Cypres
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This is winter in the form of a man, surely. The platinum-white hair sparkles along his head, cascading down about and beyond his shoulders, forelocks arranged carefully to frame his face, which almost seems to blend in with its pallour. A delicately-rounded nose and small pink lips sit afloat upon a sea of porcelain, only broken by the shimmer of the hint of eyebrows and his deep black eyes, eyes which show so much more depth than most. These eyes have seen beyond everything, from the way they gaze out upon the world. There is no light in them, except that which is reflected from outside. Around them he has applied sparkling silver, giving them a sort of dark glow, as if to set them apart from the rest of his face. Yet with this is blended cloud-pink, a very subtle colour that is invisible to most eyes upon first glance.
Sparkling lace, glittering silver threads woven into it, seems to float about his collar from the similarly silver vest he wears, a low collar dipping down to show that his face isn't made that way by powder, no; it's naturally that pale all over his body. Around his neck hangs a stunning silver necklace with the most intricate filigree, seeming at times almost to vanish amongst his skin. The gathered sleeves of a white blouse, apparently custom-made without a collar, emerge from the sleeves, only to bunch at his elbows, where his tall gloves begin in the same colour as his vest. Sugar pink, almost tinted ice, ribbons weave up along the holes to tie at the top, delicate white lace all around the wrist, where the gloves end. Easily missed, the same sort of pink can occasionally be glimpsed from the embroidery upon the lapels of his vest, concealed underneath the winter lace. Upon his hands can be seen rings, one on his right attached to a bracelet by a sparkling crystal chain that weaves around many fingers, and two on his left, both sparkling crystals as well, all with the appearance of ice and set in silver.
At his waist there is a snow-coloured belt of cloth that is tied in a knot that seems simple at first, but which becomes more ornate as it is closer examined; the material is also a kind of elaborate lacy style, which makes it virtually impossible to follow. His pristine white trousers hang neatly, well-cut to his form and lacing at the hips. The laces, hanging simply from the waist, are further tied with lace, making it appear almost as if the belt has continued down, giving it a more cascading look of elegance. The boots he wears come to his knees and appear a soft ash, the turned-down cuff fluffy and white, made of some kind of soft material that bears the soft look of snow.
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Background
Cypres has always maintained that his origins were completely unimportant and, as such, has never divulged them. He has sufficed to say that he was from Terre D'Ange originally, but he never confessed the region, and it is well-known that he has no living relations whatsoever. He came to the city at a young age and came directly to House Cereus, incredibly precocious, knowing far more than he should and showing an almost frightening depth to those black eyes of his. Initially they turned him away, having thought that he might not be for them. After all, his eyes were black as night, and he had come by himself.
Yet he refused to relent and refused to leave. He dismissed each and every similarly dismissive adept and courtesan, and at last his persistence brought him the attention of the Dowayne, who looked upon those eyes and knew, at once, that he belonged there. Hope that perhaps had once existed there was now gone. Fear, similarly, and anticipation were no longer. There was the fragile beauty of childhood, dashed and gone against the rocks of tragedy. He was brought into the House and placed firmly under the wing of the Dowayne, where he flourished in his own way.
What had occurred first, what had destroyed him before, was when everything and everyone he knew had been destroyed. By base bandits, savages possessed by fury that even they did not understand, his family died around him, leaving only this strange child. At that moment his hair went from jet-black to snow-white, and at that moment his eyes went from a verdant green to black, it is said. But instead of falling into endless despair and surrendering to death too, he took his vengeance and killed not only one bandit, but the entirety of them. Like a flower of blood and death, he emerged at last covered in the lifesblood of sixteen men, having quietly and methodically slaughtered them for the havoc they brought to the small village where he grew. On that day he swore to himself never again to wield an implement of death, and his mind turned towards the great city, where he knew those lived who made a life and a worship out of the art of love. Few knew the story, but the Dowayne suspected this would be the same child. How many others could there be by that description?
Cypres took to his lessons. He took to learning of beauty and love more readily, although there was little joy indicated from his expressions. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy it, it was just that he rarely showed such emotion. But there were small indications, little flourishes and touches, and the Dowayne slowly understood something of how to read his reactions. Others, however, also took a liking to young Cypres, such as the venerable Amarante. She had heard of his way, his chilling demeanour and porcelain personality, and it interested her for the sake of Mandrake.
As Cypres grew in years, he developed his particular sense of style. It was noticed that he was never outside unless the sun had set, which protected his china-white pallour. He dressed often in fine things, but his style could be called anything but conventional; at times it was unsure to some whether he was male or female, and his surprisingly light application of makeup only further encouraged a blurring of the lines. His debut had been grand, resplendent, and some might even say, decadent. It was like the perfect dollhouse, to the man who appeared the perfect doll.
Although he took patrons, it was as if all of them had been sworn to secrecy, or had promised that they would say nothing of his intimacy; this led to greater interest in the mysterious Cereus courtesan, who eluded all enquiries and used polite vagueness and the manners of the court to fend off any persistent attempts to comprehend more deeply.
Although it may have seemed otherwise, Cypres actually took easily and well to the philosophies of Naamah. While his appearance of coldness fooled many into imagining he had no heart whatsoever, the truth was that it had simply been hidden behind layers upon layers; the Cereus Dowayne knew this, and Amarante recognised it at once upon their first meeting. Not only his own Dowayne, but Amarante as well, began to understand and relate to him. The three all became very close, and Cypres was often seen at House Mandrake.
But he made his way to all of the houses in turn, some more often than others, because he believed that more than anything it was the duty of House Cereus to be aware of all the other houses and to understand them. As the first and foremost House, he believed, Cereus could be asked at any time to represent them. If he could not understand them, he would fail in his task and bring them only dishonour, and more than anything he believed in the Night Court and its beauty and power. His favourites to visit seemed to be Mandrake and Jasmine, however, as it seemed to both of their Dowaynes that he could have easily been one of their number.
But then winter came, as it tends to do, and the Dowayne grew tired and unhappy. Cypres met with her a few times, as the courtesans began to all but desert the house, and at last a compromise was reached; she was to go on spiritual retreat. She would retire her position, and though it meant for Cypres losing another person so dear to him, he understood that it was to the benefit of both the Dowayne and the House. But then Mireal ascended to the position of Dowayne and began to use it for her own ends, and so many other things began to happen; both Maia and Amarante passed away so suddenly, and then more was denied him, more had departed, never to return. Despondent and secretly seething, Cypres disappeared overnight from Mont Nuit. With the other more sensational events occurring, it was more or less missed in the rush and lamented after the fact.
But time had passed, and with it there had been growth, even for a flower that had appeared to have blossomed at its most glorious. Cypres saw the House sitting all but empty, all but unheeded, and heard of all of the ridiculous posturing and preposterous politicking, and something switched in him. He felt something of a fire stir within him. He would return to Mont Nuit and take the position of Dowayne, and he would restore Mont Nuit to its former glory and strength, not the precarious position that it had adopted. After all, he never feared anyone or anything...what would be the point to that, after all, if he feared not death? And so many of men's threats rely on fear of death. He would return and find out why things happened as they did. And above all, no politic in the world would be safe from him if it attempted to harm the Night Court. It was long past time to act, and Cypres prepared himself to do so.
Personality
So many who have met Cypres come away with an overwhelming feeling of imposition, of unknown foreboding and perhaps even fear. He is always quiet, always with the look of one who is not quite...not quite human. His deep, black eyes have no end when they catch another's looking into them, and yet there is something about them that, even though they reduce some to panicked avoidance, reduce others to swooning and fanning themselves. It is truly an intense gaze, a relentless visage, as if he knows nothing of human need, or perhaps he simply disregards it. He shows almost no noticeable emotion -- ever -- but his subtle indications are easily picked up by those familiar with him. Although it does take a not inconsiderable amount of time for him to allow familiarity, those who have won it are surprisingly comfortable around him and will find him an elegant and endearing host. Everyone else, however, often finds him haunting or even disturbing; he conceals almost anything to make him seem more human, he reacts so little, he only emerges from House Cereus at night, and he looks very frankly like one of the dolls he collects in his chambers.
Family, Friends, & Enemies
Family
Cypres has, alas, no family to speak of surviving in the world.
Allies
Genevieve - One of the very few people in the whole of the land that he has ever trusted to any degree whatsoever, the Dowayne of House Mandrake holds a bond with Cypres that few could ever comprehend.
Amarante - While she still lived, Cypres knew her well and very closely. As a prime candidate for Mandrake, she was interested in his development. In an uncommon turn, he also took an interest in hers.
Celine - A useful ally and an efficient Second, she represents some of the best of Cereus. Although they do not always agree perfectly on everything, he knows that she will not undermine his authority by defiance on truly important matters.
Ishana - This one is strange to him; she reminds him so much of the ones who chased after him once, years ago. He is still not quite used to being back in the city and so public a figure, so he still isn't quite sure how to take her attentions.
Lise - He looks upon her with admiration and the kind of approval that a father would a favourite daughter. She pleases him with her grace and beauty, and he feels that, like Celine, she represents Cereus admirably.
Others
Mireal - Largely blaming her actions for indirectly beginning what he felt was a decline of the Night Court, he left in disgust during a storm of controversy and was largely ignored due to the other, more sensational, news. He still holds little affection for Mireal, however. This may change, little by little, as he has learned a few things about her since.
Recent Events
- In literally the middle of the night, 8 Novembre 1185, House Cereus became vibrant with light and activity. Not only was there the return of a courtesan who had formerly departed, but that courtesan had taken the position of Dowayne. Several others came and went from the House's hospitality in the following days, including some figures of note on Mont Nuit and the city as well.
Trivia
Although it is no secret that he holds a great love for beautiful dolls, most are not aware that the dolls he has were virtually all once cracked and discarded, half-destroyed and abandoned. He takes forsaken dolls and restores them, although it takes immense time and effort, and he makes them beautiful again.
Some of the dolls are named after departed friends, out of uncommon respect for them. He believes that sometimes, he can hear the replies and sage advice of those friends. His favourite is Amarante, a doll that to him seems similar to his old friend.
Links
Coming Soon
Soundtrack
'Yumemushi' - Onmyouza
'Artemis' - KoMoToMoK
'Tsuki o Nusumu' - Hajime Chitose
'Pagan Poetry' - bjork
