He is a soft smile given before settling back into reading his book. Curls of ebony frame eyes of warm jade.

A muscular body divulges that he is something more than the humble scholar that he likes to present himself as. He is tall and lean. His walking is a dance, almost. He moves with confidence and the assured grace that comes with it.

His lips speak poetry in a voice somehow both husky and at the same time spun of silver. His words are carried by an accent that you are unable to place. An accent forgotten in time.

He is decorated simply. A body of dappled copper that glints in the sun. A splash of ivory upon one foreleg. Spots of white scatter themselves across his frame. His face is dipped in white with bay poking through.

Tufts of hair climb his shoulder and trail his back. It also tumbles down his chest and runs down his stomach. On his forelegs he carries heavy feather and sparsely he carries it on his rear legs.

In his habits Lovis is an odd mixture of old fashioned and modern. What he may do in one moment seems ridiculous followed by a modern expression.

He is patient without end. He is, after all, a man with all the time of the world.

Lovis enjoys being close to hubs of activity. He takes pleasure in being witness to the mundane happenings of day to day life. Despite this he is withdrawn. He tires from forming attachments to others who do answer to the peril of time. Much to his chagrin the smallest of kindnesses are enough to urge his heart to pull another close to it. So he does his best to keep others at a distance.

Lovis is protective of his people and always has an ear out for trouble. He is not one to falter in his duty to keep Delumine safe. His sense of protectiveness extends itself to belongings too. Lovis will become quite agitated if he feels as though someone is meddling with his belongings. Being a scholar at heart it is his journals and books that make up the majority of his treasured possessions. His sense of right and wrong is unwavering and is viewed in a rather black and white sense. It is a rarity for him to see anything in shades of grey.

Lovis was born to a life of tender simplicity. His home was a small, but growing, kingdom; Delumine. It had been a long time since the kingdom had known any enemies and it had slipped comfortably into being a sleepy haven for scholars. His childhood of scraped knees and elbows aged into dimly lit studious evenings. A gangly boy grew into a charming scholar.

Delumine lived so long in peace that its army had dwindled to nothing more than a ragtag group of volunteers. Lovis had joined in order to distance himself from Galene, the woman that he had realized he loved too late.

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Whenever one of her brothers, Silas, mentioned that another man was planning to soon ask for her hand Lovis had gone to her to try and win her; and both of them were swept up by the intensity of his emotion. They spent the night together. However day came once more and with it? Clarity.

Galene saw Lovis as a brother and wed the other man. The anguish of bearing witness to their union, one that he had thought would have been his own, was too much for Lovis and he left Delumine to travel.

Once seasons had passed and the wound was no longer raw, and his chest began to ache more for his home than a lost love; Lovis returned to Delumine. He had began to write to Galene, and her husband, about his travels- Lovis was able to greet them both with a smile whenever he returned. However as time passed Galene's firstborn, Cadoc, began to shed the resemblance of his 'father', when stood side by side it was he and Lovis that bore striking resemblance to one another. Whenever it began to stir gossip Lovis left again. This time to join Delumine's volunteer army. Once more through letter he kept in touch with the family.

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In the line of duty he did little more than aid in uneventful escort assignments. Time passed lazily. Lovis was delighted whenever a young man with features so similar to his own, but with the same bright eyes as Galene, sought him out for accompaniment. Lovis got to know his son. But never did he confirm to the younger man that he was his sire. Lovis would not mar Cadoc's memory of the one who had, by all actions, been a father to him. In time Cadoc stopped making excuses for needing accompaniment in his studies outside of the city's gates and left frustrated.

Not long after Cadoc left Lovis the day came where the illusion of an everlasting peace for Delumine crumbled to reveal a horrid reality. Nothing lasts for forever. Especially peace.

During what was meant to be a meeting between two rulers to assuage an ancient distrust in their peoples; tensions reached a point where soldiers snapped beneath their weight. A soldier from the other kingdom fumbled and released an arrow that struck a soldier from Lovis' kingdom in the throat. The fallen man had been one who had been well loved by his fellows. His death wrought chaos. The soldiers fell upon each other.

Those of Lovis' kingdom were woefully inexperienced. Lovis himself fell in the conflict whenever he saw that the man he fought could not be but a few years older than Cadoc. Having seen that his own son was all that Lovis could see in place of one who was in reality, a soldier seasoned with the bitter reality of what it was to be on a battlefield; and he did not hesitate to strike Lovis down. In his final moments as a mortal, through great effort and breaths ragged, Lovis hummed a song of home. A comfort for himself and his fallen friends. Formerly a favorite folk song it is not one that he has been able to bear hearing since.

For reasons unknown, Oriens had chosen the man for something more. Lovis was revived and given immortality. His god spoke to him and tasked him with being an ever living sentinel for his people. During some moments of deep quiet Lovis can still hear the voice rumbling through his being. A reminder that he does not exist for himself. It is for Delumine that he continues to draw breath.

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In times of peace he acts as a medic and scholar. But whenever the wolves and beasts of the world come snarling at the gates he is ever ready to don his armor and brandish sword again. He does not often speak of his condition. If someone specifically asks he may tell some of his story. But rare is the soul that he has bore himself bare to.