City of Ariel Application

[alcuin_delaunay]

→ OOC
□ Name: Genevieve
□ Age: 28
□ Contact: naradragonfly@gmail.com
□ Journal: marlowe_tops
□ Do you play anyone in Ariel?: Not yet.

→ IC
□ Name: Alcuin no Delaunay
□ Journal:
□ Series: Kushiel’s Legacy
□ Canon point: Mid-Kushiel’s Dart (Alcuin’s Death)
□ History: Alcuin was born in Terre d’Ange, on the Skaldi border. Although only a toddler at the time and will claim (if asked) that he remembers nothing of that life, he has been known to muse upon the peculiar nature of the relationship between Camlach and Skaldia at the time. The villages of the area suffered heavily under Skaldi raidings, but Alcuin’s nursemaid was a Skaldi woman, and when he later was taught the Skaldic language, he took to it with uncommon swiftness. His mentor and foster sister claimed that it was his milk tongue, and that he learned swiftly because he had heard it in the cradle. Alcuin smiled, and said nothing.
When his parents were killed in a battle with the Skaldi, Alcuin was rescued and adopted by Anafiel Delaunay. Not as a son, but as a pupil. Delaunay cared above all for the promise he had made to the D’Angeline Crown Prince, Rolande, that he would safeguard the child princess and her kingdom’s future. In the interests of this, he raised Alcuin into a spy, and a whore.
Alcuin was remarkably intelligent and beautiful, in a nation where the citizens were known for their wit and beauty. He excelled at every academic task that Delaunay set him. His progress in the arts of love was less impressive. Though he was lovely and eager to serve, he was shy and hesitant at his lessons in pleasure, and found it easier to be obedient in chastity than in temptation.
His debut was said to have earned one of the highest fees ever paid for a virgin night, and Alcuin loathed every minute of it.
All the same, he adored his mentor and wished above all to obey and please him, so Alcuin kept silent about his misery. His clients were chosen for him on account of their potential strategic value, never on account of Alcuin’s interest or desires.
Alcuin was nearly killed before his secret was found out, and Delaunay promptly removed him from Namaah’s service, horrified by what he’d done to Alcuin while he was blinded by his obsession with being a spymaster. Content to be Delaunay’s spy now that he was no longer Delaunay’s whore, Alcuin found some measure of solace in Namaah’s forgiveness (for his sin of entering her service unwilling, because he’d done it out of love).
He had long been in love with Delaunay, and shortly after Alcuin left Namaah’s service, he entered Delaunay’s bed. They both found comfort and solace in the romance, although when Delaunay lay dying it was Rolande’s name on his lips, and his last thought You, and Only You for Rolande utterly excluded Alcuin’s self-sacrificing love for him.

□ Personality: A natural submissive, Alcuin loves above all to please and serve others. He has fairly low defenses against this, and will gladly drain and exhaust himself physically and emotionally in order to make someone he loves happy. Sweet, demure and cheerful, he’s certainly not a leader and will obey nearly anyone who isn’t a blatantly obvious threat to Alcuin and his interests.
D’Angeline society and his training in the arts of Namaah failed him in one particular topic: Alcuin’s a sexual submissive with very little concept of how D/s dynamics can be beneficial and pleasurable for him. His sexual experiences with his clients were overall miserable for him, and while he found a measure of happiness with Delaunay, his foster father was never a good Dominant, and was even at the end more interested in his ambition and spy networks than in Alcuin’s love and happiness. It’s given Alcuin the idea that sex and love are generally unpleasant, draining, one-sided things.
Physically sensitive and delicate, Alcuin bruises easily and loves soft, gentle things. He adores the color white and if allowed will fill his room with white cushions and soft blankets on every possible surface. He appreciates gentle handling, both physically and emotionally, although he never expects it and honestly doesn’t understand why anyone would bother offering it to him.
He isn’t weak-willed, despite his submissive nature. Alcuin can be incredibly brave when it comes to helping or protecting those he loves or anyone he thinks needs help. Though he will rarely stand up for himself, he will stubbornly stand his ground on topics like making sure his friends and partners have eaten and slept properly, and fearlessly face down anything that cruelly or unjustly threatens someone else.
One of the few topics on which he ever argued with Delaunay—in fact, it’s the only time he ever yells in canon—was regarding weapons training. Alcuin has a great interest and fascination in weaponry and fighting, but he’s also a complete pacifist: for himself, he’s only interested in defensive fighting, although he loves to watch any kind of martial practice or performance and has a bit of a fetish for soldiers in general.
Since he gets so much of his self worth from other people, he usually greets friends and strangers with cheer and promptly sets about trying to figure out how to please them, which makes him come across as a naturally happy person. Left to himself, he falls quickly into loneliness and depression: since he has no one to please, he thinks of himself as unwanted, and that makes him miserable, although he will work hard to hide his unhappiness around others.
Incredibly intelligent when it comes to book smarts (although less gifted in terms of emotional intelligence, to say the least), Alcuin learns swiftly and retains knowledge very well. He has at least basic knowledge on almost any academic topic (of those available in fantasy 15th century France) and fluency in a handful of languages. He’s perceptive and swiftly deductive, but he’s accustomed to having a master who will sort and use those deductions for him. On his own, Alcuin has almost no motivation in the art of covertcy or deduction, although he does have a great love of books and will avail himself of any and all library services in order to expand his non-fiction knowledge. He doesn’t care so much for fiction, although he is willing to read anything which is put into his hands.

□ Age: 19

□ Gender: Male

□ Appearance: Exceptionally beautiful even in a country of beautiful people, Alcuin has extremely pale skin and hair as white as milk, with eyes a dark brown that is almost black. He is slender and on the short side of average, and tends to compound his paleness by wearing white clothing. His preferred outfit is a loose white poet’s shirt with the laces undone at the throat and tight breeches that cling lovingly to his thighs. It’s the way that Delaunay preferred to see him dressed, and so it’s the way that Alcuin now dresses himself. He is physically delicate and bruises easily, although he has a very slight amount of muscle tone—not quite enough to keep him from from looking soft and delicate.

□ Abilities/Powers: Normal human. He is, though, ridiculously pretty.

□ Personal Items: A few sets of his preferred outfit (a loose white poet’s shirt and tight deerskin breeches), a soft, fuzzy white blanket, a braided lock of his and his foster sister’s hair, a volume of Delaunay’s banned poetry, and one Cassiline dagger, which should have been a pair for he is trained for limited defensive use.

□ First Person Sample:
[The voice that comes on the feed is soft-spoken, well-enunciated, and demure.]
I’m going to need a job, it seems. Might anyone recommend anything? I’m highly educated and willing to serve, if that helps.
[His enunciation stumbles suddenly as he is distracted by a thought.]
Serve drinks and food, I mean. I’m trained at pouring wine, especially. I don’t mean… I don’t want…
[He stops to recover himself and resumes.]
I could do tutoring work, as well. I’m knowledgeable in rhetoric and history—not history of this place, to be honest—and languages… I suppose that’s not of use, either. And I don’t want to do Namaah’s work, although I understand that it’s welcomed here, and I of course have the utmost respect for the profession, but it’s best if I don’t…
I can serve. I’d like to do that most, if I can. I’m trained to be able to serve well. Not… not… I don’t…
… I’m not usually this distracted. I’m not flighty, if you’re worried about hiring me. I promise I’ll do my best to please you, always, and I can be very good and…
[He pauses, giving up on his initial plan for this transmission.]
I keep having these thoughts. I can’t focus on what I’m trying to say. I’m rattled, that’s all. I’m sure that’s it. New city, new life, and after all that happened…
I’m going to stop. I’ll try writing this again when I can think clearly.

□ Third Person Sample: Alcuin didn’t remember packing.
The bag was his, and the things were his, all of them packed in neatly the way he would have packed them. Some of them weren’t quite the way he remembered them, like the lock of light and dark hair that he’d plaited between his head and Phedre’s. The way he remembered it, the hair had still been attached to their respective heads. But now it was here, as his memento of Phedre, and his hair was all still perfect and uncropped.
It was all a little bit odd. Torn off to some faraway city through science that he couldn’t possibly comprehend, never to return to Terre d’Ange. Or the true Terre d’Ange beyond, where he felt a persistent and nagging feeling that he should be. And Anafiel…
Alcuin sat down on his new plain, unfamiliar bed in his new plain, unfamiliar home. He felt a sense of loss and emptiness in his heart about Anafiel, but it was a dull, numb pain, like an ache in a very old injury. Logic skittered away from the question of why he wasn’t mourning Anafiel, and his memory of everything that had just happened felt vague and hazy. Memory of things that had happened years ago was all crisp and clear as ever, but the last … week, was it? All of the details slid out of his fingers as he tried to reach for them.
Sighing, he pushed the thoughts away. He was here, now. A new city, with new people and new things to learn. He felt lonely with loss over Terre d’Ange, but the polite staff at the processing center had promised that other D’Angelines might be here. They’d been almost too polite. And yet, Alcuin couldn’t bring himself to suspect ill of people who had been so polite. He should have. Mere days ago, maybe he would have. He would have brought the information to Delaunay and let him tie all the threads together the way he always did. But there was no Delaunay here, and Alcuin couldn’t find the energy or the desire to suspect anyone of anything right now.
Pulling the white throw blanket out of his bag that had lain on his bed at him, he hugged it close and breathed in the scent of home. It smelled like the lavender and vanilla soap that Delaunay’s housekeeper used, and not at all like the coppery scent of blood that was the last thing he remembered before… before here.