~Lysander~

Name:
Lysander (Latin for 'One Who is Free')


Gender:
Male


Age:
58 years old


Race:
Elf


Physical Description:
Pale, long shaggy silver hair (rare in an elf), amber eyes, tends to wear a red tunic and black pants


Personality:
Has multiple personality disorder. As personality 1, which is the personality he has most of the time, he is quiet and withdrawn most of the time, has a lot to say about something he's passionate about. As a private tutor, he only wants what's best for his students, and is happy to help them to succeed in the way that he feels is best for them, despite what their parents may think of him. Being as quiet and withdrawn as he is, people he cares about are often offended by his lack of communication, believing that he doesn't want anything to do with them. He always tries to hold back his second personality, which is dark and full of rage over the loss of his parents when he was 4. This personality is hateful and psychotic.


Story:
Childhood
Lysander looked up as the knock sounded loudly on the door, giving his mother an uncertain look as she gave him a light kiss on the forehead before she went to answer it. There was a man there. Lysander didn't recognise him, but there was something about him that he didn't trust. He didn't like this man. He looked at his mother, silently pleading her with his eyes to send this man away. She seemed uncomfortable about something as she crouched down in front of him, brushing a loose strand of his long silver hair behind his pointed ear lovingly.
"Go and wait outside, Lysander." She told him quietly.
He gave her an uncertain look as he picked up his teddy bear and got to his feet, but he had only taken a few steps towards the back door when the strange man's voice cut through the air like steel, rooting him to the ground.
"Tell your boy to stay." He told her. "He should see what happens to someone like you, Felicity."
"No! Please!" His mother begged, the desperation in her voice almost breaking Lysander's heart. "He's only four, he doesn't need to see this!"
"Four's the perfect age to start learning." The man replied, gesturing to some men who had come in behind him. "Make sure he's paying attention."
Lysander struggled weakly as one of the men grabbed him roughly and sat him down on the floor, holding his head in place so that he could look nowhere else than at his mother.
"Let him go!" She begged them angrily, but they just laughed at her.
As the man took hold of his mother and held her against him tightly, ignoring her shouts and her screams, Lysander could feel the tears running down his cheeks. He shut his eyes tightly to block out the images as the man did what he did to her, but he couldn't block out her anguished screams, which tore through his head like wildfire, tearing through the fabric of his mind as if it were nothing more than paper.
It felt like hours later that his mother's screams finally stopped, reduced to a low sobbing, and Lysander dared to open his eyes. His mother was lying naked and broken on the floor, shaking with silent sobs, as the older elf straightened behind her.
"Let's hope you've learned your lesson." He spat at the young boy as he kicked her. "That way you won't end up like your good-for-nothing mother." He smirked. "Just another dead dog on the highway."
Lysander's eyes widened and he couldn't even make himself look away as the knife was plunged through his mother's breast, and he could see the light leave her eyes as she died. Somehow some small part of him knew that she was never going to be there to kiss him goodnight again. He couldn't hold back the tears now. They flowed freely from his amber eyes as he shook with loud sobs that seemed to catch in the air. Nobody could hear him. Nobody cared. None of the men around him even seemed a little guilty about what they had done.
There was a loud bang in the open doorway and everyone looked round. The axe that had fallen from his father's hand had made a large dent in the wooden floor as the elf stared at them.
"What did you do?" He asked them angrily, his voice low and dangerous, his eyes fixed on his mate's body on the ground between them. "What did you do?!"
Lysander shuddered. He'd been in trouble with his father before. He knew his father's voice when he was angry, but he had never known his father's voice like this. It made him want to run and hide in a ditch somewhere miles away until he was absolutely certain that the storm had passed.
However, the man seemed oblivious to this.
"We just had a debt to collect from your wife." He said cheerfully. "We'll leave you to clean up the mess."
Lysander was scared by the hate and fury that flashed in his father's eyes, and clearly the strange elves were intimidated by him as well, because the man grabbed him, ignoring his screams, and held the bloody knife to his throat as he glared with panic-stricken eyes at his father.
"Let us go." He told him. "Else we'll kill your son."
Doubt and uncertainty crossed his father's gaze for only a moment before he stepped out of the way, giving them access to the open door. The man nodded to him gratefully as he took a few hesitant steps towards him.
"Don't follow us." He told him. "You can pick up your boy under the old oak in an hour, so long as you wait here."
He stepped out into the sunlight and suddenly the world was tilting as he was thrown back by a punch the other elf threw at him. His grip on Lysander loosened and his father's strong arms wrapped around him, dragging him back into the house, back towards his mother. But then the ground was slamming into him from behind and his father's heavy body was pinning him down. He heard the other elves laugh but then they were gone.

Teenage Years:
"Lysander?"
Lysander looked up and smiled at Minasdes as she approached, tilting his head at her. She was hesitant as she sat down next to him on the edge of the fountain, playing with her hands on her lap and refusing to look at him. His smile faded.
"What's wrong?" He asked her uncertainly.
She hesitated before she spoke.
"I need to talk to you about something." She told him, sighing. He gave her an encouraging smile as he took her hand. Finally she raised her head to look him in the eye, if only for a moment before a blush coloured her cheeks and she looked away. "Do you love me?"
His eyes widened for a moment as what she was saying sunk in.
"Why do you ask that?" He asked her, slightly uncomfortable. "Of course I love you. You know that."
Her brow furrowed as she looked away.
"You have a strange way of showing it." She commented.
He gave her a desperate look.
"What do you mean?" He asked her. "I don't understand..."
"You're so withdrawn all the time!" She snapped at him suddenly, making him jump. "Why won't you talk to me? Don't you want to be with me? You never even smile!"
Lysander was shocked, staring at her with wide eyes. Why was she saying this? Despite what she seemed to think, he did have feelings.
"I can't..." He swallowed and started again, trying to make his voice sound as sincere as possible. "Minasdes, I love you. I do want to be with you."
But she shook her head.
"It's too late now." She said quietly, and his eyes widened so much that they hurt.
"What?" He asked, "What do you mean, it's too late? It's not too late, Minasdes, we can work this out!"
She shook her head and for a moment he thought she might be crying, but when she raised her head to look at him he saw no hint of sadness in her eyes or on her face.
"It's too late, Lysander." She told him. "You've lost me."
He watched her as she stood up and walked away, his breathing speeding up to the point that he worried he was hyperventilating. She'd left him? But why?
Sharp pangs of pain shot through his head and he cried out as he felt the thing inside of him trying to push through. He couldn't... he needed some time to himself for a while. But not here. He stood up and hurried through the village before coming to a stop a little way into the forest. When he was sure there was no one around that could see or hear him, no matter how loud he was, he allowed himself to fall to his knees, letting out a scream of pain as he let it out.

Adulthood:
Lysander took an uncertain step towards the younger blonde elf. Her breathing was slow and deep and steady, her face hidden by her arms as she slept. He took another step towards her and gently nudged her.
"Guinevere?" He asked uncertainly. She didn't move, so he nudged her again, a little bit harder. "Guinevere?"
She woke with a start, and he took a surprised step backwards.
"What happened?" She asked him tiredly.
He tilted his head.
"You fell asleep." He told her, turning away to gather up his books and papers. "Go home, Guinevere. You need to get some rest."
"It's okay, I can continue." The girl said quickly.
He turned around to face her again, searching her face.
"Guinevere, healing magic takes up a lot of energy." He reminded her. Again. "You're falling asleep because you've used up too much. That'll never do you any good in a real battle. If you try to heal somebody when you're this low on energy you'll only do them and yourself more harm than good."
She nodded uncertainly, but he could tell that something was going on with her even before she raised her head to look at him.
"I don't want to go home yet."
His brow furrowed in worry as he looked at her uncertainly.
"Guinevere, is everything okay at home?" He asked her worriedly. "If something's wrong I can help you."
But she shook her head. He was about to say something more but then a door slammed somewhere outside the small classroom they were in, and suddenly Guinevere's mother stormed in, followed by Glander, the head of the school, who was looking nervous. Vanya didn't stop or even slow down as she came into the room, but pulled her arm back to punch Lysander. His eyes widened and he ducked out of the way, eying her uncertainly as she let out a cry of frustration.
"Mum!" Guinevere said uncertainly, "What are you doing?"
"What the hell kind of Private Tutor are you?!" Her mum demanded of him. "You didn't enter her in the fighter exams?!"
Lysander sighed and shook his head.
"No." He replied, ignoring the looks he was getting from Guinevere and Glander. "I didn't enter her in the fighter exams."
Glander had a clipboard in his hands and he consulted this while Vanya panted, cooling off.
"You entered her in the healing exams?" The older elf seemed shocked by this as Lysander nodded.
Vanya stared at the silver-haired elf.
"Why did you do that?" She demanded. "I hired you to help her succeed in the fighter exams."
Lysander shook his head.
"She's failing the exam on the grounds that she isn't willing to kill another living creature." He reminded them. "That;s not going to change. She has a better chance of succeeding as a healer."
It took a little while, but finally they managed to convince Vanya to back off. She left in a huff and Glander followed after her uncertainly.
"Are you all right?" Lysander asked Guinevere when the door had shut behind him. He pulled a small bottle out of his pocket as he sat down on his desk, shaking a couple of the tiny pills out and swallowing them.
She nodded and raised her head to look him in the eye.
"Thankyou."


Other:
-Lysander doesn't like his 2nd personality and spends a lot of his energy to keep it contained. This results in severe headaches and he goes through three bottles of headache pills on most days.