Julien Astare
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Hearts in the Wind
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Joined: Apr 2008
Gender: Male 
Posts: 5
Location: NYC
|  | Julian Astare
« Thread Started on May 27, 2008, 11:32pm » | |
Shadowlight Character Application
Your Personal Information
Name: Dayan
Age: 22 -- Yeah, I'm an old fart 
Zodiac Sign: Scorpio
How did you become interested in this RPG? Errr... I *created* it..? Yeah, I dids. Basically, the creation process of it went like this: Oooooh, ahhhh, wooowwww, yay! Then: Really? Huh... I thought-- Oh, great! Cooooooool! (Thought to self: This is a lot of hard work. I'll slay them all if they don't like it!) *sparkles* DOOOOOONNNEEEE! *celebrates* Yeah, it was just like that.
What do you like best/least about this RPG? That I made it and it looks so hawt... Because I made it. The story is pretty cool, too... because I wrote it... Yar!
Your Character’s Basic Information
Name: Julien Astare
Nickname: Jules (but he hates it)
PB or PG: Taylor Kitsch
Age: 23
Sign: Libra
Birthday: October 7
Gender: Male
Hobbies: Being a social butterfly could be said to be his first priority. Julien comes from a rich family, he doesn't need to work. Visiting cafes, clubs, poetry readings and art galleries. Hanging out with friends in Central Park, doing a simple esbat/sabbat ritual in a secluded spot. Dancing in the moonlight--sometimes naked or at least scantly clad. Visiting the museums and Broadway shows. Though he doesn't like the atmosphere and "bright colors everywhere" he is not adverse to going shopping with a few girl-friends, just to chat and hang out. On rainy/snowy afternoons and nights he likes to stay at home and read a book, watch a movie, or listen to a good CD. Generally speaking, he likes to be around people, not by himself.
Likes: Seeing the sunset just after the clouds have gone away, on a rainy day. The melodies of jazz, but for when he feels more modern, anywhere from soft rock to heavy metal. Old books that smell of incense and wooden bookshelves. Comedy and science fiction films. Any sort of gay-themed literature, including erotica. Clean air and silence for when he wants to gather his thoughts, or meditate a while. Lazy afternoon naps. Tropical beaches, foods, and cultures. Exquisite art and gothic architecture.
Dislikes: The wealth and pomposity his grandfather lives in--he doesn't really hate the man, but close enough. Discrimination of any kind, against anyone. Twitchy, hyper-active people get on his nerves. Being rushed along--avoids busy intersections at all costs--hard to, in NYC. Mushrooms, bananas, olives, fatty foots. Inequality--he's quite the activist in his own way. The Laws of Secrecy--one of the reasons he doesn't get along with his grandfather. Liars and two-faced people.
Positive Traits: Honest, loyal, and friendly. Confident, and emotionally stable/secure. Fair minded and just. Strong willed and tenacious--doesn't give up, ever. Quick learner, almost nearly a bookworm. Good judge of character. Good sense of humor.
Negative Traits: Just a tiny bit clingy, if not bossy. Likes things on his terms, his way (or the highway). Takes offense too easily. Once angered or hurt, may forgive, but never forgets. Has a tendency to cut people out of his life abruptly, which has made him some enemies already. Just a bit snobbish.
Goals: To live life without any major troubles or obstacles. Eventually, if his grandfather ever dies, to come to terms he's the only Astare left. Maybe inherit the Guardianship of New York, or maybe pass it on. Maybe have children with someone or other. Who knows? He doesn't like to think of the distant future too much.
Type of Magic User: Wiccan (a modern mix)
Level: Master (I give myself permission, he's just starting though.)
Powers: (Novice) Psychometry, Empathy, (Adept) Electrokinesis, (Master) Conjuring Illusions*
* Means, not yet manifested for the first time, still waiting for it.
Biography: Julien was born in October of 1989. Samantha had refused to give birth at a hospital, so Michael, his father, had been forced to ask a good friend of his, and midwife, to help his wife and the coming baby. Baby Julien came into the world healthy and strong--and screaming. But, as it would characterize the baby even from this moment onward, he soon calmed down. The midwife, Melissa Vargas, had a real touch with children and pregnant women (hence her choice of career). She herself was only four months pregnant, and in time would give birth to Jeanette, best friend and eternal companion of Julian. The atmosphere at the mansion was jubilant. Back then Grandma Dania was still alive, and Theodore Astare was an easy-going man.
The Astare family, however, would not remain in this blissful happiness for long. In the spring of 1995, when Julien was only 6 years old, his parents were in a horrible plane accident as they traveled back from visiting Samantha's relatives in Florida. Perhaps it was due to Michael's own considerable powers that the rescue crew discovered their bodies intact. Broken about the death of his son, Theo forbid Julien to attend the funeral, but his grandmother took him to the burial nonetheless. He was so young he couldn't quite understand the significance of all this that was going on. But when the caskets were lowered into the ground, he understood. Grandma Dania made him understand he wouldn't be alone, that he had them and they would never be alone. But Julien knew better. He now understood death, and looking at his grandparents he was only filled with dread that they too, perhaps very soon, would pass on and leave him utterly alone.
By now he had also begun to understand the significance of his family, and who his grandfather was. He was frankly amazed, especially about the stories that were told everywhere about the great Guardian of New York City. He heard them now more often, as he paid attention, but also because adults seemed to forget he was in the room with them, listening intently to everything they said about his family. Not that he spied on them, no. But he was interested in the subject. Grandfather Theo was quite rich, it was said, loaded. It suddenly made sense to him that he had never been denied anything he wanted, that he lived in luxury, and that many others around him did not. Take Jeanette, for example. Sure, her mother was someone important in the community--everyone knew of Melissa the midwife and she had quite possibly delivered more than half of the babies born in her time. But nonetheless, many times he heard his best friend how her mother had to work for a living, or how she had not gotten what she wanted for Christmas. Grandfather Theo was quite powerful, too. Once, at a thingytail party he hid behind the curtains and listened to a nearby group of adults talking about it. The man was quite literally a Master of Magic. Why, he'd created the doorway to Neverwhere! Someone's father had been there when it had happened; someone else's cousin had been saved by it on any number of occasions. Yes, it was quite the thing: the only entryway and exit that existed, perhaps in the whole world! And did the old man not rule the city with an iron grip? New York had none of the problems the other places had--why, look at all that trouble in Los Angeles!
Julien came to understand, by the time he was twelve, that he'd been born in a uniquely privileged family. And that, one day, he would inherit it all. But he came to understand that it wasn't fantasy tales, like the rest of the world insisted on seeing magic. For him it was tradition--the Guardianship of the City had passed down to his grandfather since the City's founding so long ago--and it was responsibility. Sometimes he felt it would suffocate him. He wasn't like all the kids in school, either. Many times he'd been transfered from school to school, for the plain and simple reason he'd told someone or another. He couldn't understand why anyone would have such an aversion to magic, why the stories that he had to tell--of spirits he'd seen, of spells he'd attempted, and so on--could frighten anyone so much. But there it was. He wasn't like all the other boys, either. Oh, it might have been too early to tell at the age of twelve, but he knew he was different. You might say the pains and tragedies in his life had matured him somewhat, too early. He couldn't image kissing a girl, and he did his best to hide behind an empty face whenever the subject came up.
One autumn afternoon he found Grandma Dania crying softly in her bedroom, and she would not tell him why. He feared the worst: Grandfather Theo had died, somehow, and now the Guardianship of New York City was up to him. It was an illuminating sort of shock and dread, but it was swept away when he touched her shoulder to comfort her. The kind words he'd been about to say died in his lips. He understood, in a flash of images and words in his mind, why his beloved grandmother cried. He curled up next to her and cried, too. The cancer was terminal, there was nothing anyone could do about it, not even the Healers. Perhaps if something had been done earlier, but how could it have been discovered? She had been the picture of good health in her late years, not that she was that old. Six weeks later she died, and Julien could not imagine he would soon stop crying.
Theodore was broken, having lost all the people that he cared about. Oh but there was still the boy, of course. And it was his responsibility to bring him up, and eventually pass on to him the Guardianship. The old man did not cry in public, but it was plain to see: the powerful Guardian of the City was quite done. It was not surprising that the kind man he'd been disappeared, and even Julien received nothing but hard words and stern warnings. He begun to slip in his duties, as well. There were no more parties at the big house outside of the City, no more visitors at the Greenwich apartment. Julien felt he would go mad of loneliness.
Thankfully Jeanette was there. "Your little girlfriend," his grandfather had called her. But there had been a sneer in his voice, and suspicion. Julien felt why more than he knew why. And that very same night he'd rushed to her house and laid out the crazy plan for her. A cover up, or else his grandfather would crucify him for being gay. "Oh that's terrible! He wouldn't do it, Julien!" She was wrong about him. No one knew the man as he'd known him, perhaps not even his grandmother. They had all thought he was such a great magician and person, but Julien knew the hard and relentless core of the man's soul. He'd sensed it, felt its burning scorn. By the end of the week they were a very convincing young couple. And he was only thirteen, of course, it was all puppy love. His grandfather didn't quite smile as much as look at him.
But by then there was Cian, his teacher of the Craft. Not that he knew nothing of it, quite the contrary. Grandma Dania had taught him all she knew, even before he'd manifested his first power. But she had taught him as a Witch, and his grandfather was not pleased with it. Theo wanted him to learn "true" magic. Cian, for all his loyalty to the old man, understood Julien. When at first the young boy had refused to learn a single spell from him, they had then settled on compromise: Cian would teach him both types of magic. Of course, his grandfather had grumbled that it was Wicca and a waste of time. But even Cian--and now there was a powerful one--told him Wicca was alright, so long as it was true and genuine. And didn't he want to become powerful, one day? Didn't he have to? Sure Mr. Gierdan was at least two decades older, but Julien was powerfully attracted to that man. Perhaps it was because he had seldom been treated this way by any grown up man before. But he had not cared back then. He'd adored his teacher. And then of course there was the way he looked. Surely thirty, Cian nonetheless looked barely out of his teens. Only when he worried--or immediately after waking in the morning--could you detect any sort of age lines. For the rest of the day it seemed to disappear and only that unique dazzling, androgynous beauty shone through. And what hair! So red and long, it was almost like cascading fire down his back.
Jeanette, of course, was still his pretend girlfriend. That changed, however, some time in 2004, when they were both fifteen. She wanted a real boyfriend, and who could blame her! They had been together for two years, and though she understood they were just pretending, sometimes Jeanette wondered if Julien would kiss her. And not just on the cheek like he always did in public, but on the lips. She wanted more, so much more, and it was clear she wasn't going to get it from him. To Julien it seemed they would no longer be friends, and he was perhaps wiser. Weeks after the "break up" Jeanette was dating Scott Marshall, some pretty boy next door. Never mind that they had both checked the guy out countless times, it felt like he was being back-stabbed. Hurt, Julien demanded to be allowed to live by himself in the Greenwich apartment, and surprisingly his grandfather agreed to it. Cian would have to go live there with him, though, as he wouldn't interrupt his lessons. Julien knew that what the old man really meant was this: He wasn't trusted enough to live on his own.
But he was happy to be in the same house as his mentor and teacher. The man had such a gentle manner that sometimes Julien wondered, and his voice, so soft and truthfully seductive! He couldn't help to fantasize about him; everything about him intrigued him powerfully. But then he also felt ashamed to be crushing on his own teacher, and that the man treated him so well only to be desired secretly. It felt like it was somehow wrong, as if Julien was somehow breaking the trust placed in him. As for the man he never really seemed notice. The lessons continued, and Julien strove to do his absolute best.
He still had to attend regular school, and the monotony of classes drove him out of his mind half the time. He was really more advanced than half the students, but he refused to show it. Julien did not want to be like the other smart students who got transfered to advanced classes and never had a moment to socialize or even enjoy the tiny pleasures of life. He loved having as many "friends" as possible--though he also knew they were just people he talked to, not real friends at all. But nonetheless he loved being the center of attention. He always had, the only difference was that he kept the magic-talk to himself. There were plenty of other stuff to talk about, after all, and he specially liked going on about nothing. He was aware that everyone wondered why he'd never dated any of the girls, especially when so many pretty ones practically worshiped him. But he knew he didn't like them that way, and he was most keen on not repeating the Jeanette fiasco. As for those who guessed, he wouldn't pay attention to them, and he was just so popular that no one believed them. He didn't need real magic to mesmerize anyone he befriended.
When he turned sixteen he knew that he could no longer resist the temptation. He'd lived together with Cian and they were so close now. At least one day a week they would go to a show, concert, opera, symphony, or play. And it would consume the entire day, really. First there would be lunch at any of the lovely places in the Village itself, then on to a movie, or perhaps an early showing of whatever entertainment they had selected for that day, and finally dinner and lounging around with any number of intellectuals, artists, or poets in any number of cafés. Cian said he was teaching him something important, something that he would need when the heavy mantle of responsibility, of Guardianship, fell on him. And who knew when that would happen? Any day now, or any day tomorrow. Theodore was aging so fast, it was a wonder if he made it another decade. Julien knew he should have felt sorry for the old man, but yet he could not. When he confided this in Cian, and asked whether it was a bad thing, his teacher had assured him it was not. Of course, he believed it. There was no reason to think of Cian as anything other than a wonderful, unfortunately older, friend. And yet, he still felt that attraction there.
By November of his sixteenth year Julien was convinced that he knew exactly the right kind of birthday present that he could give Cian. There was the decoy gift, an old book of Irish witches he'd found in his grandfather's library, and then, at midnight, the real gift. He only wore a pair of boxer shorts and a terrycloth bathrobe around himself as he walked into the man's bedroom. He was already there, sleeping. "Cian," he whispered as he leaned down carefully and kissed those lips. He feared that he would be shoved back, cursed at, perhaps even physically hurt for his daring, for this exquisite betrayal. But instead the other lips had returned the kiss, and Cian's arms had reached up and pulled him into bed with him... "Happy birthday," he'd said when it was finished, only to begin again.
It couldn't have lasted, of course. That was an impossible expectation and Julien knew it only too well. But that was perhaps the sweetest winter of his life thus far. When classes begun again in January it was over, by mutual agreement. Julien had surprised himself that he could be so level headed and mature. Cian had been proud of him.
But summer gave him another delicious gift, and his name was Leander. He had a French accent, and in fact would slip into his native tongue whenever he became impassioned or agitated. But he was an exchange student with some organization or another. It was blissful, and quite secret except for Cian, and they made promises to see each other again. Yet youthful love is always like that. And there were only a few months till October, when Julien would turn 18. It had been agreed upon by both his grandfather and Cian that he was ready to become an Adept. Cian confided with him, one night over coffee that he was probably ready for Initiation into the Mysteries, but that his grandfather would not hear of it. He was really quite an exceptional student, and a powerful witch. That was what he had called him, a witch. It made Julien smile and his eyes twinkle.
Working with lightning and electricity had proved a challenge. Terribly exciting, of course, but a d**n challenge. For the first couple of months after the power had manifested he'd been a danger to any and all electronics within touch, and even now, when he lost his temper, the power was liable to go out. Cian had insisted that he start with little stuff, but he wasn't there as often as before. In fact, he'd rented himself another apartment in Manhattan and was commuting to see him. It had been painful to be in the Greenwich house all alone, and he'd loathed it purely. But in time he'd gotten used to it. He understood that it had to happen, and especially after Leander. He'd never gone to visit him in France, now, had he? Julien wondered why he'd forgotten, and realized his new responsibilities had perhaps influenced his choice.
Though he had no real interest in a specific profession or career, Julien went to college along with the rest of his class. He had told himself that he simply needed their company, especially now that he was all alone in the house. For some coincidence he'd found Jeanette in one of his English classes, and they had become friends again. They had, quite naturally, spent half an hour explaining how sorry they were in almost every way imaginable, and then a half hour more saying how much they had missed each other. No, it had not been the same having other friends: after all, you couldn't tell everyone you were a witch. She too was now Adept, and seemed quite happy with being gifted in healing as her mother had.
Boyfriends became his obsession, and there were so many boys to begin with! The Village, of course, swarmed with beautiful guys his age, and he felt attracted to them all. Too unself-conscious to begin with, Julien had no idea how powerfully attracted they were to him as well. But he was aware that not all of them were good for him. And though finding a partner was no real challenge, finding a gay guy who could also do magic was quite the challenge. Of course he went out, countless of times, but more than often it ended in disillusionment, and a few times in bitter arguments. He always took them to his apartment, never went to theirs. But he was always terrified of meeting the family, the friends. Julien knew it was irrational, but there was nothing that could convince him otherwise. Why, every father, uncle, and grandfather was to him just a potential Theodore. Those guys that lasted, the ones that seemed really to like him hated this about him, and eventually they all drifted away.
Last May he'd been Initiated into the Mysteries. And since it had been Beltane, and the theme of the holiday was sexual, Cian had seen to it that was the way it went. Julien had politely declined, he was sure he was quite over his magic teacher, quite. Yet the forty-something-year old Irish magician, who still looked barely over twenty, refused to budge. Or did he want to wait till Midsummer's Eve and be Initiated through marriage?
"Well, when you put it that way," Julien had fallen deep in thought and come up with a brilliant answer: "How about we wait till December? Yule? Wouldn't that be auspicious, twelve twenty-one of two-thousand-twelve!"
For the first time in all this time since he'd known him, Cian became positively livid. "No! Absolutely not!" He wouldn't back down, and kept insisting on Beltane. Finally, if only to calm him down and have the old Cian back, he agreed to it. But he would pick his own lover for the Great Rite! "Not necessary, Julien. Your lover is the Craft, and hopefully a very sexy god." Cian was grinning again, and Julien accepted it, because though he would not go to bed with him anymore, there was still love between them.
And so the ceremony took place, and he was Initiated. He'd seen a haze of winged feet, and the god has spoken so fast, or maybe it was just that he'd drunk too much. In the weeks that followed, as no power manifested itself yet, he felt fake and unreal. Had they somehow rushed it? He'd been so convinced that December was the right date, but Cian would have had a fit if he had insisted. But why! It wasn't a train of thought he pursued often. He'd tire of it and then go out of the house, become entirely distracted by the City and all the life running wild through it.
Personality: He will greet you with an open smile, and just a touch of humor twinkling in his eyes. Firm grip for the handshake, though he sometimes relaxes it for certain people. And seductive, always. He is quite possibly unaware of how seductive he can be, and that the reason people hang on his every word is because he's already enchanted them so powerfully they're entirely in his control. But it isn't superficial, not with him. Julien always strives to make friends, regardless of how many more times they'll meet and actually be friends.
Compassionate, he likes to give away his money in tips and donations. Tight for cash? He will lend you anything and never ask for a penny in return, even if you try to pay him back. Invite him to a dinner, a show somewhere. That will do.
But don't cross him. It isn't that he will personally avenge every slight, he's never been petty like that. Julien will simply cut you out of his life, at most giving you a cold and vicious glare. It can't kill, so don't worry. He wouldn't dream of revenge, it's simply not his style. But if you hurt him, his friends will make you pay. And you thought you were popular before, now you will be positively hated by everyone. Might as well go to a different state, and start all over.
It is very important that if you aim to be his friend, or his lover even, that you understand how he loves to enjoy life. It is positively essential that you love Broadway, or at the very least theater. It is always good if you're willing to try new things, his things, and that you also have plenty of different, new, and exciting little bits of life to share with him. Don't let him get bored. The worse that could happen is that he'll dump you, the best he will become dissatisfied and go on with you if just for the hope that things will be fun again. But above all, do not make the mistake of thinking he's just another rich kid. He's liable to surprise you.
Sample:
"Jeanette? Where are you honey?" he was screaming at the top of his lungs, into the receiver of his cell phone, but he wasn't sure she could hear him over all the noise. He certainly couldn't hear her. "What?"
Best do textin'. And so he hung up and begun pressing the keys, slowly. He wasn't that great at text messaging. For some reason he had not picked it up with the same speed and dexterity all these other kids had, and now he took forever. Well, not forever, but certainly longer than they did. It wasn't his fault; he preferred mind-reading. Of which, sadly, he lacked a considerably bit. Sure he could read emotions, and if he could place his bare hands on someone--on anything--he could read it like a very deranged book. Because touch was always so muddled, and he picked up all sorts of impressions. That pen might have been touched by you, and everyone else in the room. That pen might have also been touched by more than a few energies and beings from the Shadowlight. It was always so imprecise he hated it.
She replied that she couldn't come. Andrew wanted to stay home. He sighed, exasperated, and rolled his eyes. Married life, pfft!
Oh well, there was still Cian somewhere, shining like a fiery brand in the middle of this, mostly, black clad crowd. His red hair was almost wavy tonight, and kept having to beat back the temptation to caress it.
He made his way through the crowd of people, becoming somewhat more keenly aware that the majority of them were younger, if only by a year. But they looked younger, to him. Oh, sure, not in comparison. But he'd always felt older than he looked, and though his body was obviously twenty-three years old, he wasn't so convinced his soul matched. Did Cian feel this way too? He must have been somewhere in his mid-forties. Of course, Cian never looked a year past twenty. Julien had realized this long ago. Even back then, when he was merely thirteen. The gloriously androgynous redhead seemed frozen in time.
Ah, when he was thirteen! His lips formed a smile, and then frowned at their own accord. So many things had happened back then, sad things. And good things, too. But he couldn't help thinking that the death of his beloved Grandma Dania had precipitated the decay in Theodore's personality.
Ah, there he was. What a handsome Irishman, that Cian. A smile came naturally to his mouth as he greeted him, a silent "Hello, how's it?" But before he could get there someone bumped into him and he was immediately frozen on the spot. The chill that ran through him was agony, and he could tell who the person was, and what they meant to do. He told Cian once he'd navigated the crowd and stood next to him, clutching his margarita protectively close to his chest.
"Well, what will you do?" The older man said impassively, his smooth face masking his concern. Julien could feel it underneath. He thought about it, troubled expression on his face. "Julien, he's a magician. And not a good one, I can tell."
He'd forgotten Cian was not just a Master, but perhaps the most powerful magic user in the City. "I guess I have to intervene," he said unhappily. "Will you help me?"
"Of course!" He was only too happy.
They tracked down the man to a table on the other side of the club, the band was still playing very loudly. He was chatting with a woman, and kept getting close to her and touching her back, her neck, trying to kiss her. She stepped away every time. Julien could sense her alarm, and his unbridled lust. But there was also something dangerous about the man, a destructive desire that Julian could not sense clearly.
"He means to--" But whatever else Cian had said, was lost as the band finished its song and the crowd roared. Julien read the man's lips. He didn't need a specific ability or skill for that. He'd stared at those lips for so long in the past, he knew exactly how it formed each vowel and consonant. "He's going to rape and kill her," was the interrupted message.
He felt the chill go through him again. He'd only seen and felt violence coming from the man, and now that he saw his target... He was quite resolved to protect that woman, whatever he had to do. After all, wouldn't he be the Guardian? Wouldn't it be his duty to do something about it? Because, it was quite clear, the man was already using his magic to seduce her!
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