Author's note: yeah, this is the closest to an OC I'm ever gonna get. and I'm gonna take comfort in the fact that SINCE HE DOES NOT HAVE A NAME, he is not an OC. just, let me live in denial about this right now, yeah? but anyways, hope you enjoy.
Crysthur
Throughout his childhood, he had been called cute and adorable. Random old women on the streets cooed over him and pinched his cheeks while others fawned over how he was the "spitting image of his father," a phrase that he became all too familiar with as he grew older. At 16, the only word that could be used to describe him was beautiful. An entire new generation of girls learned what it was to obsess and pine over unrequited love.
He had a head of dark hair, just like his dad, and his features exuded a brooding angstiness, a trait that also undoubtedly came from his father. And he had his father's smile, a smile which, to everyone's great surprise, turned out to be warm and genuine. In fact, on the outside, he was indeed the spitting image of his father, save for one thing: he had his mother's eyes. That is where his resemblance to his father ended, for in all other respects, he was exactly like his mother. Contrary to the gloomy persona he appeared to have, he actually wore his heart on his sleeve, this openness contributing to his already charismatic personality and drawing people to him everywhere he went. And in his eyes, eyes that were deep and brilliant with shades of green, every emotion could be plainly read. Yet those eyes could turn fierce and red when the situation called for it, a testament to his father's lineage.
His father's looks and talent and his mother's grace and personality. He was the perfect combination of light and dark.