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Deimos Laurente

"Freak? Who, me? .... Yeah. Probably."

0 · 712 views · located in Wizarding World

a character in “Nox // Lumos”, as played by rubytuesday

Description



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F U L L . N A M E
Deimos Killian Laurente
previously Louis Arthur Weasley

N I C K N A M E S . A N D . A L I A S E S
Dog | by various | sometimes | hates
Both in reference to his animagi form and is watch-dog like nature when it comes to the second-in-command

Tats | by members of the Unmentionables | sometimes | dislikes
Obviously in reference to the many tattoos that cover his body

Smiley | by members of the Unmentionables | sometimes | grudgingly humored by
In reference to his skull tattoo, which gives him a permanent, toothy grin

Reaper | by many | often | doesn't mind
Practically everyone has an alias that people call them by, at least they do in the Unmentionables. Deimos' own is a result of his skeleton appearance as a result of his tattoos and his aptitude to go for the quick death of his enemies, rather than torture.

A G E
23

B I R T H D A Y
March 14th |

G E N D E R
Male

S E X U A L I T Y
Bisexual | Panromantic

B L O O D . T Y P E
Pure







W A N D . T Y P E

P A T R O N U S
His patronus takes the same form as his animagus does; an enormous rottweiler-like dog.

B O G G A R T




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H E I G H T . A N D . B U I L D

H A I R
Deimos' head is shaved completely to make room for the tattoos that decor his cranium. However, before he had such art done, he was a red-haired boy, with curly locks that he was constantly teased for.

E Y E S

M A R K S . / . S C A R S . / . P I E R C I N G S . / . T A T T O O S

G E N E R A L . A P P E A R A N C E




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P E R S O N A L I T Y
Deimos is somewhat of a black sheep among the Unmentionables whose ranks he is a member of. He is savage, bloodthirsty, and his hate runs high, but he is not without empathy. Such things as mercy are neither commonplace nor valued in the Unmentionable's world, but with Deimos, mercy is something he often grants. He finds little pleasure in witnessing nor granting agony, and sends swift deaths and quick ends rather than toying with those he plans to end. The cruciatus curse is not one he is prone to using, and some consider him weak for such a thing. After all, a true Unmentionable should not get uncomfortable in the face of suffering. A true Unmentionable revels in it.
But not Deimos. Deimos is one of the 'kindest' of the Unmentionables, although of course, none of the members are forgivable. His appearance strikes fear into many, so it is odd that he is in fact one of the few that displays odd, occasional sparks of a softer, warmer humanity, such as his refusal to kill children, or his penchant to avoid performing torture.
Despite his grim appearance, Deimos is in possession of a sharp and clever wit, and it is not rare for him to shoot well-placed barbs and dry quips in even the more gloomy of situations. His sense of humor is something he is somewhat appreciated for, and his wry sense of such aids in making him a lot easier to get along with than something of the other, more psychopathic Unmentionables.
Deimos' temper is short, and it is not rare for him to reveal his lack of patience when said patience reaches its limit, and although he is not the most violent nor aggressive, he is not above hexing -or simply punching- someone that gets on his nerves.
Deimos is, because of his mercilessness and his tendency to shy away from torture, oft referred to as a coward. However, his layers his insecurities with a show of false bravado, talking himself up in a way that provides another intentional source of humor.
When the conversation turns to deeper matters, on the other hand, Deimos is prone to shutting things out, deflecting queries and generally becoming rather reserved. His memory fractured, Deimos doesn't care to share what little he remembers of his childhood.
One again in spite of his appearance, Deimos possesses an odd charisma, and an impressive ability to talk on the spot, luring crowds and altering opinions with his silver tongue. He can be riveting in his speeches, and inspiring in his words, and if he were more interested in the role of a leader -not to mention considerably more bloodthirsty- he might have obtained such a position.
Deimos has an oddly brotherly nature when it comes to children, and is unable to explain why he feels so protective of children, especially when the job is often to kill them. Sometimes, his dreams hint at this being something to do with an event in his youth, but of course, he has yet to piece together the faded part of his life.
Deimos isn't the type to dole out respect and admiration easily, but when such an event happens, it is hard for him to abandon said feelings. His loyalty is fierce, but less to the supposed 'Cause' of the Unmentionables and more to the people he meets. Once they have earned his trust, he is seldom to betray them.







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H I S T O R Y
As far as Deimos is concerned, his life began four years ago, when he awoke at nineteen years old in a sea of decay. The town stank of death, and the bodies that littered the town were blanketed by ash. His forehead was bloodied where he'd fallen, and his leg ached terribly, pinned under the fallen sign that had once headed Zonko's Joke Shop. Beside him, a teenage girl, her face blackened by the flames, now an unreadable mar. Part of him wanted to scream, but for whatever reason, he instead leaned back against the fraying doorway, and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, there was someone with him.
She stood before him, her face an unreadable mask, her eyes are dark as obsidian and cold as steel. Her gaze struck him to the core. Even if he could move, he wouldn't dare. One eyebrow was arched, and her wand hung loosely between her fingers, as though she was contemplating using it.
"What is your name?"
Deimos opened his mouth to answer, and frowned. His name. Such a thing would, for most others, flow to the tongue, more reflex than thought. But when he reached for the word, he found himself coming up short.
"I don't know."
The Smirk. It caught her lips, an invisible thread tugging lightly at the corner of her mouth. Inside him, it struck both fear and euphoria.
"I see."
Her wand flicked up, and Deimos winced, but instead of death, he felt the pain lift from his leg. The beam hung in the air before flying sideways, its landing causing a plume of ash to rise and curl.
She offered a black-gloved hand, and with a nervous tentativeness, he took it.

It was simple from then on. He found himself a new name, one that suited him well. When the pain rituals came, as initiation, Deimos took them willing and ready. With each day, a new tattoo glazed his skin, and with each day, he became less of a desperate soul, clinging to his beautiful reaper, and instead his own being.

He became Deimos Killian Laurente.

His friends, his family, his name, his past, they were all a blur to him, and thus he paid them no heed. Whoever it was that he had been, he'd died in the massacre that tore apart Hogsmeade.

Even his wand got left behind.

It was a nice wand, too. Birch, ten and a half inches, with a unicorn tail hair core. Especially good at charms and transfiguration. A wand that had only ever had one owner.

A Mr. Louis Arthur Weasley.


7c0047

So begins...

Deimos Laurente's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Clementine "Lily Potter" Le Roux Character Portrait: Deimos Laurente
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D E I M O S . L A U R E N T E
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location|diagon alley

attire|x

song|seven nation army


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Slick and blue, stained with topaz and violet. Littered with unpleasant figures and grimed by smoke and flame.

There was no doubt about it, tonight, the Diagon Alley sky was polluted.

Deimos emerged from thin air with a resounding crack, and he felt his apparation spell peel from his body like a second skin as he found himself in the center of a warzone. Deimos' brows, had he had any, would have furrowed in exasperation. How did they know? Why were they always so goddamn punctual?!

Deimos sighed, the exhale clearly tainted by an annoyed huff, and he slid the wand from his pocket before spinning in time to deflect a confundus charm. The witch who had fired it scowled at him, and her words parted to form another spell, the word lost in the deafening cacophany going on around then.

"Deprimo!"

A spherical blast flew from his wand, just as the witch's wand reacted the same. The air seemed to shudder as the two spells met midway, and Deimos found himself thrown backwards, crashing through the window of Eeylops Owl Emporium. Deimos groaned in in pain, rubbing his bruised scalp before inspecting his wounds. The snake tattoo that winded around his waist was hissing indignantly, and with a grimace, Deimos saw why.

A thick shard of glass wedged in his flesh, just above his hip. With a shot of frustration, Deimos gripped the splinter's edge, pulling it from his side with a snickt. Standing up with a slight wince, Deimos approached the door of the shop, only for an angry squawk to stop him in his tracks. The cages were all shaking as their contents fought desperately to escape. The owls talons clawed at the bars, their wings flapping as wildly as possibly in their small confinements. Deimos stared at them a brief moment, before grunting and turning back to the brawl.

He stopped again, and glanced back at the birds.

"Oh, fuck it." Reentering the emporium, he pointed the wands at the cages. "Alohomora." The doors of the cages flew open, and the owls collected into a storm as they escaped their bars and flew out the door, prompting a few shocked swears as they did. Spitting out a feather, Deimos shook his head at his own behaviour, "I'm an angel. I really am."

His moronic thoughts were interrupted as a girl flew back into the wall beside him, and after a brief inspection, recognized her. He looked to her attackers, "Stupefy!"

He turned to Clementine with a smirk, examining his nails in a manner that could not flaunted the falseness of his nonchalant arrogance better. His head turned to her, and he winked. "Did someone ask for a her-"

The charm hit him square in the back, and he too flew into the wall, his skull-marked face making contact with the stone. He fell onto his back, moaning in agony. "Um, ow?!"