Sync

~ Phantom Thieves of London: The Calling ~

Romaní Bogart

_{Strength Blares When the Candles Fade
theme
@Typical@Savo@LetMeDoStuff@Letter Bee}

---

Things lately have been quiet, calm to be exact. Something he didn't really seem to oblivious of. The silence of every day encompassed the surrounding area with a calming grace to it. Nothing seemed purposeful, yet everything seemed to have reasoning. Like a riverbed, it flowed to wherever the destination lead. Everyone followed their schedules, their time wasted on the menial task of everyday. Romaní found himself in such a state too. His hands cozy'd on his pockets, his assignments were mostly done, so right now he had some time to merely reflect and do something. But-- He didn't really have that many friends to actually spend time with. His sights shifted, left. Towards that direction was a small compilation of buildings. Perhaps that was the way towards the collage, seems like it since there were a few more colorful faces among them. Most were chatting or having their lunches together, other glued to their phones, while the rest were doing both. Some were yelling at the top of their lungs, holding their phones sideways while simultaneously barking some commands for something. Romaní could only expect that this was a video game of some kind... Or he was insane.

To the right, much of the same. There were a few couples, however. Held by their hands, finger intertwined much like the roots of a tree. Grasping each other while walking towards the distance. Some rested under the tree's shade, book in hand taking notes in both a laptop and some cliff notes. And finally a couple of kid's practicing their instruments in a lone corner, probably in attempts to not bother anyone as much. Overall, the day seemed to be... boring as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary, so a stroll through the library seemed to be in order, mainly due to negligence, Romaní had allowed himself a slight slumber during his studies in philosophy class. The previous nights had weight on his heavily, and a few night he leisurely strayed across a few interesting comic books and video games he wanted to delve into. Studies were his priority of course, but the stress of everyday seemed to linger as of recent and therefore he needed some reassurance of peace.

And so, he decided to test his luck, flip a metaphorical coin in hopes he met someone that could aid him in that spectrum. Luckily, after a few moments he witnessed a somewhat familiar face. Laurance Newman, they hadn't have much interaction in the past, considering since he also was either intensely immersed in his literature, or socializing with strangers. And so, he decided to approach, tapping Laurance's shoulder Romaní greeted the tall male, smile on his face of course. Hands coursing through his slicked back hair, a measly attempt to settle his nerves, however exposing his scar ever so "Hey, Laurance? Yeah, I don't really know if you remember me. It's Romaní from Philosophy."A smile crossed his lips, as he continued. "I was just wondering if you could lend me your notes from class. I kind of dozed off in the middle and forgot to write some de--" Turning to the near distance, there stood three others. A girl, eyes of luminescent sapphire and fair of skin. Hair around shoulder width hued in golden locks. Eyes depicted a bit of confusion among them, Romaní trailed them to two other students. One of them Jet black hair, and face as stern as the morning sun is bright.

Romaní didn't know if it was a sense of authority he sensed, or perhaps that of imposing malice. His sights were as commanding as hit posture, and the other student didn't fall behind. Another blond, however this one seemed much smaller in comparison. However, if both were to be represented into animals, the wolf and the lion were baring their fangs to one another. Romaní suddenly cursed his timing, and a cold sweat began to drop from his temple, a forced smile crossed his lips before he took a step back and asked rather nervously "Did I just arrive at a bad time?"

~ Phantom Thieves of London: The Calling ~

Romaní Bogart

_{Savaging Savant of Strength
theme}

---

There was a suddenness to everything in this moment. Time felt still, yet everything purposeful. Which each derived step forwards, there seemed to add another layer to the complexity of everyday. Rain had ceased, the chill of the night's wind was all that left the two aching for warmth. Hands gripped the cup which held the cappiccino's heating embrace in check, as lips cusped the liquid into mouth, dousing their throats and stomach in a welcoming snug of warmth. An awning, separating the two between the inside of the building and the out, one of which too drenched too be able to feasibly enter the establishment, the lady behind the counter was kind enough to pull out a towel and allow him to dry himself off, if only just slightly. His clothes still resembled traces of dampness, his hair fallen and unkempt, locks of silver hanging before his eyes, Romani adorned a light smile on his face, as he twirled the sugar one last time, blending it perfectly on his drink. The young girl's frown had subtle'd and her features seemed pensive, lose in the reflection of her own gaze. Lost in thought as her gaze peeked small glaces towards Romani, and back to her drink. The intervals of silence were long, almost as if Romani himself was allowing such to occur due to negligence or perhaps respect.

Her wound, although visible was more like a small bruise rather than anything serious. Romani took several glances at it as their time extended. And soon, the young girl spoke, almost in mumbles. Rummaging the words which stumbled clumsily out her mouth, she picked up the courage to finally let out a "Thank you." Romani didn't really know how to react as first, the suddenness of it was enough for him to halt his gulp and look at the child, tilting her sights away cusping the cup between both hands with gentle consideration. A blink, followed by the next-- "What? Say something weirdo..." Romani led out a laugh, before finally being able to down another sip. I guess he didn't have much TO say. Everything that had happened was a spur of the moment kind of thing, the winds and chimes and even the rain was unexpected. To him, it was an ordinary day like anything else, but then he witnessed something different, and like a child gleaming for a new toy he had to outstretch his arm to grasp it in him clutches. But now... the answers escaped him, and so he smiled. A smile that perhaps was warm ye unkind, bright yet unhappy.

"What happened?" Those were the words which stumbled out of HIS mouth. Reality seemed to have become much more weighted, their shoulder slumped ever forward and her eyes drifted to the distance. The blaring light of night embellished the reflection of liquid among glass and earth. The dew which permeated through the leaves and dripped ever so lightly onto a ripple in a puddle held the significance of wavering. "You know-- There's something about drinking coffee with a kid I barely know that kind of brings up something in my mind." The young girl, perhaps avoiding the question, began to speak with a bit of shakiness in her voice. But for the first time in the long while that the two were together, Romani felt a sense of sincerity from her words. "The fact that someone brings you cappuccino in a dreary night where I'm obviously a mess... It means, really, that this is all they can ever do for me." Like an arrow reaching it's mark there was a sting in the center of Romani's chest that he couldn't really explain. As if a dagger had made it's way through felt and into the epicenter of his self-worth, and overall the truth of the situation, all seemed to have befallen the young girl in a mindset of dread or even hopelessness.

"You're nice... I don't even know your name, but... You're nice. I just-- I don't really think you should put your nose in other people's business." Romani's smile grew sadder, perhaps because those were some words he too used before. Not to meddle in what's not yours. To witness, perhaps spectate at a distance. To become an observer but never a player in someone else's game of life. Romani understood this reluctantly, but even so there was something that pushed him to know. Of course, it wasn't as if it was a mystery. Her bruises and cuts, her dirtied clothes and ragged hair combined with sudden burst of the home in the middle of the night. She had a fight with her mother, it seemed to have ended in the worst case scenario and she managed to escape, with at least something intact. But, what hurt the most was her semblance of strength.

Or lack of thereof: "I would like to say now, 'I'd like to make it my business', but I'm not so kind as to want to harbor all your problems unto my life." Romani spoke earnestly as well. Perhaps out of frustration of helplessness of his own circumstances. "But I'm not as cruel as to leave someone who's obviously lost, alone." The young girl didn't leave her sight off Romani for one second, her maturity shone in moment of need, but simultaneously she didn't have the strength to retort. This is, to some extent, what she wanted to hear. "I think you know, more than anyone else, that the world isn't fair. It's never been, for anyone. But--" there wasn't a right answer for this, there wasn't something he could say to make anything better, so the words began to jumble and twist themselves in his head. Attempting to search for a pattern or a whisk of something profound, but nothing peered its head, nothing came to mind but just a blank slate, but even so, without much pause... "If there's anything I learned about anything... Is that the world isn't against you, it just, really doesn't care about you."

Her face became bleak, but perhaps she already knew this. Her silence depicted a heaviness Romani understood too often, her grip tightened around the cup and her lip sucked in "But that doesn't mean anything. The liberating thought about being invisible is that nobody can see you weaving through the cracks. Maybe we're really are just pieces of a puzzle that'll never get solved, but who the hell wants to live in a place where everything is just miserable." Romani didn't even know what he was saying at this point, but there was something liberating in releasing these words. "You're right, it's not any of my business. But I can't fall asleep tonight... knowing that I didn't do anything." He finished his drink and walked next to her, umbrella over her head. "Let's go to get that bruise checked. Please?"

--

The memory kept creeping into his thoughts. The morning seemed endless, altruism wasn't at all something that he was a master of, he was worried, but any one else would've done the same. Kindness was something that any man was capable, but what strength peered onto him that allowed his feet to move, or even stay resolute in keeping that child out of harms way that night? Perhaps he wanted to be hero, perhaps there was a certain yearning for something greater in his self, that demanded to be seen. There has been a sense of difference emanating lately, like something needed to pop out, something whispered sweet nothing to his sense. As if he was meant for more, but Romani, someone who's notability was short, who preferred to have his presence obscured, but his absence felt. To tower beyond his capabilities, allowing himself to become better than what he was prior. Strength drives the movement forward, will sustains it.

~ Phantom Thieves of London: The Calling ~

Romaní Bogart

_{@KenjuGuy
Savaging Savant of Strength
theme}

---

Surprise is defined as: a brief mental and physiological state, a startle response experienced by animals and humans as the result of an unexpected event. Surprise can have any valence; that is, it can be neutral/moderate, pleasant, unpleasant, positive, or negative. And perhaps you would think this would ultimately apply to circumstances of the people in the vehicle other than Joey himself. Like explained earlier, Joey held a standard for goodness that was rather different than other would perceive, his own notable gleam that propelled him ever so bright across the myriad. He was weird, but similarly that weirdness of his drew humanity closer to a sense of closure among themselves. The acceptance of the others came forth, but this wasn't to Romaní surprise, or interest to that matter. They were part of the people who joined the grayscale tone of the world, parts of a cycle of running colors which never found their hue. Shaken and stirred by the world's concious, a wavering strength which rendered them subjects of their own fears. Joey, on the other hands, surprised Romaní entirely, as he went off his way to develop a rather obtuse ruse to liberate him from the shackles of his people's perception. Three other people were now on the thought that he was just some ordinary high school student, that's just a little bit weird. A laugh escaped him, wavering to his classmate before he disappeared from the scenery entirely in the seams of people in this parking lot.

It felt solemn, even in this wavering sense of time he spent with these people. Romaní to some extent, thanked Joey Grayson for liberating him of the tick of his shoulder. But similarly... without it, it felt as if those people now categorized him among the many. There wasn't much Romaní excelled in, in much less he wanted to do to improve on that. The world spins endlessly and time become shorter and shorter. He doesn't have the time to change the world, that would be impossible, but bending it ever so slightly. That notability would stay with him until the ends of the earth, people would remember his name and he would finally be able to open the doors to something greater than himself, for someone greater than himself. Placing his hand on his forehead, lightly pressing his fingers on the rapture which now embellished his skin. The cause for all this tension around him.

"Yeah, see you in P.E."

He mumbled under his breath, perhaps as a means to declare a sense of rivalry himself, or rather just a means of gratitude. This wouldn't change anything, or perhaps it will. Soon such would spread across the school, cleansing the thought of him one person at a time. Joey might've just done it for his friends to change their mind, but they would tell someone else, and then that person to someone else and so, and so on. Soon, he would be just another person, who happened to have a garishly ugly scar on his head. His notability would be skewered entirely-- all by the innocent act of a boy with long hair, and a devilish-- or should he say, heavenly grace to his own moral compass. All because someone "...Was a bit too benevolent."

Strength is what propels man towards the future, and that first step Romaní took to meet the entrance declared something to himself once again, that his crown was fragile and the ceiling of his world was made of glass. For a moment, he felt himself see something. Warped and unimaginable, dense while similarly heavy on his shoulders. And echo, perhaps rang on his mind before it dispersed in the delicate fog of his memory. Searching, like a faint murmur which spoke his name in the distance, he caught a glimpse of nothing but the normalcy of every day. A shrug, maybe he's been day dreaming to much, he should probably stop reading so much comic books late at night after studying. What the hell, though? He was only seventeen years old and he wanted to enjoy something before going to bed. Why does his brain want to punish him by demonstrating these weird images before class? He shook it off, like a pup after its first bath and continued. A smile on face, hand gripping the strap of his bag. "Maybe I should've actually told him that I did give a Christmas gift to someone... naaahhh"

~ Phantom Thieves of London: The Calling ~

Romaní Bogart

_{@KenjuGuy
Savaging Savant of Strength
theme}

---

The car ride towards school felt longer than anticipated. The air hadn't felt thinner, but his lungs felt somewhat at their capacity. Looking beyond the window, gazing approximately at nothing was about as much of an anodyne for this awkward lift with people who certain weren't too fond of this situation. Joey Grayson was about as beyond standard as it got, his personality and wit was that of an old man blended together with the fancy of an Irish man in glee of their own bourbon. He smiled profusely and eyed out for goodness and greatness for the sake of some devilishly- or rather, heavenly grace to his own moral compass. Regardless, Joey was also one of the few who didn't seem to take his shortcomings as a sign of intractability. Perhaps this fall under naivety, or rather more so, altruism. And so, suggesting that a car ride towards school was out of the blue wasn't too far off from something he would do, but rather he's more the victim of something perhaps even far worse in this society... And that's the lack of social cues- But to be rather frank about it all, it wasn't until the rev of the engine indicated the movement of the car that Romaní seriously took to account what could probably be depicted as social suicide right at this moment.

With waning gazed and turning stares, the atmosphere felt like stumbling on quick sand. No matter the circumstances, they were all trap upon this vehicle with each other as their company and although four out of five were perhaps perfectly comfortable with each other, one of them stood out like a sore thumb. And that one happened to be the auburn eyed, silver haired youth who just happened to be invited here. Joey didn't hesitate for a moments notice and clutched his shoulder, pressing Romaní and the neighboring against himself in a warm embrace with was perhaps wholly unwelcome at the moment. But perhaps it was he's aloof attitude towards everything that embellished his presence with a radiance he's not too aware of himself. Or maybe--

"Ah, my memory isn't as good as it used to be, Romani, lets play a game while we wait to get there! It's a game to decide whether someone is good or evil! I'll ask three questions, and depending in your answers, I'll decide whether you're good or evil. I just made it up."

He's a complete idiot. The colorful remark was perhaps his way to clear up tension, a nervous laugh escaped him in attempts to relieve the situation, but Joey seemed dedicated to rummage through some test to prove his innocence. Appreciated, but perhaps not as effective as they would like it to be. The driver clenched his grip tighter on the wheel, gulping his intention down with a swallow so lough Romaní could hear it, the other shifted their gaze away, one stealing a few every so often and so, a rock and a hard place was his location at the moment. Maybe he would be walking on eggshells by participating, maybe not. But even so, he rested his chin on his hand, grin brewing on his lips before sighing and posturing his hand before Joey, asking to follow up without much tension in the middle. First question swung out his lips with quickness like if he recited it longingly before his mirror. Babies or the Elderly? Trick question, Romaní personally didn't use the word or expression cute towards anything when it came the use of people. Also, there didn't seem to be a wrong answer in that statement, if he used any of the other he could be seen as a paragon, but to be honest, that wouldn't be go to either. His notability was important, after all...

"What an odd question. Maybe it's because I expect people to usually pick animals over people. But, I guess I'll answer earnestly. I never found either 'cute' a day in my life. That word escapes me a lot of the times, more than I like to think. But if anything, there's nothing better than seeing their potential... y'know? When an old man gives the last piece of bread to give it to the pigeons on the side walk, or when a toddler shares their lollipop with their friend. I guess in that sense, that aspect of people is something I can... admire."

A memory swung across his thoughts for a moment. Maybe that explanation was a bit winded, but to be honest he didn't feel like it was. Next question was how many Christmas gifts did he give last year. That question felt more personal than Romaní liked to admit, harmless at the surface. But perhaps not so much when it came to his circumstances. For a moment, the grin simmered and a drought of silence overtook the car for a moment. thoughts coursing through the light of eyes, like a scenery displayed before him. "None." Quite the opposite from the past question, Romaní didn't feel the need to expand any further beyond that one line, he just pondered about that one girl he gave his old dirty rundown shoes to on a rainy night some time ago. But...

--Right the final question. Serena Williams, huh? Did he hear that right? He didn't even know the first thing about that woman other than she was a professional athlete of some kind in the states. Wasn't she married already? There was a myriad of question that popped up, but a laughter was all that came out of Romaní at first. "Seriously, now? Serena Williams? Who knows? She is a married woman, but maybe if you propel yourself higher and higher in that chariot of yours, maybe you can even reach the stars themselves." He didn't have much of an opinion when it came to his interest--

"But, then again. Icarus flew too close to the Sun, and he burnt his wings in the process." Strength was all which could propel man to higher standing, and even if this misfortune that surrounded the boy left him in a state of wonderment, perhaps this was his way of obtaining that notability he so cherished. There were many mysteries in the world of his, man made perception was one of them. The social structure which built itself on a mountain of slat and sand, the ever changing clan of human evolution. Or rather, the continuous cycle- "You aren't an Icarus, though. Or at least, you don't seem like one." He said, listlessly observing the outside of the window once more.

~ Phantom Thieves of London: The Calling ~

Romaní Bogart

_{@KenjuGuy
Savaging Savant of Strength
theme}

---

Certainty wavered, and through a sunlit morning where the bustle of the city streets formed the canvas which prelude Romaní's memories, like a sudden stroke of flash. Reliving a moment not so far apart from what was today, where night strobes glistened through the glints of rain. The chilly night lends it self for the critters such as toads and ducklings to wonder out, but in this night there stood a youth with hands extended towards his farthest distance, and although the umbrella that grasped his hands would shield him from the rain, there wasn't any form to stop the rain from landing on him, as its shielding was directed a another youth who knelt before some flowers before her, perhaps lost in her thought as well. With dreary silence suggesting she wasn't in any mood to speak to the individual before her.

"Why are you here?" Her words faintly displayed the mirror which was her displeasure with everything. Romaní didn't retort, but instead looked at her feet, soaked through the sandals and socks, bright cyan and shivering. Romaní shoes were old, rippled through all sides and loosing pigment through wear and tear. They were small, too small and the fingers of his feet almost curled into a grip. But... extending the umbrella towards the young girl, Romaní proceeded to look at her with the warmth of a small, inviting her to hold it. Before another few moment passed, she finally took it upon herself to hold it. Reluctantly so, but... noting that he then removed his shoes, her face oozed of confusion.

"Maybe later we can get you new one, but for now you can keep these." The young girl, probably of age twelve or thirteen at most was a neighbor to Romaní, a young girl who's father has abandoned her at a young age. Perhaps not the most excellent, neither the most soft, but her heart was at the right place. At a moments notice when Romaní arrived home for the weekend to stay with his parents, he heard the loud shouts coming from shed next to his room, from there a lot of clanging and bashing before a young girl ran aimlessly towards the distance in the middle of the rain. Hands resting on his knees, leveling with her so that they can see each other eye to eye, his hands removed her hair, which hid a bruise that seemed to have begun to swell... Her hands swatted his away.

"Don't look!" Romaní breath began to become shaken, and her voice trembled ever so slightly with the words emanating from her breath: "Did you see?" A gash which lend itself from one side of her face to the next, reflexively Romaní reached to his own scar felling its broken surface as a reminds or days past through etched misfortunes. Tearing the lower half of his shirt, he entered the nearest coffee shopped and asked if they could allow him to have a couple of ice cubes, the barista at the back looked at him curiously, but amidst her confusion she replied to his request. Placing it over her head, with a strong pressure to hold and bleeding off, they began to walk towards the distance.

"Why are you doing this? You barely even know me."

"Who knows?" Her expression soured ever further, she walked a couple of steps in front, attempting to avoid his presence even though she was wearing his shoes, and holding an ice pack over her head. Drenched and soaked in the rain, Romaní continued to follow her regardless of the circumstances. For a moment's time, it seems she was dragging her feet to wherever the winds took her, but really, she was pacing through an empty city of light wondering where she would go next. Wondering if this cold she felt was permanent, and perhaps hoping that the weird kid next door wouldn't simply get tired and decide to head home. A challenge perhaps, but one she would endure-- "There's no need to keep looking, you know?"

"Huh?"

"It's okay to be lost once in awhile. You can always ask for help." Her teeth gritted, almost as if lashing at the very suggestion of conceding. "What the hell do you know, freak? Just one good look at you and everyone can see you're nothing but trouble!" Her fangs were definitely sharp, and they were ready to bite at anyone remotely close enough she could get a hold of. Like a rabid street dog corner into a wall, she was prepared to fight any sense of danger she could receive. A laugh escaped him "Oh this, yeah it's never been to pretty look at. Maybe I should tattoo it or something." He deflected her animosity entirely, baffled almost at her quips resulting in nothing, she turned and lashed again "Can't you hear me!? I said get lost, freak!"

"Maybe later, when you've chilled out a bit--"

She began to grip her hand into a fist, noticeably looking more and more frustrated, before Romaní spoke. "It's pretty bad, y'know? Being the only person who seems to see everything that's wrong in something. Somehow also being the problem of that 'everything'. While everyone else counts their graces and wonder in blissful ignorance." His sight trained into the puddle before him, the ripples tides with the sounds of droplets hitting the earth. the auburn of his iris reflecting the glittering dance of fractals permeating the night's rain. "But I know a bit of ice cream could help--"

--

Awakening, a push had returned him back to reality, where he now faced a myriad of people shoving him and pushing to move so they can cross the street to the other side, attempting and fumbling to sustain his fooding, Romaní grasp his handbag tight so all the books wouldn't fall off and his homework would be safe from the tyranny that was outburst of gust and wind. A voice echoed from the distance, capturing his attention as a young man with smooth long lavished locks spread his hand out the window of a vehicle. "Joey Grayson?" Spontaneous, and lively as always, it seemed that he and a couple of other's were heading to school as well, he took a glance at his watch, and looked at the distance he had to travel... He didn't want to make things awkward, and he wasn't particularly fond with other members of his class. But.. he also didn't want to be late. So he proceeded to walk towards the vehicle and open the door, sitting the most immediate seat.

"G'morning. Thanks and... sorry for the inconvenience."

~ Phantom Thieves of London: The Calling ~

Romaní

Theme

_{"Clip the wings of a butterfly and its life is rendered forfeit. Clip the notability of man’s existence and that man will slip under the world radar. Without notability, humans roam the lands like ghosts, unable to connect with those around them, utter rejects of the land built by them."}

---

Appearance
_{The most distinctive feature would be the scar that haunts the frailty of his skin, situated on the farther left side of his forehead. He height is around 5'10 and he weight roughly 140 pounds. Once, long ago, there use to be a child who would wear bright clothing and smile vigorously at everything. Perhaps such innocence has diminished as a result of age, but the lens of his auburn eyes allow a scope into the youthful tenderness of his younger self. Hair of silver adorning the intensity of the hue of the iris, stern complexion and hair slicked back and unafraid to expose the flaw which possesses his skin. Usually dressed comfortably outside his school attire, comprising of jeans and t-shirt.}

Metaverse Disguise:

Hider

Personality
<sub>The expressions that Romaní wears forms of subtle grace that lavished his features in tender warmth . Soft, yet stern in the shaping of his lids, which gently encompasses the patience he exudes naturally. Riddled in the very mysteries of which he is so earnestly invested in, he is a curious youth, undoubtedly kind of heart with a fancy to the silent. Quirky, quick witted and silver tongued when in comfort and control. Resolute in his speech and stance, unwittingly understanding of others perhaps, even foolishly so. Lives under a motto which veils the credence of: “Judgement is passed through actions he understand, not through decisions he has no knowledge of.”

Benevolence however, is not what one would call synonymous with this youth. Kindness is learned, but true benevolence radiates from the prospects of the soul. It is a quality one must feed in order to have it lavish one’s essence. Such would illuminate the path to righteousness, but that belong in hands of the saints. Romaní has desires, hopes and dreams as well, but like most, he also has flaws and moments of weakness. He hates the center stage, preferring to be lost in crowd rather than to be the center of attention. Attentive, clear and collected on most situations.

But within, there’s an inner fury that fans the flame of rebellion, chained and locked within the very foundation of his soul. Such can be displayed when brought to the edge of his patience, a silent anger that darkens the look on his eye.</sub>

---

Persona

Name:
Arcadia

Arcana:
Strength

Skill:
Ice

Equipment:
_{Pendulum (8 Feet Long) / Dual Barrel Pistol Shotgun}

---

Education
Evergreen Grammar School

• A-Level Philosophy
• BTEC Physical Education
• A-Level Spanish

Biography
Notability.

What comes to you when that world peers into consciousness? Perhaps you think something along the lines of: “That which I can see, or something of immediate distinctiveness. Perhaps you might even go as far and simple as to say that this is something which can just as easily be perceived.

…

Clip the wings of a butterfly and its life is rendered forfeit. Clip the notability of man’s existence and that man will slip under the world radar. Without notability, humans roam the lands like ghosts, unable to connect with those around them, utter rejects of the land built by them. Reality is warped and to a much lesser extent, it’s highly fragile. Through and throughout the creation of this world’s norms, such frailty is placed upon a foundation of silk and sand. Toppled by the constant shifts of the wind, but similarly mealable, shifting and different. Counting each piece of sand would be impossible, you would always find another and another. Such are the prospects of human possibility, of human grandeur. Such is the power of those who are… Notable.

Such radiance could exude from a variety of people in the beautiful planet of ours, Romaní being one of these, he’s lived according to his own volition, through the tribulations life has accommodated upon him. In this world, you make do with what's presented to you, even if that is only darkness. There was once a time where, unbeknownst to Romaní, himself, his family underwent tribulation in their lives. With resources running scarce and a marriage running on it last legs... His parents did whatever possible to set differences aside for the sake of gifting the child a prosperous future. So, much of life's luxuries were limited. They three shared a room under a lofty home, where the windows would clank at night because they were missing a few screws. The cold permeated the atmosphere and sometimes, they were hungry for longer times than others. Clothes were limited and he remembered wearing the same white t-shirt for a couple a years after he was already a bit too big for it.

Notability is important. If you're at the bottom of the barrel, you're most likely to rot before they get to you. You hard work and labor would be for naught if someone doesn't notice it. Passion fuels the fire of your journey, but gratification keeps it alive. His father worked hard, his mother worked harder. Perhaps in pursuit of a wayward dream or passion, a mistake happened and from such a lifetime of pain occurred. It was an uphill battle. But they did it, however they did it, those two managed to make Romaní youth one where happiness and love was present. But age makes one notice things, figure things out. Things weren't always bright, and much less were things always happy. When sometimes there wasn't enough to pay the house, the would sacrifice some of their money to gift the child a toy for his birthday. Where food was scarce, they would take the bread of their own plates to handed out to the boy. Nobody sees this, nobody cared. Their efforts weren't rewarded and all because perhaps he was born.

Eventually, things did brighten up. His father got a better job, his mother too. They began to make something for themselves and for the boy. He soon began to garner interests in a couple of luxuries outside from going to the park and riding his bike. His studies took most of Romaní time, wanting to become the best iteration that he can be, to repay those who worked tirelessly to give him a life worth living. Notability is important, and being under the radar all his life made it so that a bit of patience brewed on his system.

This world is fragile, situated in a ceiling of glass. Founded on lands of sand, the titling of the simplest motion could cave it and everything about it could fall. Humanity is one thing, however. Strong- Through ever cave in, through every ounce of hardship and turmoil that they are faced, we all as a unit come together to lift each other up, or similarly, we garner or strength to defeat that which plagues us. Strength is what he perhaps wishes to accomplish. But-- what would that translate to?

Affiliations
Ashwin Bogart - Father
Geralt Bogart -Grandfather
Sybil Bogart - Mother

Relationships
Joey Grayson: Romaní is troubled by how nice he seems, but similarly he admires his character towards life. Genuine kindness is a rarity and Joey is someone who demonstrates that on a silver platter. Maybe it's hard to call someone a friend, because Joey thinks the world is his friend. But Joey is someone Romaní trust enough to allow himself to be somewhat open about things with him. He was one of the few people who looked him in the eyes the entire time, and not at his scar.

~ Phantom Thieves of London: The Calling ~

Romaní

Theme

_{"Clip the wings of a butterfly and its life is rendered forfeit. Clip the notability of man’s existence and that man will slip under the world radar. Without notability, humans roam the lands like ghosts, unable to connect with those around them, utter rejects of the land built by them."}

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Appearance
_{The most distinctive feature would be the scar that haunts the frailty of his skin, situated on the farther left side of his forehead. He height is around 5'10 and he weight roughly 140 pounds. Once, long ago, there use to be a child who would wear bright clothing and smile vigorously at everything. Perhaps such innocence has diminished as a result of age, but the lens of his auburn eyes allow a scope into the youthful tenderness of his younger self. Hair of silver adorning the intensity of the hue of the iris, stern complexion and hair slicked back and unafraid to expose the flaw which possesses his skin. Usually dressed comfortably outside his school attire, comprising of jeans and t-shirt.}

Metaverse Disguise:

Hider

Personality
<sub>The expressions that Romaní wears forms of subtle grace that lavished his features in tender warmth . Soft, yet stern in the shaping of his lids, which gently encompasses the patience he exudes naturally. Riddled in the very mysteries of which he is so earnestly invested in, he is a curious youth, undoubtedly kind of heart with a fancy to the silent. Quirky, quick witted and silver tongued when in comfort and control. Resolute in his speech and stance, unwittingly understanding of others perhaps, even foolishly so. Lives under a motto which veils the credence of: “Judgement is passed through actions he understand, not through decisions he has no knowledge of.”

Benevolence however, is not what one would call synonymous with this youth. Kindness is learned, but true benevolence radiates from the prospects of the soul. It is a quality one must feed in order to have it lavish one’s essence. Such would illuminate the path to righteousness, but that belong in hands of the saints. Romaní has desires, hopes and dreams as well, but like most, he also has flaws and moments of weakness. He hates the center stage, preferring to be lost in crowd rather than to be the center of attention. Attentive, clear and collected on most situations.

But within, there’s an inner fury that fans the flame of rebellion, chained and locked within the very foundation of his soul. Such can be displayed when brought to the edge of his patience, a silent anger that darkens the look on his eye.</sub>

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Persona

Name:
Arcadia

Arcana:
Strength

Skill:
Ice

Equipment:
_{Pendulum (8 Feet Long) / Dual Barrel Pistol Shotgun}

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Education
Evergreen Grammar School

• A-Level Philosophy
• BTEC Physical Education
• A-Level Spanish

Biography
Notability.

What comes to you when that world peers into consciousness? Perhaps you think something along the lines of: “That which I can see, or something of immediate distinctiveness. Perhaps you might even go as far and simple as to say that this is something which can just as easily be perceived.

…

Clip the wings of a butterfly and its life is rendered forfeit. Clip the notability of man’s existence and that man will slip under the world radar. Without notability, humans roam the lands like ghosts, unable to connect with those around them, utter rejects of the land built by them. Reality is warped and to a much lesser extent, it’s highly fragile. Through and throughout the creation of this world’s norms, such frailty is placed upon a foundation of silk and sand. Toppled by the constant shifts of the wind, but similarly mealable, shifting and different. Counting each piece of sand would be impossible, you would always find another and another. Such are the prospects of human possibility, of human grandeur. Such is the power of those who are… Notable.

Such radiance could exude from a variety of people in the beautiful planet of ours, Romaní being one of these, he’s lived according to his own volition, through the tribulations life has accommodated upon him. In this world, you make do with what's presented to you, even if that is only darkness. There was once a time where, unbeknownst to Romaní, himself, his family underwent tribulation in their lives. With resources running scarce and a marriage running on it last legs... His parents did whatever possible to set differences aside for the sake of gifting the child a prosperous future. So, much of life's luxuries were limited. They three shared a room under a lofty home, where the windows would clank at night because they were missing a few screws. The cold permeated the atmosphere and sometimes, they were hungry for longer times than others. Clothes were limited and he remembered wearing the same white t-shirt for a couple a years after he was already a bit too big for it.

Notability is important. If you're at the bottom of the barrel, you're most likely to rot before they get to you. You hard work and labor would be for naught if someone doesn't notice it. Passion fuels the fire of your journey, but gratification keeps it alive. His father worked hard, his mother worked harder. Perhaps in pursuit of a wayward dream or passion, a mistake happened and from such a lifetime of pain occurred. It was an uphill battle. But they did it, however they did it, those two managed to make Romaní youth one where happiness and love was present. But age makes one notice things, figure things out. Things weren't always bright, and much less were things always happy. When sometimes there wasn't enough to pay the house, the would sacrifice some of their money to gift the child a toy for his birthday. Where food was scarce, they would take the bread of their own plates to handed out to the boy. Nobody sees this, nobody cared. Their efforts weren't rewarded and all because perhaps he was born.

Eventually, things did brighten up. His father got a better job, his mother too. They began to make something for themselves and for the boy. He soon began to garner interests in a couple of luxuries outside from going to the park and riding his bike. His studies took most of Romaní time, wanting to become the best iteration that he can be, to repay those who worked tirelessly to give him a life worth living. Notability is important, and being under the radar all his life made it so that a bit of patience brewed on his system.

This world is fragile, situated in a ceiling of glass. Founded on lands of sand, the titling of the simplest motion could cave it and everything about it could fall. Humanity is one thing, however. Strong- Through ever cave in, through every ounce of hardship and turmoil that they are faced, we all as a unit come together to lift each other up, or similarly, we garner or strength to defeat that which plagues us. Strength is what he perhaps wishes to accomplish. But-- what would that translate to?

Affiliations
Ashwin Bogart - Father
Geralt Bogart -Grandfather
Sybil Bogart - Mother

Relationships
none atm

The Calling ~ Persona 5-esc RP

I'm interested in joining. I always wanted to try out a Persona RP.

Royal Rumble!

The outcome was to be expected, the flare of battle thundered under the pressure of true collision. Their bodies engaged in the most consequential art of battle there could be displayed. One man, poised with hands on shoulder width, back hunched lunching a series of attacks towards a boy who seemed to grin throughout, the sweat drowning his visage as his body, almost rhythmically shifted itself on a guise of mastery. Quick moves from left to right, turns and spins to evade the coming hits. Their essence in itself held murderous intent, the expression of their ferocity displayed itself upon the canvas which the two stood. Grasping the flow of the wind itself, the weight and propulsion of the body's natural inertia to develop their coursing flow of movements. Their speed exceeded any normal man. A crowd of men screaming their hearts out, witnessing such a flow unravel before their very eyes.

There the youth, known as the Macedonian Bull faced of against a giant twice his size, three times his width. The man towered roughly around 210 cm tall, and 200 pounds of muscle adorned his physical. However, with every hit he seemed to usher all he met was the waves of the air, a lavished dance of evasion greeted the giants might, and such brought him to frustration. Finally, the youth of dyed blond hair tired of the games, and shifted his course, with a single twist of his hip, he allowed an opening, staring straight to the mammoth's eyes. Their clear intent for victory even if it resulted on his own well being.

"What fire!"

Noticing such the man retreated his fist, winding up his most powerful left hook, you could visually notice the arm flex its bloated bicep, the forearm rearing to collide with all intentions to snap the youth's head clean off his head. Leonard Magnus Aldrige, the Macedonian Bull, the youth of true outstanding might, twisting his heel, shifting his body into a pivot and twist to shift momentum to the right, his hands caught the hand upon and open palm, a force blew around the impact zone, conducting the energy outwards in a massive force, but leaving Leo entirely unharmed. His weight now under Leo's control, the inertia of such leaving his footing unstable, with just a sway to the left their bodies now shifted, he was falling into an uppercut that connected, full contact. Leo could sense it, every secular bone and tendon stretch and tear under the weight, falling backward now. This mammoth of a man now stumbled to regain composure.

The wind was now under his wings, the balls of Leo's feet kicked with sustained pressure on exerting through the calf and quads. Teeth clenched, the bullet of sweat adorning his body, shiftless and bloodied tensing every secular muscle, pulling his arm from the shoulder and delivering a barrage of hits onto chest, torso and face.

Jab, jab, jab, hook, twist, knee- to axe kick, tornado kick, to twisting heel kick, extend, pull back, superman punch, stomach upper cut, rapid jabs, pull back, pivot right hook, left back hand, Leaping knee, shifting left knee, utilizing the enemies on chest he propelled his body into a forward somersault flip... Moonsault hammer hell drop!

Each individual hit was summoned with extreme force, and with each successful collision a sound of blow radiated through the area, the cheers grew louder and louder. Hands began to douse itself in the blood of his opponent. But that wasn't enough to fall that monstrosity. It regained it composure through grit and strength, and cam down with a grab, lifting young Leo over his head and power bombing him once, twice, three times! The earth beneath their heels began to crumble and break, making the hole deeper.

"Brat! I got you now!"

Standing above him, now it was his turn to deliver all his strength, Hammer down lumber punch. Both hand grasped to each other and smashing into the earth where Leo's body sustained the entirety of its power, a grunt released itself, a cough before another was landed. Now he just punched consecutively, trying to kill or knock the boy out. He wanted to win, he needed to win. He just didn't. Like. This. BASTARD!

Hand grappled his hand, a trembling between two strength, blood painting his mien, this was the fight. This was the fight. "So, you think you can make me feel defeat?" The strength was being pushed back, by someone who seemingly looked as if a trained had rammed unto his body. Blood and marks all over, as he pushed him further and further beyond from his standpoint and pushed, the man recovered and charged. Leo swung his first punch, landing on the center of his face, tanked entirely by the mammoth of a man before, him, but then...

Warden

The strike that was to come was intercepted, moved and shifted to the side. Leo began to summon a power beyond his self. No, more so that the power was birthed from him from the very start. He wanted not to hold back any long. The most genuine smirk between pain, blood and the spirit of the fight.

"Grit your teeth, you swine! Iron FACEBREAKER"

The crack of bones wasn't the worst, perhaps the sound could make a couple of twiddling soul to hurl or gag merely at the imagination of such. Perhaps it was the blow, increasing every movement to their maximum capacity, to witness might being display with such raw, unfiltered gumption that caused the crow to intake the surroundings. Perhaps it was the lunch that the man suffered between two support beams by a boy who weight probably weight what he could lift with a single hand, throwing him across a room no bigger than just a couple of meters wide. But the worst image, was the boy standing proudly. Broad shoulders, hefty stance, proud determination. Raiding set fist that just down and won him the victor above his head, screaming to announce his victory in celebration.

The crowed joined him, chanting his epithet. The Macedonian Bull. The one who will Rend the Iron Wall!

Royal Rumble!

The Macedonian Bull

_{“Grit your teeth, filth. This one’s gonna hurt.”}
Theme

Name: Leonard Magnus Aldridge
Nickname: Leo, The Macedonian Bull
Age: 17
Grade: Mephisto's School for the Wickedly Inclined, 2nd Year

Biography:

Strength is obtained by overcoming adversity, and adversity is found in the midst of battle. This is where I belong, in the fiery pits of the fight!

Crude, ill tempered, aggressive and arrogant to a fault. There’s nothing and no one this boy fears, nothing he doesn’t deem unbeatable. First tries are downloads, seconds are stepping stones and thirds are but a means to get stronger. Determination and will flow through him like very blood that boils in the midst of battle. A child who was born with incredible strength and endurance, his speed surpassed people far more trained than himself, far more experienced and as age came, his abilities grew greater. His demeanor and overall his features painted him as a villain, a delinquent, eventually Leo grew to accept such and shoulder the weight of his own title. Fighting came naturally, shapeless yet malleable, like the water which flows on the riverbeds, his fighting and magical prowess began to synchronize.

Leo grew to enjoy the fight, to overcome that which all thought was his own destiny. Leo is a delinquent through and through. He follows only his rebellious spirit, does what he wants and when he wants it. He shapes himself and disciplines himself according to only his own perspectives. Ironically, this boy holds a passiveness most don’t deems to witness too oftenly. Perhaps this is also a means to display a side of strength he was not allowed to through childhood.

Leo hanged with the wrong crowds, fought a lot and met himself in dangerous situation merely due to the look of his mein. Everyone and anyone who dares stepped forwards was never met with kindness, the world around him demanded him to become stronger and stronger. Defeat after defeat, pain through admission of living, but this never weighed on him, if life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. But if life gives you tragedy, then I guess you should take such and shove it up the worlds ass.

Powers:

Core Power: True Rend of the Iron Wall

What makes this ability so different? Perhaps because it is not an ability to begin with. An Iron Wall exist both as a metaphor and as warning. Perhaps to keep whatever approaches at bay, or maybe even to sustain something dangerous within. Naturally gifted with athleticism and strength, Leo has conquered his own weaknesses and insecurities and made them into power. Controlled them under the guise of his own genius, or perhaps lack of there of. Simply put, in a world where magic and mages preside, perhaps the battle of fist has begun to die down. And as such, a power of rebellion swelled upon him and the fight began to boil on his blood. It is simple, so simple some doubt it is even an ability. The ability in essence is full body control. Precise movement, and even the cancelation of one, undoing one action so quickly and immediately shifting to the next. It uses the flow of magic to simply sustain and control the flow of how he decided to move

Full body control at its peak.

Skills:

Warden: Judge, Jury and perhaps even executioner. Witness, fall before the stance of absolute defense. Standing perfectly still, honing every secular muscle under a single regulated breath, the world become its own observer. Reality in itself shifts before the might of its bane. Attentive, secure, and certain, reversing his own flow of power and instead granting the enemy levity of freedom, a single hand exposed to his periphery, sensitive to all which dawns at his behest, any and all whom is met with such will be susceptible to a conqueror’s tenacity. A stance taken where any attack that attempts to fall would be intercepted, a mostly physical skill in which the flow of his own strength is reversed and utilized effectively for the absorption of shock that a blow naturally emanate upon contact, forcing such to reduce the quantity of strength or even nullify such to its entirety. Projectiles attacks are treated differently, however. Although the same principles apply however, he cannot catch a bullet in his hands, or stop a fireball in its track entirely. Although he could reduce the damage dealt with such, he cannot completely nullify its effects.

Starchaser: Grant me once again that which was lost upon a sea of creation, or perhaps even ignore such fact, and grant me what’s rightfully mine! A limiter, enhancing is one thing, it is to push the body’s limits to its very core, beyond its normal capacity and grit. However, to some this is but a limitless folly. The body unable to cope with such would eventually give out, run out of its own incompetence. Not this one, this releases the chains of a beats and demonstrates to the world the gift of being born a true warrior. Upon such, his velocity, strength, awareness, and all are brought to their zenith, their natural state. Utilizing 100% of his brains functions. What some might consider to be beyond human strength to others it’s merely their destiny.

Iron Facebreaker: You cannot perhaps get as straightforward as this, Perhaps there is art in simplicity, but truthfully there is nothing of note to take from this ability. Simply put, this is the third attack of many more to come. Finally a display and true recognition of power beyond physical. Building momentum from any angle, even if standing still, even if moving only a few centimeters, his strength will show and a powerful blow will be released upon contact, doubling, tripling even it’s natural impact. A force truly to be reckoned with. It could be as mild as allowing the user to successfully break a bone, to bending steel with only his thumb.

Friends, Rivals & Enemies:

None… yet