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Title: Xian Haoran, The Black Jade
Full Name: 
-Surname: Xian (仙, Immortal or celestial, can denote “fairy”)
-Given Name: Tao (濤, the sound of the sea)
-Courtesy Name: Haoran (浩然, “vastness, greatness”)

Age/DOB (before the slumber): 25 / November 4th
Height/Weight: 5’10 / 157 lbs 
Sex/Gender: male / cis man 
Appearance/Physical Description: Xian Haoran is a traveling cultivator, hailing from a cultivation sect in the northern China region. He wears traditional, noble Hanfu instead of cumbersome metal armor, opting for mostly blue and black shades of fabrics, and letting all of his beautiful layers of silk billow in the wind. He has a fairly sharp V-shaped face with undefined, pouty lips and an even, sloped button nose. His eyes are shaped like willow leaves, and the irises glitter a dark blue like the ocean. The eyes themselves look tired, shadowed by his long, downcast lashes and a severe-looking set of brows. Haoran tends to wear his long, dark hair half-up, opting for tying a loose bun with a dark blue ribbon matching his deep-water eyes. Two moles speckle his otherwise jade-pale face, one under his right eye and one on the left side of his chin, under his lip. He always stands with dignity and great posture, a long neck framing his pristine and aloof face. 

Personality: long ago, before Xian Haoran’s slumber, he was a studious and diligent soul with a steel-trap memory that harbored an extraordinary knowledge ironed into him from his sect. He was born in the Xian Sect of northern China, not a day in his life truly spent in the secular world and not a minute of training time wasted. Advanced magic was taught to Haoran from a young age, and the elegant arts of the sword engrained into his body. All of this culminated into a strong, gentle, and infinitely patient young man— diligent in his teachings, never skipping or snuffing a single lesson, never raising his voice, able to wait and meditate and simply learn and teach to perfection. The Black Jade never repeated himself, always able to wait, to observe, and to flow with what others presented him. 
Ever since he woke up, he’s been hollowed out. While still diligent, still possessing precious knowledge, he… struggles to feel anything but rage and pain. He can’t sit in peace and think of the world without thinking about why everything should die for the suffering he faced. He can’t train and hone his skills unless he pictures blood staining his blade and bones cracking under his fists. His gratefulness, his gentleness, it’s all been replaced with ever-flowing turmoil deep in his chest, and resentment in all forms bubble and boil. There’s no such thing as perfect moments anymore. There’s no reason to sit and ponder and train, unless it is to get revenge on a world that shred the fabric of his being into nothing but rags. 
He is… hollow. And it hurts him. And he can’t wait to stop it. 

Focus Core: water-based magic, my brain hurts too much to think of details rn pls have mercy on my soul

Virtue Key: a Chinese “jian,” in other words a two-edged sword, forged by Aleksei long ago based off of Haoran’s description of “good swords.” This sword was forged in some otherworldly manner— its blade extremely sharp and opalescent, as if a giant fiery opal was polished and honed into a lethal edge. it has an off-putting translucency to it, the hilt contrasting the glittering and ethereal blade with a simple but flowing hilt and a pommel with its name engraved in mandarin characters— “微光,” meaning “twilight.” It has the ability to use its stored magical energy to move on its own accord, and channel energy from Haoran to be controlled with just his mind. In the last days before his entombment, Haoran tied a dark blue sword tassel to the pommel, for “good luck.” The irony. 
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