wake up.
morning set in motion, for me.

this is a carrd dedicated to my (cis, gay) oc and all his pre-planned variants therein. if you like the vibe of a fandom-oriented one but want to play in an original world, i can make changes so he'll fit in.

clear cut.
put on the emotion, guaranteed.

• modern
• dark urge
• little red
• tarnished
• credits
• samples

I could be a friend, or I could be a foe.

You make the decision, and that's all I know.

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I could be a woman, I could be a man,

he stands at 4'11" and 115 lbs, though with some subtle lean muscle, with calloused hands from hard work and string instruments. in terms of shape, he's triangular, almost veering into hourglass.aesthetically, here's a pin board.personality: dante is friendly enough, but he doesn't go out of his way to socialize, generally preferring to keep to himself. there's often a quiet, somber air to him, and as much as he loves his family, he craves something else. anything else. he's a curious sort, too, and it isn't uncommon to veer off the path to his mothers cottage if something catches his eye.

Look into the mirror, tell me what I am.

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Oh, I could be a difference, I could be the same

for elden ring.
general info: a sorcerer and Tarnished, died beyond the bounds of his homeland and returned to it afterwords. blessed by grace, he is burdened with claiming the elden throne and bringing order back to the lands between.appearance: dante is a mix of irish, scottish, and british, fair skinned and green eyed. his hair dis naturally white, often braided, and it falls to the middle of his back. otherwise, he has pin straight hair around the top of his head that gradually becomes curly the lower it goes.he cuts a very slight figure, standing at 4'11" and 100 lbs. the former due to genetics, and the latter because of the worlds harsh conditions.he originally wore the robes that signify an astrologer, but later found the carian knight armor depicted above.personality: friendly but wary. his trust is hard won but easily broken, and he isn't the forgiving sort. he doesn't have a taste for violence, but he'll never hesitate to run through anyone if he thinks them an obstacle. righteous as it is, he deeply resents the burden he carries, and holds onto hope for a better way to restore his home.

Try to give me meaning, it's a losing game

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below are a few replies i have done for dante specifically! if you guess what the last one is from you get one william dollars haha okIt's the exact same as every other Sunday.Dante wakes up, gets dressed, and quickly leaves for the woods with all the food he can carry in his basket. He's on the trail as swift as can be without compromising his appearance, the little town behind him gradually fading from view as he walks deep into the forest.It used to be a frightening, if necessary, journey. Over the years, Dante can say his apprehension towards the woods has lessened considerably. Enough so that he's hardly paying attention to his surroundings, the routine so ingrained that he could probably make the trip in his sleep. Perhaps he should be more cautious, but it’s been a little over a decade without incident. As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing to fear.He hums under his breath, an old little tune he only half remembers from his mother, who in turn probably doesn't remember it all either, ever… occupied as she is.The man flinches some at the thought. Seeing her never gets easier, and he’s grown to find the journey tedious. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, this selfishness, but doesn’t he make the trip time and time again anyway? Does it cancel out?It wouldn’t be the first time he’s mulled it over, each time he walks down to the cottage. Despite that, he’s yet to settle on an answer. Then, once he’s sufficiently berated himself or justified his thoughts, they drift elsewhere. Blissfully, foolishly unaware of the world around him. It’s almost arrogant, in a way.-----------------Dante idly pets Torrent as they trot along the outskirts of the woods, other hand covering the large scratch marks on his side. They're bleeding sluggishly, and honestly, he doesn't feel like he can justify using a flask to heal the wounds. It's not that bad, really. He'll heal up just fine when he finds another site of Grace. Or dies. Whichever comes first, really.He'd come pretty damn close to the latter, he thinks somewhat bitterly. The man’s fingers leave his steed to worry at the tears marring his robe. Evidence of a near miss that could have been fatal. If he'd known there were horrific beasts speckled all over the woods, he would have delayed coming this way.Alas, the Greater Will only blessed him with immortality and not foresight. Rather stingy, in his opinion, but beggars can’t be choosers. (Not that he wanted this in the first place, but…)And then, up ahead, he sees a shack. Even better, he sees the enticing glow of Grace. Judging from past experience, this probably won't result in him being attacked and perhaps murdered. Not that any of it really matters in the end, but he can still feel pain, and he'd rather avoid that as much as possible. …Most of the time. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and so on.Dante slides off of Torrent when the house is only several feet away, giving him a goodbye pat before the beast disappears into mist. He won't attune to the Grace just yet, in the event that whoever may or may not be inside is actively hostile. If he does die, he'd rather not reform right in front of them."Anybody home?" He calls, though not loud enough for his voice to carry through the woods and garner unwanted attention. Stepping closer to the house, he amends his question. "Anybody who won’t try to kill me home?"-----------------There isn't a reliable way to keep track of time in the fabricated world. Dante tried, many times, but it never really worked. Seconds or minutes or hours or days or months or years or decades slip through his fingers like sand, and he has no way to know the specifics of how long he's been here.But it feels like a lifetime. Or enough that real world memories are becoming murkier and murkier, vague shapes instead of.. well, memories. Needless to say, he does not want to be here any longer. So when he catches word that there are new arrivals? ..He doesn't like the idea of killing anyone (again,) but if the alternative is eternity here?Dante swallows his guilt.If he's being honest with himself, he actually hadn't planned for a situation like this. His stitched together plan is formed as he's running across the gallery to the nearest visitor. It's terribly easy to die in this place. If neither of them do so on the way.. he just has to buy time until they're near the exit. And then. Then.Let's not get ahead of ourselves, he thinks, shaking off the sudden wave of emotion. There's every possibility things don't work out, and he's had his hopes dashed before.Still..<>Dante is gingerly handing the redhead his newly revitalized rose back, acutely aware of the fact that he lacks one. He's not sure how to explain that. Maybe he could play it for sympathy, if asked?"-and, um, here. I guess you don't need me to tell you how important that is to keep close. Just, er.. be careful?" His voice sounds strange to his own ears. He doesn't remember the last time he talked to anyone, or.. at all. "I almost didn't get it back in time."He clenches the knife in his hand, the blade (and part of the bottom of his skirt) stained with red paint. The Lady Gazing at Emptiness wasn't cooperative. He wonders, distantly, if there will be any repercussions for that.

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