Posts by .SANGUINE RUINS

Phanuel was beautiful as he fell.

His ivory locks whipped wildly in the velocity induced wind as his hands reached outwards, appearing as a porcelain doll that was carelessly dropped by a child; delicate and lovely but accepting of its fate. Out of habit, Phanuel found his back muscles tensing; the familiar feeling of attempting to flap his wings was shattered by the fact he had in their place two stubs of tattered feathers and open flesh on each shoulder blade. As a stark pain surged from the marrow of his bones outwards formed from the attempt, Phanuel knew he deserved it. After a several feet drop, he final hit. A sickening crack was made upon impact and the pain made the previous bought of soreness from attempting to fly with beyond broken wings feel like a prick from a thorn. Phanuel did not yell, but rather soaked in the agony as he felt his body compiles in the pain.

Phanuel was beautiful as he fell.

His ivory locks whipped wildly in the velocity induced wind as his hands reached outwards, appearing as a porcelain doll that was carelessly dropped by a child; delicate and lovely but accepting of its fate. Out of habit, Phanuel found his back muscles tensing; the familiar feeling of attempting to flap his wings was shattered by the fact he had in their place two stubs of tattered feathers and open flesh on each shoulder blade. As a stark pain surged from the marrow of his bones outwards formed from the attempt, Phanuel knew he deserved it. After a several feet drop, he final hit. A sickening crack was made upon impact and the pain made the previous bought of soreness from attempting to fly with beyond broken wings feel like a prick from a thorn. Phanuel did not yell, but rather soaked in the agony as he felt his body compiles in the pain. One thing did surprise him, however, as before he knew it, he began to taste something metallic forming in his

Phanuel was beautiful as he fell.

His ivory locks whipped wildly in the velocity induced wind as his hands reached outwards, appearing as a porcelain doll that was carelessly dropped by a child; delicate and lovely but accepting of its fate. Out of habit, Phanuel found his back muscles tensing; the familiar feeling of attempting to flap his wings was shattered by the fact he had in their place two stubs of tattered feathers and open flesh on each shoulder blade. As a stark pain surged from the marrow of his bones outwards formed from the attempt, Phanuel knew he deserved it. After a several feet drop, he final hit. A sickening crack was made upon impact and the pain made the previous bought of soreness from attempting to fly with beyond broken wings feel like a prick from a thorn. Phanuel did not yell, but rather soaked in the agony as he felt his body compiles in the pain. One thing did surprise him, however, as before he knew it, he began to taste something metallic forming in his

GENERAL INFO

✩ phanuel | "the face of god" | angel of hope & repentance

✩ ageless | physically appears full grown | now fallen

✩ the exiles | no titles

✩ cisgender male

RELATIONSHIPS

✩ single | honestly is clueless when it comes to romance

✩ unknown sexuality | very unsure

✩ does not comprehend flirting

✩ npc x npc

APPEARANCE

✩ appears ethereal and utterly breathtaking

✩ an ivory wolf with bloodied spades of soft feathers where gracious wings once sprawled

✩ posses gorgeous eyes of a deeper blue than on the mortal plane

✩ thought of as the apitmity of purity

BEHAVIOR

✩ utterly lost in every form of the word

✩ perceives the world as strictly black and white

✩ gentle, unstable, vunlnerable

✩ exhibits destructive behaviors, horribly cynical

✩ appears polite and kind but is incredibly selfish

✩ is still devoted to his god entirely despite being cast out

FACTS

✩ currently prone to crying

✩ completely incapable of cursing

✩ knows he deserved to be kicked out of heaven and is regretful

✩ attempts to prove himself worthy on a daily bases

✩ is a follower, very loyal but incapable of truly thinking for himself

✩ utterly confused by the mortals' habits of smoking cigarette, drinking whiskey, eye rolling, or the like

✩ lost when it comes to romance and oblivious to flirting

INTERACTION

✩ physically extreme | mentally easy

✩ tag this account when attacking

✩ permission to powerplay peaceful actions

the creature forged from doll's parts and dying gods had been one who utterly feared the intricate webs of bonds which trapped one within a relationship. for he'd found the sole thing in which came with such closeness, was agony. he'd loved his father with all his now tarnished heart of gold, only for warm smiles and comforting words to be replaced by stale scent and pooling crimson. as a child, he'd looked up to ashbringer with utter sincereness, and she soon faded into the wind with a crumpled note and weight of the world to placed upon petite shoulders. the creature had adored his siblings with all his being, despite never having become entirely close, solely to have seething eyes burn scorch marks into his vacant soul. and so yes, he hated the idea of bonds for that was one concept in which scared the living hell out of the boy-like priest with sad, star lined eyes. and yet, that's what he thrived from.

it were these intricate strings which he so despised that caused hypokrisis' to breath in dry, desert air and gave him the ability to push away the cruel words whispered within his galaxy strewn mind by his own, gentle tone. he lived for others; kind touches, gentle smiles, slack-jawed laughs. perhaps that's where his faults began, this deep caring for those which surround him. as it'd been what trapped him in a golden cage- trapped him to become dependent on others, to become friends with barbara, involving himself with the ever-depsied fourthwall, savior of enemies within the exiles, pitier of murders, lover of monsters. he cared to much, despite his impulsive, half-thought out tendencies and the intelligence which he seemed to solemnly use in situations of extreme emotion. and from the begining, hypokrisis knew that this fact would be his unwinding. even still, he'd never expected it in such a way.

phanuel was beautiful as he fell.

ivory fur whipped wildly in the velocity induced wind as his paws reached outwards, appearing as a porcelain figure that was carelessly dropped by a child; delicate and lovely but accepting of its fate. out of habit, Phanuel found his back muscles tensing; the familiar feeling of attempting to flap his wings was shattered by the fact he had in their place two stubs of tattered feathers and open flesh on each shoulder blade. as a stark pain surged from the marrow of his bones outwards causing momentarily the of cease breathing; but phanuel knew he deserved it. and after what seemed like that of an eternity of soaring through an ebony enveloped night sky as silent stars looked down upon him in judgment, he finally hit. a sickening crack was made upon impact and the pain made the previous bought of soreness from attempting to fly with tattered wings feel like a prick from a thorn. phanuel did not yell, but rather squirmed in the agony as he felt his body scream in protest.

he was trembling, trembling with such fersciousty as tears formed within eyes bluer than mortally possible that appeared like stardust lining his gaze. lord, what had he done? what had he done? it was as if his body was dying all around him, immortality drained away in place of fierce crimson staining lovely pelt of once purist white. everything bore into his tarnished heart with such ferocity, burned within his soul like the hellish flames of brimstone in which he'd once bravely fought with halo forged from gold and sword of heaven rusted. and for all that was good and kind, he simply could not cease crying. how pathetic.

lost.

lost, lost, lost. in every movement, in every thought, in every breath; he was utmost and uncertain for now he held no purpose. without his lord, without his creator, without his truth, without his wings- his wings. phanuel choked against his own breath, as he slowly craned graceful neck to finally dare to peer at his crimson stained back. they were gone, tattered, horrendous appearing stubs of torn flesh and tattered feather where grave beauty once bestowed. he wasn't perfect anymore. the fact caused great nausea, a feeling which he'd never experienced, to befall the once angel alongside rivers of sorrow continued flowing down perfect cheeks. what a fool he was, what a fool. why did he weep? phanuel knew it was his fault, knew he deserved it. but understanding something did not cause it to hurt any less.

phanuel mustered strength to move forward, each step graceless and uncertain and stunning gaze wide with utmost fear with uneven breath. he'd so caught up within his thoughts he'd been that it was solely now he managed to take note of his surroundings- it was all so, empty. gray seemed to be main color scheme alongside the scent of thinning bone and rotting flesh; the perfume of a dance with death. it was entirely overwheelming, phanuel found himself on the brink of unconsciousness due to the disgusting, repent-able scent; as if he'd never struck down wide-eyed children in the name of virtue and the promise of a savior.

he was deep within this place, of no concept of borders standing within the middle of some form of camp under the guise of night frightened and utterly alone. the creature forged from the gates of ivory promises and a blue which rivaled mortal skys came forth with agony in each paw step, and amongst his overwheelmed, dismay something caught his etheral eye. a corspe. phanuel was cautious at first, gaze lined in broken trust and unsurity, but as he came closer a frown polluted haunting features. the being seemed to have been tortured, body carved with marks of cruelty and dying with eyes wide open. perhaps it had been deserved, perhaps it had not; but either way phanuel's gaze softened as he managed to do what he was forged from heaven's clouds to be. he dipped his graceful head, pale eyelashes brushing against ivory fur as he closed stunning eyes in respect.

it must have been quite the sight basking within the moonlight as a creature stained crimson prayed over a corpse to a savior that damned him.

phanuel was beautiful as he fell.

ivory fur whipped wildly in the velocity induced wind as his paws reached outwards, appearing as a porcelain figure that was carelessly dropped by a child; delicate and lovely but accepting of its fate. out of habit, Phanuel found his back muscles tensing; the familiar feeling of attempting to flap his wings was shattered by the fact he had in their place two stubs of tattered feathers and open flesh on each shoulder blade. as a stark pain surged from the marrow of his bones outwards causing momentarily the of cease breathing; but phanuel knew he deserved it. and after what seemed like that of an eternity of soaring through an ebony enveloped night sky as silent stars looked down upon him in judgment, he finally hit. a sickening crack was made upon impact and the pain made the previous bought of soreness from attempting to fly with tattered wings feel like a prick from a thorn. phanuel did not yell, but rather squirmed in the agony as he felt his body scream in protest.

he was trembling, trembling with such fersciousty as tears formed within eyes bluer than mortally possible that appeared like stardust lining his gaze. lord, what had he done? what had he done? it was as if his body was dying all around him, immortality drained away in place of fierce crimson staining lovely pelt of once purist white. everything bore into his tarnished heart with such ferocity, burned within his soul like the hellish flames of brimstone in which he'd once bravely fought with halo forged from gold and sword of heaven rusted. and for all that was good and kind, he simply could not cease crying. how pathetic.

lost.

lost, lost, lost. in every movement, in every thought, in every breath; he was utmost and uncertain for now he held no purpose. without his lord, without his creator, without his truth, without his wings- his wings. phanuel choked against his own breath, as he slowly craned graceful neck to finally dare to peer at his crimson stained back. they were gone, tattered, horrendous appearing stubs of torn flesh and tattered feather where grave beauty once bestowed. he wasn't perfect anymore. the fact caused great nausea, a feeling which he'd never experienced, to befall the once angel alongside rivers of sorrow continued flowing down perfect cheeks. what a fool he was, what a fool. why did he weep? phanuel knew it was his fault, knew he deserved it. but understanding something did not cause it to hurt any less.

phanuel mustered strength to move forward, each step graceless and uncertain and stunning gaze wide with utmost fear with uneven breath. he'd so caught up within his thoughts he'd been that it was solely now he managed to take note of his surroundings- it was all so, empty. gray seemed to be main color scheme alongside the scent of thinning bone and rotting flesh; the perfume of a dance with death. it was entirely overwheelming, phanuel found himself on the brink of unconsciousness due to the disgusting, repent-able scent; as if he'd never struck down wide-eyed children in the name of virtue and the promise of a savior.

he was deep within this place, of no concept of borders standing within the middle of some form of camp under the guise of night frightened and utterly alone. the creature forged from the gates of ivory promises and a blue which rivaled mortal skys came forth with agony in each paw step, and amongst his overwheelmed, dismay something caught his etheral eye. a corspe. phanuel was cautious at first, gaze lined in broken trust and unsurity, but as he came closer a frown polluted haunting features. the being seemed to have been tortured, body carved with marks of cruelty and dying with eyes wide open. perhaps it had been deserved, perhaps it had not; but either way phanuel's gaze softened as he managed to do what he was forged from heaven's clouds to be. he dipped his graceful head, pale eyelashes brushing against ivory fur as he closed stunning eyes in respect. and thus beneath the gentle moonlight a creature stained crimson prayed over a corpse to a savior that had damned him. (tl;dr, keep scrolling)

(tl;dr basically phanuel was an angel who had his wings ripped off and was cast out to earth, after freaking out for a good while he came across a npc corpse in the middle of the exiles' camp in the middle of the night and began to pray for it. also, i apologize for the bad ending rip )

thoughts of solace lined in the hope of a saviour were soon interrupted by another being's words. this fact, however, did not discourage phanuel. the injured once-angel simply finished his silent prayer with haste, gently muttering a soft amen. phanuel then allowed hues of such a blue that the no mortal sky could dare rival, gazing to this newcomer with an expression of questioning ever so slightly lingered with anger. had she not taken note of his actions? mortals truly had strewn far from the path of righteousness. then he recalled the agony which came from tattered wings as crimsons stained pelt of an utmost pure porcelain. "It's disrespectful to disrupt someone while they're praying," phanuel noted in a matter of fact tone. once angel or not, some habits did not die with ease. they weren't the sole ones to stray from the path. none the less, he'd be swift to attempt to jump back on it. it was due to this realization, however, a more sorrowful expression overtook haunting features and phanuel gave no words of cruelty to the girl which approached him and regretted those he spoke; a fact which was read upon his perfect face.

they were both ivory beings, faintly glowing amidst the pale starlight. the exiles? how utterly ironic, it made him want to laugh- to give the form of chuckle one erupted when a hole had formed in his heart. no one could deny his lord had a sense of humor. perhaps that's what made it hurt all the more. "Forgive my ignorance," began the angelic being, "What do you mean, the exiles?" he had no concept of groups, of clans- it was utterly hopelessly to him as an expression of curiosity overtook haunting features. but then another came forth, one inquiring things in which phanuel didn't wish to give a straight answer too. he kept his cool, however, it was not in his nature to lie but he was very good at faking emotions. it was something he'd managed down to a tee. "I did something very wrong and payed the price," phanuel would respond, offering a smile to the being before him before focusing back upon the girl in wait of her explanation.

//thanks guys you're sweet <3

entitled? indeed, that seemed to be a word to describe the haunting stranger ever so faintly glowing within the moonlight. for he had been a being worthy of such, destined for it, forged in his savior's image and ever so perfect. but phanuel wasn't perfect any longer as he stood amongst a group of mortals with tattered wings and bloodied pelt and it was a fact he would soon learn to cope with. but of course, one had to indicate the question if he was every truly so perfect in the first place seeing as he had now been cast out for actions he knew had been incorrect.

a place of outcasts and beings who belonged nowhere else- dark humor manifested within a broken smile at the other's words. how utterly fitting, oh how tragically fitting. "I have nowhere else to go," phanuel returned with a broken tone, "And so I will join if you allow me the honor." he dipped his head in a statement of gratitude and respect before another creature approached causing phanuel's gaze of endearing blue to become stuck upon this new comer with horror as one word entered his shattered mind.

evil.

the creature appeared to be exhasuted, struggling with the darkness in which threatened to consume him. one would assume a gentle being such as phanuel could comphrened this, especially given his own circumstance, but old habits reined supreme. the world, in the former angel's eyes, what that of strict back and white and this being was an oncoming threat. phanuel looked to merlot with a frown, grand judgement flickering through lovely eyes. he did not like that one. not in the least and the fact could be seen easily upon his face.

hello! so i was thinking it'd be interesting if these two could become friends? phanuel has only recently been cast out from heaven and has joined the exiles. he is currently extremely unstable, very new to the world, and also is surprisingly jaded despiste being seemingly kind and polite. for plot, if these two remained friends it will be interesting to watch as i am for phanuel to become more and more enveloped by mortality and even accept it to the point he nearly loses what he once clung to so desperately entirely. maybe jaeylnn can even help him on his journey of self-acceptance and assist with making him understand that the world is not simply black and white?

for the thread maybe he could wander on westeros territory and she can confront him and he'll just be super confused and we can go from there?