Xerus

Xerus has a very dapper style and prefers to keeps himself looking classy. Despite the time period, he is rarely seen without an black top hat, sleek black tailcoat, and stylish cane. He wears dark pants and and white boots, usually accompanied by matching white gloves and a formal white undershirt that peeks out from his suit in small frills. One might describe him as attractive, but it depends on their taste, really. To most, he is slightly above average in looks, but more noticeable because of his peculiar taste in clothing, which quite often sets him apart as the black sheep in a crowd. His movements are graceful and his stride is long. An empty hole has replaced his left eye, which he is careful to keep covered with his soft, thick white hair. He has many piercings on his ears, and they are lined with golden jewelry.

Xerus is, to say the least, a difficult man to get along with. His friendships and relationships are often short-lived in clouds of silver, then shattered as he plunges into the deep blue. To clarify, his manic highs draw people in, until the inevitable crash that sweeps them away like a dark tide. In order to deal with the disorder, the devil surrounds himself with hobbies to keep him grounded and above water at the same time. Interactions with people tend to trigger the changes the most, so he usually goes out of his way to avoid individuals who might irritate him, choosing to bond with his garden instead. If you catch him in a good mood, he can be a delight to know, polite and smooth with a slightly twisted sense of humor. The blue is much less enjoyable, though, and during these periods, he will become bitter, cruel, and manipulative. He finds humans disgusting and untrustworthy. Needless to say, he doesn't keep many friends, and harbors no desire to find any.

As a devil, Xerus has no memory of his birth or his childhood. He is timeless. His Awakening occurred within a feline vessel, which accompanied a dear old maid whose name he has long forgotten. Perhaps this is the root of his hatred for canines, but he couldn't tell you for sure. After the old maid had passed, he began to pass between animal vessels as he traveled the world, drawing power human malice. It wasn't long before he wandered into darkness and began to experiment in the art of manipulation. For centuries, he searched for prey amid the scum of humanity, plaguing them with misery. Hundreds of people fell by his hand, and hundreds more perished in his twisted games. As one of the most feared known devils, he relished his status and power for many lifetimes. It was a long time before he tired of his practice and finally decided to condense his power into a vessel of his own. He lived a quiet, boring life for a while before he caught word from a little hole in the wall of a mysterious place, where those who dared to venture were never heard from again. Enticed by the smell of adventure, he cashed in favors and followed verbal trails until he happened upon Havenbourne, which, for its size, was surprisingly absent from the map. Intrigued and craving entertainment, he ventured into the city...

At precisely four twenty three a.m., a lone soul stirred on the corner of Edwin Lane and Algar Street. A fitting name, one might think, for the snowy-haired individual crawling out from beneath pin-stripe flannel sheets. Rising from the bed, he lumbered through the doorway and wandered into the bathroom, where he showered quickly and went about his morning business before returning to the bedroom. He first pulled on underwear, then a white button-up and black linen pants. He slipped into a dapper black tailcoat and thin white gloves before stepping into white boots to match, planting one foot against a bookcase to support himself as he reached down to buckle them. One, two, three, four. Each buckle snapped into place through a metal clip in perfect rhythm. Shifting his weight, he lowered the now secure foot and moved to the next. One, two, three, four. Straightening, he crossed the room and traversed the hallway in long, smooth strides before pausing to glance in the mirror beside the front door. Hmm. Something missing... He took his black top hat, decorated with a couple of white flowers and a matching ribbon, from its stand next to the mirror and placed it over his hair before reaching for his curved black cane. Letting his snowy locks fall over the left side of his face, he flashed a pleasant smile to his reflection. Perfect.
Nudging open the door, he stepped into the gray dawn light, breathing in happily. As long as he kept the house locked up, it would be a splendid day. A foul stench arose from the guest bedroom, which he ignored as he closed the door behind him. He could dispose of the corpse later.