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 Year || 503
 Season || Winter
 Temp || -10℉ (-23℃) to 55℉ (12℃)
 Weather || Winter has left a blanket of pristine white snow in many parts of Novus. Only Solterra remains mostly untouched by the season's frosted hold, but even the desert may feel a cold breath of wind now and then. With Winter now settled across the continent, dreams of Spring dance in the minds of many.

Spotlight
Member: E-cho

Character: Seraphina

Pair: Moira & Asterion

Thread: Coloring outside the lines

Quote: "There is something to be said for how soothing habit could be, when one was trying to avoid words they shouldn’t say." Theodosia, Cinderblock gardens
see here for nominations


Mateo
Dawn Court Scribe


The Character


Offline

Age:5 [Year 498 Spring]
Gender: Male
Pronouns: He/Him/His
Orientation: Bisexual
Breed: Mustang Hybrid
Height:14 hh
Health: 14
Attack: 6
Experience: 11
Signos: 675 (Donate)

Joined: 12-11-2018
Last Visit: 2 hours ago
Total Posts: 50 (Find All Posts)
Total Threads: 10 (Find All Threads)

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Mateo is a very dark grey, often appearing black, pegasus with large ink-black wings and tail feathers (thanks dad) that fan out behind him. He is thin (but always ravenous), somewhat short, and decidedly handsome. Or at least cute.

At first glance all you might see is the androgyny of youth. Mane short and unkempt, legs that seemingly haven't been grown in to, and a mischievous grin that you know you probably shouldn't trust, but you do anyway. When he laughs, he does so with his whole body. His eyes light up, all squinty green, his wings fan out (not convenient in crowded rooms), and he stomps his hooves in delight.

At second glance you might notice his eyes. They are a pensive grey-green and seem to change color ever so slightly with his mood and situation. You can never tell, though, if they are really changing or if it is just a trick of the light. Despite his childlike appearance, there is something sharp and knowing in his eyes. And when he speaks in that low and musical voice, it is with a gravity that does not befit youth.

For someone with such a deep appreciation for all things beautiful, Teo is surprisingly unadorned with jewelry, accessories, or other fineries.

Other notes:
  • Unlike most Deluminians, Mateo does not often leave his country. His perfectionism drives him to believe he must know all of the Dawn court's history before setting out to immerse himself in other courts.
  • You can most often find him in the library or at the taverns- he loves books, music, and drinking
  • Mateo can sing little snippets of songs in front of an audience, as long as he feels either very secure or very drunk. He does not do full-blown performances unless it is to an empty room.
  • He is currently working on publishing a volume of original compositions
MATEO, of BLACK FEATHERS and MUSIC

Mateo's internal world is built on stories and songs. He wants to like people, and is very talented at seeing the best in others. His boyish charm, quick tongue, and willingness to please has won him many friends in Delumine. Perhaps this is best reflected in the number of nicknames he has picked up: He is Kid with his head in his cup at the taverns he looks too young to frequent, Toto to the merchants who come East across the sea and trade him stories, and Teo or Tey to most everyone else. His impeccable memory only helps him to secure friendships. Everyone loves to be remembered, and Tey never forgets a face.

The downside of wanting to like people is that in turn you want others to like you. Mateo craves approval. He is incredibly sensitive to both criticism and flattery, and will subconsciously modify his behavior and mannerisms to please others. He can be pushed very far and still want to please, but there is a limit. Once than limit is crossed, he has no qualms with making a villain out of someone- stories need antagonists, after all. Ruthlessly insulting his god or his trade is the fastest way to wound the boy past the point of forgiveness.

In matters of love, Mateo is almost always pining over someone. Usually multiple someones. He falls fast and hard and dramatically- love is a fantastic muse, after all, when history does not suffice. In the rare case where interest is reciprocated, Teo is a generous partner but can be quite smothering with his affection. Unfortunately he tends to lose interest in someone once they are attained, and sooner or later things fall apart.

Finally, it would be remiss of a narrator to speak of Teo’s personality and not mention his ambition, and his religion, and how the two go hand in hand. Mateo’s need for approval has created an intense desire for fame. He also believes that beauty is god, and that knowing something is part of what makes a thing beautiful. Although he is fond of all the gods (and not shy of currying favor with them) he is the most devout to Oriens. As a servant of god, he believes it is his responsibility to bring beauty and knowledge to this world, and to maintain and foster what beauty is already there. He justifies his desire for fame with his religious fervor- the more influence he has, the more people he can touch with God’s work.
As a child, Mateo would often start books at the end- the last paragraph, to be precise. He would then return to the start of the book and read it all the way through. He claimed it gave him a better appreciation for the details, that writing a story was like weaving a tapestry-- you had to have the final picture in mind before you began-- and that you should read a story the way you would write it. Nobody asked him what he knew about weaving.

This is Mateo's story, and in his honor we begin at the end, which is just another way of looking at a beginning:

CHAPTER 4:
Stage fright is not very becoming of a bard.

Mateo tried every trick in the book to overcome his crippling fear: picture everyone bald, close your eyes, just pretend you're alone, it's not that hard. The anxiety always won in the end, and it began to wear him down. He spent more and more time working with the scribes, transcribing old texts to be sent to libraries across the world. It was not as exciting as becoming a famed bard... but he liked the attention to detail it required, and he did love working with history texts.

"You have to know history to shape it," he told himself, and threw himself headfirst into scribing. He was the first to enter the libraries and the last to leave every day, and at night he would stay up late to write songs based on the famous people he read about. He would fall asleep with a quiet song on his lips and larger than life figures in his mind.

Mateo had resigned himself to a fate that did not involve such a bright spotlight, but that would not keep him from dreaming.

(And now we flip back to the)
PROLOGUE:
Like most stories (he would argue all of them) Mateo's begins with the strike of Cupid's arrow. His mother was, in a word, cautious. She never did anything without careful deliberation, until the circus came through and she met Mateo's father. Words were her first love in life. The troubadour with a crooked nose, he was her second.

For some time after Mateo's conception, his father stayed around. He would sing sweet songs to his lover's growing belly, and for a short time they were happy. (Mateo would later claim he remembered the sound of his father's voice, distorted by his mother's pulsing heartbeat) But he never had any intention of staying. It was nothing his mother could hold against him- she knew the man she fell in love with, at least the shape of him, and he was Benevolent through and through. When the season turned, he left with his kind.

CHAPTER 1
Mateo came earlier than expected, on a heavy morning that promised rain but never did. It was a grueling delivery that left his mother exhausted for days to come, but happy. She had a third love. He would forever be a little smaller than he should be, a little weaker, but time would prove his heart strong and his mind sharp.

From a very young age, it was clear the silver-eyed boy (or were they green? It seemed to change each day) loved music. Every day he would rise before the sun to listen to the monks pray. The morning devotions were songs without discernible words, improvised each sunrise. They would sometimes be solemn, sometimes joyful, sometimes very sad. They were always different and always beautiful. After the singing, Mateo would trot around behind the monks (his mother was usually busy doing other things, after all she still had her first love) and they would tell him stories-- some true, others questionably so. Their patience was endless, and their knowledge seemingly without end.

Although he had no father, he found himself well taken care of and adored by the monks and his mother’s scholar friends, whom he would come to think of as an extended family. It was hard not to like the boy. He was a happy and intelligent child, who took to song, history, and religion with a wide open heart.

CHAPTER 2
Shortly before his third year of life, Mateo was briefly famous. He had an incredible memory, and for 12 months he had written down the monk’s daily devotions, note for note. One day he quietly published this book of compositions, 'A Year in Prayer,' under the pen name Kid. For a while there was a wild interest in the dawn court monks and their hymns, and Mateo often heard his name, Kid, murmured in the streets. The public attention would be fleeting (the monks simply did not have enough sex appeal to stay fixated in the public eye) but the memory of it was an ember in him waiting to be fanned into a wildfire.

At the age of three, Mateo became a monk. Believing came easy to him, but singing came even easier. Other things were not so easy. His incredible memory became a problem in his history classes—he was too smart, too quick to catch contradictions between what you just said and what you said two months ago, and unafraid to call you out on them. Worse, he would then spend all night going through the historical texts so that he could prove you wrong the next morning. Mateo became obsessed with the truth in two ways: inner truth, which he considered the source of faith, and external truth, which he considered the result of everything that had happened in the world up to this very point in time. He began to push the morning devotions. He wanted more sorrow, more delight, more god in everything. The monks had mixed reactions. Most were not fond of the boy’s eagerness to change.

By the end of the year, Mateo was restless and exhausted of juggling his many desires. He wanted to make a name for himself, and he wanted to woo pretty girls with pretty songs, and he wanted to know god, and he wanted the monks to approve of him and love him. He would have to give something up, but they were all too precious to him.

CHAPTER 3
The monks harbored no ill will towards Teo when he left their ranks. He enrolled in the school of Bards, to study his father’s profession. This was displeasing to his mother, but she could not deny his passion nor his talent. He had a voice that, used the right way, could bring an audience to tears. Some people said he was born with his father's voice but oh, he really made it is own. He loved singing for others-- there was no better way to bring history to life, to celebrate his god, to change the way people felt.

As his studies progressed, a curious thing began to happen. Mateo began singing for larger and larger audiences, and he began performing worse and worse. At first it was subtle- his voice would waver on the last note, or fall just a bit sharp. These small imperfections deeply wounded his pride, and small imperfections grew larger (he would stutter on the word fe-e-eathers) and larger (he would forget some words completely) and finally one day he ran off stage in tears before he even began to sing.

For the first time in his life he was, unquestionably, a failure.
Active & Parvus Magic

An Introduction to Synesthesia
syn·es·the·sia
noun
1 : a concomitant sensation
especially: a subjective sensation or image of a sense (as of color) other than the one (as of sound) being stimulated
2 : the condition marked by the experience of such sensations
- - - -

Mateo's magic involves opening and mixing his senses. At higher tiers, he can share this effect with others, making him an illusionist of sorts-- an illusionist of the senses. Although it can be actively wielded, it tends to work passively and without his control, almost as though it has a mind or spirit of its own.

TIER I: DISCIPULI
It begins, of course, with sound. When the wind blows in the trees, the sky lights up in streaks of colors. When someone sings, the taste of blueberries fill his mouth. He hums a tune to himself and warmth runs up and down his spine. The experiences are brief, and fleeting, and feel so natural that sometimes he does not realize they are happening at all. He can summon the synesthesia with intense effort, but mostly it just comes and goes at its whim, often striking him when he is extremely focused on something.

TIER II: VEXILLUM
Mateo's synesthesia is triggered by all senses, not just sound. He now has enough control to heighten or dull its power at will. At this stage his magic reveals itself to others- when he speaks, colors dance across the room or a sensation of warmth rises from the floors. With a touch, floral smells might leak from the walls or a soft melody might fill the room. This shared synesthesia is not as dramatic as what Mateo experiences by himself, and it only lasts for a few minutes at a time if shared continuously, or up to an hour if revealed in bits and pieces- dashes of color and taste.

TIER III: PERITI
The world is a wonderland of sound and color, touch and scent and taste. It does not take much effort to sustain the synesthesia for days on end. Mateo can share his experiences with others easily and for sustained periods of time. Through song he can now actively manipulate what others experience, sending shivers down a spine or filling a mouth with the taste of rose liqueur. He can taper his magic to suit himself or others-- and he often needs to, else he or someone else fall to sensory overload.

TIER IV: DOMINUS
Mateo's magic fills his veins with sensations beyond his wildest dreams. It is no longer a thing that needs to be turned off, for he has learned to live with his magic and let it open doors he did not know were there. It can, however, be turned up-- and it often is. An entire theater can be influenced by his magic now. With a few whistled notes he can summon colors that leap and spin like a group of rainbow fish-- you might even feel on your cheeks the splash of ocean water they leave, and on your tongue the sweet brine of the sea, and in your heart the swaying of the tides.




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Miscellaneous

Ref image by Ebbarie
Mateo was joined during the November/December joining incentive. His free restricted item has not been redeemed (yet >:))


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