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Kazimír Šťastný

"Fortune favours the brave, but misfortune is impartial"

0 · 592 views · located in Fae Realm

a character in “Aes Sídhe”, as played by Cloud

Description

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n a m e : xxxkazimír šťastný

a l i a s : xx fortuna xx štěstí

h u m a nxxn a m e : xxx ash novak

a g e : xxx 105

s e x u a l i t y : xxx pansexual

c o u r t : xxx dark court

r o l e : xxxseekerxxxtrickster

p r i m a r yxxp o w e r : xxxluck

s e c o n d a r yxxp o w e r : xxxmisdirection

t h o u g h txxc o l o u r : xxx#C5B990

d i a l o g u exxc o l o u r : xxx#929D73


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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ golden tipped bone


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a p p e a r a n c e

A n t l e r s xxx sprout from thick chestnut curls, dainty bone curling several inches high. They're delicate and young; the antlers of an adolescent, where only the sharp tips of bone are bathed in gold. Age will see them grow, with gold devouring the antlers as centuries pass, until they might one day match the largest antlers which grace the walls of the ancient families - hunting trophies from times gone by. For now, Kaz's antlers remain small, their extra height allowing the fae to proclaim that he is 5'11" on a good day, when in fact his true height is several inches less. His hair possesses rare streaks of forest green, which melt into the brown like leaves in the forest and offer a stark contrast to the white of his antlers.

H i s xxx form is lean, his face defined by pouting lips and dark eyes. They're hazel, yet darken or lighten with his mood. Scars do not mar his skin, though freckles lightly dot the bridge of his nose and shoulders. Thin wings emerge from his back, like fluttering dragonflies. They're clearly visible regardless of what the young fae wears, though certainly Kazimir prefers to go shirtless. It seems to be his default state, until reprimanded for his lack of attire. At all other times he enjoys casual, denim, a simple shirt. A daring outfit might include a vest and bow tie, with whichever piece of sparkling jewellery catches his fancy.

A s xxx a human his antlers disappear, leaving him unidentifiable as a fae. His hazel eyes cease to change shade as extremely, though there is always a mischievous glint to them. His lips are prone to smiles, those playful expressions that hint at secrets and the promise of fun. Though he stands shorter without the added inches of his antlers, Kaz's height does vary by an inch of so in human form - as if his luck were to adjust, making him that slight bit taller on lucky days, and an inch shorter on unlucky days. Yet, he will still claim the tallest height.


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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ the truth cracks beneath his smile


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p e r s o n a l i t y

L a u g h t e r xxx has many forms, and Kazimir knows them all. He laughs when he's happy, a vibrant, rolling sound that speaks of his joy at a joke well told, or a mistake turned to comedy. Malice also has it's laugh, isolated from joy by the way his gaze darkens and his mouth looks sharper. Even in sadness a wet, tired smile might stretch across his face, as if laughing at his own misfortune. Rarely does laughter in one form or another fail the fae. He's the type to seek his own amusement, regardless of whether it is at another's expense.

S w e e t n e s s xxx can drip from his smile when he wishes, an attentive charm like a mask of gregarious good will. He wears his friendliness openly, an easy charm and talkative nature that add friends to his collection quickly. He asks questions of the new, curiosity itching across his skin. Until he grows bored and seeks another, some new interest drawing his attention. He's younger than his years, not having gained the maturity a century of life might have gifted a human. Instead, Kazimir shifts with his whims, almost naive in the way he seeks friendship and attention; impulsive and selfish. Except, naivete would not hold that hint of darker knowledge.

D a r k n e s s xxx creeps into his world when he's alone, memories surfacing and souring his smile. The fae knows how the world works, how advantages are taken, not given, how loneliness can creep up behind you when you least expect. It's why he surrounds himself with people, to chase away the nightmares and ignore that ache inside. He might lash out when he's feeling low, feeding that desire to entertain himself or possibly make someone else share his internal feelings of heartache. Kaz knows how to lie with the truth, weaving stories which may deceive or amuse as he likes. Even amongst the fae he's good at this, though any fleeting pride in the talent is often dampened by the look of distrust he elicits when discovered. Distrust which turns to dislike, and he's alone again among the crowds of fae, desperate for anything to break the cruel cycle.


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luck is not found


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l i k e s

jokes xxx milk xxx eyeliner xxx rings xxx gamblingxxx small dogs xxx flirting xxx pranksxxx lucky daysxxx friendsxxx luck punsxxx musicxxx fae karaoke, though he sings badly xxx humansxxx all you can eat buffets xxx fruity teas xxx fruity cocktails xxx feeling pretty xxx silkxxx chocolatexxx big catsxxx whistling xxx playing musicxxx dancingxxx butterfly kisses

d i s l i k e s

being alonexxx when people call his antlers hornsxxx unlucky daysxxx bad hairxxx hunting xxx big dogs xxx sarcasm xxx physical confrontationxxx fruit flies xxx dark chocolate xxx off milkxxx coffeexxx crustaceans xxx seaweed skin treatmentsxxx outright liesxxx inflexible people xxx when people touch his antlersxxx or call them smallxxx choresxxx monotonyxxx xxx


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s t r e n g t h s
G a m b l i n g xxxa poker face to rival any – save the telling glint in his eyes – and an innate knowledge for who might hold the lucky hand gives Kaz a distinct advantage in any game of ‘chance’. It doesn’t hurt either that he can steal his opponents’ luck, thereby increasing his own odds to win.

M u s i c xxx comes naturally to Kaz, his fingers easily keeping beat as he strums cords or taps keys. His singing voice may not be ideal, but most stringed instruments unveil their secrets reasonably quickly.

D e c e i t xxx fae cannot lie, but Kazimir knows how to spin truths and omit important components in such a way that he may as well be outright lying to you. Yet, it's worse than a lie because you know the truth of his words, and his inviting smile seems believable in its sincerity.


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w e a k n e s s e s
V a n i t y xxx pulls at the seams of his clothes and studies the reflection in the mirror. Fingers run through his hair every other moment, checking it's not out of place. Kaz likes the way he looks and tries to maintain it, to better it.

D e p e n d e n t xxx Kazimir relies heavily on the company around him. Friends become crutches to drive away his loneliness, to distract him from his fears. An easy smile might mask the unease he feels alone, yet nothing can hide the shaking of his hand save that of a friend's palm in his own.

C o m b a t xxx does not come easily to this fae. Weapons feel unwieldy in his hands, from lack of practice or a dislike of direct conflict, who's to know. Kaz would much rather steal luck and dart away, secure in his fortunate safety.


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m a g i cxx&xxequipment
L u c k xxx drips from Kazimir's finger tips, offering fortune to those he favours and misfortune to all others, with varying degrees of karma striking his victims dependent on how much is transferred. Kaz also holds a sense of what luck is held around him, though only within a certain radius. Sighting a person is always required, unless Kazimir wants to risk falling prey to misfortune himself. If he mishandles his stolen luck, Kaz himself can be at risk of misfortune, as karma bites back.

M i s d i r e c t i o n xxx can be cast with a brush of skin, barely noticed before you're taking a left rather than a right, your mind distracted as you get turned around. Of course, once you're out of Kazimir's range it wears off like a bad perfume and you suddenly realise you're two streets over. If you're trying to find Kazimir or his current location he can effect you from a distance, but the magic is thinner, and mild confusion may only set in within several feet of the fae.

E q u i p m e n t xxx a slim silver necklace hangs around Kaz's neck. It once belonged to his mother, and will play a soft lullaby when he wills it.



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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ loneliness can infect the strongest heart


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h i s t o r y

L u c k xxx made their family, casting their bones in gold. Generations wore their growing crowns with pride, favoured and protected by their fortunes. Until greed brought them down; greed of others and their own. Their luck was traded like a commodity, their towering antlers collected and hung like treasures to be won. When their numbers had declined significantly and hunting was finally outlawed, it was almost too late, with too little effort made to deter those after golden trophies. Few remained when Kazimir was born, fewer still when his parents were murdered.

C o n f u s i o n xxx saved his life. Only three and able to crawl into a small space, Kazimir's misdirection kept him hidden as his parents were slaughtered. He remembers little of them; his mother's soft singing voice, his father's warming hugs. They were taken from him before Kazimir could cement them in his mind. Tear stained and cold, he was only found hours later when sleep overtook him, his powers ceased, and other fae stumbled upon the house. Orphaned, he was taken in and raised among the Dark Court; settled when his dreams were haunted and indulged when he clung to anyone willing to comfort him. As he grew, the child learned to make smiles and laughter his shield, pulled people to him as a distraction from the loneliness, and protected his dreams with sleepless nights.

N i g h t m a r e s xxx still visited Kazimir, but as the chubby limbs of a mischievous child turned to the leaner muscle of an adult, he learned to live with them. He spent much of his adolescence in and out of trouble, honing his magic through trial and error, while avoiding the responsibilities heaped on his peers. Perhaps they felt sorry for the parent-less boy, or perhaps luck smiled on him and let Kazimir play. Most likely, it was the later. As an adult he turned his powers to self-gain and indulging his humour whenever free to do so. He liked transferring small amounts of luck among the court and seeing the slight effects that resulted, the subtle mayhem that couldn't be pinpointed back to him.

D a y s xxxwhen he worked, Kazimir always considered bad luck days. Those were when loneliness would strike, or he would visit the old money, where antlers hung on the wall and mocked him in his isolation. He was company for the oldest of the fae; a lucky charm he might scoff when down, a friendly face otherwise. They liked him for the luck he might bring and he liked the stories they would tell. Some had known his parents, though Kazimir killed conversation swiftly when that topic came up. Still, better than being alone with his thoughts, so he endured.

K a z i m i r xxxassumes it was an unlucky day when he was selected to join the hunt for the half-fae, for why else would his lazy existence be disrupted? He has a use; a way with words that can twist the truth into fictional stories, convince almost anyone to join his side with the right persuasion and a dash of luck. Fortune, his singular use. If he feels resentful for the temporary end to his carefree life, he hides it well behind bright grins and flirtatious winks. And in truth, there is something to be said for leaving the fae realm for the first time. So, perhaps his luck is already turning around.


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c h a r a c t e rxxs h e e txbyxxxlayla
f a c e c l a i mxxxdaniel hamaj
p l a y e dxxb yxxxcloud

So begins...

Kazimír Šťastný's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orhien Naena Character Portrait: Amaya Kyotsuki Character Portrait: Mariko Kimura Character Portrait: Kazimír Šťastný Character Portrait: Aurora Kinski Character Portrait: Ryu Se-Ri Character Portrait: Alize Morleaú Character Portrait: Cullen Lawrence Character Portrait: Kelvin Woods Character Portrait: Petunia Griffin Character Portrait: Illyana Bárány Character Portrait: Ryu Yeong Character Portrait: Tae Jeong Character Portrait: Lilith Averescu
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

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#, as written by Layla
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▁ ▂ ▃xxxH I G Hxxxxxx ▁ ▂ ▃xxx31/12/17 : 1100xxxxxx▁ ▂ ▃xxxW H E R ExxxW O R L D SxxxC O L L I D E
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xxxxxxThe moon released its cold, blue breath. Her sisters followed; speckles of starlight coming to life across the cold expanse overhead. And like a milky way on earth, the faelights that hovered untethered to mortal devices illuminated a path deep into the woods. Human passersby steered clear of the forest that emanated terror and demise, ushered away by a cleverly crafted glamour.
xxxxxxThose that dared venture into the sprawling canopies and distant shadows would find a mirage—an illusion that broke like water when prodded. And through this unseen wall—magic. For on the final night of every year, exiles and Fey without allegiance—or "freefolk," as was polite to call them—gathered in the fringes of New York City to celebrate the end of the earth's rotation.
xxxxxxThrough the veil were colours unseen by the human eye. Beads of light hung from the branches of ancient trees, their fingertips caressing the tips of faerie wings. A river snaked through the celebrations, spelled to bubble with a thick and cloying liquid of darkest gold.
xxxxxxFey danced to music that swelled like waves and descended in waterfalls. An alluring flute murmured its tune from the fingers of a sylph, urging lost humans to dance their worries away. Until their feet blistered, bled, and broke.
xxxxxxThe couples and groups twirling to the symphony were immune to such temptations, as they, too, had been forged of impossible things. A little blue boy giggled in his mother's arms as she twirled him 'round and 'round, her lips peeling back to reveal small, pointy teeth that could shatter human bones. Another girl blushed, her skin morphing into the emeralds and mahoganies of the trees behind her as if she could disappear into the belly of a trunk.
xxxxxx"Oi, watch it!" shouted a man—who was also a goat. Thankfully, from the waist down. He glared over his shoulder at the rather ordinary looking fellow stumbling past him. The subject of his distaste grunted and waved his mug of honeyed tea, its contents sloshing over the sides and between his fingers.
xxxxxx"S'ry," he murmured, scrunching his nose. Suddenly, a sneeze erupted from him, the strength of it tossing him backward into a crate of candied apples and lifting the skirts of some wayward ladies. They squealed, sending of breath of frigid air that melded his hand to his mug.
xxxxxx"Oh, come on," he groaned, rolling onto his side and falling to the dirt. He blinked. And squeezed his eyes shut. Opened them. Closed. For surely, he must be mistaken. Or inebriated.
xxxxxxFor through the thicket of bushes and leaves, a set of ruby orbs peered into the revelry. But before the man could yell, the redcap scuttled away into darkness, leaving only a murky memory in its wake.

▁ ▂ ▃ ▂ ▁


xxxxxxAmaya peered through the lens of her microscope at the bronze watch on her worktop. Joji hummed overhead, the tremble and thump of his synth filling the old antique store with contemporary music. Amaya exhaled to his croon, and wiggled the burnisher into the bezel of the old watch.
xxxxxx"Hey grand- Shit!" A cacophony of tumbling wood and smashing metal followed his expletives, ending with the sharp punctuation of his pained wail. "Ow, ow, ow!"
xxxxxxAmaya did not look up from her work as she said, "That's $6,410 worth of priceless artifacts you just knocked over."
xxxxxx"My femur! My femur!"
xxxxxx"Is decidedly less valuable," she murmured, slipping the watch's crystal face over the dial. "What are you doing in my shop, Ishaan?"
xxxxxx"What most people do in shops? Buy things?" Ishaan emerged from behind a glass cabinet stuffed with various deadly instruments and one too many skulls. "Though I can't imagine how anyone finds anything in this place. When was the last time you organised?"
xxxxxx"It's organised."
xxxxxxIshaan looked around him at the various texts and materials littered throughout the store, all of which seemed to have been placed without reason. A cluster of feathered pens sat beside a fraying Jack-o'-lantern; a pile of rare manuscripts were poised precariously atop a sealed bottle of indiscernible liquid; a frightening puppet with only one eye hung beside a brilliant chandelier of molten gold.
xxxxxx"Right," said Ishaan.
xxxxxx"Well?" Amaya prodded. "Out with it."
xxxxxx"We need Pandora's Box for the New Year's celebrations."
xxxxxxAmaya lifted her head to pin Ishaan with her black stare. She raised a brow. "Do you?"
xxxxxx"Well, yes. Obviously. Because I just said-"
xxxxxx"It was a rhetorical question."
xxxxxx"Oh."
xxxxxxMoments passed, the silence interjected only by the soft ticking of the watch Amaya held in her hands.
xxxxxx"Soooo..." Ishaan began. "Can you do it?"
xxxxxx"Yes."
xxxxxx"Will you do it?" he clarified.
xxxxxx"What happened to the box I gave you last year?"
xxxxxx"Uh..." Ishaan smiled sheepishly. "We broke it."
xxxxxx"How?"
xxxxxx"Gertrude was gassy."
xxxxxx"That literally explains nothing."
xxxxxx"Gertrude is part orc."
xxxxxx"Oh. That explains everything." They shared a slow nod of understanding. Without warning, Amaya stood, wiping her hands on the cloth strewn over her chair. "Don't break anything or I'll sell your organs on the black market to make up my losses."
xxxxxxAmaya glided between the mountain of objects seemingly without care as Ishaan tiptoed behind her. She ducked, disappearing into a narrow passageway that opened up to reveal a marginally wider door. She twisted the handle and stepped in.
xxxxxx"You don't lock it?" Ishaan asked.
xxxxxx"Why? Would you steal from me?" she replied.
xxxxxx"N-no. Geez. Of course not. Please stop looking at me.”
xxxxxxA flood of cold air greeted them. Colder even than the Winter beyond the store's four walls. The room glowed with an eerie blue light. This was Amaya's real collection. The priceless Fey objects and relics beyond the innocuous storefront that declared this place the Home of Intangible Things.
xxxxxxPotions swirling with incandescent hues perched on shelves etched with ancient runes; a wiry potted plant emitted an eerie glow in a corner; a book whose cover shifted with every minute hovered within a glass dome. Yet Amaya ignored all these as she approached a box the size of her palm. She lifted it, peeling back the velvet cloth that encased it.
xxxxxx"Here," she said. "You'll owe me a favour for this."
xxxxxx"Yeah, yeah. I know the rules. But," he chewed his lip, "we were actually hoping for another favour from you. Could you, maybe, attend the celebrations and call upon the box yourself? Its sister was so unruly last year. We had no idea how to get it back in once we'd opened it."
xxxxxx"Put three objects of personal value into the box and call-"
xxxxxx"Yeah, we got your instructions last time. But those rascals inside are hard to wrestle."
xxxxxx"You'll have to pay extra."
xxxxxx"Already on it." Ishaan waved his arm. "My sister has a gem from one of the late king's crowns. So, deal?"
xxxxxxAmaya tilted her head, fixing him with her stare. "Deal."

▁ ▂ ▃ ▂ ▁


xxxxxxThe box held within it collective memories—whispers of another time before the courts had been forged and anarchy reigned. Four powerful faeries had gathered to forge an alliance, carving into a map the lines of their rule. The Courts embodied the balance of the natural world. The seasonal courts—Summer and Winter—would share the earth's cycle, shifting their power to reflect changes in the climate. The courts of Dark and High would create chaos and maintain order, so that the world would not fall into excess. A High Lady or Lord would command each court, with their mates at their side.
xxxxxxAmaya stood at the centre of a clearing, where a crowd had gathered in anticipation of the night's ritual. The midnight hour neared.
xxxxxxA strand of alabaster hair fluttered into Amaya’s line of vision. She beat her papery wings and the small gust that followed lifted her hair from her face. Her off-the-shoulder dress swished around her ankles, their opal colours changing in the dim light that emanated from the faelights.
xxxxxxAmaya paid her audience no head as she twisted the box’s moving parts, spinning the sundial leftward until—like a setting sun that had met its end—it was eclipsed by a silver moon. She spun both ends of the box until the flourishing green tress met its barren twin on the other side.
xxxxxxPandora’s box unlocked.
xxxxxxA burst of red light blinded the Fey, and when it retreated, a chorus of cheers rose from them. Scarlet figures of smoke and vapour danced above their heads, wielding small swords and spinning in skirts that left faint trails behind them. The musicians began their symphony.
xxxxxxAmaya tilted her head upwards to watch the memories unfurl, her eyelids fluttering shut against their brilliance. The glow of the figures bounced off the crescent moon on her forehead, the curved mark scattering the colours into a kaleidoscopic dance.
xxxxxxSuddenly, a small red dancer turned and screamed.
xxxxxxAmaya's eyes snapped open. She turned as the people forged of red smoke raced with a fervour, screeching as they fought to return to their box. Large figures of flesh and bone rose behind them, their forearms encased in metal, their faces cloaked in armour. They wore the uniforms of the High Court's royal guard—a legion sworn to protect the faerie on the throne—but their magic did not solely belong to the High Court. A faerie with a swarm of straw-blonde hair threw a column of flame into the throngs of Fey fleeing the woods.
xxxxxx"Give us the Halflings," called a woman in copper armour. "And we might consider granting you exiles and traitors a merciful death."
xxxxxxAmaya had stilled, enraptured by the woman's familiar form, and the emerald eyes that peered from the slit in her helmet. Airell. The girl had been her friend, once. Or as close to a friend as one could find when one was imprisoned in a tower.
xxxxxxThe luck fae had warned her of this. Kazimír Šťastný. He had told her of the late king's downfall and her role in his child's resurrection. He had said with some mirth that she owed him a debt. He had saved her life, he'd claimed. When he was just a child, and she the prisoner of the High Lady of the Dark Court. She had not wanted to believe him, but she did remember him. The small boy with smaller antlers who had come to her cell and offered her luck.
xxxxxx"Feykiller," Airell intoned. "I did not expect to see you. Today must be my lucky day."
xxxxxxAmaya turned and ran.
xxxxxx"Fleeing again, are we?" Airell called out. "Where is the Blood Moon our keepers worshipped?"
xxxxxxAmaya darted between the trees, whizzing left and right until Airell's flames vanished behind her.
xxxxxxA little blue girl collapsed to her knees. "Mama!" she wailed. "Mama!" But the Fey around her did not stop. They had become cruel in their haste to survive.
xxxxxx"Hold on to me," Amaya barked. She wrapped her arms around the small girl, who clung to her with a grip that was unexpected of such a small creature, and ran.
xxxxxx"This way!" she called out to the faeries fleeing aimlessly through the woods. "There's a path that leads out of the forest into a human Walmart and cave on the way should we need to hide. Follow the trees with the crawling vines and blue flowers until you near a small ravine. Quickly. Quietly."
xxxxxxThe Fey stumbled through the darkened woods, a petite Summer faerie emitting a tentative glow to illuminate their path. Amaya looked over her shoulder to see the faeries who had stayed behind to fight the invasion, and those who were sprawled on the ground. They were much too still.
xxxxxx"Found you."
xxxxxxAmaya twisted, flinging the small child forward and into the thicket—better bruised than dead—as Airell lobbed a dozen black arrows toward her with nothing but a thought.