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Caolán Dáithí

"I may be a coward, but at least I'm not dead."

0 · 453 views · located in Roinnte, Ireland

a character in “The Fair Folk”, as played by rubytuesday

Description

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N A M E // Caolán Dáithí {kay-lor-n dah-hee}

H U M A N . A L I A S // Aidan Machlery

N I C K N A M E / S // kay | a typical shortening of his fae name
shinach | means 'sly bastard', and he gets called it as often as he does his real name

A G E // two hundred and sixty four"And still gorgeous."

C O U R T // unseelie

N A T I O N A L I T Y // irish

S E X U A L I T Y // pansexual | panromantic

D I A L O G U E . C O L O U R //#882040

T H O U G H T . C O L O U R //






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S P E C I E S
Caolan is a rare concoction, a fae hybrid crossed between a male kobalo and a female oracle. A kobalo is a notoriously promiscuous and mischievous fae with the ability to mimic the appearance and voice of another, to the point of perfect replication. They are infamously sticky-fingered, and are known to enjoy meddling in human affairs. Oracles, on the other hand, are extremely rare, and have the power to glimpse into the past, present, and future. They extract truths through physical intimacy, kissing being the most common method.

A B I L I T I E S
Being born of two separate species has resulted in add odd concoction of abilities, along with muted aspects that, when present in his parents genes, were prominent. Such is the way of his precognitive powers. His mother had been able to read the future like a wavering text, with certain sentences blurring, prone to change. She'd been able to foretell events before they occurred, and could read the emotions of those around her, all of her companions open books to her scholar. Caolán, on the other hand, has a far less straightforward, and considerably less useful level of this. Occasionally, his dreams will become occupied by a future event, but it will always be only a possible outcome, one among many. And even then, there is rarely anything he can do to pursue it, as these visions, upon their rare appearance, are generally vague as hell, and practically impossible to interpret effectively. Otherwise, he is generally aware of the future through moods. When negative events are going to occur, be it in a day, a week, or a month, the fae will often find himself struck with bouts of 'low'. Depression can strike him and leave him in an aching state of unexplained melancholy. On the other hand, if something truly euphoric is possibly going to occur, Caolán experiences soaring highs. Basically, his mother passed onto him precognitive bipolar disorder. And to make things even more frustrating, these future-telling mood swings rarely foretell what he expects. If engaging in gambling, and Caolán is struck by intense joy, there is no certainty that he's set to be dealt a winning hand; he may very well be predicting his own loss from his opponent's point of view.
As for what he gained from his father, he was granted with a less impressive but similar set of abilities to a regular kobalo. He can shift his physical form to replicate fae, or humans. However, keeping another's form heavily drains his energy, and if he keeps up a particularly difficult persona for too long, he'll shift back into his usual form. He also cannot replicate the abilities of those he 'copies', although he can alter his voice.





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H U M A N . A P P E A R A N C E
as far as appearances go, Caolan could be considerably worse off. He is by no means the pinnacle of western-defined handsomeness, but he does fall into a category that most would deem attractive. His frame is slender as opposed to the heavy-set form that many male fae opt for. His limbs are slim and birch-like, and his height is tall without being towering, at about 5'8". His complexion is fair, a commonplace shade amongst the Irish folk, in a country that doesn't receive much 'tanning' weather. His face is rather angular, with high cheekbones that protrude ever so slightly on either side of his face, beneath his eye line. His upper lip and chin are usually adorned by a neat, dark goatee, although he abandons this facial feature every now and then for the sake of a change, as his kind are known to like. His eyes are rarely seen without a shadowy framing of kohl, and beneath his thick, straight brows, his eyes are a murky green. His vain streak is shown most prominently through his hair, which he loves and cherishes. Honestly, shaving his head could very well be one of the cruelest methods of torture as far as Caolan is concerned. It is thick and dark, with a natural curl to it that, when left to its own devices, turns the locks into a bundle of black, uncontrollable tangles. His hair is usually styled in a slightly retro manner, with the sides kept sleeked flat against his skull, whilst the curls that cover the top of his cranium are left to stand wild and wavy.

F A E . A P P E A R A N C E
The Oracle side of Caolan keeps his fae form from appearing too much different from his human form, although there are indeed a few rather obvious alterations when he appears 'full fae'. For one thing, his fair complexion darkens, adjusting shades to an inkier magenta, as a coating of reptilian scales ladder his flesh. His pupils adjust to slits, whilst the kohl shadows around his eyes become natural aspects of his appearance. His teeth sharpen slightly, and his ears stretch into sharp points. His nails become triangular claws, and his entire aura seems to fade into something more elegant and graceful. Nothing like the oddity that traipses around when in human form. Strangely, his hair tends to remain in its retro-esque style, which entices the occasional jeering, although Caolan is in fact pleased.

S T Y L E
Caolan dresses with a definite eccentricity that tends to keep him from fitting in with the human crowds even when he is in his human form. He makes clear his favourite of the human eras through his choice of attire, which usually consists of the 80's, rockabilly-esque. On the other hand, he has a soft spot for more eccentric styles, with plenty of wild patterns and over-the-top accessories. A variety of colors, especially black, with leather, metal, and denim are perennially included in whatever he chooses to wear, either altogether or one at a time. x x x x x x x





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P E R S O N A L I T Y
There is no doubt that feelings towards Caolán tend to be somewhat polarizing; one either enjoys him immensely, or loathes him completely. The majority probably fall into the latter category, not that he could care less. He isn't hated for his maliciousness, and he really is no villain, he is simply a figure with very few likable qualities. He is a fae that holds his own happiness, comfort, and welfare above everything else; his utmost priority. He will surely run from a battle when he feels his life may come to an end otherwise, and use his silver tongue to manipulate and fool when he finds himself in a tough spot. He is not an honorable fae, and like most other Unseelie, sees honor as a rather pitiful thing. Something detrimental to success. He is aware of his cowardliness, and his position as a bit of an opprobrium. And he shrugs it off. Because where many others have become blood and dust, protecting their beloved honor, he has remained, whole and alive. He lets them hate, buoyed by the knowledge that he'll still be alive and kicking when his fellow Seelies' gloried stories are written down in history books.
But Caolán is not without a small number of more pleasant attributes, the most notable being his clever wit and humor. The fae has an impressive talent for causing laughter to spill from another's lips, to break the ice with comedy and quips, and generally lighten the mood. This being said, there are many that claim him to never take anything seriously, resulting in ill-timed jests and humor a tad too dark for comfort. They aren't entirely incorrect. He does not really have an off switch, and enjoys pushing buttons and pulling strings, and finds a source of entertainment through the rises he entices. The short-tempered and humorless with rarely be able to spend any time with him without at some point wanting to strangle him, and he can't say he blames them, because he feels exactly the same way.
Nonetheless, his sense of humor has helped to make him popular among such places as those serving alcohol; when the senses are dulled, humor shifts in priority, and suddenly a man's honorable traits (or lack thereof) become less noticeable. Or, at least, that is what Caolán has picked up from his considerably large amount of time spent in such establishments. Perhaps the company is just more similar in character to him, and thus a bit less judgmental. Which is perhaps another one of his more likable traits. Despite his mocking tendencies, he is by no means censorious towards others, and prefers not to judge character through appearance or reputation. He finds such acts of condemnation without reason inexcusable. He is oddly sympathetic when it comes to the outcasts and 'freaks' of the fae world, and can act rather brotherly around such individuals. A bitchy, satire-driven brother, but a brother nonetheless.
Despite oft acting as though he could not care less about anyone or anything other than his own, 'flawless' self, this is more a form of self preservation that self obsession. He is completely aware of his cowardice, and thus he paints over it with a devil-may-care attitude and bouts of sarcasm. His armor is so carefully crafted to look like a simple case of a immature and eccentric personality that its presence is seldom suspected.





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L I K E S
Caolan is rather obviously vain, and so it should surprise no one that he is especially fond of himself. He is a loud and social individual, and thus feels most content when attending social gatherings. Although he gets drunk far less easily than humans do, he makes a point of drinking an excessive amount; at least enough to make him tipsy. It is both the drunkenness and the flavor of alcohol that drive him to do this, and he is especially fond of whisky and gin. One particularly easy and simplistic way to keep his infuriating, moodswing-making powers at bay is by smoking, which helps to dull his senses much like alcohol does. Fortunately, fae don't get lung cancer, and his physical features do not seem to be easily affected by the cigarette's other unpleasant side effects, which means his habit won't kill him. He is a lustful fae, and so sex is rather high thing on his list of hobbies, although he is hardly quite so adoring of the emotional attachment that can sometimes come with it. He enjoys laughing, and humor is something he appreciates in anyone, be they Seelie or Unseelie. Despite not being the best example himself, he admires kindness and honesty in others, as well as wit.

D I S L I K E S
despite his many shortcoming, no one can doubt that Caolan is a rather accepting fae, and not the sort to hate or loathe without reason. That being said, he's only fae, and even he has things that he'd rather the world be without. Such includes but is not limited to pretentiousness, being told what to do, the color pink, florals, dogs, formal occasions, and the taste of lemon. He is completely unapologetic about his flaws, but that doesn't mean that he cares for them to be read out loud, and although he may seem completely absent of true dignity, he in no way desires insults.





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Q U I R K S | H A B I T S
Caolan is prone to talking to himself, especially when he is wound up or troubled. He will even argue with himself, verbally showing how torn up he is over a particular decision. He cannot sit still without fidgeting, and makes whatever is in front of him into a toy in order to sate his boredom. He has a very short attention span, and sings and hums to himself when he is in a good mood. The singing tends to be pretty rubbish.

T A L E N T S | S T R E N G T H S
although perhaps not the most admirable ability, Caolan has always been a talented liar, with a helpful knack for thinking on his feet and making up excuses in order to get out of difficult situations. He can be quite charismatic at times, although that certainly falls flat once his personality becomes more clear. He has a clever wit and is humorous enough to get on the good side of some. Of course, humor will only get one so far. His confidence helps drive him to do things others would not, for sake of damaging their pride upon defeat or failure. His unapologetic manner means that he is able to persist and act without feeling self conscious or embarrassed. His social nature has also resulted in him becoming very streetwise and savvy in terms of the 'underground' life of fae; learned in the goings on of fae life beneath all the formalities and politics.

F L A W S | W E A K N E S S E S
there is no doubt about it, Caolan is a wimp. His tongue might be serrated, but his cowardice is sure to kick in before any sort of aggression does, and he'll run rather than fight, any day of the week. This is also due to his lack of physical strength. To put it simply, he's no Rocky. His vain and snarky nature has helped him to accumulated a number of foes, and his lack of loyalty or honor has helped to ensure that the few friends he has are valuable but exactly that; few. He is also allergic to dogs.

F E A R S
death is a certain, unstoppable occurrence, even for fae, but that doesn't stop Caolan from preventing it for as long as possible. Large dogs also freak him out.





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H I S T O R Y
an oracle and a kobalo aren't exactly the most quintessential of fae couplings, considering their differing natures. Whereas oracles are renowned for the sibylline dispositions, a reticent kobalo is practically unprecedented. And thus it should shock few to hear that Caolan's parents' relationship was not one built on mutual adoration and a shared devotion. It was a fleeting affair, driven by reciprocal lust and little else. Caolan's father was gone long before his mother was aware she was pregnant, and Caolan's mother chose to keep and raise the child on her own. Caolan still isn't sure why. Perhaps it was due to her age, and the fact that although they retain their youthful faces, oracles have a rather short lifespan in comparison to most other fae. Perhaps an odd, maternal instinct kicked in when she realized that she was expecting a baby. Whatever it was that made her choose to keep the child, it proved to be a fatal influence. It's strange, really, that a fae gifted with the ability to see into the future did not sense her own tragic end.
Caolan's mother died in childbirth, and as a result, he was taken in by his mother's elder sister and her husband. His aunt was of the bitter variety, and she had not gotten on well with her younger, more frivolous sister. Whereas Caolan's mother, Aifric, had been pretty and popular, his aunt, Damhnait, had been born with a burn-like birthmark that covered half her face. Of course, in a world where perfection and beauty were the height of priority, this deftly resulted in her being cast aside in favour of her physically lovelier sibling. She took in her sister's child out of duty, but made clear her disdain of the boy and nearly every given opportunity. Her husband, Declan, a jumbee, was considerably kinder, and acted as a father in the place of Caolan's absent one.
Caolan grew up a troublemaker of a child, a popular target for bullies, taunting and talking back enough to entice brutal beatings. However, he left the small glen at sixteen, deciding that it was not where he belonged, and was for too boring for him to remain a part of.

Roinnte, Ireland, 1767.
Roinnte proved to be a place far more suited to Caolan's interests. He was part kobalo, after all. He needed noise. Excitement. Drama. Three things that his old home had refused to yield. His first night in Roinnte was spent in the bed of an older succubus. He really was his father's son.

Roinnte, Ireland, 1771.
By this point, Caolan had made his mark on the city. He'd casanova'd his way through varying ladies and gentlemen, stirring loathing in the hearts of the former's husbands and the latter's wives. He began learning about what would soon become a favourite hobby; gambling.

Roinnte, Ireland, 1780.
It was this year that Caolan made the mistake of getting on the wrong side of a lone redcap. His first near death experience, beaten bloody and threatened with a blade before making a narrow escape, took a toll on him, and suddenly he realized just how valuable his life was to him. He'd make a point of not risking it in future.

Roinnte, Ireland, 2015.
The past couple centuries had had their share of annoyances, but pleasure and entertainment had always been an available salve. He'd enjoyed influencing and watching both human and fae dramas take place, mocking the over-the-top prestige of the Seelie Court from the comfort of his own Unseelie territory.
But then the territories started to blur together, and Caolan found himself involved in far more drama than he's ever cared for. A war, after all, is pretty dam dramatic.






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So begins...

Caolán Dáithí's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dalia Amaryllis Character Portrait: Laíra'alethya Celessí Ethiriel Character Portrait: Caelius'levyath Fáelán Ethiriel Character Portrait: Kazimír Šťastný Character Portrait: Caolán Dáithí Character Portrait: Kasumi Ao
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CAOLAN DAITHI
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KASUMI AO
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The afternoon had melted into evening, and the sun hung low in the sky; a golden-faced babe cradled by the prismatic furrow of clouds that spilled over the horizon. Its waning light caught in the forest's entangling verdure, and shattered, scattering pieces of lustre across the woodland floor like shards of glass from a broken mirror. The mist was a constant, and even as the fragments of luminescence pierced it, fronds of muted fog licked softly at the wounds made.

Glades were spread sparsely throughout the small wood; little clearings in which the light would spill, phosphorous and pale. Wildflowers grew thick and varied; a sundry assemblage of bluebells and foxgloves and wild angelica. The floral profusion circled around the centre figure of the glade -a solitary alder tree- like a gaudy necklace, its many-hued state making up for the tree's own dull appearance, struck bare by winter.

A fair-skinned leg swayed leisurely to and fro as it dangled from one of the alder's outstretched branches. Its pair was folded, knee used as a crutch to support the owner's elbow. She herself sat upright; back against the alder's bole, and as her dangling limb swung in fainéant oscillation, her focus was completely set on the words in front of her.

She'd been sitting there for the past six hours, studying. Studying the words that lay in laddered lines on each smoothly glossed page. Around people, her expression rarely faltered in its deadpan consistency, but whilst she read, her face was raw and as readable as her beloved novels. Now, her brow furrowed as her gaze drew across a particularly harrowing delineation.

"Hey-yup, Blue, time to get going!"

Her leg froze mid-sway, and the prior quietude crumbled in an instant. She turned her head slightly to face the speaker, slowly and deliberate, as though the action pained her.

Or perhaps just the person.

He looked as he always did; stupid. Or such was Ao's opinion. His eyes framed by thick kohl, his peridot irises flickering with mischievous vexation, and his hair styled into that ridiculous mohawk-y look that had gone out of fashion at least two decades ago. The omnipresent smile was there, too; directed at her as though expecting her to return one back.

She'd have thought he'd have learnt by now. "'Get going'? Get going where?"

Caolan scoffed as he looked up at the wisp, rocking back and forth on his feet with a cheerful vigor. "Wanderlust. Duh."

"And why would I want to visit that hormonal cesspit?"

Caolan stared at her a brief moment, as though stunned by her stupidity. He snapped out of his blinking stance with a wild wave of his hands, which he threw up in seeming exasperation. "Um, hello? Any clue what day it is?" "... The twenty second of December. Get a calendar." "It's Yule, you muppet!"

His outcry was met with a blank stare, and his chagrin flared. The dark curls that crowned his brow fluttered as he blew them from his eyes, and he jumped upwards, fingers catching on the alder's lowest branch. Grunting slightly, he hoisted himself up, swinging one leg over as he turned to face Ao. "The Winter Solstice! Jól! The Longest Night! Come on, Blue, I thought you were supposed to be clever." "Why do you think I'm ignoring you?" "How do I love Yule? Let me count the ways. Drinking, partying, shagging..." "Why are you inviting me, again?" "... gambling, smoking, more shagging..."

Ao sighed censuredly, and she looked back to the publication in her hands, pointedly turning the page. Caolan halted in his listing, noting her lack of interest with a dash of distress. "To summarize, Yule is fucking fun. Something you aren't exactly privy to all that oft-"
He faltered as his gaze fell upon the literature Ao was reading, and he snatched it from her grasp. Reading the cover, his expression turned into one of humored incredulity.

"Are you reading fucking Cosmo?" "It provides a fascinating perspective of the human psyche." "Psyche my arse." He flicked aimlessly through the pages, before pausing on a certain article and reading out the title "Ooh, Twenty One Leonardo DiCaprio Movies..." He glanced up at her with a sultry expression, and finished with a hushed tone, "... Ranked by hotness."

Ao snatched the magazine out of his hands. "Let's just go to the damn club."

The so-called 'hormonal cesspit' that was Wanderlust smelt particularly strong this evening, an intoxicating concoction of incense and perspiration and spice. The building was flooded with fae, Unseelie and Seelie alike. Imbibing harlequin cocktails, exchanging conversation over the raucous din, pressing against each other on the dance floor, whispering sweet nothings in one another's ears.

Suffice to say, Ao was out of her element.

Caolan swung his arm over her shoulders, leading her through the crowd as he tossed out greetings here, and avoiding gazes there. The latter action was of no surprise to Ao, as Caolan had always had a knack for inspiring murderous thoughts. As they crossed the dance floor, Caolan gripped Ao's shoulders tightly, swerving her in the opposite direction as he sneaked glances behind him. "Shit. Uh... avoid the feathered bloke with the aviators, 'kay? I kind of owe him money."

Caolan's eyes caught on a familiar pair, and his previously nervous expression evolved into a wily grin. "Well, if it isn't my two favourite Seelie." Ao followed his gaze, and although her face did not crease in the slightest, a feeling of pleasantness blossomed. It truly was strange, that two of the people she was supposed to be enemies with were in fact some of her closest friends.

Well, perhaps the turn 'friends' was too strong. After all, she'd never exactly been adept in the art of friend-making, and 'friends' sounded so perpetual. So indefinite.

And as Ao knew more than any human could possibly, 'eternity' was a very long time.

Closing the distance between them, the odd pair walked up to the Seelie duo. It took only for the bartender to heed the identity of the oncoming customer for him to pour a whisky for the inky-eyed kobalo, and as he slid it across the bar, Caolan caught it deftly. Hopping lightly into a stool, he perched his elbow on the hard surface of the bar, and took a sip from his drink.

"Uh, shouldn't you two be slughtering some helpless human slave in bloodthirsty vengeance right about now?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dalia Amaryllis Character Portrait: Caelius'levyath Fáelán Ethiriel Character Portrait: Kazimír Šťastný Character Portrait: Caolán Dáithí Character Portrait: Kasumi Ao
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KAZIMIR ST'ASTNY

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Dalia’s hand falls to her side as the crowd coalesces into a throbbing mass of bodies, blocking her view of the female mer-twin. A hopeful smile – surely her frantic signalling had garnered some attention – marks Dalia’s face as she returns to a more relaxed pose. Dark green eyes fall on the young Luck Fae sitting opposite her, that hopeful smile turning into a smirk and a bubbling laugh as she watches Kaz listening to a quiet joke whispered into his ear by the ethereal Llyr.

Kazimir can feel the warm hand of his companion on the small of his back and he grins at the blonde figure beside him, muttering a borderline dirty joke in reply that has Llyr chuckling under his breath. Kaz catches Dalia’s gaze, grinning at the nymph when he sees her smirk. His golden eyes pass over her shoulder, catcing sight of a slim, dark haired figure navigating his way through the crowd. This is not the nixie whom Dalia had been madly waving to a minute ago, but the water fae’s twin brother. Kaz makes eyes at Dalia, attempting to signal their impending visitor. The wood nymph’s eyes narrow and the blooms in her hair turn a mustard yellow in confusion, her mouth parting to ask Kaz what he means when a warm presence comes to rest behind her back.

Her name is pronounced like a musical note, slipping from between rose lips like a song. The nymph’s smile broadens as she recognises the deep voice, turning her face up to meet the startlingly blue eyes of the newest addition to their small party. His compliment only makes her happier, the petals in her hair developing into little bluebells and delighted, miniature sunflowers.

“Cael!” She says brightly, waiting for him to take his seat. As always she warms to his touch, her grin strengthening despite the assertion that her levels of intoxication are about to rise. There is truth in the statement, and in the possibility of Caelius having to take her home. This wouldn’t be the first occasion that has had the water fae supporting an intoxicated and silly nymph, yet Dalia is happy to note that she at least always remembers her night and manages to survive without too bad a hangover the next day. Dalia can’t say the same thing for Kazimir, who has been left crippled for a day after drinking in excess the night before several times.

Dalia giggles at Llyr’s interjection before scooting over in her seat so that she’s able to slide an arm around Caelius’ slender waist. Dalia has always been a person who craves contact, seeking it out whenever she’s with someone she knows well. Hell, she’ll give a complete stranger a hug in greeting if she thinks they need it. Caelius, however, is no stranger, nor is this the first time that she’s rested a rosy cheek on his shoulder. He’s just as comforting now as he’s always been; warm and stable, his smile sending flurries of happy flowers throughout her hair… or was that the alcohol?

“I’m glad you came tonight.” She tells him, head tilted back so that she can both rest it on his shoulder and attempt to meet his eyes. They’re a stunning vivid blue, her favourite colour. The arm wound around his hip gives him a squeeze, her eyes suddenly alighting with energy as an idea bubbles to the surface. “Let’s dance Cael!” She entreats, her head leaving the comfort of his shoulder as she slides off her chair.

The green fingers of Dalia’s hand lace their way through his, pulling lightly at his arm as she calls him to the dance floor again. A new song has come on, it’s a tune she’s never heard before but Dalia is determined that she will dance to it with Caelius. One could argue that the alcohol flowing through her system is increasing that determination, but then again where there is dancing one can always count on finding any nymphs present in the midst of it.

Across the table Kaz lets out a snort of amusement. “We’ll save your seats if that’s what you’re worried about.” Kaz teases Caelius, “Unless they kick you out for scaring everyone off with your terrible dancing.” The joke is meant kindly rather than harshly, and the response from the nymph is a laugh and an extra tug on Caelius’ hand,

“You won’t be that bad, not when you have me to help!” Dalia grins, almost bouncing on the spot, “I’ll show you how to move.”

Kaz opens his mouth to reply, the smirk on his face no doubt indicating that whatever his comment is will not be for innocent ears, yet before he can form the words his attention is stolen not by the fair haired Llyr, but a drawling Irish voice that has him turning in his seat to face the bar. He’s greeted by a fairly familiar sight; his favourite Unseelie, a glass of whiskey in his hand, dark kohl marking his eyes, and a cocky smirk decorating his face.

“Caolan you ass, you’re lucky it’s just me that heard you say that.” Kazimir replies, greeting the Unseelie fae with a smirk of his own. Certainly that kind of comment could cause more than a scuffle should the wrong pair of ears catch it. Kaz’s golden eyes pass the male fae and find the will-o’-the wisp standing beside him. “Nice to see you out Ao.” He tells her, that cheeky grin not quite leaving his face. “Shouldn’t you two be at some fancy Unseelie shindig at your headquarters? Or did you want to have some actual fun?” Kazimir only waits a second for an answer before nodding his head towards the seats that Dalia and Caelius were leaving vacant, “Pull up a chair if you like.” He offers, regardless of his earlier promise to save the chairs for Dalia and Cael.