TREVALION, joscelin

[Joscelin Trevalion]

JOSCELIN WILLIAM TREVALION

" The child without a name grew up to be the hand
To watch you, to shield you, or kill on demand"

t h e c h a r a c t e r

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NAME:Joscelin William Trevalion
AGE: Twenty-Seven
GENDER: Male
BIRTHDAY: February 14th
CLASS: Noble
TITLE/RANK: Duke
OCCUPATION:Diplomat
ALIGNMENT: Neutral
CANON:No

t h e l o o k s

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EYES:Blue
HAIR: Sable
WEIGHT: 205lbs
HEIGHT: 6’2”
VOICE:Joscelin has a deep and resonant voice with a timbre that even a Captain would long for. It commands respect, attention and patience.
PLAY-BY:Henry Cavill
GENERAL:

Joscelin stands tall and carries himself with confidence in every stride. He has the gait of a man with purpose. It's his father's walk of keeping his head high and shoulders squared for he has every right to have pride in himself as his father had stated time and again. Despite the fact that Joscelin may carry himself nigh flawlessly, however, he does have imperfections such as the scars that line the backs of his hands from hours of training with a blade under his father's supervision. That and a scar beneath his chin from falling as a child upon a marble floor. There are others as well, although typically hidden by the clothing that he wears, upon his torso, back and the length of his right hip. They were former wounds earned from sparring competitively with other noblemen and soldiers for bragging rights and coin. Then there are other things beyond the imperfections that mar his body such as his eyes.

They are a rich and light blue from his lady mother or so his father had once told him. Yet, the shade of which they are is not what is important but the way he looks at others. Since childhood and even now he physically shows genuine interest and curiosity through his eyes. It's a hunger for knowledge, although it could change instantly when upset or when he's set for a purpose. It's one thing that Joscelin cannot dissemble and perhaps even considered a weakness for his eyes show his emotion time and again with or without him wanting it to. Nonetheless, Joscelin tends to keep himself groomed as much as possible; after all, he's a Duke and should look the part.

He may typically allow his facial hair to grow but he trims and keeps it groomed. He only allows enough to hide the scar underneath his chin from a childhood slip up. His hair, however, he allows to grow to a half-handsbreadth before cutting it, although being certain not to cut so low as to bare his head. He prefers to have enough to allow the wind to tousle it. That and enough for women to bury their fingers within, of course.

ATTIRE:

Joscelin typically wears rich clothing as befits his station of a deep, royal blue accented with black. The clothing ranges from the luxurious regalia of his household of a rich doublet emblazoned with House's insignia splendidly accented with intricate work on the cuffs and collar along with a lace shirt beneath with the cuffs spilling out to more simpler variations that are expected at the court of England and by the demand of a fashionable society. These apparels are normally matched with trousers and polished black boots and Joscelin often keeps his gentleman's sword upon his hip for his own protection and not simply a display. His hand is often adorned with the signet amber stone of his Household. Besides the rich clothing of his household meant for a young gentleman such as himself though, Joscelin likes to dress more comfortably for riding throughout the city and the hunt such as a loose white shirt and fawnskin trousers albeit the sight is more rustic than not. Yet, even that tends to be of a higher craftsmanship than one would assume.

p e r s o n a l i t y

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LIKES:
+Wine
+Women
+Carousing
+Fêtes
+Court Intrigue
+When things fall into place
DISLIKES:
+Being undermined
+Injustice
+Being considered unfit for his position
+When things do not go as they should
+Being outwitted
STRENGTHS:
+Strong willed
+Charisma
+Intelligence
+Physical Prowess
+Loyalty
WEAKNESSES:
+Women
+Volatile
+Stubborn
+Overwhelmed by certain subjects [true mother, bloodline]
+Challenges [easily goaded into them]
QUIRKS/HABITS:
+Occasionally gnaws on his lower lip or thumb when thoughtful
+Tends to furrow his brows
+He likes to keep his hands busy when thinking
+Tends to fall into an 'answer back' routine whenever he's outwitted, such as having to outwit them in return [much the same in a physical contest]
+Has a habit of taking up challenges when goaded
FEARS:
+Proving his naysayers right
+Not being survived by children
+Disappointing his foster-mother
+A fear of drowning
+Being caught and used for another's own ends
GOALS:
+Proving himself to the populace
+Breathing life into the Trevalion name
+Making a mark in history
+Living out his days in the Trevalion Household
+Having a wife and children
PERSONALITY

Joscelin's something else entirely and unmatched by any. He's charismatic and eccentric alongside a quick wit that's honed with his art. Truly, nothing phases him and even deters him. He has an addiction, though, to the flesh of women and wine both; daring to call himself a connoisseur. He has an appetite for social delites and delicacies, as well, that can only be sated through the fêtes he has grown accustomed to. Yet, despite his love for Inner city politicking and intrigue, Joscelin finds pleasure with the outside world and covertcy both between outlying nations. He savors the game of thrones and reckons himself as a player and not a pawn. That's not to say he's perfect though because he's far from it beside his horrid addiction to flesh and wine.

Joscelin's often overwhelmed with anger when trumped and can easily become volatile. He's often been pursued to become the best at what he puts himself to be. So, Joscelin will fight tooth and nail for the position. He's stubborn and his weakness has always been such as he'd often be unwilling to let go. He falls into an attitude of having to constantly catch up whenever he's outmatched such as having to get the last word or strike in and at times Joscelin is too stubborn to realize when he's been finished and would prefer to continue trying. His flaw of being unable to dissemble the emotion that shows in his eyes does not help either for his emotions tend to show through the way he looks at another at times, be it through a fondess, curiosity or simply anger, which typically can make him easy to read, especially if someone upsets him in any way, shape or form. He likewise has a terrible fear of large bodies of water and would prefer to walk or ride across the land other than to travel by ship. He deems it safer and an unnecessary risk. It was partly due to an experience as an adult when taking a route and a storm had nearly overturned them and partly due to a horrid experiene of attempting to learn how to swim as a child. Due to this, Joscelin tends to avoid returning anywhere near open bodies of water.

t h e h i s t o r y

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MOTHER: Foster-Mother - Ysandre Vestrit
FATHER: Barquiel Trevalion
SIBLINGS: None

OTHER: True Mother – Amarante, although nothing is known of her.
PLACE OF BIRTH:Anjou, France
CURRENT RESIDENCE:Verona, Italy
WEAPONRY:

Joscelin's intelligence is his first weapon which goes hand-in-hand with his charm. Gaining the trust of those around him has always led to better things and advantageous positions for Joscelin. It's normally the first mistake unknowingly victims make when with him, although he doesn't outright harm them, he milks them for whatever information he longs for usually. However, Joscelin does have more common skills such as swordsmanship which he has practiced unending until his muscles remember each technique fluidly and he has a natural talent with grappling; an art his father personally taught him.

HISTORY:

There are many stories that begin with a man or woman who stood for their beliefs, however, this one starts far before that moment and before he was even born. This story starts with the Duke of Suffolk and a moment of weakness whilst far, far away from his lady wife. It was a moment that changed everything and brought shame upon his house whilst he was away from England. It was on his trek through France when a fever had broke over him and in Anjou where he had met a woman who would change him forever.

Amarante.

That was her name or so Joscelin had come to find out years later after the untimely death of his father. He knew nothing of the womann, but men speak and from what he was told, Amarante was a pretty woman with sable hair, blue eyes, full lips and a witty, charming way about her. She was a woman that reflected heavily upon Joscelin even if he did not know it...a woman that looked like him. Nonetheless, the story starts with Amarante and his lord father Barquiel and an unexpected love blossoming between them.

Amarante tended him as one would expect of those of France; kind, courteous and eager to assist when they can. They could have turned out Barquiel but they hadn't. Amarante was nothing more than a crofter's daughter when she met the Duke of Suffolk. She tended him, assisted him and brought him back to good health, and when she had, the Duke had longed to repay her but she would take nothing.

She wouldn't take a coin or scrap of fabric. She wouldn't take nothing until he touched her face and kissed her. It was a foolish mistake of his and one frowned upon for years to come but it was within the heat of the moment. He kissed her, savored her and made love to her, and that brief moment of ecstasy brought about a child months later that Barquiel could not deny...a child brought to his attention by Amarante's grandfather.

A man of withering and aging years, and yet, he had made the venture to Italy where Joscelin's father was venturing off to. It was there where Joscelin was taken and deposited upon his father's lap to take and care for. The babe, however, was nothing more than months old; taken from his mother's breast and still longing for her affection. Barquiel had no idea on how to care for the child though and found himself lost and reluctant to return to England.

He spent months in Italy with the child, hiring a midwife to care for the babe until finally gathering the strength to return to England and face the consequences of King, court and household alike. It was as he expected it to be...frowned upon for his actions, Barquiel arrived wit news of his illegitimate son and his lady wife, barren as she was, was distraught over the news and sight of the boy. Yet, what could she do...?

The years passed and the mewling babe become a child and the child followed her about whilst Barquiel made amends and salvaged what there was of his reputation. The boy only had Ysandre, however, and he took advantage as he chased her about and when he was found, he ran off. It made her heart ache and long to give him the attention that he deserved; after all, one should not blame the child for the sins of the father. So, she lured him out of his hiding places with sweets and taught him.

She taught him letters, numbers and how to write and read. She taught him to speak proper and his mannerisms. She took care of him in any way, shape or form, throwing herself at the task and smiling as Joscelin grew and grew, becoming what was to be a respectable young man. It was only then that his father realized that this boy...this young, illegitimate child of his, was his only heir. With the realization in mind, Barquiel leapt to it as his wife had and sought the best of tutors that coin could buy and he buried Joscelin in knowledge.

He didn't have a normal childhood thereafter. It was fueled by his father's want for his son to become what was expected of a Duke. The essentials were sharpened and he was taught discipline, history and how to ride. He was taught to use a blade when he was older and how to speak when approach by someone of similar title. It was shocking to realize how much he had learned until he was of majority and had been taken to court by his father for his first jaunt in society.

He had fallen in love with it.

Years passed and Joscelin was becoming a respectable man when the plague struck and his father had passed. It was unfortunate and left him distraught as it did his mother, but Joscelin held fast and stood tall in the face of the naysayers as he took up his father's mantle, and much to the chagrin of those who did not like him, Joscelin did what he intended to.

He became his father's son and became an efficient, honest and fair Duke.

Yet, as time passed, so did the King's own realization that Joscelin was as useful as his father when it came to diplomacy. He took Joscelin closer into his confidence and when he had, he settled on using Joscelin as his eyes and ears in Verona, Italy to watch the proceedings on a strong fued between two families.

Joscelin agreed. It was what he was meant for.

o c c

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OOC NAME: Andre
AGE: 23
EXPERIENCE: Seven years writing experience.
CONTACT: PM, Y!M: forlorn_aurora, AIM: forlornaurora
MEMBER TITLE: The Diplomat
ANSWER: -admin edit-
EXAMPLE:

It's that dead spot within the night, that coldest, blackest time when the world has forgotten evening and dawn is not yet a promise. A time when it is far too early to arise, but so late that going to bed makes small sense. A year passes for a wolf as a decade does for a man. Time is no miser when one lives always in the now. Even for one such as Julian Patrick Moore.

How long now has it been? He could hardly recall the last time he had allowed the beast within to roam free and ravage any other. It's been years now, though, and longer than that. At least that's what he thinks as he looks down upon his bare and scarred hand. It's rough from the art of war and rough even more so from the sins he had dealt with. How many had suffered from his hands when he had first turned? It seemed such a mild predicament compared to all else now but he could feel his flesh heat whenever he thought of the scent of offal.

It's nearly the same feeling one finds when thinking of the last time they had coupled. That feeling of one's pulse deep within their loins that leaves them aching for more. He wanted more. He needed more. He could stand there and recall the horrid days of his torture and recall the feeling of releasing himself unto the world to tear such asunder but that wasn't enough. He felt nigh humiliated then and there with the ache deep within his gut as he fought the urge to salivate. It's utter and bestial anticipation that seeks to claw deep and throttle him.

Half the evil in this world occurs while decent people stand by and do nothing. It's not enough to refrain from evil though. People have to attempt to do right, even if they believe they cannot succeed. He had been there at those crossroads time and again, and the truth was, was that he had nearly abandoned himself. How much longer can he venture through life as he was now?

Who was he any longer?


It's another one of those nights again. It's a night where self-doubt lingers high within one's mind and fills them with naught else but dread. It's not only that but the ever present feeling of fear within as that bestial self churns deep and begs to be free; to feast upon flesh.

How long now since the last?


His eyes open wide as the floor underfoot shifts wildly and comes to a sudden halt. An intercom hisses and a voice pushes through soon after. "Thalia," the driver utters and those upon the bus make their move to step off. Moore pinches an eye shut and follows; a wolf within sheep's clothing...

...a wolf that hungers.


What greets him are the lights of the city.

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[Lilliana Cappelletti]

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