Looks expose privilege: there's never been a hard day of life, or at least as far as the eyes can see. Thin skin, and a honey-coloured coat is particularly void of imperfections, if you care to ignore the hard lines that have began to outline intense, dark blue eyes. It's not uncommon to catch them pursed by the force of emotion; someone as flamboyant as himself would never dare to hide the truth. The only thing that sets all of this off is the distinct scent of soot that rests deep in your nostrils. A closer inspection will come to tell that the ends of his mane are burnt, dark brown curls having fallen to some misfortune. Oh well.

It'd be a bit lacking to not describe him with the proper words, though: pretty, feminine, and most importantly, extravagant. Genetics have cared to bless him by with the better of his parents, escaping his father's brutish base to grow to in his mother's delicate mold. A petite head dips into a minor dish, small ears cradled to the front and back by two sets of horns: one pair to the front, crawling upwards and along the base of each ear, and the second rising from the forehead, their bases hidden beneath a mess of hair. Their points rise, and lay back towards the base of his skull. Upon closer inspection, intricate carvings have been made into the pecan-coloured bones.

The shell in which he has been encased within is nothing to be pleased with, seeing as his parents never complimented each other with their physiques. He'll never make it to be tall, instead left to be a compact creature who has is likely to have better curvature to his figure than muscle. Nonetheless, he works to pride himself with what he has. There is no overabundance of strength, only enough carried so that when great, feathered wings are brought upwards in a display of grandeur, that there isn't a sign of ribs to sully his perfection.

Speaking of which, our golden son wouldn't be complete without his great assest. Accounting for the majority of his mass, a pair of avian wings offer him an opportunity to make up for what is lost in sheer brutishness and height. He'll throw about in an attempt at presence, and move about his body as he speaks and acts in the same fashion that one might speak with their hands.

For a final touch, Abbat carries himself upon cloven hooves, and balances himself out with a long, leonine tail. If you're lucky enough to catch him at a time of leisure, you might be surprised to find that the whole length of it is covered in short curls, as he loathes caring for it and typically styles it into a tight braid along the entire length, leaving behind only a small tuff of hair and curls.

Having left behind the comfort of home, we'll find that Abbat is a bit reclusive these days. It does nothing to hinder him from the antics that he's come to be known by, but this time around, he is indeed more cautious.

Truth be told though, without the constant adoration of his people, and those that followed behind him, a loneliness has crept in that has lead him to be more... I guess 'friendly,' though that isn't exactly the best word to describe it. It's more of toleration, an extra step of acceptance to draw those in so that the vacancy in his life is swallowed up by something. Don't be fooled, or do so, if you want to be, as there is no assurance that you won't be the next to be personally stabbed in the back. Loyalty has never been a thing that's crossed his mind; he only knows it to himself. The only one that he should have to choose to care for is himself, the only success that he should be seeing is his own. He's been known to keep company purely for his own pleasure, and that is actually, the whole reason for his displays of extravagance, and any flirtation.