FULL NAME Viktorien de Lestat Fontaine
TITLE Knight Dragoon past
GIVEN NICKNAMES Viktor, Vicky, various insults
DATE OF BIRTH 11th Sun of the 1st Astral Moon
AGE twenty-nine summers
GENDER transmasculine he/him
ORIENTATION homoromantic / bisexual
RACE Hyur Midlander
PLACE OF BIRTH Ishgard, Coerthas
RESIDENCE Ishgard, Coerthas / Nomadic as of HVW
VOICE REFERENCE Henri Clément Amnesia : The Bunker

HEIGHT five fulms eight ilms
WEIGHT hundred and sixty-nine ponzes
STATURE lean, toned
POSTURE proper
HAIR raven, supple & silky
EYES ice blue
NOTABLE FEATURES lip mole
SCARS tubal ligation, cheek left neck right side, palm right, wrists, minor cuts
SCENT leather, lavender and a hint of boozePHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
Standing around the average height for a Midlander, his body is clearly built for combat and agility, a stature similar to the usual physique of Dragoons, hence his strong thighs and arms. His musculature is covered by a sheet of pale skin, oft appearing grey or tinted blue to those who clearly spend more time in the Sun. It is, however, littered with battle-worn scars, and many others he does not like to admit owning.Viktorien’s face remains cold, expression set in displeasure or annoyance at his surroundings. A smirk or a light smile is not uncommon, but it creeps onto his lips mostly for the wrong reasons. The raven-dark hair that frames his face regularly obscures his features, and for how soft and silky it looks, the cut is a mess.

POSITIVE TRAITS independent, persistent, uninhibited
NEGATIVE TRAITS sadistic, arrogant, condescending
PERSONALITY
His behaviour is a hit or miss each time. He can be pleasant to be around for a chit-chat, he can also get careless and spike someone’s drink just because, and he definitely can be nasty enough to repulse people around him. His actions are there to benefit him, or entertain him in one way. Viktorien is selfish, whether he’s playing charming or being a prick. One still might consider him highly reliable in his area of work, despite his demeanor. He’s considerate to those he holds dear, and loyal most of all, even though he’d need half his hand to count them.ALIGNMENT chaotic neutral
MBTI ISTP-A
ENNAEGRAM 8w7OCCUPATION Dragoon mercenary

Viktorien was born to the depths of Ishgard’s Brume, to an unstable hysterical woman and her ‘dear’ mad, alcoholic husband. The little recollections he has of them are a mess - constant shouting, the sharp noise of glass shattering and the occasional pain of being struck by their hands. He was more of a punching bag to beat whenever they felt frustrated. A starving, weak child with bony little wrists, always hiding away or stealing whatever scraps of food he could stumble upon. His father spent the little gil they had to further feed his addiction, while his mother would spend hours crying and shrieking about her miserable life. They never felt like his parents, just strangers he had the misfortune of being related to by blood.It wasn’t always that terrible, but only thanks to the fact he was not an only-child. His kin and kith - his sister, was there every time - cleaning him, feeding him, and most importantly sheltering him. The two looked so alike they would’ve been confused as twins if she wasn’t about ten summers his senior. It’s strange, he himself can barely remember what her face really looked like, or how her touch felt. The thoughts of her bring back tenderness and comfort regardless, then the gut-wrenching realisation that she is forever gone, and the one last memory he has of her is her voice - screaming, echoing. It leaves the taste of ash on his tongue.He can only feel the tightening of his throat and the suffocating smoke filling his lungs when reminiscing about that day. There is little he knows, being just of eight summers leaves such things in the past in a thick fog. The flames that should have brought pleasant warmth only wroke wrath on the place he called home. How he managed to escape so unscathed, or why this had to befall him specifically, he doesn’t know. What he can tell, however, is that the sole reason he still breathes to this day is because of his beloved sister, and that the rest of them all died that night.Having heard of the tragedy, a pair of lower noble, strikingly blue Duskwights from the Pillars took Viktorien underneath their caring wings - adopting him and nursing him as if he was their own child. He never understood why him - what about him was so special that they had decided to take him in specifically - a Hyuran child from the Brume - a spec of filth. And as expected, he always stood out at family gatherings, social events and the like, silently observing the people around him. How they feasted and laughed, garbed in expensive cloths and furs with little care about how the people lived down under the Foundation. They stared at him weirdly, and by extension his newfound parents as well.

But they nonetheless gave him all that he could ever need, showered him with love and compassion he had not experienced before from his birthparents - but he stayed distant, confused and afraid. Even as their beloved daughter became their son, they did not mind, he put such a proud smile on their faces just by simply being their child - he never understood why.Viktorien preferred getting his hands filthy from dirt rather than the time-consuming artistry of the family glassmaking business. So he joined the Temple Knights as soon as he could - just to get away from it all, and it was to no one’s surprise. For the first time he felt somewhat content about his living, he made connections and acquaintances to spend his time with, some way closer than others. As much as he enjoyed the freedom of being out in the open, unrestricted by the manners and etiquettes of nobles, the unpleasantness of such different circles caught up on him. The truth behind his flesh seemed like the perfect excuse to certain people around him. He would never dare speak a word about it, feeling so pathetically weak and helpless when the pain pierced him in the abdomen, repeatedly stabbing him like a knife, and how he couldn’t get their Twelve’s damned hands off of him. One would think that these people were lawful and held themselves to good morals, not be the culprits.One day Viktorien brought home the title of Knight Dragoon, and while his family only rejoiced to see their child achieve so much in so little time, he was crushed by guilt. The title was never meant for him - a burden he was forced to carry. Fear often struck their hearts whenever they had to bid him goodbyes - just in case it was the last time they saw their son as he was sent out to fight against Nidhogg’s brood.His career as a Dragoon was somewhat short-lived, ever since the Warrior of Light drastically changed the course of Ishgardian history, Viktorien retired from his position after a couple of summers - it was never meant for him, and he would’ve never continued either. In the eyes of others, he seemingly left for no reason, disappearing for many moons at a time.

i. Sellsword common
As a mercenary, Viktorien operated alongside many others if the task deemed more people, and during his years as a free-lancer, he had enough clients to become recognisable in certain circles.

ii. Temple Knights uncommon
Viktorien was often talkative with the other squires during his time as a knight, making quite a bit of shallow connections he most likely does not remember.

iii. Ishgardian nobility uncommon
He does not attend many gatherings at his current age, seeing his face at one is a rare sight. As a teenager, however, he was commonly present alongside his parents. His body and voice has changed in a very different direction, nevertheless his face remains uniquely his.

iv. Order of the Knights Dragoon uncommon
Forced to heavily cooperate with others, and frequently having to place his life in other's palms during expeditions or defenses, his stay at the Order was short-lived. He was not proud to hold such a title.

v. The Brume rare
Very few, if any, remember him when he was a little child. The only telling features being a cross-shaped scar on his cheek, and a distinct birthmark on his lip.

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