Drais Zeddicus
ㅤTHE MOST DANGEROUS MAN IS WHEN HE HAS NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE
The fallen son; the favored
The Ghost
He died a hero, they said. That's the thing about people though, they often romanticize the dead.Some would even go as far as to call him a coward for what he did, but the story is much more complicated than that. His name just a mere whisper among his family and a lingering memory to those who cared. Drais left behind his legacy and turned his back on it all.
ㅤheightㅤㅤ6'8".
ㅤeyesㅤㅤblue.
ㅤhairㅤㅤdark brown.
ㅤscarsㅤㅤleft cheek; heavily scarred torso, back, arms.
ㅤface claimㅤㅤjon bernthal.
ㅤlanguagesㅤㅤcommon, sign language.
ㅤraceㅤㅤduskwight elezen.
ㅤparentsㅤㅤrielen and lilia zeddicus.
ㅤsiblingsㅤㅤcerothyn and camsyn.
ㅤpartner(s)ㅤㅤlilith, she thinks he's dead. Sort of divorced then.
| likes |
|---|
| smoking, drinking, isolation, guns, fighting, the shroud, darkness, and dogs. |
| dislikes |
|---|
| people, his parents, cities, crowds, sudden loud noises, emotions, intimacy, and loss. |
❝ㅤin a cathedral filled with silences, i am a gunshotㅤ❞
ㅤnameㅤㅤdrais zeddicus
ㅤaliasㅤㅤghost. Cin Zoviere
ㅤageㅤㅤforties.
ㅤbirthdateㅤㅤ???
ㅤsexualityㅤㅤstraight.
ㅤoriginㅤㅤthe black shroud.
ㅤlocationㅤㅤMIA.
ㅤskillsㅤㅤsniper, rogue, hand to hand combatant.
ㅤaboutㅤㅤStanding at an imposing height, Drais is anything but friendly at first glance. He is rugged, scarred, and heavily armed-- even if some weapons aren't in line of sight. His armor is worn and torn from battle and his travels. One could easily assume he's a mercenary and they wouldn't be far off.When he speaks his voice is low and gravelly sounding and words are often shortened. There is an ever present look of disdain on his features.
ㅤpersonalityㅤㅤQuiet and almost brooding, he doesn't really seem like the best company to keep mainly because he doesn't choose to participate in most conversations. When he does talk, he's often blunt or sharp with his words. Few get him to loosen up, those that do are the ones he deems his friends.
❝ㅤHead in the dust, feet in the fire. Labour on that midnight wire.
Listening for that angel choir
You got nowhere to runㅤ❞
❝ wounds don’t ever heal, you just notice them less. on good days, you forget they exist at all but, then comes that one word, that sight,
that s o u n d that brings the pain rushing back and you realize you never truly stopped bleeding-- you just stopped seeing it. ❞
❝ they made you into a WEAPON && told you to find PEACE. ❞
ㅤhistoryㅤ A family of Duskwights ripped from the shroud's safety and shoved into Ishgard's icy, cold walls. Drais didn't know how to cope or play nobility, he was only taught to kill. To fight. To Survive.It was during a mission gone wrong that his mother fell to their enemies that Drais came to question his upbringing and his father's choices, something he had never done before. After all, weapons don't think.Was it all worth it?The reputation that the family had earned, the infamy that he and his father sought? The number of enemies were ever growing and after what he saw, he didn’t know if he could handle facing his children and know what life that he pushed and forced them into. He had a choice to make, go home and be a walking corpse or disappear.Afterwards, he waited throughout the night until he came to a conclusion.Drais Zeddicus died that day.Right there alongside his mother, a place he knew he should have fought even with his bare-hands until he took his last breath. As far as he or anyone else could be concerned that was what had happened. He would get his vengeance on his own time without risking anymore of his family because now he truly had nothing left to lose. A man with no name, no loved ones, and no motive would be the most dangerous of them all.