Quentin A Crows

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• Vital Stats

  • Name: Quentin A Crows
  • Gender: Male
  • Played by: Corvus_de_Angelo
  • Nicknames: Crow, Quen,
  • Race: Halfbreed(Human/Vampire)
  • Age: Looks about 23
  • Body Type: Well toned
  • Height: 6'0''
  • Complexion: Ivory
  • Hair: Wine red
  • Eyes: Green
  • Handedness: left handed
  • Scars: Mostly on his back
  • Relationship Status: Single
  • Personality: Anti Social, has a good heart, likes to read, sarcastic, very grim, can be very selfish, rarely bends his will for others, cold,
  • Likes: Wine, cooking, experiments, reading, poison, art, moon, snow, music,animals
  • Dislikes: Crowds, people in general
  • Tattoos: Has a full sleeve tattoo, mostly an oriental desgin. Beneath his chest there is the word Repent carved into his skin. On his back he has wings, and on his right arm a cross
  • Sexuality: Bisexual

• Text

• Appearance

  The library; walk in looking for that one special book, that has been engraved in the memories of that long ago childhood. At the front desk a ivory skinned male sits.Square framed glasses rest on the bridge of his slightly pointed nose. His emerald eyes glued to a book with a collection of poems written by Emily Dickinson. His Wine red hair is short, but looks unkempt, as if it had a mind of his own. He runs a fingers through his hair to make it somewhat presentable, but to no avail. As he does this, the sleeve of his black shirt slips up. Which reveals an arm full of tattoos. Instantly a thought, does he have more? A sigh and a yawn escape from his lips. His k-nines are unusually sharp. He looks up his brows raised with mild interest. Beneath those bright emerald eyes are dark lines, as if he had experimented with an eyeliner pencil, but it becomes clear that they are natural. Perhaps the fellow hasn't gotten enough sleep.
  He closes the book and stands in a upright position. He stands tall, his shoulders are broad and muscular arms,otherwise it is easy to tell that he has a well toned body.
  
  " Are you looking for something in particular?" he ask, his voice cold and monotone.
  
  There is silence lingering in the air, and his brows narrow and the corners of his lips angle into a frown. He opens the book again and slumps back into the chair.
  
  "Let me know if you want to check out a book, otherwise do not bother me." His tone of voice seemed irritated. As the search for this nostalgic book begins, walk past the desk. A glimpse of the man's name tag.
  
  "Quentin A. Crows." What a strange name