Personality: Equius is, for lack of more elegant terms, a very fetishistic and downright creepy individual. He is obsessed with the concepts of the hemospectrum as well as dominance and submission. He considers himself as that of a rightful noble given the position to lord over his friends due to his blue blood. Equius can be come very easily enraged; his inability to handle bows, the weapons he dreams of using in order to join the high echelon of the Archeradicators, contributes greatly to the build-up of anger he is infamous for. He is very skilled in the field of robotics and machinery, demonstrated by the construction of the Aradiabot, Tavros's legs, and Vriska's arms; his copious amounts of wrecked killbots is also a good example of this ability.
As much as Equius likes to strut his dominance, he also enjoys being ordered around on a perverse level, and when such happens, he is quick to break into a feverish sweat. He often requires towels in order to stem the flow of his rather odd reaction, which is grandly significant in terms of showing his arousal at the thought of his submission. He has something of a softer side, as evidenced by his moirallegiance with Nepeta Leijon, whom he coddles greatly. This side rarely extends to anyone else, however, and is only shown when he is around his cat-like pal. Equius is otherwise notable for his obsession with strength, as well as muscular hoofbeasts depicted in fine Alternian art. He is also a closet slam poet.
Appearance: Equius possesses shoulder-length hair, as well as a pair of horns and gray skin characteristic of the troll race. One of his horns resembles an arrow, and the other is broken. He is somewhat tall, and is of an incredibly muscular build, the result of much training and copious consumption of lusus milk, which is highly nutritious. He tends to walk with a grand stride, with an appearance of self-assurance and strength.
He often wears a pair of broken shades, which are something of a trademark for him. Otherwise, his outfit consists of a sleeveless shirt with a blue Sagittarius symbol, a pair of comfortable shorts and slip resistant shoes with clean black socks. Occasionally, Nepeta can convince him to try some of her roleplaying wears, but for all intents and purposes, the aforementioned outfit is the one he sticks mainly to.
Headcanon: Equius, being a practitioner of Alternian slam poetry, is multi-instrumental and capable of singing. Both abilities stem from his noble background and pursuit of fine arts, both of which were required in order to provide proper beats for his bouts of slam poetry. He is a very STRONG singer. He is also verbose, mainly due to his greater-than-average usage of words with the letter "x" in them. Questioning his skill with robotics and machinery easily makes him angry.
Who I am: I'm prodigiousPsychologist; I currently serve as the John on this forum, and I'm looking to take over both Heirs now. MWA HA HA HA seriously though all my info's on my John app, so check the archives for that. :33
Prompt: What would you wish for if you found a genie?
Equius eyed the bottle sitting in front of him with mild intrigue and disbelief. Moments earlier, Arthour had delivered it to him, declaring that it had been imported from a lonely planet in a far-off sector of the galaxy; is had been said to contain a being of mystical qualities that would grant a wish. The troll snorted. Fat chance of that. Still, the thought of a single wish being granted with no string s attached... It played upon his mind, a fantasy scenario hidden far a way in the concealed throes of his mind. If he were granted a wish, he would own a musclebeast ranch. The prospect was absolutely glorious.
Arthour would be the ranch hand, of course. He would muck the stables, bale the hay, clean the homestead, all of the menial tasks. What would Equius do? Of course, he would be the one to take care of the musclebeasts himself. He would feed them. Brush their manes. Ride their glorious, flexing forms, early in the evening, out and about, to return to his ranch while facing the Alternian sunrise. All of the musclebeasts would be named after famous historical figures. When they produced offspring, he would be the one to nurture and train them to maturity. That was his one wish. Equius Zahhak would be a simple musclebeast rancher. He sighed lightly, pondering other results from such a wish.
His next thought centered around his moirail. She would likely lend a hand at the ranch, too, he supposed. She would like that kind of thing, watching the animals grow. Maybe. Perhaps she could, at the least, watch over the ranch while he was out riding. Yes. She would take care of it so he could have more time to ride his fine, well-toned stallions. Maybe he could take her on rides with him. A reward for being such a faithful moirail, always at his side to keep him reined in. The wish was so appealing, all of a sudden. He had to try the bottle. Perhaps it would grant his wish, make his ranch suddenly come into existence....
Without regarding his strenght, Equius took the bottle, thoughts still half in the realm of fantasy that he had dreamed up. As soon as his hand clenched, even lightly, around the bottle, it shattered in his hand. A faint puff of mist flew from the bottle, straight out the window. Reality, a drunken and haggard vagabond, utterly unwanted, came staggering back into his thoughts. The blueblood allowed a single, navy-blue tear to roll down his cheek over his broken dreams.