- Joined
- Apr 12, 2016
- Messages
- 3,020
- Reaction score
- 2,745
True love is a load of bullshit.
ALIAS: "Love Doctor"
STATUS: Hungry
FACTION: Death Watch
HOMEWORLD: Mandalore
FORCE-SENSITIVE: Untrained
SPECIES: Human
GENDER: Male
AGE: 29
HEIGHT: 5'11"
WEIGHT: 168 lbs
ORIENTATION: Homosexual
EYES: Rooted coffee; earth
HAIR: Charcoal ink; obsidian
FACE: Unshaven; salient stubble
VISION: No better than your own.
VOICE: Matthew Daddario
APPEARANCE: Thicks brows, lined to flaunt a perpetual grimace. Sharp, but hardly as keen as his proclaimed wit, his nose pitches down to the thin basin of stubble.
Skirting around a wiry jaw, the careless floss of hair underscores statuesque cheeks, adding to a pair of jaded, hazel eyes.
Years of toil has weathered his features, but all to the finest measure, leaving him with an ideal concoction of strength and style.
Affinity
Blunt as a hammer. Sharp as a knife. Nicolás is a man of both little— and many— words. Preferring to sail directly to the point, he is notorious for his nonchalant style and candor. However, when beyond a subject of sober relevance, he is remarkably extravagant. Loquacious and flirty to any measure, and lacking any filter between his mind and his mouth, he never refrains from speaking his mind, regardless of consequence.
Such audacity stems from impatience long imbued in his nature. A cynic for flattery and pleasantry, he never hesitates to proclaim his agitation, as well as the irritating flaws of another. Chew too loud? Anticipate a slap and a forthright lecture. Forgot to brush your teeth that morning? Prepare for a lesson in hygiene. Unless you have a reason to elude his brazen gall, expect his sass with necessary premonition.
In the matter of trust... he has none. After the onerous fallout of his previous lover, who exploited him for the benefit of greed, Nicolás has grown to become a mercenary with endless suspicion. Having pushed many out of his life, he has reduced himself to a derelict recluse with an absolutely horrendous sense of humor.
And one that can shoot without equivocation.
Awareness
Every curl of his lips. Every burrow of his embrace. Every kiss supple on his cheek. The thought of this yearning was fresh in his mind, crisp and cherished through every passing moment. All of this passion, all for naught.
A single roar of lightning wailed over the dismal horizon.
Rain petered out on the embellished terrace of the penthouse. Lackluster, inaudible, resembling the the convoluted knit of his pained frown. The translucent shower of the sky mingled with the growing sulk in his face. His heart, his mind; his fingertips, wrapped around the narrow shape of a blaster. Aimed with utter discretion to the silhouette of his lover, a man in which he trusted for months too great to count, Nicolas quivered wistfully.
“Why? But why?” He spoke, voice cracking. Legs brittle and tense.
The other man had taken everything from him. His soul, his presence, his devotion. And now, in their hands, laid the twenty million credits the two had planned to take for themselves.
But now, it seemed, that his lover was only in it for the cash, the security of wealth, and its wretched pleasure. Was their relationship just a ruse? A ploy from the start of it all?
“I trusted you,” he continued.
“I know.” His lover, no— this stranger, replied with only apathy at his side. An emotionless grimace plastered on his face. No smile, no charming smirk. There was nothing.
“Then why are you leaving? Were you just in it for the credits? Was that what this whole thing, with you and me, was it all just a game?”
“Yes.” Continued indifference.
His hand tightened on the revolver.
“You can’t shoot me,” the other man added, dispassionate as an unpleasant sneer surfaced upon his jaw. “You love me, and I know you, Nic— you don’t have the guts. Just put the gun down, before you hurt yourself.”
“I trusted you…” He repeated, a mere whisper as the words slipped off his tongue, plunging into the ground.
In an unforeseen instant, the other man lunged forward, looking to seize the blaster from his restraint. They were fast: arms extending and hands already clenching the tip of the weapon, but he was faster.
And a single roar of lightning wailed across the balcony for a final time.
➵ MK-II Mandalorian Armor
Equipped with manageable repulsorboots instead of a jetpack, allowing greater maneuverability.
Scatterweave and spacers leather also utilized for further lightweight armor, in addition to obligatory aesthetic. Also utilizes minor several magnetic plates over the armor to carry supplementary equipment.
➵ Auditory Frequency Modulator
Outfitted to combat SA-38G frequencies.
➵ Nova-67 Blaster Carbine (Plasma)
➵ Saberstaff; earned after killing a rogue Jedi.
➵ MD-12 Shotgun
➵ C-03 Caltrop Grenade (x1)
➵ SA-38G Supernova Grenades (x2)
➵ TS-15 Pistol
➵ Quintessential Speeder Bike
➵ Electroblade (x2)
➵ SCKO-Grenade (x1)
➵ Thermal Detonators (x3)
➵ MK3 Razor Light Drone
➵ Claw-3 Interceptor
➵ SIRI, his A.I. counterpart.
➵ Integrated comlink for SIRI.
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