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Ferroh Doxlin

"Nobody wants to be the only one who feels."

0 · 595 views · located in The Expanse

a character in “Star-Touched”, as played by Yonbibuns


Ferroh Doxlin

LOL━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ❖❖❖

ROLE: COOK | VOTED: Most-likely to flavor your food with tears




Ferroh Doxlin
.: Nickname :.

Ferr (F-ah-re) or Dox



Exceptional Cook and a residual Thief

Luca – Arcana Famiglia






An emotional wreck? Oh yes. He’s a typhoon. A tornado. A tsunami of passion ripping through the heart-shaped lapel he wears, tempered with a sense of justice that’s stifling to understand. He’s capable of extreme perseverance and an emotional sensitivity that may be reserved for a flimsier, jelly-spined individual. There’s a sense that he feels things much too deeply; involves himself in things that he should just let go. Putting his nose into people’s business? It comes naturally. Whether he’s eavesdropping or outright elbowing his way into the fray of things, Ferroh tends to hope that his involvement will solve whatever problem is there, even if he comes out of it a bruised, wracked mess.

Ferroh tends to have his head stuck in the clouds; one might call him a “dreamer.” Fastidious, somewhat eccentric, and wholly driven to creative pursuits, he tends to drift where his interests take him—if that’s on a dangerous island or in a dark, dank cave full of nasties, then it’s likely he’d dive head first and regret it later. If there’s nothing of interest there for him, he tends to act as the voice of reason. A mother-hen of sorts, tutting his finger when they stray too close to the edge. With a tendency to be overly friendly, he walks the line between being naive and a little too optimistic. For someone who’s scrambled on the streets for food, he came out of it with an off-kilter view on the world. He lives in a world of grays, because white and black is too restrictive. Nothing is usually just so. He understands that most of all.

Old-fashioned and with startling manners, Ferroh’s ideal of the perfect gentleman is… astonishing to say the least. Whatever he’d seen through grimy windows, in his hometown port, definitely struck a chord in him. He does his best to dress well, and conduct himself as a man should. At least, his idea of what a man should be. Holding doors, introductions, protecting women and children. Possibly the exact opposite of how his Captain conducts himself. However, all of this seems to fall away when food is involved. His technique is wild. Insatiable, spontaneous. In a sense, he becomes a different person. At least until he’s finished. Wild, bold women? They’re the only ones who can shake him to the bone. He becomes a mess; far less graceful than he’d like to be.

LIKE ; Beauty, in any aesthetic
LIKE ; Rare spices
LIKE ; People eating his food
LIKE ; Music, singing

DISLIKE ; People wasting things
DISLIKE ; Rudeness
DISLIKE ; Being alone

Ferroh’s lean as a grasshopper. Quick as a whip. Not that intimidating either. Cutting a slender, lanky form, rather than dredging up muscles like someone else he knows. When has a cook ever needed that? Never. As long as his hands are functional, and he’s able to run a little faster than someone else, he wants for nothing. He has several scars on his chest, arms, and legs. Days spent crawling in the gutter, most likely. For all the times that he might’ve not been quick enough to get away. The most apparent ones are across the tops of his hands, as if they’d been whipped. The others, however, aren’t likely to be seen, as he takes painstaking care not to remove his clothes in front of other people. There’s a sense that he takes care of himself. Whether it’s to pass off a good impression upon being introduced… or he just cares more than he lets on, he maintains a hygienic routine, and dresses well.

Scruffy, somewhat curly black hair doesn’t reach past the nape of his neck. It’s meticulously trimmed. Usually by himself, unless he can convince someone else to do it for him. Usually Ferroh wears an assortment of hats; purchased or stolen from a various places, because why not? He usually wears fancy suits, in black and white, mostly. White gloves finish his ensemble, though he usually tucks them into his back pocket whenever he’s in the kitchen. His face is expressive. It isn’t likely he’d fool anyone when he’s as open as a book flapping wide, for all to see. Long eyelashes frame purple eyes; perhaps, the most peculiar trait he has to offer. He’s also missing his left first premolar tooth, which adds to his strange appeal.


Why are you joining the Crew?
The better question is: why wouldn’t he? Adventure, friends, freedom! Most of all, having access to worldly ingredients and not having to fend for himself all the time—that was more than enough to get him aboard. Now, having people enjoy the food he cooks, without anyone telling him what to do, and when to do it? It’s something he’s always dreamed of. Besides, sometimes a person gets tired of being so damn lonely. As soon as he saw the poster flapping in the streets, he high-tailed it out of town. No one would miss a grubby street urchin anyway.

Skills, Abilities, Weapons and Powers (if any)
Cooking ; It’s a mystery where Ferroh acquired his culinary prowess. Trying to wrangle out an answer out of him is like trying to hold a squirming eel. Why? His response is usually that it’s an unpleasant story. One that he’s not interested in reliving—it’s painful. While he’s always admitted to having a poor upbringing… emphasis on [i]poor, it may be why he’s so determined that none of the crew goes hungry, and that the food is always up to par.

Knife-Throwing ; Ferroh’s aim is uncanny. Whether it’s from ages of practice, or damned good luck is anyone’s guess. He is, however, always willing to test himself. Or put someone in their place if they toe the line of his kitchen.

Morality Percentage
Good 80% Bad 20%

So begins...

Ferroh Doxlin's Story