From Masq
Name: Brice Christian Godelieve

Nationality: Belgium
Occupation: Musician / Singer
Demeanor: Architect
Apparent Age: 29

Nickname: Brice

Significant Other: Onyx

"We must act out of passion before we can feel it."

"Rhetoric is the art of ruling the minds of men."

"The first method of estimating the intelligence of a ruler is to look at the men he has around him"

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A Glimpse Within
Physical Description

He stands tall, at a height of 6 feet and slim. Starting at his head, one may notice hair of pure straight silk in texture, a dark earthen brown colors the strands. It falls around the sides of his face and is parted at the center to completely reveal his face. It appears as if a lot of time and care were spent in grooming it. No strands touch his face which, like the rest of his flesh, is softly golden in color. His eyes are a soft brown, with blackened pupils which stare out at the world with a certain intensity to all they gaze upon. Atop that are finely lined eyebrows, slightly arched and of the same color as his hair. His complexion is clear and smooth with a gentle softness in its texture. The nose is proportionate to the rest of his face, slightly pointed at the end and making even the most revered plastic surgeon humbled. Lips are full and can only be described as kissable, with a color slightly darker than the rest of his face, holding a soft red tint to them. The chin narrows almost to a soft point, accentuating his features. His neck is slender though still proportionate to the rest of him. It connects to the upper body which holds slightly broadened shoulders and toned arms. Fingernails appear manicured, with a soft pink color showing underneath the nails themselves. Further down his body, his chest sticks out slightly, showing an athletic nature followed by a flattened stomach. Going lower one finds his legs to be lithe, graceful and athletic, rolling with unbound energy like that of a cross country runner. Every detail shifts when he moves, giving an appearance of slow motion. When he speaks, his voice rings through the area like the song of angels. As if he were almost permanently stuck in a tender and passionate song. When raised to yell, the song of voice holds a certain melancholy that may be hard to listen to for those who appreciate sounds of pleasantness.

His clothing consists of a deep red, button down, silk dress shirt. The sleeves are long and end at his wrist while the shirt itself is slightly snug against his body, showing some of the muscular lining of his chest. A few of the top buttons are left undone, revealing silky smooth flesh, lacking in markings, blemish or hair. The shirt is tucked into a pair of black dress pants, ironed neatly, showing the sharp line of one who presses his clothes with an iron. It ends just above dress shoes which hold a highly polished shine that one could see their reflection within. Over the outfit he wears is a thin black leather long coat which stops at his ankles and is left unbuttoned. Through the left lapel of a coat is a glass rose, pierced through the leather, revealing the top half. The color seems to stem from inside the glass, the black shade of the coat giving the object a slight darker green to the stem and a deep near blood red color of the petals. He is almost always walking with a rose handled cane. The rose handle is a silvery metal.

Allies and Contacts
We walk side by side, come what may. You are the solidification of my belief. New adventures await. We got this. A trusted friend and ally. I can't wait to see what you can do here, my friend. Insert Witty remark. Insert another witty remark. Last bit of wittyness.