CROW

  —   When the  visions  started, he thought they were just nightmares. The faces of the dead stared back at him from reflections, their mouths moving though no sound escaped. His hands trembled whenever he held a letter, half-convinced it pulsed like a beating heart. Anxiety became his companion, creeping in like a sickness, suffocating him in the quiet hours.So, he ran—not from his work, but toward something else. A monastery. A church. A hollow place that promised sanctuary. He took vows not for salvation, but for survival. If he could not outrun death, perhaps he could serve it. His rituals became sacred. The handling of relics, the recitations over the dead, the prayers muttered with trembling breath. The macabre followed him into the priesthood, settling into his bones like an old friend.
    a character written by  anOKgoblin  (they/them, 21+)   

• TEMPERANCE
• DOSSIER
• HISTORY
• OOC

And if I am to burn

let it be for you.

  001.   Crow is a figure draped in both mystery and warmth, a priest whose very presence feels like an unfolding story—one that is equal parts haunting and endearing. With a soul as restless as an artist's swirl and the intensity of a poet's deepest musings, he moves through life like a fragile, misunderstood creature with a gift for connecting, even if he himself feels out of place.His social interactions are often accompanied by a charming uneasiness, as if he dances on the precipice of understanding human dynamics but struggles to execute them flawlessly. Crow's conversations have a tendency to veer into unexpected territories, often delving into topics of occultism, art, writing and poetry. With a soft-spoken, sometimes stoic demeanor and a propensity for profound statements, he is able to effortlessly weave together intricate narratives and compelling anecdotes that captivate the minds of his listeners.With an anxious energy that manifests in small, almost imperceptible fidgets—tapping fingers, a nervous glance, a soft exhale—he is always on the edge of something bigger, something unknown. His anxiety isn't crippling, but it clings to him like a second skin, making each day a delicate dance between tension and tenderness. Still, his gentle, sometimes macabre nature shines through. Despite the tumult of his thoughts, Crow’s heart is immense, open, and infinitely kind. He'd take the time to listen to a stranger's woes, offer comforting words in his shaky voice, and offer an empathetic smile that lights up his marred face.Make no mistake however, while sometimes timid in his appearance, he is fully capable and willing to hurt or even kill without a second thought. It's this dichotomy of his that often surprises people, and offers a slight insight in to the mind of a man who is truly, utterly broken.

  002.   Crow is a man of contradictions, a priest who stands at the pulpit with trembling hands, the weight of his own sins pressing down on him like a crucifix too heavy to bear. His parishioners see a devoted man of Halone, a shepherd guiding his flock through the valley of darkness. What they don’t see is the needle that pricks his skin in the dim glow of his rectory, the powder that burns his throat like the fires of hell, or the ghostly reflection of a man who barely recognizes himself.
He wasn’t always like this. Once, Crow had been a believer in the purest sense, a man who thought faith alone could cleanse the soul. But faith doesn’t dull the ache of old wounds, nor does it silence the demons that whisper in the quiet hours of the night. The first taste of escape was accidental—a slip, a temptation, a moment of weakness. But weakness is a door, and once it’s opened, the darkness floods in.Yet, despite it all, he still preaches. He still baptizes babies, marries lovers, performs exorcisms and prays over the dead. The words of the Enchiridion spill from his lips like poetry, but sometimes, he wonders if they are meant for him more than anyone else. He tells his congregation that redemption is always possible, even as he doubts his own.Some nights, Crow looks up at the Fury above the altar and wonders if Halone herself would weep for him—or if she would turn away in disgust. Other nights, he prays, not for salvation, but simply for the strength to make it one more day without falling further into the abyss.Maybe one day, he will find his way back. Or maybe, like the crows that circle above the steeple, he is meant to scavenge through the wreckage of his own soul until there is nothing left.

  003.   A native Ishgardian, he speaks Eorzean with an accent and the old language with pride. He partakes in multiple types of substances, sex, criminal activities; it's less of an indulgent impulse and more of a cycle of self-harm and survival. He is also an information broker with a plethora of other people's secrets at his disposal. After all, confession is free.He has been known to partake in cross-dressing as well, dependent on the day's mood.

NAME  [Redacted]NICKNAME/ALIAS  CrowTITLES  The ReverendAGE  34DATE OF BIRTH  Third Astral Moon, 28th SunGENDER & PRONOUNS  Male; they/them, he/himORIENTATION  PansexualRACE/ETHNICITY  Half-Elezen, Half Viera

HEIGHT  6'0HAIR  Blackish-BlueEYES  GoldPIERCINGS  Ears, navalSCARS / TATTOOS / MARKINGS  Shoulders, neck, arms, back and legDISTINGUISHING FEATURES  A scar on his right jaw line, a burn-like mark on his facePHYSICAL DESCRIPTION / FIRST IMPRESSION  Crow's appearance is that of golden eyes that flicker nervously, their usual luminous glow dulled by a cloud of apprehension. He has pierced, pointed ears—perhaps a mark of a lineage or heritage he struggles to embrace; His shoulders are slightly hunched, as though he’s trying to make himself smaller or blend into the background.When he speaks or breathes deeply, his fangs catch the light, but he often tries to hide them by biting his lower lip or covering his mouth with his hand. His fingers might fidget—playing with the edge of his sleeve, twisting a ring, or adjusting his piercings—as if searching for an anchor to steady himself. His dark-ink hair, usually tousled or falling into his eyes, adds to his slightly disheveled appearance.Upon his face a reddish, burn-like mark adorns his skin, something he is quite self-conscious about as it's often mistaken for dirt. A scar stretches along the right side of his jaw. His gaze flits around any room, wary and alert, as though he expects judgment or danger at any moment. Though his features are striking, the weight of anxiety seems to dim his presence, giving him an air of vulnerability. There's a fragile beauty to him, a sense that he’s caught between worlds, struggling to navigate the space between confidence and fear.POSITIVE TRAITS  Kind, Empathetic, ResilientNEUTRAL TRAITS  Tolerant, Observant, Adaptable, DiplomaticNEGATIVE TRAITS  Anxious, Self-Destructive, Hedonistic, Compulsive

PARENTS 
-Deceased father
-MotherSIBLINGS 
- UnknownSIGNIFICANT OTHER 
- ♡CHILDREN 
- NoneOCCUPATION  PriestHOMETOWN  The BrumeNATIONALITY  IshgardianLANGUAGES  Eorzean, Old Elezen
SKILLS - Rapier — An amicable sword fighter, Crow utilizes a rapier as his weapon of choice.
- Red Magic — A well-studied Red Mage
- Quick-Wit/Agile — Quick-witted and silver-tongued when the need arises. His agility is near acrobatic thanks to his constant running from the guard in his youth.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Crow's early life in The Brume of Ishgard was defined by hardship and resilience. Born into the unforgiving shadows of the city-state's underbelly, Crow's parents perished during a particularly harsh winter when food and warmth were scarce commodities. Or at least, that's what he was told by those who took him under their wing among the Holy See. Left orphaned, Crow was thrust into the care of the Brume's tight-knit but wary community of street urchins and overlooked souls, and the Church.
Life in the Brume was a constant struggle against both the biting cold and the disdain of Ishgard's upper echelons. The young orphan quickly learned to navigate the labyrinthine alleys and dilapidated buildings that made up their world. Survival demanded resourcefulness, and Crow became adept at finding scraps of food, makeshift shelter, and evading the ever-watchful eyes of the city guard. With his keen abilities of sleight of hand and an animalistic sense of smell, he made short work of grifting to get by.Despite the harsh conditions, the Brume fostered a unique camaraderie among its inhabitants. Crow found solace and companionship among other orphans and outcasts who, like himself, were shaped by adversity. Together, they formed a makeshift family, supporting each other through meager meals, bitter winters, and occasional clashes with local gangs vying for control over the Brume's meager resources.As Crow grew older, his innate resourcefulness blossomed into a keen intelligence and a knack for finding opportunities amidst adversity. He became known for his agility and quick wit, traits honed through years of dodging trouble and outmaneuvering those who sought to exploit the vulnerable. Like the namesake bird, he never forgets a face--Definitely an advantage when dealing with nobles and higher ups.