Credit for both angelic images
Name: Derrick Sandoval
Inner Self's Name: Khalimandaria (Any derivative of the name should suffice to draw the being’s attention)
Type of Dreamer: Normal Dreamer
Age: Seemingly mid- to late- twenties
Gender: Undetermined, but more feminine than not.
Appearance: Most first impressions of Khalimandaria tend to hover near towering, imposing, somewhat awe-inspiring when its wings are fully spread forth, and even debatably alluring to those who might be inclined to see it in such a manner. This being stands at a height of seven feet, with a body which leans more towards slenderness than anything, with curvature in certain areas that suggest a hint of femininity, an opinion that Khalimandaria does not altogether seem to share. What makes this area of physical definition somewhat more would be Khalimandaria’s particular set of armor, which is rather tight-fitting on the inside but “bubbled” somewhat on the outside, creating a blur as to what truly creates the supposed feminine curvature. The armor itself appears rather ornate and more for decorative purposes than any actual application, what with large ruby-red gems adorning its surface as the metal elaborately swirls and overlays. The helmet itself is positioned in such a way as to merely reveal the barest portion of Khalimandaria’s nose and bright, full lips, whose bright coloration stands out very distinctively in comparison to pale cheeks and gentle jaw structure. Somehow the lack of any discernible opening from which eyes may gaze seem not to hinder the being’s ability to navigate the world without hindrance. Majestic wings span fourteen feet in all, with an implied delicacy belied by their full-bodied plumage, appearing more than capable of carrying their owner up and into the heavens.
Theme Song: [url=Youtube Link]Song Title Here[/url] (this is optional)
Personality: If one were to judge by appearances Khalimandaria might appear self-righteous, judgmental, over-bearing, and harsh, which could all be considered applicable, to varying degrees, in this situation. It would describe itself as to having justice and righteousness at the forefront of their mind, putting themselves in the place of the proverbial judge, jury, and executioner above all those around them whether the occasion should arise or not. While this may seem to be an honorable cause to many Khalimandaria’s attitude can be downright belligerent and narrow-minded in the least, taking very little into consideration besides what was witnessed or even weakest of accusations depending upon the gravity of the time. Assuming the role of, or merely seizing it to be more earnest, protector also seems quite natural to them, as their desire to shield those they deem weak or easily abused stirs a fire down to the very depths of their being. This can become rather suffocating for the “shielded” individual as Khalimandaria is quick to jump in and take control of a situation in order to do what they consider best for the situation.
While this particular entity appears to strive for the fair dispensation of justice to those in need of its cold comfort or harsh bite, the alacrity with which it metes out with a debatable degree of harshness and overly-ample measures of punishment with little consideration as to the situation suggests a much darker side to Khalimandaria. Any perceived injustice committed against children and women seem to bring the greatest severity in retribution meted out by Khalimandaria’s blade, which happens to be the preferred tool of justice for the most part. It might be safe to presume that a seething rage smoldering beneath a usually calm demeanor, so calm so as to prove rather disturbing and cold at times. At times you can observe a deliberate refusal to acknowledge the truth of a situation, seeming as if the angelic being desires to inflict pain more so than bring justice to the world.
This one tends to be rather terse in terms of conversation, preferring to avoid idle chatter used to fill space, but is not overly-so as to be considered unsociable when it comes time to converse with another being. Khalimandaria tends to be much less friendlier with men than women or children in general, turning a much colder than usual shoulder to most, if not the entirety, of the gender, the reason for this is rather uncertain, or at the least left unsaid by the being. This is where most of the latent aggression and “ice-cold” tendencies of the being seem to be directed for the most part, and conversing with a male is only done if completely necessary. It is not unwarranted to chance upon displays of affection and warmth though, even if their occurrence be isolated in appearance, and at times even going so far as to seem overly-gentle given the right circumstances.
Pulse I: Khalimandaria’s one pulse derives from harnessing the essence of her being into a tangible form, with the ability to manipulate it in several different fashions, as a blast of energy or an aura conjured around weapon or body. What this one is not aware of however is the actual source of this power, the negative quintessence hiding beneath the perceived virtue and purity of their actions, and with every use of this power it slowly eats away at Khalimandaria’s being. The consequences of this being that the supposedly just and righteous self is being whittled away, exposing the inherent corruption of its flawed character, the light emitted from the culmination of this energy has begun to dim and darken whilst the armor has slowly began rotting away and the previously brilliant wings have started to thin and darken as well. Whether Khalimandaria’s ignorance to this change is due to its gradual-nature, denial, or delusion is uncertain, but it might become ever more apparent to another given the right length of exposure to their presence.
Whether a life stripped of any potential from the get-go is damaging to the psyche is a subjective determination to say the least, and if these effects are existent at all are determined on a case to case basis, whether that is a possibility or not. This changes not what circumstances brought upon the life of Derrick Sandoval since birth, and that they changed him into something he might not have been otherwise should be considered undeniable. Maybe Derrick was a broke-being before he was brought forth from the womb, through some happenstance of fate, and was merely dealt a hand in life required a mettle more-so than he could muster with such rapidity. The truth be told, this changes nothing of where he has ended up either or what effect that has upon the telling of his life-story, leaving all that remains to be told at the time only the story itself. Being born with the innocence possessed by most, if not all, children, Derrick found life enjoyable and full of adventure at the start of his journey, playing with the other children who lived on the block with the reality of the poverty enveloping the surrounding area as the last thought to ever cross their mind in the day. He was full of life and happy, even when his favorite Uncle John would come to visit and play with him alone, the true purpose of his visitations and ministrations of both exuberant generosity and amiability unknown to the child. How was he to know what plans his parents had for him, that when they said it was okay for the older man to touch him in uncomfortable places, were the indications of more sinister times to come?
As he grew older it did seem strange how his parents were able to afford to move to a new house, all the while continuing in their previous employment, with no overt changes in income, but Uncle John began to visit ever more, with their play-times lengthening and growing continually more uncomfortable for the young boy. By the age of ten Derrick had been removed from public schooling, having private tutoring provided at the home, and he had been, for all intents and purposes, barred from leaving the house, having his time outside restricted to the backyard and for merely one hour per day. That was the year Derrick was first raped by Uncle John, or was forced to service the man and reimburse his untold liberality with concerns to finances prior to this year. There was nothing he could do, his screams went unanswered for the hour they spent in his room , and tears long spent by the time those sixty minutes, thirty-six hundred excruciating seconds lasted. This arrangement continued without change for years, at least the length of time per reimbursement did not change, but the number of occasions seen by Uncle John occurred practically every day by the time Derrick turned fifteen. Twenty-five thousand, two hundred seconds spent every week spent with Uncle John as repayment for his untold kindness to the family, and Derrick had stopped struggling long before that time came about. He had given up expecting any explanation from his parents or sought any form of cold comfort from unwilling arms, and he had nearly given up on what others refer to as reality by the time this era had arrived.
They never saw it coming, not Uncle John or his parents, not a one noticed the knife he had snuck away from the dishes one evening, the knife he used to bring justice upon their ignorant souls. Uncle John was the easiest to overcome, the man was always in an exhausted daze after finishing with Derrick, he would always turn around after zipping up his pants, spending copious amounts of precious time reassembling his garb and combing his hair. The details of his murder are too numerous to recount at this time, but Derrick felt that Uncle John died much to quickly to account for the innumerable seconds of pain and suffering inflicted upon his own body. It was surprising how long it took for his parents to come upstairs and see what had happened, he could never figure out exactly why, maybe the room was sound-proofed to protect their delicate ears from his screaming at a younger age, or maybe they just figured that Uncle John had decided to lengthen his time upstairs, maybe it was some combination of both, but it mattered not to the young man. He made sure they passed just as slowly as did Uncle John. Derrick did not keep track of how long it took for the police to finally arrive and break down the doors; he had long ago finished his work on the bodies after the fact, and by then had retracted into himself for quite some time. They decided that the teenaged Derrick was mentally unstable, and he was transferred to an Asylum at the trail’s conclusion. It was some four years later that he drifted off into “the slumber,” bringing for the birth of Khalimandaria.