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Description

Easy come, easy go, that's just how you live, oh

Take, take, take it all, but you never give

Should have known you was trouble from the first kiss

Had your eyes wide open

Why were they open?

Name: Kaleva
Age: 26
Gender: Male (but doesn't mind fluid terms and pronouns)
Orientation: Bi, with male preference
Species: Common horse x unicorn hybrid
Build: Marwari with mule features
Height: 15 hh
Coat Color: Flaxen liver chestnut roan appaloosa

Herd Affiliation: Breim, Kawaru
Rank: Citizen
Patron god: Argus

Talents: locked
Blessing: locked
Familiar: locked

APPEARANCE:
x Curly, long ears
x Long legs, slender build
x Gemstone growths and an extra eye on the forehead
x Keeps in very good shape
x Loves to change his hair dye out constantly

PERSONALITY
Insatiable. Inspired and hardworking, but defiant and bitter. Impatient and a go-getter, not afraid of dirtying his own hooves. Wants more, better, faster, always. Smart and witty but shortsighted; gratification above all. Controversial on purpose, loves attention. Quietly sensitive, needs validation - hates the part of him that yearns to please and be loved. Knows no loyalty except towards himself.

Insatiable. That’s what people call him - Kaleva is never satisfied, never pleased with what he already has. He looks to the world with a bitter, burning jealousy, and sees everything that he does not yet have.
Kaleva is a planner, a schemer, and a dreamer. He knows what he wants, and he goes for it - consequences not quite be damned, but close. The man rides on immediate gratification, on the rush of his goals being achieved, and like a junkie, always comes back for another hit - and always needs more to hit that same high again.
Too impatient to truly master longer term schemes like politics, Kaleva settles for the easier game of relationships and social influence. Sometimes, his plans are derailed by his own eagerness to see them through, but years of practice have taught Kaleva to persevere and never to give up. Exceptionally good at making the best out of bad situations, Kaleva is not discouraged by failure, but instead finds in it new opportunity.
Witty and suave, Kaleva can tell a lie, truths into existence; he will find the right time with the right things to say. When there isn’t a way, he will make one.

Kaleva doesn’t really know how to stop. He is always on the move, hustling and scheming and talking his way into new circles. It's easy for him to say he is busy - a convenient excuse to slip out of unpleasant situations or even just away from the grasp of concerned acquaintances.
He tells himself it's because he can’t afford to rest yet, can’t afford to become complacent, to lose his grasp. In truth, he is terrified of the restful silence of just being; of what he might find out about himself if he ever allows himself to just be. What feelings might surface, what masks may crack.

What Kaleva has he has earned on the sweat of his own brow. Having given up his pride long ago, he is neither vain nor delusional - Kaleva knows exactly what he is, exactly how many people he has hurt and used to get where he is today. He’s not sorry, but neither is he proud.
His long climb has made him ruthless out of necessity, and ever hungrier. As wealth has piled up, Kaleva has become increasingly aware that what he truly wants is recognition - and love.
Deep within, that little boy who bent over backwards looking for love that was never given, still exists. That part that wants to please, to make others smile, that saw people as more than props. And as much as Kaleva resents that boy, he can’t get rid of him.

Perhaps that is why he sometimes takes a moment to give, just the tiniest bit.
Perhaps that is why his smile is the realest when giving a few shards to a street urchin.

Knowing resentment to be ugly, and bitterness even uglier, Kaleva has learned to hide his feelings, his vulnerability, his quietly sensitive heart. Inside, Kaleva is angry. Angry at the Umare, the Kawaru, everyone who looked the other way when he was suffering. Angry at the world for being so cruel, the rich for not caring, the poor for being complacent. But, most of all, angry at himself, at his weakness, at all the pieces he gave away to survive.
Anger is a great motivator, but it is also a weakness, a candle burning at both ends. Barely bridled, his rage keeps him alive even as it eats away at him.

For someone who can hardly stand his own reflection, Kaleva is good at pretending he has it all together.

HISTORY
Reader discretion adviced: contains mentions of death, domestic violence and sex work
Kaleva was born as an only child to a poor Kawaru male couple, Livy and Callan. Just trying to make ends meet in the lower district of Sterling was an everyday struggle, but the two loved each other, and their child, deeply. Still, love wasn’t enough to feed you, or pay for necessities. Compounding the issue was Kaleva’s sickly disposition - a kind but fragile child, whose treatment often demanded whatever few shards the parents might otherwise have been able to save.
His parents often had to work extra shifts or some up with creative solutions to keep the family fed; some of which they were not proud of. They did their best to keep it all a secret from their son, to only let him see the smiles and success, but they were not as sneaky as they thought. From a young age, Kaleva picked up pieces of discussions, arguments, concerns. He did not understand it all - how some could live in opulence while his parents fasted so he could eat - but similar lives were all around him, and he came to see it as normal.
Soon enough, he learned a proper lesson in the unfairness of the world.

What little balance they had managed to wrestle into their lives was taken away suddenly, viciously, when Livy fell seriously ill. Kaleva was only six, but old enough to comprehend the worsening condition of his parent as Livy grew weaker day by day. Oh, it would’ve been treatable, alright - but not with the kind of money they had. So they poured money into cheap, easy solutions, things that might help, but with little to show for it.
As Livy got worse, he became bedridden. Losing one working adult was a heavy blow, stretching the finances of the family even thinner. Their ability to afford even the most basic pain medication to make Livy comfortable was limited, making the illness all the worse to watch.
It might have taken a year and a half for Livy to die, but it was a hopeless fight long before he drew his final breath.
The worst part was that Callan seemed almost relieved. Not happy - he was never the same again - but there was certainly a sense of relief in his grieving.

Kaleva felt it too, and he hated himself for it.

Callan found a new partner rather quickly - he was still young and handsome, and seemingly eager to move on, or at least pretend that he could move on.
As far as Kaleva was concerned, it was much too early for a stepdad, but he wanted his father to be happy. Self-conscious for all the grief he had caused his dad (maybe if he hadn’t been there, Livy could have been saved, maybe, maybe...), Kaleva did his best to welcome Damas into their lives.
Damas was everything Livy had not been: rich and boisterous, from a good family - and demanding. While Kaleva did his best to be a model child, Damas put no effort into being a model step-parent in return. The boy was treated as an unfortunate stowaway at best, a necessary evil that came with Damas’ new partner. While Kaleva was never abused by Damas, he never felt loved or welcomed. He was given only what he needed to live, while Damas’ own child from a previous marriage was doted on. Whatever Damas’ own child wanted, they got.
If Kaleva needed something beyond the food to keep him alive, he was told to “figure it out” or “to ask your father”. Of course Callan couldn’t provide any of the luxuries Damas could, and after a while, Kaleva could sense resentment for even asking.
He learned to be quiet, to accept his role as the unfavorite.

Kaleva wanted to think that Damas, at least, made Callan happy, even if he himself had never been more miserable and more of an outsider in his own family.
The tense arguments, unreasonable demands, cold shoulders and covered bruises on Callan’s face told him otherwise, but surely if his father chose to stay, he had to be happy.
Right?

When just being invisible wasn’t enough, Kaleva slowly turned to taking any excuse to get away from the house that was anything but a home. He’d eavesdrop on private tutoring sessions, attend night school when he could, or simply wander the streets, getting into trouble or trying to earn a few shards.
Sometimes, he’d try to run away from home, but was never successful - too easy to recognize, too bad a liar to cover his tracks, too poor to make it away from his family.
Every time, he was eventually dragged back home by some concerned citizen.
He got to hear how he was a disappointment; how he shamed Damas in the eyes of his peers. His father would cry and tell him he didn’t know where he went wrong; why Kaleva was like this.
Why couldn’t he just be normal?

Hurt and trapped in equal measure, Kaleva had no choice but to bide his time. He learned to pretend - pretend he was happy, pretend he was loved, pretend he had a purpose beyond keeping up appearances. He learned how to lie, how to assume the role of a people-pleaser, how to manipulate.
As soon as he could, he took an apprenticeship to get away from his family. Anything, anyone, would do. Kaleva spent his teens drifting between apprenticeships, never quite finding anything that fit. Nothing would hold his attention, nothing felt like a powerful enough tool to lift him out of the cesspool of misery his life had become.

Eventually, his apprenticeship options dried up, and Kaleva ended up as a performer on the streets. Although miserable at first, his appearance and natural grace, coupled with that sweet lying tongue and easy, cold smile, won him his first glimpses of true, undivided attention - even a touch of admiration.
He fed on it, hungry for more. The better he got, the more people would stop to marvel at him. Some would come see him specifically when they heard he was performing. With age and skill and confidence, those performances became more private. Kaleva had never intended to become a sex worker, but it did suit his needs.
It made him feel powerful, beautiful.
It granted him access beyond what he could ever have imagined. As a paid companion, he was welcomed in the finest rooms, ate the finest foods and tasted the best of luxury. He had the eyes of people who would never have even glanced at him; he could pour sweet nothings into their ears, and reap the benefits of their gullible affection. Kaleva felt no shame nor guilt for it, for this was what he felt deserved. For the first time, he could have all that - all that he should always have had.

It took years - countless pretty words and pretty lies, expensive gifts and favors leveraged for yet more, always more - but slowly he climbed in both status and wealth. The more he got, the more he could yet get, and it fed his ravenous appetite for recognition.
He knows his game well, the whispers and sweet nothings and discreet dealings. The games of power, the give and take of delicate social games. Always discreet, always careful, with just a touch of defiance to add to the mystery he had built around himself.
Speaking, softly, against the staleness of the old Umare, without ever dedicating himself to anything as dangerous as a true revolution.

He is on his way.
He refuses to be satisfied.

TRIVIA
x If you can imagine a hair color, Kaleva has probably tried it
x Never drinks while working, but is excellent at pretending he does if his company requires it
x Spends rather excessive amounts of time grooming himself
x His natural teke color is black, but he can make it invisible with enough focus due to lots of practice

CREDIT
Character: me
Big fullbody and headshot artwork: me
Design and small fullbody: @/queerly

Description

Easy come, easy go, that's just how you live, oh

Take, take, take it all, but you never give

Should have known you was trouble from the first kiss

Had your eyes wide open

Why were they open?

Name: Kaleva
Age: 26
Gender: Male (but doesn't mind fluid terms and pronouns)
Orientation: Bi, with male preference
Species: Common horse x unicorn hybrid
Build: Marwari with mule features
Height: 15 hh
Coat Color: Flaxen liver chestnut roan appaloosa

Herd Affiliation: Breim, Kawaru
Rank: Citizen
Patron god: Argus

Talents: locked
Blessing: locked
Familiar: locked

APPEARANCE:
x Curly, long ears
x Long legs, slender build
x Gemstone growths and an extra eye on the forehead
x Keeps in very good shape
x Loves to change his hair dye out constantly

PERSONALITY
Insatiable. Inspired and hardworking, but defiant and bitter. Impatient and a go-getter, not afraid of dirtying his own hooves. Wants more, better, faster, always. Smart and witty but shortsighted; gratification above all. Controversial on purpose, loves attention. Quietly sensitive, needs validation - hates the part of him that yearns to please and be loved. Knows no loyalty except towards himself.

Insatiable. That’s what people call him - Kaleva is never satisfied, never pleased with what he already has. He looks to the world with a bitter, burning jealousy, and sees everything that he does not yet have.
Kaleva is a planner, a schemer, and a dreamer. He knows what he wants, and he goes for it - consequences not quite be damned, but close. The man rides on immediate gratification, on the rush of his goals being achieved, and like a junkie, always comes back for another hit - and always needs more to hit that same high again.
Too impatient to truly master longer term schemes like politics, Kaleva settles for the easier game of relationships and social influence. Sometimes, his plans are derailed by his own eagerness to see them through, but years of practice have taught Kaleva to persevere and never to give up. Exceptionally good at making the best out of bad situations, Kaleva is not discouraged by failure, but instead finds in it new opportunity.
Witty and suave, Kaleva can tell a lie, truths into existence; he will find the right time with the right things to say. When there isn’t a way, he will make one.

Kaleva doesn’t really know how to stop. He is always on the move, hustling and scheming and talking his way into new circles. It's easy for him to say he is busy - a convenient excuse to slip out of unpleasant situations or even just away from the grasp of concerned acquaintances.
He tells himself it's because he can’t afford to rest yet, can’t afford to become complacent, to lose his grasp. In truth, he is terrified of the restful silence of just being; of what he might find out about himself if he ever allows himself to just be. What feelings might surface, what masks may crack.

What Kaleva has he has earned on the sweat of his own brow. Having given up his pride long ago, he is neither vain nor delusional - Kaleva knows exactly what he is, exactly how many people he has hurt and used to get where he is today. He’s not sorry, but neither is he proud.
His long climb has made him ruthless out of necessity, and ever hungrier. As wealth has piled up, Kaleva has become increasingly aware that what he truly wants is recognition - and love.
Deep within, that little boy who bent over backwards looking for love that was never given, still exists. That part that wants to please, to make others smile, that saw people as more than props. And as much as Kaleva resents that boy, he can’t get rid of him.

Perhaps that is why he sometimes takes a moment to give, just the tiniest bit.
Perhaps that is why his smile is the realest when giving a few shards to a street urchin.

Knowing resentment to be ugly, and bitterness even uglier, Kaleva has learned to hide his feelings, his vulnerability, his quietly sensitive heart. Inside, Kaleva is angry. Angry at the Umare, the Kawaru, everyone who looked the other way when he was suffering. Angry at the world for being so cruel, the rich for not caring, the poor for being complacent. But, most of all, angry at himself, at his weakness, at all the pieces he gave away to survive.
Anger is a great motivator, but it is also a weakness, a candle burning at both ends. Barely bridled, his rage keeps him alive even as it eats away at him.

For someone who can hardly stand his own reflection, Kaleva is good at pretending he has it all together.

HISTORY
Reader discretion adviced: contains mentions of death, domestic violence and sex work
Kaleva was born as an only child to a poor Kawaru male couple, Livy and Callan. Just trying to make ends meet in the lower district of Sterling was an everyday struggle, but the two loved each other, and their child, deeply. Still, love wasn’t enough to feed you, or pay for necessities. Compounding the issue was Kaleva’s sickly disposition - a kind but fragile child, whose treatment often demanded whatever few shards the parents might otherwise have been able to save.
His parents often had to work extra shifts or some up with creative solutions to keep the family fed; some of which they were not proud of. They did their best to keep it all a secret from their son, to only let him see the smiles and success, but they were not as sneaky as they thought. From a young age, Kaleva picked up pieces of discussions, arguments, concerns. He did not understand it all - how some could live in opulence while his parents fasted so he could eat - but similar lives were all around him, and he came to see it as normal.
Soon enough, he learned a proper lesson in the unfairness of the world.

What little balance they had managed to wrestle into their lives was taken away suddenly, viciously, when Livy fell seriously ill. Kaleva was only six, but old enough to comprehend the worsening condition of his parent as Livy grew weaker day by day. Oh, it would’ve been treatable, alright - but not with the kind of money they had. So they poured money into cheap, easy solutions, things that might help, but with little to show for it.
As Livy got worse, he became bedridden. Losing one working adult was a heavy blow, stretching the finances of the family even thinner. Their ability to afford even the most basic pain medication to make Livy comfortable was limited, making the illness all the worse to watch.
It might have taken a year and a half for Livy to die, but it was a hopeless fight long before he drew his final breath.
The worst part was that Callan seemed almost relieved. Not happy - he was never the same again - but there was certainly a sense of relief in his grieving.

Kaleva felt it too, and he hated himself for it.

Callan found a new partner rather quickly - he was still young and handsome, and seemingly eager to move on, or at least pretend that he could move on.
As far as Kaleva was concerned, it was much too early for a stepdad, but he wanted his father to be happy. Self-conscious for all the grief he had caused his dad (maybe if he hadn’t been there, Livy could have been saved, maybe, maybe...), Kaleva did his best to welcome Damas into their lives.
Damas was everything Livy had not been: rich and boisterous, from a good family - and demanding. While Kaleva did his best to be a model child, Damas put no effort into being a model step-parent in return. The boy was treated as an unfortunate stowaway at best, a necessary evil that came with Damas’ new partner. While Kaleva was never abused by Damas, he never felt loved or welcomed. He was given only what he needed to live, while Damas’ own child from a previous marriage was doted on. Whatever Damas’ own child wanted, they got.
If Kaleva needed something beyond the food to keep him alive, he was told to “figure it out” or “to ask your father”. Of course Callan couldn’t provide any of the luxuries Damas could, and after a while, Kaleva could sense resentment for even asking.
He learned to be quiet, to accept his role as the unfavorite.

Kaleva wanted to think that Damas, at least, made Callan happy, even if he himself had never been more miserable and more of an outsider in his own family.
The tense arguments, unreasonable demands, cold shoulders and covered bruises on Callan’s face told him otherwise, but surely if his father chose to stay, he had to be happy.
Right?

When just being invisible wasn’t enough, Kaleva slowly turned to taking any excuse to get away from the house that was anything but a home. He’d eavesdrop on private tutoring sessions, attend night school when he could, or simply wander the streets, getting into trouble or trying to earn a few shards.
Sometimes, he’d try to run away from home, but was never successful - too easy to recognize, too bad a liar to cover his tracks, too poor to make it away from his family.
Every time, he was eventually dragged back home by some concerned citizen.
He got to hear how he was a disappointment; how he shamed Damas in the eyes of his peers. His father would cry and tell him he didn’t know where he went wrong; why Kaleva was like this.
Why couldn’t he just be normal?

Hurt and trapped in equal measure, Kaleva had no choice but to bide his time. He learned to pretend - pretend he was happy, pretend he was loved, pretend he had a purpose beyond keeping up appearances. He learned how to lie, how to assume the role of a people-pleaser, how to manipulate.
As soon as he could, he took an apprenticeship to get away from his family. Anything, anyone, would do. Kaleva spent his teens drifting between apprenticeships, never quite finding anything that fit. Nothing would hold his attention, nothing felt like a powerful enough tool to lift him out of the cesspool of misery his life had become.

Eventually, his apprenticeship options dried up, and Kaleva ended up as a performer on the streets. Although miserable at first, his appearance and natural grace, coupled with that sweet lying tongue and easy, cold smile, won him his first glimpses of true, undivided attention - even a touch of admiration.
He fed on it, hungry for more. The better he got, the more people would stop to marvel at him. Some would come see him specifically when they heard he was performing. With age and skill and confidence, those performances became more private. Kaleva had never intended to become a sex worker, but it did suit his needs.
It made him feel powerful, beautiful.
It granted him access beyond what he could ever have imagined. As a paid companion, he was welcomed in the finest rooms, ate the finest foods and tasted the best of luxury. He had the eyes of people who would never have even glanced at him; he could pour sweet nothings into their ears, and reap the benefits of their gullible affection. Kaleva felt no shame nor guilt for it, for this was what he felt deserved. For the first time, he could have all that - all that he should always have had.

It took years - countless pretty words and pretty lies, expensive gifts and favors leveraged for yet more, always more - but slowly he climbed in both status and wealth. The more he got, the more he could yet get, and it fed his ravenous appetite for recognition.
He knows his game well, the whispers and sweet nothings and discreet dealings. The games of power, the give and take of delicate social games. Always discreet, always careful, with just a touch of defiance to add to the mystery he had built around himself.
Speaking, softly, against the staleness of the old Umare, without ever dedicating himself to anything as dangerous as a true revolution.

He is on his way.
He refuses to be satisfied.

TRIVIA
x If you can imagine a hair color, Kaleva has probably tried it
x Never drinks while working, but is excellent at pretending he does if his company requires it
x Spends rather excessive amounts of time grooming himself
x His natural teke color is black, but he can make it invisible with enough focus due to lots of practice

CREDIT
Character: me
Big fullbody and headshot artwork: me
Design and small fullbody: @/queerly