Yoshihiro

=========Character still in the WIP, however adding all the time!=========


His eyes were piercing, a chilling ice-cold blue that could freeze the very soul of anyone daring to meet his gaze. Wrapped in thick, luxurious lashes, each blink released a smoky, ethereal aura, swirling around his face like a ghostly mist before vanishing into the air, leaving behind a lingering sense of power. The intensity of his stare was hypnotic, radiating an otherworldly energy that could freeze time itself, leaving anyone caught within it feeling both mesmerized and vulnerable.

Emerging from beneath a wild tangle of dark, untamed hair, there was a crown that seemed almost woven into the chaos. It was golden, ancient in design, and glimmered with an unspoken authority. At the highest peak of the crown, a symbolic sigil was etched, its lines intricate and flowing, running through the form of the crown itself as if connecting him to something far beyond mortal understanding. The sigil’s energy pulsed faintly, imbued with an ancient power that could be felt more than seen.

Long chains hung from his ears, each chain supporting a finely crafted earring that trailed down his neck, each with a delicate tassel that swayed as he moved, catching the light like liquid gold. A charm rested at the center of his chest, nestled in the hollow of his collarbone. It hung on a fine chain, its shape mysterious and sacred, bearing the weight of untold knowledge and power, resting with the stillness of a watchful eye, guarding a secret far beyond ordinary understanding.

His attire was a paradox: minimal yet regal, functional yet fiercely stylish. The top, almost like a second skin, was carefully crafted. The sleeves, slit at the elbows, offered freedom of movement for his powerful arms, flowing just above his wrist, held in place with subtle elegance. The high collar around his neck was taut, almost uncomfortably so, a mark of discipline, halting just at the length of his armpits, designed to provide both protection and control. The bare skin that was visible beneath his attire was a flawless, pale porcelain, smooth as marble, untouched by time or the hardships of the world.

His hands and feet, however, were the most striking features, both lethal and beautiful. Each digit was crowned with talons, long, sharp, and glistening like obsidian blades, capable of rending anything in their path. They were etched with faint traces of gold, as if forged by some otherworldly hand, shining with an eerie, supernatural luster. His feet were adorned with three golden talons, their design intricate, hugging his long toes like the embrace of ancient relics, symbols of power and heritage. His hands, equally dangerous, bore the same deadly talons, each finger adorned with a gold ring—perfectly fitting, curiously weighted, and etched with runes that glowed faintly when the light hit them just right.

The final striking features that marked his otherworldly nature were the pair of horns that rose from his cranium. They were a vivid, piercing blue, like the heart of a winter storm, and spiraled from his head with an elegant yet fierce grace. The horns were more than just appendages; they seemed alive, pulsing with the very essence of the earth itself, as if forged from the depths of some ancient, forgotten world. Their surface was smooth but gleaming, as though the light itself refracted off them, giving them an aura of mystic power.

Trailing from the base of his spine, a long, sinuous tail arched and flicked with an elegant lethality. It was draconic in form, covered with scales that caught the light in flashes of blue and silver, mimicking the shimmer of his horns. At the tip of the tail, tufts of hair sprouted in a wild, untamed manner, mirroring the chaotic mess of his hair on his head. These tufts swayed with a life of their own, as if imbued with the same volatile energy that radiated from his entire being. The tail moved with a fluid, predatory grace, a silent warning that he was not to be trifled with.

He was no mere mortal or creature of myth; he was a manifestation of power and grace, a being forged from the elements themselves. Each aspect of his form—his icy gaze, his crowned head, his regal and deadly attire—spoke of a heritage that was both ancient and formidable. He was a ruler of the storm, a force of nature wrapped in the elegance of a forgotten king, a creature whose very presence bent the world to his will.