even when they're not too far off the ground.
[*]Receiving praise or criticism in public.
[*]Wealth and those who don't give charitably or live austerely.
[*]Being so far away from his family.
[*]The Mark.
[/list]

[sup][color=b2b8cc][h3]Greatest Fear[/h3][/color][/sup][sup][u]___________________[/u][/sup]
[indent]Faolán doesn't fear many tangible things with a physical presence to be scared of. As he grows older, what wakes him up in a cold sweat is the product of too long spent alone, away from his remaining family. He worries constantly that something might happen to his brothers and sisters when he's only present in the financial sense. Anything could happen to them while he's guarding other people's families in the Royal City – sickness, bandits, freak accidents. His greatest fear is that the next time he sees them will be the last, whether it's because of their inevitable drifting apart or something more sinister.[/indent]

[sup][color=b2b8cc][h3]Personality[/h3][/color][/sup][sup][u]________________[/u][/sup]
[indent]In his formative years, Faolán was told that the just thing to do – if he was in a position of power over others – was to be merciful. He considers it the burden of responsibility: to do good, even if it costs a piece of oneself. Charity comes easy to him. He's someone who lets the unfortunate kids on the street get away with stealing to survive (much to the chagrin of his superiors); someone who feeds the stray cats in the neighborhood until they're loitering outside his front door every morning (and he doesn't have a rat problem anymore); and someone who could easily afford a better place in a better part of the city if he didn't have unquestioning devotion to taking care of his siblings. Someone taught him duty and familial obligation when he was too young to know better.

There is still mischief in him, paired with a dry, deadpan humour that few realise exists. He disobeys orders more frequently than some would think, masquerading it as incompetence at his job when a child makes off with a loaf of bread to feed himself. It's lucky that the Captain likes him. Faolán has a rebellious streak that he keeps well-hidden in his guard uniform. There is a reason why he was never interested in being a knight or a general. Guards protect and serve [i]the people[/i]. The hand is tipped in favour of the nobility. It's only right that some people stick up for the little guy if the spirit of the law isn't being followed. Justice doesn't need to be blind, dumb and deaf to inequalities as some of his fellow guardsmen seem to believe.

Faolán is a poor conversationalist. He's too quietly-spoken, reserved, and it's an accepted quirk that sometimes he just fades out to stare up at the sky, lost in thought. Sometimes he's more blatant about it, pulling out his notebook to sketch out a concept before the idea forsakes him. As expected, the only friends he has are those who smile fondly when it happens. That one abandoned dream – the one where he's an artist, doing what he loves – never truly disappeared.

Of course, there is at least one aspect of his job that suits his character: the danger. Faolán is a thrill-seeker, and there is none better than the thrill of chasing a criminal down a labyrinth of streets, though of course he would prefer if they didn't go via rooftops. He doesn't consider himself blood-thirsty, but there's something fulfilling about a fight ([i]or a fair duel[/i]) that leaves him just as satisfied as the ending of a good book. 

As far as the Mark is concerned, Faolán hates it. The legend seems to be the only thing his family talks about when he's around these days. He's not a pious man, and while he believes well enough that his magical potential is god-given, he doesn't like the idea that his fate has been written out by someone else. Faolán already has plans to never marry, because he doesn't like the idea that someone has been chosen who has 'perfect' for him, and neither does he like the stomach-churning implications that if he falls in love with someone else, it won't be as strong as what could be with his Destined. It is natural to hate what one fears.
[/indent]

[sup][color=b2b8cc][h3]Background[/h3][/color][/sup][sup][u]_________________[/u][/sup]
[indent]Faolán was born in a small town only a three-day journey away from the Royal City. His family relocated there to inherit a sizable house from a relative, useful in their end-game plan of having children and settling down to farm or some other 'safe' profession. Faolán's father was Kyran Black, the Captain of the Guard in the city, and he spent little time at home – only able to travel out once a month for a few days before he returned to the career was putting food on the table for his family. Affording a proper education was possible, and so Faolán was given lessons from the retired tutor up the road, where he learned his numbers and letters, history and literature. In his free time, he didn't climb trees or fight mock battles with wooden swords but instead sketched landscapes and people with sticks of charcoal and later expensive paints.

Growing up with three brothers within two years of his age was difficult, for Faolán most of all. The twins, Conall and Culainn, had each other; Fergus was a handful at the best of times; and ultimately, none of them were like the eldest. He was the one with the Mark on his wrist, the one whom their mother doted over. Her sister had been in a similar position, living a life that was nothing if not interesting in search of her soulmate, selfishly using much funds available to her as a member of minor nobility. When Faolán finally met Aunt Eileen, he was surprised to see a faded, almost-imperceptible birthmark and no supernatural powers in sight. Whilst Faolán was considering the implications that he didn't [i]have[/i] to abide by Destiny's plan for him, Conall and Culainn were hounding him about his future love. Would she be pretty or smart? Was it the girl down the street? What if he didn't like her?

By the time Faolán was ten years old, he had developed something of a complex about it. He left the room whenever the topic came up, and kept the Mark itself hidden beneath the sleeves of his tunic or a strip of fabric stolen from the sewing kit. Exclusively right-handed, he made the conscious decision to switch to his left, frustrating his tutors with his messy scrawl (which has seen no change to this day) and confusing his grandfather, who was at the time teaching him how to use a sword. He would still draw and paint with his right-hand, but he would never do such things in the presence of others anymore. There was the weight of embarrassment and self-consciousness on his shoulders. His mother put him forward for an education in the magical arts, which he squandered and truanted, and eventually he refused to go back.

In his teenage years, he was assisting his mother with the housework and the taming of his two younger sisters, Sorcha and Sloane, who each arrived suddenly and without warning. They were both promised to be "the last". Faolán's father was not often present, having fewer periods of respite in which he could travel back home from the Royal City, but when he was home, he was irritable – not at anyone in particular, but Faolán could only take so much pestering as to when he would apply to join the guard, especially when he was considering fleeing to the Artist's Guild across the sea. They parted on bad terms.

They received word that he had died before they could meet again to repair their relationship. Faolán took it the hardest, a guilty-conscience plaguing him. He left home the moment he turned seventeen to live in the Royal City, but not before having lived through a year of trying times in a household of hungry mouths to feed and no bread-winner. His pay afforded him a spartan living in a room downwind of a tannery, and the rest was sent home. Life as a guardsman proved difficult for Faolán. He daydreamed too often, socialised too little. If it wasn't for his father's reputation as a fair and just captain and his poorly-hidden Mark, he would surely have been kicked out several times over in his first year. The fact that he wasn't is something he calls 'divine intervention'.

A rocky start, but he settled. The home-sickness never truly passed, but it became manageable over time. His superiors stopped giving him the awful patrols through dark alleys in hopes that he would be stabbed and save them the trouble, and eventually (after repeatedly making up for his rookie mistakes) they warmed up to him. Faolán still volunteered for the more dangerous parts of the city to patrol, if only because they were home to him, but he was also given the privilege of 'guarding' the noble courts, where nothing ever happened, except drunken lords and ladies occasionally making passes at him. The current captain is grooming him to be the next-in-line, sure that in a few years, Faolán will receive a lucrative offer to work in the castle itself.

Faolán was more than happy to slave away at his duties, refusing the invitation and ignoring the celebrations that would rage on around them, though the captain 'suggested' (without accepting 'no' for an answer) that he take some time off for the Festival of Destinies. The city would be packed to the rafters, and while it was all hands on deck in the run up to the event, it would be just asking for a smiting to make a Destined work when he ought to be out there looking for his soulmate. That was fine – Faolán intended to use his free time to go visit his brothers and sisters... until they learned of his plan, and decided the only way to help their dear, hopeless older brother out was to live with him until the festivities subsided – if only to keep him from running away from fate.
 [/indent]

[sup][color=b2b8cc][h3]Extra[/h3][/color][/sup][sup][u]________[/u][/sup]
[indent]Colour: [color=b2b8cc]#b2b8cc[/color]
Faceclaim: Jude Law[/indent]
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