Member No.: 271
Joined: 25-May 12
deionides matthias tychonas,
nail in my hand from my creator
you gave me life, now show me how to live
Greek Orthodox Priest
NICKNAMES & PSEUDONYMS
Deo/ Deio, Rev. Theo Teresi
Originally from Mycanaean Athens, he's quite old and has had time to travel plenty. Currently settled in Chicago.
Actual day unknown; celebrates on August 9th
gay, but presently abstinent
Andres Velencoso-Segura plus an ample serving of photoshop
Sev, 21, Canada; I've been RPing since I was 10 (and hope I've improved some); I'm irrhythmic on tumblr, pumpkinskull on skype; I'm open to the mature-rated content of all varieties; and I found the site through my roomie Nami. I am shy but I love you.
Standing pretty short at five four (and a half!), with a fairly slender frame graced by decent musculature, he does not - by nature - strike a particularly imposing figure; especially not combined with his demure attitude and downcast eyes. The slowly-healing burn scars on his face make him stick out a bit more.
Perhaps the worst part of the scarring is that it is mostly concentrated on one side of his body and face; he can't count the number of times he's been called Two-Face for it. It extends from above his eye, down his cheek, over his jaw, with a break at his neck; his shoulder, arm, upper back, and the palms of his hands also have various degrees of scarring.
So much for unassuming, anonymous and non-threatening.
His hair has a greenish tint that would be more obvious if it weren't so dark; his nails have a somewhat woody texture and grow to be basically bark if he doesn't keep them very short, and he grows root-like protrusions from the skin at the base of his feet which he manages quite religiously.
Whether he’s the Strong Silent Type or perhaps he’s just a bit timid, Deo is not a terribly outgoing person. Assuming you’re meeting him in a public place, perhaps in church, he appears as a mild-mannered, friendly (if quiet), unassuming, calm, well-contained, humble servant of God; always happy to lend a hand and be a good friend – for ten years or so, until he knows people will realize he isn't aging quite fast enough and disappears without a trace and moves on to a new town, a new country, a new parish.
Surprisingly traditional, with many joking that he should convert to Judaism if he insists on eating Kosher, or that perhaps he should consider Islam if he’s so concerned over the amount of skin women show (the twentieth century’s fashion trends are a bit much for an old-timer like himself), he doesn't lose too many friends or allies over his fanatacism - there are much bigger issues at foot, like the way he distances himself from others, or perhaps that thing where he's a human-shaped plant. And he doesn't preach that all should live the exact same, exceptionally pious lifestyle that he does himself; after all, the average human does not have quite so much to atone for as him.
Many peg him down as a bit self-loathing, depressed, or otherwise unsatisfied with himself or his life; perhaps he suffers low self-esteem due to the unfortunate business that is his facial scarring. Or maybe he really just doesn't like dealing with other people - but that seems a bit out of character for a priest.
Part of it is an act.
He has anger inside of him; a lot of anger. Much of it is aimed at himself, while the rest is directionless and chaotic and, frankly, the reason you shouldn't trust most supernatural beings. He tries to channel it into useful outputs, such as the burning energy needed to get through some unpleasant volunteer work, or the righteous wrath that lends itself well to the occasional good old-fashioned vampire/ werewolf/ what-have-you hunt. Sometimes it comes out as corporeal punishment against himself, or in more innocuous ways, like yelling at a stupid television show or picking a fight with a stranger. And then sometimes it turns out he hasn't quite tamed himself and might still be a bit of a public menace and then he has to leave town and change his name nice and quick to avoid charges of unprovoked aggravated assault or worse.
While he may appear to have some self-doubt, the surface is only the tip of the iceberg; his emotions are in frequent confused turmoil, and he happily accepts the option to simply shove all emotional issues aside, turn off the critical thinking cap, and do as he's told. (By the bible, of course.)
The depression is definitely real; he’s an ancient being living in a sea of his own lies (necessary as they are), uncertain of whether he’ll ever find peace or happiness or whether or not he even has a soul. At times he finds human companionship to be tiring, limited, trivial and banal, while at others he genuinely enjoys forging friendships with the mortals, short-lived as they may be.
While devoting himself to the Church has brought him a purpose in life, he still finds himself lonely, uncertain, sometimes afraid, occasionally unfulfilled, and is constantly frustrated by the rules he’s vowed to follow. Food restrictions that basically amount to Kosher, having to put far too much effort into finding clothes of unmixed fabric blend, the archaic priest's vow of abstinence or at least no pre-marital sex... certainly no homosexual activity. Which is unfortunate since men are the only ones he's any sexual interest in, and he's sure not going to get married. (And god, does he miss shellfsih.) However, he believes that following the doctrine strictly is a show of self-control that he can’t really do without; if he can control his lust, his hunger, his frustration with finding clothes without blended fabrics and a million other things, then he can control his anger, and perhaps his fate.
He tries not to attract attention to himself – hunters, witches, other creatures that might be out for his blood; but also simply in terms of civilians who might provoke his temper or be too sympathetic with the tragic ol’ scarface, and get too close for his safety and comfort.
While he spends much of his life in hiding, he also tries to be brave, a good soldier for what he thinks is right (even if they wouldn't consider him an ally til the ends of time); he can be a loyal friend to those who earn his trust, and a good companion for those he takes a liking to.
He prefers to be open and honest even with strangers whenever it isn’t terribly inconvenient or unsafe. He has his dark days wrought with pessimism, self-doubt, and confusion – increasingly so as his zeal wears off a bit – and he’s far from stable, although he puts up a decent public face.
A barren wife of a diplomat in Mycenaean Athens bought a mandrake root from an apothecary who would now be labelled a witch, promised that keeping it in her house and caring for it as a child would grant her fertility and protect her during childbirth. The witch also warned that the plant-child may grow to show signs of violence or jealousy; that the woman's husband may become gravely ill; and that this should be averted by returning the mandrake to the witch after all the children have been born.
The wife did as instructed, feeding the root with an infusion of milk, honey, and her own blood; she sang it lullabies and it grew into the shape of a small, pale infant with green hair. As the plant-child grew, she did eventually feel the stirring of life in her belly. Following the guidelines of the witch, she continued to care for the mandrake. She gave it a name, Deionides - son of the daughter of Demeter - since he had no father to speak of. She told him stories of the gods, and kept him hidden from her husband.
Finally she gave an easy birth to healthy, beautiful twin girls. But her husband yearned for a son, so she kept the mandrake for another pregnancy, and another.
When he entered his seventh year, he began to resent the way that he was kept out of the light, hidden and perhaps not as loved as his siblings. Soon thereafter, the senator began to take ill. It was pronounced an illness of the soul, and said that some dark creature must be afflicting the household. As the man weakened, the plant-child grew stronger.
Deo was unceremoniously returned to the witch.
She was quite happy to get her hands back on the growing mandrake; she immediately planted him knee-deep in her apothecary garden, trapping him with chains until his own roots made him incapable of escape. His maturation ground to a halt. He was fed irregularly with human blood or sugar-water, and bled at regular intervals so she could collect the unique compound for her apothecary. He became less human and more angry with each passing day.
Eventually he was forgotten. The large trees grew over the garden and darkened his sky ad he became more and more lethargic, and the overgrowth thickened until he finally entered something of a hibernation. The plant-boy was all but forgotten in his little forest grove, roots quietly deepening and thickening and sustaining him with water and minerals. As he was forgotten, his own memories of a human-like-state became more and more distant.
Many years later he was reawakened by someone cutting through the roots of what appeared to be an impressive sculpture in wood. The man realized too late that this was a living thing; Deo thanked him for his freedom by slitting his throat in his sleep and tasting his blood.
He became a creature living on the edges of civilization. Reawakened incapable of a single coherent thought, he became, nonetheless, clever. He evaded those who would pursue him, gained a sense of inquisitiveness, and even started to have fun - amusing himself by playing tricks on humans. During the winters, if they were cold, he would hole himself up and go back to sleep for a few months. He spent many years - entire centuries - in this manner.
Eventually he made shelter in a crypt behind a temple of Asclepius. An acolyte of the temple stumbled upon him in his sleep; he assumed that the dirty, naked youth was merely a starving orphan, perhaps with an unfortunate skin condition leading to the odd appearance of his nails and feet. The acolyte returned with food and clothing before waking him.
It became apparent that this was something of a wild child; perhaps something unnatural, or dangerous. Wary of the intruder at first, the mandrake noticed the offering, and felt the stirrings of distant memory; the taste of fish, the texture of linen against his skin. He ate the cooked food and, after some persuading gestures, clumsily donned the simple robes, He took a somewhat mistrusting interest in the first human to show him compassion in a long time; the man, in turn, decided to civilize what was clearly human or near-human, and did not appear terribly dangerous.
The temple became Deo's new home. As he relearned language and basic cognitive skills, he listened to the stories of the gods as truths. At some point, the creature put two and two together; neither plant nor human, perhaps he was a divine being.
His penchant for mischief and taste for blood and violence did not stop with his reacquired sentience; he merely became cleverer about it, learning to better blend into society without stopping his barbaric practices - just hiding them. Not nearly good enough, however, since he was eventually caught; the strange and perverse nature of his crimes lead them to believe that he must be a devil, a witch, or something unholy. When he was cornered to be taken to trial, he managed to slip from the chains of his captors by cutting off his bound hand and making a dash for it. He cared for the wound, escaped, and thereafter he took a turn for the darker, spending another few centuries having malevolent fun at the expense of human lives - an outcast again, but a clever one.
Being alive for so long, however, and living among humans - some of whom he even grew attached to - gave him plenty of time for an attitude shift. He learned to enjoy the other pleasures of the corporeal form and of human culture; food and drink, love, sex, even such simple concepts as friendship and laughter.
After many centuries, perhaps after his adolescence, he calmed a bit. He found himself slowly drawn back to religion, to the concept of penance and forgiveness. He still enjoyed causing mischief and sowing the occasional seed of chaos as he traveled the world, but continued to maintain a low profile, keeping killing sprees and other such ‘barbaric’ acts fairly infrequent and entertaining himself in other manners. Slowly the violence became less and less frequent.
He began to flirt with the Abrahamic religions near the end of the sixteenth century. At first, it was really more out of curiosity and perhaps something of a joke, but he tried to belong, to fit in. Settling eventually upon the Greek Orthodox Church, where he could occasionally enjoy a sermon in his native tongue, he found himself wondering if a man who was really a plant had an immortal soul; if such a man, who had had a long, dark life, couldn't perhaps atone for his sins, and his many failures. The doctrine became his new truth, redemption his new purpose.
His violent nature stays true, however; he became something of a religious zealot, hunting unholy and non-Christian creatures out of religious fervor instead of a desire to protect people, and returning to some of the most archaic and fundamentalist beliefs and practices of the Old Testament. It gives him a sense of purpose and allowed him to blindly believe and follow the rules instead of having to think about all this complicated ‘but actually you’re a plant-monster’ issue.
The last hundred years or so he has actually spent as an ordained priest of the Greek Orthodox Church, honestly spreading the word of God as he continues to strive for his own atonement, enlightenment, and eventual redemption.
About sixty years ago he was caught in a house fire; he managed to escape and extinguish himself, but was horribly burnt beyond recognition. Knowing that human doctors would have nothing of use for him, he disappeared from the world once more, to re-emerge when his face was a bit less B-side-horror-film. It has been healing, slowly.
He’s really not sure how to feel about the fact that apparently the Apocalypse is come.
The doors to the church's bath burst open as Deo shouldered his way through, eyes wide in a panic, still panting slightly out of emotional distress as he found the sink. Hands wet with blood slipped over the ugly handles as he stared at the mirror, looking himself over; the good ol' red stuff had spattered onto his face, his collar, his jacket, and clinging to his hair, in all its thick, fresh, bright, incriminating glory.
It was night, and he'd had to unlock doors to get into the building - probably leaving guilty handprints all over them - but at least it meant that there would be nobody in here to see him in this state and wonder what on earth the preacher had done.
At least, there oughtn't be anyone else in here.
The hot water and soap was making fairly quick work at cleaning off his hands, but Deo couldn't seem to shake the panic, the sense of guilt and failure that were clogging his senses, the scent of the blood filling his nostrils and making him choke.
-No no no no.-
This wasn't supposed to have happened. Sure, he'd gone out in search of a bit of trouble - get in a fistfight to use up some of that aggression, get it out of his system. It wasn't really his fault that he'd picked the wrong guy - some asshole trying to mug him in an alley; some asshole who happened to have a nasty tongue and a quick knife.
And then his temper and his instincts had gotten the better of him. The fact that it was so easy to waste the man showed how much of a threat he hadn't been, that his reaction was a bit of a - well - overreaction. Sure, he had more than enough excuse to rough the man up a bit, but instead he'd let himself get out of control. And as much as that particular human might have been a blight on society, destined to hurt many more people, he probably didnt' have to die for it. -Not like that.-
He took a deep, calming breath and moved on to washing the smaller spots off of his face. Okay. -Get a hold of yourself.- There was no use panicking. It wasn't as if he'd been going out and slaughtering people for fun. And it had been a good, long time since he'd last seriously harmed any innocent human... he'd get over this. Clean up, wash off the doors, remove the stains from his coat or burn it, ensure nobody had any suspicions, do his best to atone for his sins, punish himself for his wrongdoings, correct his actions for the future.
Member No.: 269
Joined: 24-May 12
Hi, Sev, and welcome to SS! Normally we don't interrupt WIP apps, but I wanted to drop you a quick note to save you some time in the approval process later. For the easy reference of our admins and players, we like to keep the application template looking uniform. If I could just have you take out the appearance box and add the information to his personality instead, it'll make things easier for everyone. Thanks very much, and drop us a reply once Deo's done so we can look him over.
Member No.: 269
Joined: 24-May 12
Alright, now that everything's finished, I'll be going over your application for real this time. XD
First off, I wanted to say that his app was a great read, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. We are going to have to ask you to pick a different species, though. Demons wouldn't gradually decide to atone for what they'd done, even over such a long period of time, due to the fact that the person's soul would be so twisted while becoming a demon. Also, generally demons wouldn't be able to set foot on holy ground unless they were a very high ranking demon, so the priest thing wouldn't really have been feasible either.
On the bright side, if we can get him switched to a more workable species, I don't think we'll have any problem getting him approved. I just had one request for when you do your edits; please list out the general powers and weaknesses of his new species in the appropriate list. This lets us know that you're aware of SPN canon for that species and helps make sure we're all on the same page. Once you're done, leave me a reply, and I'll review him again!
Member No.: 271
Joined: 25-May 12
Ahh. I thought that might be an issue. Too bad, fun idea. Oh well!
Moving on, I came up with an alternate species but I thought I'd put it by you before reworking his history etc:
Species: Mandrake Mythological basis: Alchemists had the idea that the mandrake root grew or could grow into a homunculus (miniature person) and folklore says that it is seeded from the sperm of a hanged man. Creation: A root of the plant Mandragora is fed an infusion of milk, honey, and the blood of its 'mother' or 'father.' It will eventually gain a human shape, showing some resemblance to its 'parent.' They cannot reproduce. Appearance: Mostly passable for human, they are usually on the short side, with a greenish tint to their hair. Their nails can grow bark-like if not trimmed frequently, and dead 'skin' cells resemble sawdust. The soles of their feet grow root-like projections if not kept in check. Diet: They have a slow metabolism and can eat most human foods, with a low tolerance for salt. The blood-milk-honey mixture is a favourite, and may be necessary to help recover from grievous injury. Powers: Longevity and slow aging; immunity to many human sicknesses; regeneration of lost tissues (quite slow); bodily fluids are hallucinogenic to humans, but toxic in high dosages; unaffected by most chemicals of the nightshade family (including nicotine and capsaicin) Weaknesses: Very flammable; susceptible to many diseases that afflict nightshade-family plants; poor vision at night and in bright light; intolerant of long sun exposure; limited energy after sunset and in the cold; affected strongly by alcohol and most other drugs
if that works (at least in general) I'll get to rewriting :3
Member No.: 269
Joined: 24-May 12
I don't see any problem with this, but I was wondering what would kill it. Besides fire, can it be killed by normal means, or does it have some resistance to damage as well? There isn't a problem with it, I was just curious. Other than that, it looks well balanced, and I don't foresee any problems.
Member No.: 271
Joined: 25-May 12
besides fire and poison, he's a little harder to kill than the average human. if he loses too much blood he won't die outright but enter a state of shock/lethargy that would be curable by an energy booster (e.g. blood honey and milk). his limbs will grow back over several years if removed, and brain damage can be healed, but significant enough damage to the heart and other vital organs would shut him down.
Member No.: 269
Joined: 24-May 12
Okay, a couple last minor edits, and he should be good to go.
First, if you could just expand on what it was that made the priest take him in instead of trying to destroy him as a potential creature of the devil (or one of the Greek monsters spawned by the gods, not sure which pantheon you're using at that point). Something about it being a non-violent or rehabilitative order should suffice, or you can make something up yourself. Also, what happened when the church cast him out when he proved to continue his violent ways? Did they try and deal with him as a monster then? Did he have to escape?
Last one's really minor - I think you might've meant "two-thousand-twenty" for his age? Pretty sure Greece wasn't around twenty-two-thousand years ago. XD