Character sheet- Kazan
The King Consort, Kazan Anameaf (He/him, 29 years old)
Youngest son of the late Chieftain Tarabaï of the Calaras Clan, Kazan grew up alongside an older brother more interested in his pranks than his future responsabilities of the clan’s Chieftain by loving, but constantly snowed under work, parents.
Wandering the continent of Havren with his family and people was a dangerous task indeed, given the world’s actual state of constant chaos. Such cruel truth forced the clan to stay constantly on their guard, and to train their little ones, like him, in the art of fighting, surviving, and defending themselves, as early as possible. Far too early, truly- but what other choice is there, in a world where any shadow, door not completely closed, or rustling from a bush, can sign your death warrant in a blink of an eye?
Not for Kazan to find any points complaining of such lifestyle anymore by now. That is, until the abrupt death of his parents, increasing arguments with his brother, and tensions with the clan’s opinion on his transition, pushed him to abruptedly quit the nomadic life at 16 and accept the invitation of his recently crowned childhood best (and only) friend Charona Anameaf to settle in her castle: a lifelong friendship soon blossoming into a romance that would make the realm of Love itself green with envy...until Kazan is hit by the cruel revelation love isn’t always as sweet, flawless and idyllic as it seems.
Years later, Kazan is left a recluse in a queendom that can’t stand him, on the verge of driving himself mad from wondering if the fault fall on him for the downfall of his marriage with Charona, where the surprise barging in his life of carriages full of traumatised children is certainly not going to help.
Father of Hollimeria
The one that stays calm in crisis situations, analytical, compassionate, well-read, wiseful
Thick headed, reclusive, lack of self-confidence, more emotional (and with difficulties controling the latters) than he would ever like shall you push his buttons just the right way, doesn’t want to ask for help anymore
Total horse (and birds) guy.
Excerpt
At the top of the hill they could make out the plains of Litespes stretching out to the horizon: patchwork of fall’s colors painting the green expanse of the queendom's fields with a warm glow, which the timid beginning of sunset behind these few clouds could have not illuminated better. In front of this spectacle, children alike had by long now set foot down from their horses to admire such view, as Kazan had done too- but to fed Elévrie her well-deserved apple rather, his back turned to the panorama. A fact that hadn’t go unnoticed from his wards.
“Sunsets starts to get a little bit boring after a lifetime of horseback rides”, he joked to a surprised Pipa over his disinterest for the panorama.
“How could you truly get bored of such scene, I wonder? If I can speak for myself, I don’t think I ever could.” Swanhilde hadn’t even bothered turning her face towards him as she spoke. Her amber eyes fixed on the gently growing redder by the minute Sun in the sky, her fingers playing to wrap her locks around them -this little sign so rare in the Princess, reserved only in case of total and most positive surprise-, the marvel on her face was so pure, so unprecedented, that Kazan couldn’t help the fond smile it that spontaneously spread on his lips.
They all looked at various degrees of marvelled, actually. The twinge at his heart was soon to follow when he realized it- Had they really never see something as close to them as a sunset before?- but he was quick to shut it. No point was there in fretting himself up over the past right now.
“But the scene differs every day from the other, and even between one place and another”, protested Almond, “So how could you find boredom in it?”
“Repetition does that to your brain, I suppose”, did he absent-mindedly replied, his hands stroking Elévrie’s muzzle (his whispered Good girl, good girl falling, it seemed, in appreciative ears). When had the sunsets lost their beauty? When had it come, he wondered, when had the bitterness swallowed so much of his life he could no longer find in riding the joy he had held for it in his youth, but rather now a desperate subsitute for the freedom he craved, when he wasn’t riding on the company of his sweet Holly?
But then he heard it.
“My aunt said something similar on repetitions once”, noted Lythia, trying her hardest to look as if she wasn’t as interested as everyone else by the view, “Complicated, for a landscape artist. It went away when she watched them with someone else, though I never really got why so.”
There’s some views that never find their sense when met by one gaze only, my sweetness.
Those had been the words of his mother, hadn’t they be? A foggy day he couldn’t quite place in his youth, where his parents had taken him and a equally grumpy Fréamund to wander in the hills near the camp far too soon in the morning for children of their age- and they had made their absolute priority to make their mother and father know it. But it had been a beautiful scenery to see in the end, that he remembered, and they had found more fun in exploring and walk among it than neither of them could have possibly anticipated. The meaning behind his mother’s words, however, that had remained unknown of his person.
Turning back to see the sunset falling on Litespes’ countryside next to his wards, Kazan thought her reasoning wasn’t as uncomprehensible he had deemed it to be.
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