Rogue
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    even if I collapse beneath the weight of it.” Regulus is a fleshless frame, a body composed of stone and marble, a soul encased in a monument body. He is a marred creature with cracks in his stone skin, portions broken along various parts of his body to show the age of his crafted body. The only seeming “natural” part to his body is the cropped tail that hangs down, though no signs of a mane can be seen on his body. It can be easy to assume him a mere art piece until he draws breath and those stone lips part. He is near constantly draped in the red of his cape, a golden clasp pressing it into his stone skin. The fabric is soft but worn at the ends, often dragging behind or wrapped around his neck when practical. Cursed to hold a weight you cannot bare" He is never Regulus, he is never man but an image, a persona projected onto what he is. A faceless Atlas bearing the weight of universes, sculpted by gods and destined for a ceaseless quest against wickedness. Agelessness leaves scars even on his hide of stone and he tires, he nearly breaks but he bears the burden. Regulus does not see himself as his own but whatever others need him to be. He is made up entirely of the personas other put on him and not his own being, Regulus does not know how to be himself so he simply is what others perceive. Comfortable in front of a crowd but uncertain when the glamour fades and all that’s left is the man. Alignment: Lawful Good ― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles |
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