Giofault Beahijame

"'You are wise,' he said.'If it is so,' I said,
'it is only because I have been fool enough for a hundred lifetimes.'"

...........

I had tried to fashion a cane into a blade once⸻

⸻yet found it would not cut.

Giofault Beahijame

the roamer's vow

The Beginning
dossier
About me

❛ ⸻

i swear it shall be done. eventually.

⸻ ❜

carrd template created by suncarrds

OOC

Hi! My name is lili!

i love meeting people, so i will always appreciate walkups, but if i look like i'm interacting with others, please send me a tell beforehand!my character's thoughts or actions do not necessarily reflect my own stance on a topic, situation, or concept, positive or negative.i love to write all sorts of rp except for romance (both sfw and nsfw). please note that i am not the best writer for shipping and will deny these requests/attempts by default.EST UTC−05:00IN-GAME: giofault beahijame @ brynhildr

⚔︎ Dossier

Giofault Beahijame

⸻ really, i hope it is not that serious.

alias "Gio" with his distaste for formality
age 29
gender Male
eyes Light Green
hair Dark Magenta
complexion Warm, tan
origin Ishgard
residence Between Ishgard and... any other part of the world, honestly. Likely spotted in the shroud.
occupation An adventurer of sorts
family The eldest child of the Beahijames, known for their business in trade

Summary

⸻ ❝ hear this: i know i claim after every venture that it was my wildest, yet it is not every day that i barely fend off beastkin for a vial of their blood, only to get lost on the return back. i swear there was no chasm that uncrossable on my path there, nor so deep that light itself had forgotten it entirely. at the very least, i brought the vial back....what's that? you already have plenty in stock? ❝ ⸻

the wayward son of the beahijames might be named many things—spirited, forthright, composed……reckless, irresponsible, a disappointment.all of which would be true, or so the patriarch insists—chiefly the latter.yet he presses that so long as his blood runs and the wind sways will he pursue the seam that binds the star’s edge at every sunset.

History

what in the hells are you doing here?his lips drew tight as his gaze slipped from the laughing nobility, entwined across the ballroom floor, to his chalice of wine. for once, his hair did not fall loose before his face in its usual candid low tail; he could not afford it so—not tonight, not here. and yet his hand still traced an idle arc, brushing back a strand that was not there, the flash of gold upon his wrist cleaving through his sight.his eyes narrowed then. fourteen summers of compliance had settled in him so nicely. why, he hardly looked any different from those before him who danced away the brume's troubles. he was even drinking from their cups, hammered smooth from the blistered hands of an unnamed craftsman whose family name will be forgotten with his passing. mayhap he had even forgotten how he once preferred dragonsbreath to the cold of his childhood home.the boundary between his former life and this one was nearly impossible to mark; he could not name a single moment and say, that was it. it came swiftly, yet slow enough that he could feel the distinction between his touch gloved and bare. he remembered celebrating the day they they gained a roof overhead, and thought that bread three times a day was all he needed. then came a working hearth, several pairs of shoes, paneled walls, portraits with frames to match their silverware, lessons fit for gentlemen,a stranger, now his betrothed.his head shook.he resolved to think of something else, something lighter, to which the windows beyond provided. he had always wished for those same windows that lined walls as a boy, gazing out upon the city he loved dearly. yet when at last they were his, he had looked out only once—and there found henri, the milkmaid’s babe, now near as tall as his mother. if only he might greet them again, beg pardon for missing his first, second, third, fourth, fifth, twelfth birthday. and then what—leave them with nothing but well wishes, when the boy was as thin as his arm? and for all the others, the same? coin—he had coin now, enough to scatter among them, to spare them the fate he had escaped by chance. mayhap that might serve as apology enough, not only to amelisse and henri, but to the brume entire.his head hung then.it was time to return to the shroud—to danger, to sparkling canopy, to anything that did not demand decision. he would leave this reckoning where he always did, set carefully aside, to be faced later.later, when it was easier.

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