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Cecil Caerwyn

"Oh, honestly."

0 · 286 views · located in The Medialoum

a character in “Coffee in Hell”, as played by usernamesareadrag

Description

Cecil Caerwyn


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Name:
Cecil Caerwyn

Nickname:
Ce, CeCe or Wynnie. Ce is an endearment that he only allows for his close friends. CeCe and Wynnie, on the other hand, are barely tolerated and limited to a rare few. Attempt to call him either before you're absolutely certain he's incredibly fond of you and you'll either be ignored on a good day or given a verbal lashing on a bad day.

Gender:
Male

Age:
As in the case of most of the angelic or demonic guardians, Cecil is over 3,000-years-old. However, unlike many of the other guardians, his appearance is that of someone in their early to mid thirties.

Sexuality:
Homosexual

Species:
Once a member of the first tier, Cecil was demoted to the Second Hierarchy of Angels in the aftermath of the Great War, something he doesn't particularly like to be reminded of.

Role:
Male Angel 1


Appearance



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In some ways, Cecil is very much what people would imagine that a typical angel would look like. His features are fair, and his skin has a healthy sort of glow but still deviating towards the pale side of the spectrum so that any little blush is a bold stroke of color on his face. His hair is an almost golden blonde color, kept short but curly and tousled more due to the fact that he's simply given up on it rather than a fashion statement. Then there are Cecil's eyes, a grayish blue color that crinkle with every smile but are otherwise sharp and observant. His eyes are paired with incredibly expressive eyebrows, which, while he can normally keep the rest of his face in a deadpan if desired, are ultimately very telling of what's going through his mind. Then there are his wings- large and hawk-like in appearance, once a vivid white color but, since the Great War and his promotion(demotion) to Guardian, they seem to have changed color. In a certain light you could almost say that they're flecked with bits of gray, but there's no mistaking the two black feathers that he tries ardently to hide.

That is, however, where the similarities to the idealized type of angel and Cecil stop. Cecil looks a bit older than the vast majority of the guardians and he's handsome in a softer sort of way, but generally thought to be more cute than that.His facial features are on the soft side, not bold and masculine or sharp and defined. Cecil is on the short side as well, at best reaching 5'7, and he's of a stockier build and a bit pudgier than he'd strictly like(not fat, just a little softer around the middle than he'd prefer), mostly due to his doting significant other who not only has the audacity to cook delicious food but also is much too affectionate to say no to, so Cecil doesn't even try anymore. But don't let that fool you into thinking that he's not a threat. There's a reason for the scars that litter his body, almost all of which were picked up during the Great War, that are mostly hidden beneath long sleeves and pants, but easily revealed when he rolls up his sleeves. Not that he's ashamed of those scars, however. In fact, to be quite frank, they just might be his favorite thing about himself if only because he takes some pride in his role in protecting his family and friends during the Great War.




Personality

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By nature, all good angels are supposed to good, forgiving, and follow the Seven Heavenly Virtues to the letter, etc. etc. That being said, Cecil does try to embody all of these niceties and lessons, but, honestly, that's an awful lot to ask anyone to do, and what is Cecil supposed to be? An Angel? Well, yes, but the point still stands. If, however, someone had to choose just one of Cecil's many flaws that went against Heavenly code, it would be his lack of patience. He's very much a no-nonsense sort of person and will not be putting up with your manure*, thanks. This leads him to a constant state of exasperation as he deals with what he considers everyone else's issues, rolling his eyes Heavenwards(possibly, of course, wishing that he was back there instead of here) and almost always uttering his trademark phrase of an exasperated"Oh, Honestly." This no-nonsense attitude is partially the reason he supposes that he was chosen as a Guardian, at least when he looks at the other Angels. He's a bit of a joy-kill as well, tending to be more antisocial than not and something of a curmudgeon when people intrude on his private time. Cecil also likes to indulge in life's little pleasures, which he's been assured isn't exactly an angelic thing to do. Good food, wine, nice things like that are some of the delights in his life. He's stubborn but more painfully blunt, saying what he means and meaning what he says with only the occasional thought towards the other person, depending on if he likes them or not.

That's not to say that Cecil doesn't have his good qualities as well. He is and forever will be a mother-hen, looking after others and taking care of them. Oh, he acts disdainful about it, but he really enjoys helping others solve their problems(depending on who that person is) and comforting others. Not that that's been exactly easy with one jealous significant other getting all huffy(that is, huffy in Cecil's position. It might just be nightmarish to everyone else) when he does so. Not only that, but Cecil is perhaps stupidly brave. Oh, he's frightened of many things, but being brave isn't the absence of fear, it's the ability to overcome it, and Cecil has that in spades, taking on anyone that he deems deserves it. Well, not physically taking them on. He's not a generally violent person and hasn't had much reason to be after the end of the Great War, but he's intelligent, quick-witted, and a master at calling others out, one angel in particular stating that, "He could given a verbal lashing that would make Satan himself weep like a mere babe"(Afterwards, of course, Cecil gave him a lecture on treating Satan like a laughing matter). He's also, despite his curmudgeon like behavior, actually quite just, and, after some time on Mediaolum, has managed to overcome his prejudices enough so that he can fault an angel or human over a demon when he must. Another reason that, on his better days, Cecil supposes that he was sent here.

He has his issues like anyone else, and it does cause him some problems. He's easily embarrassed by affection and, while he craves it, PDA usually ends with him getting flustered and blushing violently. On a more serious note, for all of his good points(few and opinion-based as they may be), Cecil is extremely insecure about his looks(vanity's a sin, right, okay, he's heard that before), his place as an angel after his demotion to Second Hierarchy, the appearance of two black feathers to stain his wings, and being sent away from Heaven to be a Guardian, and as a person because, to him, all of his flaws seem multiplied ten-fold. He's lonely, or at least he was before he became a Guardian and made what could pass for friends and met his significant other(well, that took a lot more than a meeting for anything to happen on that front), and, even if he does like his alone time, that doesn't mean he wants to be completely without companion-ship. He may be at his best when taking care of others, but he's happiest when he's being taken care of.


(*See Dislikes)

Likes:
-Books: If you couldn't tell by the library that is Cecil's room, the angel adores reading. Books were his companions before he was forced to co-habitate with the other Guardians and are still a source of both knowledge, fun, and comfort for the angel.
-Music, Singing, and the Violin: With a preference towards classical, jazz, and Celtic but a lover of almost all types, Cecil adores music and almost always has something playing when he's in a room by himself. He's not too shabby of a musician himself, an accomplished singer with his lovely voice and a darn good violinist
-Tea: Exotic, plain, hot, iced, it doesn't matter to Cecil. Tea is his drink of choice, at least during the day, and you never know what you're going to get when you ask for a cup. Today it might be Earl Gray, but, who knows? Tomorrow it might be Monkey Fujian Ti Kuan Yin.
-Swordplay: Oddly enough, considering his apparent yearning for a cushy lifestyle and his now rather soft midsection, Cecil does like swordplay and often practices. Whether it's for exercise, the fun of it, or some paranoia, Cecil's not telling.


Dislikes:
-Swearing: He tends to tolerate it from others but almost always refuses to do so himself, with the exemption of damned and damnation, which he's relatively sure are just ordinary vocabulary for anyone aware of the Heavenly and Hellish worlds. It's quite a sight to see the normally blunt and often exasperated angel hiss phrases such as "Oh, black feathers" or "son of a snake" or "manure".
-The Heat: Cold is good, cozy is fantastic, but when you cross the line to a fire-like heat, Cecil draws the line and begins to feel rather ill and more irritable than usual. It's best not to get too close to him at these times.
-Spiders: Yes, yes, he's an angel and must love all of God's creations, but, seriously, spiders spook him out. Give him snakes, demons, and eternal Hellfire any day, just not spiders.
-Silence: It's no secret that Cecil despises silence after a bout with deafness as a result of the beginning of the Great War. Since then, silence has terrified him and he does everything he can to avoid it, whether that be talking to himself, listening to music, or listening to his significant other's heartbeat and breathing.



Brief History:

It's fair to say that, despite his previous status as an angel of the First Hierarchy, Cecil never really did quite fit in. Oh, he was excellent with the holy things, promoting Heavenly ideals and the Godly way, but he never quite clicked. He wasn't one for large groups and was rarely sociable, and, after a while, the other angels caught on to that and left him to his own devices. Which, one can assume, is where things started to go wrong. Cecil wasn't antisocial, per say, just more of an introvert, but without anyone to urge him to enjoy society, he devoted himself to books and studies, whether that be from the Heavenly realm or from the mortals(one must keep up with humans, after all, to prevent them from doing something stupid) slowly becoming what everything already assumed he was. As time passed, he became less patient with others due to a lack of contact, but was still a good angel. A righteous angel, devoted to Heaven, so it was only natural that for all of his shortcomings, he retained his status as a first tier angel, helping when needed but otherwise alone apart from the occasional visit from older angels looking for peace and quiet, who he very much considered to be the closest thing he had to family. He never said anything, but he cherished their company to alleviate the loneliness.

That was before the Great War where everything changed. Cecil had heard of petty squabbles that were popping up more frequently as time passed, but paid it no heed. After all, it was basically Divine law that Heaven and Hell have their eternal conflict. That is until he was thrust into the violence. It was a siege attack, not very well orchestrated, but Cecil's community was unprepared, too sure that these little fights would disappear on their own. It was chaos, the scent of burning, the splashes of red blood staining sacred land. Before he could do much of anything, Cecil was knocked out by a blow to the head, and, when he woke up, he was as alone as ever, but this was worse. Alone, amidst the chaos, he couldn't hear. He couldn't hear his own whimpers, then screams of pain, nor could he hear anyone else. He healed, as angels do, but the silence still haunted him.

As soon as he was better, Cecil was signed up to participate in what had become the Great War, both as an excellent swordsman and an angel of the First Hierarchy. But he let revenge consume him, for lives already lost, and hate embittering his soul as represented by the single black feather blemishing his wings, so, despite his drive to fight for Heaven's sake, when all was said and done, he was rewarded by a demotion. It crushed his spirit for a time, and while he gradually let go of his hate, the insecurity was stuck fast to him like a cancer on his soul. It wasn't helped by the fact that he was now signed up to be a Guardian. It was a great honor, they said with all their holy approval, but Cecil thought otherwise. Another demotion, sending him away to another plane of existence, Heaven lost to him forever. The insecurity festered and grew and with it came his lack of patience, his general curmudgeon-like attitude, and a need to prove himself to anyone and everyone that dared doubt him.

It was as a Guardian that he met Genocide, a demon who was as brutal and violent as they came. The two instantly butted heads, Cecil despising the demon for his cockiness and homicidal tendencies and Genocide reciprocating in kind due to Cecil's general stuffiness, prudishness, and general bad attitude. It was a constant struggle of one-upmanship between the two, Genocide testing and trying his patience at every turn and Cecil giving as good as he got. They bickered and argued and had spats like an old married couple. It wasn't until one day when a group of angels from the Mediaolum arrived, demanding retribution for Genocide's, well, genocidal characteristics. Cecil could have let them finish the job, could have done so without a single blemish on his conscious Heaven-wise, but… But Genocide was his problem to deal with, darn it, and he was the only one who got to fight with him. Cecil stepped in and, with all the wit and sharp words he could muster, effectively talked them down. That started their relationship or nearly did. It really needed one last push, which came in the form of violence. Low level demons, as it turns out, don't particularly like one of their leaders messing about with angels of any kind. Cecil was cornered without a weapon and without a prayer when Genocide swooped in, thoroughly trounced said demons, and the rest is history.

They were friends, now, and grew closer with each passing day until they started a bit of a friends-with-benefits situation. Cecil yearned for an outlet to avoid his own loneliness and Genocide could stand no one else. But, as their relationship continued, old insecurities arose again. Genocide was so handsome, and Cecil was… Cecil. A reject angel, a reject person, a little too old, a little too scarred… It didn't help that neither demon nor angel would admit to their growing attraction, so Cecil had no reassurance and sure as Heaven* wasn't about to be laughed at for exposing his slightly romantic feelings, and wouldn't know how to do that anyways given his lack of social etiquette. So, when an angel- young, unblemished, sweet and affectionate as cherry pie- who'd been helping Cecil with his Guardian duties propositioned him, well Cecil gave in to temptation. It wasn't, after all, like Genocide liked him as more than a bed buddy, and he was so attractive, he was surely having his own dalliances on the side. Plus, he didn't even like Cecil like that. Cecil was, of course, wrong.

Genocide nearly killed the angel in a jealous rage and, in the process, revealed that, no, he was very much serious about Cecil, or at least had been. Cecil was left stunned, confused, and, above all, guilty. What had he done? He spent days wrestling with his emotions, and finally came to terms with the fact that he missed the demon and… and loved him. He just didn't know how to say it. So, he didn't. Instead he made him a necklace, a fine, golden thing with one of his own feathers attacked because, yes, he was a bit of a romantic from all of those novels. It took days after that of Cecil happy at least that he had done something, but still writhing in guilt and trepidation, but Genocide finally took him back, although he was more jealous and protective of Cecil than before.

Their relationship was kept quiet for both of their behalf's, but there was a nagging sensation in Cecil's mind that, yes, others knew, or at least the other Guardians. He was gradually becoming accustomed to affection, to pampering, and was seriously considering the idea of just letting everyone know officially because, darn it, he loved his Geni. That was, of course, when he was cracked in the head for the second time in his life. He was left with constant headaches, a bit of wooziness, and a hole in his heart the shape of Genocide, and he doesn't even know it.

So begins...

Cecil Caerwyn's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Genocide McCall Character Portrait: Cecil Caerwyn
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The air was crackling with tension, white hot and explosive just like the lightning that had struck the large structure in the middle of The Medialoum. Odd Came a inquiring thought from a dark haired man, standing with his hands in his pockets with a cigarette hanging from his lips. The ground rumbled with thunder, rattling his chest, bushes shivering around him as if quivering in fear. Chewing the end of his cigarette Genocide turned his shoulders to gaze towards the palace, shoulders hunched, unaware of the chaos hat ensued after the bolt of electricity. In fact, he was no where near the castle like building, about half a mile away buying a bottle of wine for this evenings dinner. "What a sight, nearly scared me out of my skin." Came the shrill voice of the plum woman who was selling to him. His dark eyes flicked to her, torn away from the palace as his lip twitched up in he beginnings of a sneer.

"Keep the change," Genocide practically growled as he snatched the bottle by its neck and placed the bill in the lady's hand. Lifting his cigarette from his lips he exhaled slowly, allowing the smoke out through his nose, eyes narrowing on the palace. With a shrug he returned the half smoked cigarette back at the corner of his lips. Genocide pulled up the hood of his jacket as small raindrops began to drop from the sky, pitter pattering on the warm cement beneath the demon's shoes. He tucked the bottle inside his jacket, under one arm, protecting it from sight and the intensifying rain as he retreated to the haven of the Medialoum palace.

By the time he reached one of the numerous entrances and exits his clothing was soaked and cigarette near gone. Standing under the patio he shook out his hood and jacket as best as possible, revealing a mop of dark hair and small, pointy ears. Scrunching his nose he fumbled with the door knob, finally pushing his way inside, only to meet complete insanity. Familiar faces ran around in a mad scramble, bewilderment and fear stinking the air as the demon kicked the door closed behind him. What in the seven rings of Hell was going on around here?!

Shouts were indicating that there were injured people, time slowing to a near stand still as Genocide made one connection to the next. The cigarette butt dropped from his mouth, as did the wine bottle from his hand, both hitting the ground at the same time. The wine painted the white tiles of the palace blood red, the shattering of glass ringing in the demon's hypersensitive ears. "Where is he?" He barely recognized his voice as he took unsure steps down the hall, a sense of panic overcoming him as his brisk walk turned into a frantic run. "Cecil!" Genocide called out, searching the faces of those he passed, pushing and shouldering his way through.

"Where is he?!"

The demon's bellow echoed out, over the voices of the many others, startling even himself in his desperate search for his curly haired love.

"Where! Is! Cecil!

OOC:Hey guys, finally posted (Whew! Glad I got that off my chest!) lemme know if you need anything changed. I am human, so to speak, and often make mistakes. It wont hurt my feelings, much, to go back and fix something. Im bound to get something wrong eventually!

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Genocide McCall Character Portrait: Cecil Caerwyn
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Nothing about that day should have been unusual. Yes, there was a storm carrying on outside, but weather came and went, and, in all fairness, it didn't seem like much of a portent of doom. Just another rainy day that made for excellent reading and, if Cecil was completely honest with himself (which he often wasn't), excellent cuddling weather as well, so a storm hardly seemed like an ill omen. In fact, the day had been going wonderfully. No one had any issues that they needed Cecil to solve in the Mediaolum, no one harassing him while he tried to get work done, no one invading his privacy unless you counted Genocide who, Cecil supposed with a blush that he would deny until the end of the world, wasn't so much invading as visiting previously conquered lands.

That was why he was caught entirely off guard, dropping the tome in his hand to the ground with an loud crash, by that… that sensation. The sensation was hard to describe, and goodness knows that Cecil had tried to explain it many times, but the best he could get was calling it a tingling sensation, raising goose bumps along his arms in its wake and causing his wings to twitch anxiously. It didn't feel particularly bad, more like his entire body threatening to fall asleep simultaneously, but he'd felt the sensation far too many times before to simply discount it. It was the sensation he'd felt so many years ago when his town had been attacked, before each sneak attack during the Great War, even here in the Mediaolum during the times he'd been caught up in dangerous business.

But he wouldn't panic because it could be nothing, he reasoned, bending over to pick up his heavy book. This was the Mediaolum after all, not a war zone, and, besides, this was the house of the Guardians where the biggest danger tended to be annoying people, angels, and/or demons bothering him. Yes, there must be a reasonable explanation to all of this because today was so utterly pleasant. And the day was pleasant- it was just too bad that the storm raging outside didn't get the memo.

Cecil heard what happened before anything else, a deafening crash echoing throughout the halls nearly sending him tumbling to the floor. There was no time to question or wonder what had just happened because immediately following the booming noise was another sound. The angel couldn't place it at first, but as it neared him the answer became obvious. It was the sound of rocks and mortar tumbling to the floor, of screaming people calling for help or mercy. The roof was caving in. He could see it now, hairline cracks racing along the ceiling above him, quickly broadening into larger gaps. The roof wasn't falling all at once, spreading out instead from the epicenter of the initial impact.

Cecil's wings spread out, feathers touching the walls around him as he made to retreat backwards with one mighty flap, but he was too late. The ceiling buckled above him and brought with it stone raining painfully down upon him, burying him in debris and dust until one well-placed rock cracked against his skull. Red, red blood began to sprout from within his blonde locks, trailing steadily down his face, and, unable to move, Cecil watched the single bead of blood make its way down the tip of his nose before he was swallowed into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well, that wasn't quite right. He felt conscious, but it was like the pain had disappeared and now only darkness surrounded him. And he couldn't quite… Couldn't quite grasp onto his thoughts… What had just happened…? He struggled to remember, but the memories, silvery wisps in his own mind, were scuttling away from his grasp, teasing him, taunting him, disappearing into some dark corner of his mind. No, no, this couldn't be happening. Already bits and pieces of his memory were darting away from his mind, leaving him feeling desperate and empty and not knowing why. Desperate and empty.. he almost gave a hysteric laugh. That sounded utterly dirty, a joke in the making for one of the girls or Atti… What girls? Atti…? At a…? At where? He was so confused now, so, so confused.

Where was Genocide? Cecil clasped desperately onto that train of thought, fearful that it too would vanish. Genocide made sense. His friend, his lover, his… his other half. But, now, that memory was trying to escape now too, Cecil realized in horror. No, no, he couldn't forget his Geni. He couldn't. Who would he be without him? Oh, Heavenly Father, he couldn't. He couldn't let this happen- Genocide! Genocide! He had to remember Genocide! The cigarette smoke that seemed to constantly swirl around him, that charming grin, all of the little things he'd done for him, done to him. Genocide! Genocide. Genocide… genocide. Genocide? He felt empty, but what did that have to do with mass murder?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment Cecil awoke, he felt like he was being suffocated and crushed simultaneously. Why…? Oh. It was because he was being suffocated and crushed simultaneously. Cecil struggled desperately from within the debris despite the aches and pains darting around his body and the intense throbbing pain in his head. He soon surfaced, gasping for breath, and looked around. It was chaos, crumbled bits of what appeared to be ceiling surrounding him like he was in a massive ruin and rain steadily beating down on him from the gaping hole above. Where was he? Hadn't he just been home? Yes, yes, it was right after he'd been… been demoted. He wasn't thinking straight... how had be gotten here? Where was here? Oh, God, he'd been hit in the head again. This couldn't be happening again! Cecil struggled to hear something, anything because no, no, he couldn't be deaf again.

"Where! Is! Cecil! Oh, thank the Good Lord, a voice. A voice that he agreed with. Yes, where was Cecil? Oh, wait. Cecil jerked his head upwards, immediately regretting it as the pain in his head increased tenfold. That was someone calling for him. Probably. Maybe wherever he was had another Cecil?

"Hello…?" It wasn't much of a shout, or much of a thing too shout if someone was looking for him, but it was the most he could manage at the moment without exacerbating his aching head.