reminder -
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Name:
Aremi Merisati
DOB:
January 13th
Hair Colour:
natural, black
In Game:
Aremi
Place of Birth:
Possessed in a barn
Hair Style:
shaved sides, dreads
Age:
29
Height:
5'11"
Eye Colour:
brown
Sex:
cis male
Weight:
180 lbs
Species:
human // demon
Preference:
bisexual, no preference.
polyromantic.Status:
hopeless romantic, flirts w/ everyone.
and they called it puppy love. 🎶
Style of Attire:
monochrome 99.9998% of the time.
maybe a splash of white or blue.
lots of jackets, leather, fitted things.
always wearing an inverted cross.
Speech:
soft and slow.
permanent bedroom sultry, like smoke.
LIKES
+ smoking & drinking
+ sleeping in, staying up late
+ consuming media:
dancing, reading, movie binges
+ art appreciation and critiquing
+ being a hoodlum;
TPing and egging houses, ding dong ditches
DISLIKES
- suffering w STML
- chapped lips on himself & others
- people who don't season their food
(ketchup on steak is a sin even he disapproves of)
- religious music, esp christian rock
- meme culture
PERSONALITY
in this room, we are nothing but strangers in a bed...
Demon's been around too long to have a fit when things go wrong. He loves his job, loves his life, loves watching people slowly fall apart around him.
The world's been going to shit for centuries, and he's enjoying the ride.
More likely to shrug off your anger towards him than bite back, Remi doesn't pander to violence. It flows around him. Unless you try to knock over one of his displays he just put up, then he might have a fit. Adderall fueled focus wears off, you know?
Hopeless romantic, heart on his sleeve; natural born flirt with a talent for seduction. No one wants to stick around, though, they barely remember a thing. No one that sleeps with him does. Cursed with that, he keeps his distance even if his words and actions say otherwise.
HISTORY
in your heart, we are nothing but strangers in the end...
Possessed his ride back when the civil war was just a twinkle in a baby's eye, revolutionaries were dumping tea up north and he was on an island, colonist plantation.
Moved here when his owner did, freed later, no one really remembers that he stopped aging, no one bothers to look twice at the fellow with the soft smile and odd slouch, as if he's used to a bigger form than the one he got.
Stuffed in and trapped, he's already long since shoved out the last of humanity left in this body, and there's times where he leaks out. Where his voice picks up a seductive tone you can't resist, where his touch makes you want nothing else than to lay down next to him forever. He drains your will to live, drains the life out of everything he touches. Maybe it's revenge for suffering through a life of greed, or maybe that's just his way of showing life isn't worth it.
Settling in to a lifetime of watching food wilt, gas station burritos aren't as tasty as you think, he promises with a wink.
