Post by trinitysilph on Nov 18, 2011 19:20:43 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #131313;,true][cs=2] DAVID LIAM IPPERSIEL  | |
| [atrb=width,200] nickname Dave birthday 07/03/1983 place of birth Dublin, Ireland gender male | [atrb=width,200] sexuality heterosexual nationality Irish-American membergroup Transplant play by Gaspard Ulliel |
| [cs=2] likes: The arts (film, painting, sculpture, music, literature, etc), card games (poker, blackjack; also enjoys Tarot readings and dabbled in Magic: The Gathering, Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Oh in his childhood and teen years), kids, red wine, fine dining, extreme sports (Snowboarding, surfing, mountain climbing, etc), hunting (does not include trophy hunting), and fast cars. dislikes: Dance clubs (though he does go from time to time to lose himself and forget), messy slobs, uncultured imbeciles, politics (despite this he does hold his own opinions and vote), politicians, excess chatter, extreme heat, snakes. personality: Cool and aloof, David tends to give people the cold shoulder but has a heart, somewhere down in the depths. He used to be a cheerful, carefree kind of guy, but certain events from his past have made him shut down and grow a hefty shell to protect himself and what remains of his family. He has a silly, nerdy side somewhere under all the protective snark and has been known to angst a bit, but a true friend (a rare commodity these days, it seems) could probably unearth his buried cheer and the right woman might even get a taste of his formerly famous romantic flair. Not that he believes in that kind of true love tripe, of course. family: Crystal Ippersiel, wife, 26, Social Services worker (Deceased) Taisean (Tai) Ippersiel, son (adopted), 17, barrista. Bellina (Bell) Ippersiel, daughter (adopted), 16, high school. history: David's youth is not to be mentioned here as it does not matter in the grand scheme of things. It was an average childhood filled with happiness and disappointments, joy and sorrow. He was nothing out of the ordinary as a kid and as such there is not much to say. He was one of few nerds to achieve that nirvana between utter nerd-dom and the airheadedness of the truly “cool.” After graduation he went to college for a total of three years, meeting there the woman he wanted to spend his life with, one Crystal Isaacs. She, the young mother of a boy named Taisean who David adopted as his own, became a social services worker two years after their happy marriage. They were exceedingly happy and even adopted a second child, their daughter Bell, four years into their marriage. However, that peace was cut abruptly short on the eve of their fifth anniversary. When David was 25 years old, he got behind the wheel of their car with Crystal in the passenger seat, headed home from a lovely dinner to see their kids. What David didn't know was that there was a rather large problem with the vehicle. When emergency services found the car flipped and crushed near a dangerous turn they assumed David had been drunk... until they found only minor traces of alcohol in his system and realized that the brakes had been cut. No one ever found out who did it or why, but it didn't matter to David in the face of Crystal's death. He was suddenly alone with the kids, both of whom were nearly grown, broken and with no one to turn to. In order to pick himself back up, he built up defences that no one could break down – he changed to defend himself and his family and is firmly convinced that this change is for the better. TrinitySilph - 19 – 8 years There comes a time in the lives of the good when all things seem bleak. When shadows grow darker, the night grows colder, and when one is alone among the throngs of those who might become friends. Whatever the path one has taken to reach this icy height, the end result is clear: this one is alone and there is nothing in all the world that can alleviate that loneliness. Such was the story of one stallion whose path had taken him far from home. Such was the story of one stallion who had loved brilliantly and brightly and lost all that he loved. Such was the story of IceDeath. Once upon a time he was not so alone. Ice had been part of a wonderful herd and though he was born to Darkness and followed well their ways, he had always been a warm and loving individual. In fact, it could have been heresy if he was not that warm. His father, after all, was Dark Heart, the cunning lord of his shadowy herd, a powerful Dark, and renowned for his strength of love. Whereas Ice's mother was barely a dot on the radar of the world, most knew the name of Dark Heart. And where was Dark Heart now? Ice did not know. Long ago he had lost track of his famed sire, and with him went his mother and sisters. His fosterlings. His whole world. Dark Heart, StarAsh, Endsong, Sinful Blessings, Bismark and Valentine had vanished into the mists on that dread day when a third earthquake rocked their world. Ice had found himself alone and abandoned in a desolate landscape with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. Still wrapped in the grief and rage of knowing that his second mate would bear the heir of another stallion, he had felt strangely at ease. Rage became bitterness became numbness became cold darkness, seething just below the surface. IceDeath came to embody his name, crossing the land alone. Ever alone. With his long scar and tattered appearance he had become a phantom, a spectre, an equine gargoyle with no trace of his former self. He had thought he could remain Dark and yet keep his heart, but it seemed that the lady Weshtrel had other plans for him. She demanded the sacrifice of his heart and she received it, paid in full. Ice hardly wanted the damnable thing anymore anyway. To have a heart was to be weak and he would never be weak again. “Father...?” He snorted and replied without turning. Standing at the edge of a rocky precipice from which he could see the landscape, he felt meditative and he had warned both children not to bother him while he was thinking. The scene he watched so intently was much like the one to which he had woken when he first realized he was alone: a valley of stone and spartan gold grasses; of evergreen trees and ragged foliage as sparse as the grass, all covered by a thin layer of silvery mist. Five years ago he left the Peninsula behind. Five years ago... five years ago was in the past. “What is it?” “I'm sorry but... shouldn't we be moving on? Bella is getting restless.” IceDeath's left ear snapped back along his neck, it's partner flicking sharply in the cool fall air. “Bellalvielle can wait, Taisean. She can wait as long as I require. Tell her that.” He knew the expression that was sure to be plastered all over his son's face: patient disappointment and resigned helplessness. Taisean had the potential to be so strong but for now... Ice calmed his disgust with a deep breath. For now the colt was very much the way Ice himself had been after Clemintine's death. He took his time standing there on the hillside and he had not planned on moving from that spot so soon, but in the valley below he caught sight of... something. A flash of movement, a dash of living colour in the mist. Ice narrowed his eyes to focus on it, but it was gone. Something is down there... He thought. Something... or someone. The big stallion drew himself out of his reverie and turned back to his children, standing a fair distance away down the hill from him. To observe them, one seemed much more his child than the other. Taisean stood sedately under a tree, grazing and exuding an aura of resignation. Taisean, his son, black as the night and never once marked, born of his blood. And next to Taisean, tossing her pretty head and periodically stamping her impatient hooves, was Bellalvielle. The filly was not his, yet another stray he had taken in, but she might well have been his child in another life. A dusty-looking dun, she nevertheless bore a kind of seductive beauty in her bearing. Maybe she reminded him of Vanity Fair, on some level. Bella was certainly not the golden sculpture that Vanity had been, but maybe as she grew older that would change. She tossed her mane with greatly irritated aplomb, dark brown strands flying wildly to mingle with the three lighter streaks of creamy white in both her mane and forelock. Perhaps the white had come from the shock of seeing her mother literally ripped to pieces before her eyes, or maybe it was natural. IceDeath did not care: Bellalvielle was his now. Part of his little herd, his tiny, nomadic kingdom. She was his. Taisean was his. They would not leave him as the rest had. And if they did he would find others or live alone. It didn't matter anymore. “Come,” he barked, trotting across the stone to join them and turning sharply to follow a path into the valley. Neither of the young horses said a word but rather followed him in silence, trained by years of his company not to disobey. In the dead quiet of the valley, Ice followed his senses through the dim forest though each one was slightly deadened by the low-laying mist. Each footfall seemed muffled, each sight, sound and smell suffocated by drifting particles of water. “Must we travel through this accursed fog, Father?” Bellalvielle finally snapped, snorting and shaking her mane violently. Beside her, Taisean's ears flicked back and the colt danced a step away. “Let us begone from this wretched valley!” Ice's ears snapped backwards against his neck. “Silence, Bellalvielle.” “But Father...” “I said silence!” His ears raised again when she obeyed him with a low growl deep in her throat and he could listen for the shape he had seen in the fog from above. Perhaps he was just going senile early, now wading through his tenth year, but he could have sworn the shape he saw was a beautiful, summery gold accented with a mane of darkest pitch, speaking to him in a sweet and sultry yet shy voice and watching him through a doe's dark, liquid eyes. Of course, that was a fool's assumption, but what if....? He wasn't sure he wanted to know. But he had to. He would lose his mind to wondering if he didn't know. Was she here? He didn't dare speak her name. Vanity.... FLEMING @ CAUTION 2.0 |
