DA VINCI, Lucien Carlo

[Lucien Carlo Da Vinci]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color:#080808; width: 600px; border: ridge #008000 3px;] Look here, Do you see? Are You Looking Forward to Get Tangled Up in Me? [atrb=style, width: 300px; height: 300px;border: solid #E5C0AC 5px; border: 2px #E5C0AC;] FULL NAME Lucien Carlo Da Vinci AGE 26 GENDER Male SEXUALITY Pansexual SPECIES Human ETHNICITY Italian Mirror, Mirror On the Wall, I must be the fairest of them all. FACE CLAIM Claudio Testori HEIGHT & WEIGHT 5'9, 156 BUILD & APPEARANCE Lucien has a scary, powerful build. Solid muscle all over his body, from calves to shoulders, without a ounce of fat. But he doesn't have the bulk that usually comes with it, stocky but more wolf-like than bear. His hair is barely brushes his shoulders and has a uneven, feathery cut that is longer in the front, particularly on the left side where it covers his eye and the deep, silky black is interrupted by a silver-white skunk stripe. He has a striking facial features, with dark, preened eyebrows, high cheekbones and large, piercing green eyes. He has the typical Italian, olive skin tone, with a dark gloss that gives him a healthy glow. He has the long, slim artist's fingers with neat fingernails. But the most prominent feature that Lucien has is his coldness, everything about him, his face, his eyes, makes him seem like he's carved out of ice. Like when it comes to business, he doesn't care what he has to do. But Lucien's smile is interesting, it seems depth-less, but those who know him know that he has three different types of smiles. Each one for a different category of people. Business and strangers, brief, fleeting, seemingly genuine but still holding that silky danger that is his signature. Enemies and law, icy, constant, the kind of smile that makes you want out of the room and out of the building. Companions and favored customers, silky, complicated, a smile that you can't tell whether its dangerous or not. A smile that fits someone who is as much as the nightclub owner that he is in public as the drug dealer he is in secrecy. Lucien has expensive tastes, fortunately he can afford it. Gucci, Armani, Prada. But besides the brand, its always business-like, but how he can pull it off with his sensual, dangerous aura envied mystery. A black blazer, silver watches, high collars, basically the typical fancy. But Lucien often spices it up with something that never matches the look. A midnight blue, often glittery headband, a silver slave bracelet, a dangle earring. Unorthodox and wild. Perfect for his job. Tell me who you are, I'm sure you're some kind of superstar. SPECIAL TRAITS Intelligence, Vitality, Dexterity LIKES Thunderstorms Alcohol Canines Fire Shakespeare Rain Snakes Lava lamps DISLIKES The Law Officials Churches Scientists Lies Abusive people Back stabbers Judges STRENGTHS Photographic memory Knife, guns, hand to hand Information gathering Intelligence WEAKNESSES Friendly persuasion No feel in his right hand Over-confident Blind left eye OTHERS HABITS: Constant, subtle intimidation Feigned boredom whenever speaking with someone, examining his nails, checking his watch, etc Traces the hilt of his knife whenever #1. Threatened 2#. Angry 3#. Intimidating PERSONALITY Lucien is complicated. Apathetic isn't the right word, he looks at everyone differently depending on his mood. Everything from a obstacle to a friend if you were around him for long enough. Everything he does is ruled on a whim, sometimes he might give you info for free even if he doesn't like you because of a whim. Other days he might just smile silkily at your offers and turn away. Its impossible to tell what he'll do because the moods are completely random. He might stay one way for a entire day and he might change by a random series of hours. Not even his closest friend and head of security and tell when his mood will change and what it will be. He can just tell what it is. Although not where it will lead. Lucien has a silky, dangerous smile that may have been the cause for some of the attempts on his life. You can never tell whether he is admiring something you said or smiling at your blissful ignorance. Sometimes its both, most of the time its neither. He isn't intense. He doesn't do hatreds and loves because they are, simply, illogical. But for reasons beyond most people, he loves Shakespeare 'That which we call a rose by any other name would taste as sweet.' Hearing quotes from him isn't surprising. But one of the most revealing things about Lucien is his tone. Whenever dealing with someone he doesn't know, its the lazy drawl of someone for whom the world holds no surprises. When dealing with business, its laconic, but still low pitched and unaffected. With cops it changed entirely, sometimes cold and flat, sometimes cold, silky, a voice that makes people shift in their seats because they can't wait to get to the door. With friends it is friendly, silky, casual, and whether or not its genuine or deceptive is something that they have to figure out for themselves. Some Past Should Never Left Behind, Just like some truths we might never find FAMILY Carlson Da Vinci, #58, Deceased, Lucia Da Vinci, #59, Deceased HISTORY Lucien's father was Carlson Da Vinci. He ran the same nightclub, In Victoire Nox, that Lucien does now. His mother dealt with the drugs that supplied the place, even if she was smart enough to not take her own merchandise. For three years the two dealt with each other, purely business, always the same date, always the same cash, always the same routine. First names were never exchanged, they greeted each other once, the first time and that was it. After that it was all simple, they approach at the same time, set down the suitcases, he takes the drugs, she takes the money. And that was it. Things changed when she got a message. A employee of hers ran up to her rambling about a business deal gone south, but the part that interested him was that he called her by her name 'Lucia'. Him asking about it was enough to spark a civilized conversation that lasted a mere minute, but every time after that, they talked. Finally, another year later, she asked him out for dinner. In the end it was the typical relationship, she had a great, if morbid sense of humor, and a stock-hold of information that amazed him, and after every business deal, they ended up meeting up at different places every time. Finally, after two years of this, they married, in the year 1998. It was a shotgun wedding, because Lucia was already pregnant. The affair was extravagant, but not in the typical way of weddings, the fact that her dress was violet with dark blue ribbons that managed to make her look slim even with her rounding belly might say something. And after six more months, Lucien was born. He grew up with more knowledge of the world than any child should be faced with, but a better way of handling it than any adult could muster. He loved life. It was as simple as that. But years flew by without any more events then him lighting the kitchen rug on fire. When he was two he said his first word, 'fire' when he was four he first started saying 'dad' and 'mom'. The daddy and mommy stuff never came out because thats not how they talked to him. There was no baby talk, no modified words. And by the time he was six he was using words like 'unconventional' and had a loose grasp of the basics of French and English. Because Italian was his native language. When Lucien was ten, his father showed him the club after hours, his office which was then painted midnight blue, the more appropriate parts of the club. He told him about business. About keeping the cops away because they never mean good for their kind of business. About making sure your costumers treat the people in the club right. about getting bouncers without power complexes and a good sense of how and when to get involved. When he was twelve, he learned that it wasn't normal for his parents to keep him out of school and for him to know phrases like 'junkie'. But he didn't care. Why would he want to be like them? There was nothing to envy, nothing to want. They had friends, false friends. Parents that hugged them before sending them off to school. But none of them could truthfully claim that they were truly, utterly honest with them. And none of them said anything at all when they say the Gucci wallet lined with hundreds. It wasn't until Lucien was thirteen that he learned what it was like to be lied to. It was his first friend. Who was honest until Lucien trusted him. Then he lied about just about everything. Lucien had spent to many years with his mother to not know a liar from a honest man. He broke the guy's nose. That was when he learned that he hated being lied to. Small or big, he hated it. When he turned fifteen, it was at last time for him to learn everything about the business. From the drugs to the prostitutes. His father told him about how to make sure the guys don't hurt them, and how to handle it if they did. His mother taught him about drugs, how to recognize someone who did what drugs and how much. How to recognize a hard core junkie from someone who was doubting his decisions and wanting nothing more than to be able to quit. How to stop a business deal from going south and keeping everything distant. And most importantly, to never do his own merchandise. And at last, when he was twenty-one and had learned everything he could ever need to know, his parents took a plane trip back home to Italy. It crashed over the ocean, his father had been piloting. The fact that the keys, the deed and every phone number he needed for the business was enclosed in a envelope on his father's desk told him that it hadn't been a crash. They'd just been both ready to die. Old age didn't fit either of them. Lucien took over the business without delay. Half the bouncers were fired and quarter of the waiters. They were to attached to his father to begin to respect him. The first bouncer he picked up was Vincent D'Marco. His new head of security, the rest came in steadily after that. Pretty soon, the club was up higher than it had ever been before. The star of Eden's nightlife. As the experiments began turning up, Lucien took them in stride. He'd dealt with junkies, hot heads and assholes. What difference would someone with a tail make? We Should Have Some Fun, Before we are going to see the last ray of the sun. RP SAMPLE The nails of the powerful dog clacked against the marble floor, the slight echo deafened out by Lucien's footsteps. The Rottweiler was one-fifty pounds of solid muscle. Bane was his best dog, the one he took in when things needed the silent power and threat that Sauvage's temper was to fiery for. Lucien unclipped the chain from the dog's collar, letting him pad over to the black velvet bed that laid in between the floor to ceiling chrome lava lamps. He had money, and it showed. The Italian drug dealer settled into the chair that rested behind the ebony desk. The decorations could hardly have been more sparse beside the lava lamps that dominated the back half of his office, the sleek black walls, floor and ceiling bare of any decorations. Only the multi-faceted crystal pyramid on the center of his desk broke the look. No one saw the inside of this office unless they were after the merchandise he dealt in, or they'd stepped out of line. Anyone that hurt his staff or made trouble in his club never did so again. Most never came back. Security dealt with most of the trouble, but when things got to heavy, they were dragged to him. And he always had one of his dogs to reinforce his authority. Bane, Sauvage, and Styx. Vincent would always tell him who was needed according to the mood of the crowd. Bane with his silent threat, Sauvage with his vicious temper, and Styx with his still puppy-like cheer, dangerous only when needed. Lucien's anti-freeze green eyes flicked down, almost broodingly as his nails tapped a rhythm on the desk. People didn't cause trouble often in his club because one look at his security made most people even thinking of it crawl under a rock for a century. He choose them carefully, hand-picking them from every place anyone could dream of. Loyal, vicious, protective, honest, trustworthy. All of them perfect for their job. Not one of them with the desire to abuse their power. And when a look at them didn't do the trick, his dogs did. Trained attack Rottweilers of the finest breeding. He'd hand-picked them to. Lucien's eyes lifted as Bane gave a low growl, rising to stalk over to his side. Sounds like the bastards here. The Reverend's cold smile touched his lips as he rose. The man that was half-drug-half-led in was snarling the usual protests of innocence. "Well hello James. You know the rights 'everything you say can and will be used against you?' this is a lot like that, so it might be in your best interests to be quiet." The sudden silence was disturbed by Bane's steady growl as the dog hovered at his hip, the heavy, square head just visible in the shadow of his desk, barely a difference in the dim lighting. One look at his head of security and they came to an agreement. This guy was going to leave with shaking knees and a new appreciation of life. Let's us all just be friend, And together we can start a new trend. ALIAS: Ashley AGE: A woman should never answer that question. DISCOVERY: I'm an administrator XD CHARACTERS: Nope, not yet. NOTES: Nope, nothing Paige hasn't already heard while we were chatting up a storm.

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[Paige]

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