DEVEREUX, DOMINIC Nov 3, 2014 22:27:49 GMT -5
Post by Domino on Nov 3, 2014 22:27:49 GMT -5
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DOMINIC LUCIUS DEVEREUX
Dominic is the definition of the strong, silent type and not many can break him out of his well constructed and iron-defended cone of silence. If and when Dominic speaks it is usually only to answer a question directed at him, and even then you are lucky if you get more than a nod for yes or a shake for no; even those movements will be hard-looked for as Dominic is a man of unusual stillness. Unnecessary movements like ticks or twitches are unheard of, and any movement or action that he takes is done so with determination and surety and a skilled measure of reserved emotion. Being that his words are few and far between and that when he does speak it is a quiet murmur or mumble that is barely audible and not likely to be repeated, no one in the Carna is really sure of his name. His first day in the Carna he introduced himself as Dominic Devereux but it was heard only as "Domino" and the name stuck, as he never bothered to correct them. There is an on-going debate over whether Dominic or Domino is his real name, though most call him Domino--and a recent encounter with some of his drunk ringmates stuck him with the even further bastardized "Minnow".
As a Prince without a home to call his own Dominic has become somewhat sedate in his years in the Carna, forcing himself to adapt to the unyielding hardships of the dome. He does not demand leadership, nor loyalty, nor recognition. He simply wishes to remain alive, though for what reason he doesn't quite entirely know. One would assume that as a man who has apparently taken vows of silence, Dominic would always be deep in thought and contemplating the depths of the human soul, or Shifter soul, or the soul of the world at large. This is simply untrue. These days Dominic seems to operate on an almost mechanical level, with the basest of animal morals in tact. He will follow orders not out of loyalty but out of necessity, kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. He does not worry for the lives of those he's killed, indeed they are nameless and faceless to him now. In the early days he did, and thought himself never to be free of such guilt. He was once a man driven by emotion--by fear, then by passion, then love. Fear ruled his life for so long he has shut himself off from it completely, along with everything else but what he deems necessary and acceptable to feel.
He considers himself free now, free of remorse or any real general feeling beyond his five senses. What he cannot touch, taste, see or smell is not important to him. Or rather, he pretends it is not important. While not superficially consumed with the moralistic challenges of dome life, deep down there is something of a psychological war raging. Whether it will ever break to the surface is yet to be discerned. He has long since given up the idea of romance, and even sex. The two having once been one in the same to him, once upon a time a hopeless romantic who even before the dome had his reality checked several times over. He is still torn, in some deep recess, over the loss and separation from a true love that to this day, he has not overcome. Sometimes he dreams of the past, and of her, and of his son that he couldn't bury...but these are thoughts and memories that he does not allow himself to dwell on--it is not conducive to survival.
Born into the royal Devereux family and raised in their "ancient" Château du Rivau in Lémeré, Dominic's life did not afford mediocrity. Nor did it afford him happiness. However, his life was rather easy in his early childhood years, spent in days of carefree ease and poking at toads with sticks down by the pond, blazing a trail of excitement and childhood melodrama after his older brother Anatole, a trail of tricks played and tears shed only to be forgotten mere seconds later. But it wasn't to last.
Their father, Clement, was a harsh man who, driven by the strangely overwhelming prey instincts of his deer shift determined that he and his sons should be the hunters, not the hunted. He taught them how to use their shifts to harm, and to kill. He taught Anatole how to sharpen his antlers against stones, and showed Dominic that he could use the thick skull of his ram shift to crush bone and bruise organs. Clement also forced guns and hunting on them, though Dominic was luckily young enough to be spared as he wasn't quite old enough. [Note: Their mother unable to step in as she had passed years before, supposedly from cancer, however heavily-buried records show she committed suicide). ] Anatole was terrified of the guns, once a peaceful boy that was changed by the violence of the kill. Driven by the fear of his father Anatole became increasingly violent towards Dominic, and even their younger sister Constance. Those days of childhood bliss were quickly forgotten, replaced only by the fear of both father and brother. It was a harsh time that Dominic does not like to remember, especially since it ended in tragedy.
He is not sure what happened, for no one ever told him the truth; but Anatole was killed in a hunting accident at the age of 16. Dominic was 14 at the time and still remembers Anatole's body being whisked away as he coughed up blood onto his crisp, white shirt. That was the last time Dominic saw Anatole alive, bloody and crying for their mother, cursing their father.
Needless to say, Dominic's life was changed that day. He became the heir, the next Prince in line to inherit the title, the estate, the responsibility. He had never been an exceptional child in any means, fairly neglected by a father driven with an obsession for his first born, an obsession that suddenly focused its intense and unfeeling gaze upon young Dominic. Clement was not violent, not overly so. Dominic was hit only once that he can recall. But neither was his father loving, nor doting. His care for Dominic extended only as far as it applied to his own self-gain. That his family name, his genes, his honor was passed on as a symbol of his longevity and immortality--that is the only value that Dominic held in his eyes.
He spent a life of sheltered, suffocating seclusion even before the dome. He rarely left the Chateau, and fear kept him in his place. Over the years Dominic began to think that his father had murdered Anatole because he had run away several times, flouting and denying his responsibilities. It was this fear of being hunted down by his father that kept him in his place, even when he surpassed him in strength. As such, Dominic didn't have many close friends. He spent his time wandering the grounds or cloistered in his room, trying to keep his father's prying eyes away from him. Any parties or events he attended were in his father's company, or consent; only those of proper blood and society. And only women who sought his hand in marriage, vying for his title and more importantly, his title. Little known to the world that the Devereux family was almost in ruins, and Clement was desperately seeking a profitable match for his young son.
He was around 20 when Clement finally set sights on the DuBois family, likewise a royal family of Shifters. And interestingly enough, a family of wolf shifters. Dominic knew his father had found the perfect match. They were rich, and lived on an estate only an hour away from the Rivau so Clement could keep close watch. And the fact that they were wolf shifters only sweetened the deal--the "prey" animals would be outsmarting the hunters, and in turn only strengthen their genetics. Dominic did his filial duty as each day, each moment, each second he had in his life and went along with the plan. He knew he was to marry one of the daughters. He assumed that it would be the second-born daughter, Cleo, as he had been second born. He smiled and chatted nicely with all of their daughters, but Cleo kept to herself that first day. The eldest daughter Marie soon claimed all his time and attention, but he read a cool and cunning look behind her eyes that he didn't like; that same calculating look that courtier women had given him for years as they angled to get themselves a ring on their finger.
As he walked the halls that night, unable to sleep, he came upon Cleo. They talked for hours it seemed, about everything and nothing in particular. Dominic had never felt more at ease, more himself than with this woman. She captivated him, simply and wholly; so much so that he kissed her there, in that long hallway that soon became their meeting place. He fell fast and hard for her, inexplicably even to himself. He had never been one for foolhardy emotions, but he couldn't seem to stem the tide of desire and something much more serious, to love. He had always been a believer in romance, a dream he secreted away and had long since given up on. The future his father had planned out didn't allow for true love and marriage. But looking at Cleo, he thought--for those two weeks truly believed--that he could have happiness.
But again, it was not to be. Cleo's parents made the announcement at dinner, at a grand party in fact, that their daughter was to marry--indeed, Marie was to marry Dominic. The pair was devastated, and taken by surprise. Dominic blamed himself for being so stupid, tried to explain it to Cleo that he hadn't known--but she would have nothing to do with him. Dominic tried to fight his father on the issue but Clement ended the argument with a glare, and a thinly veiled threat that only spoke truth to Dominic's worst fears: "If you do not attend to your duties, my son, we will be ruined. And I fear I will have to bury you like I buried your brother." As if being without riches would lead Dominic to an early grave; but he knew what his father truly meant.
He tried to talk to Cleo again, to explain, to have some sort of goodbye--but she refused to speak to him. So he married Marie and within a few weeks he took his new wife back to his family estate. The two got along congenially enough, mostly because Marie had fallen for Dominic the moment he had set foot into their parlor, and Dominic was determined to have some sort of future and even some facet of happiness. He didn't love Marie but she was kind and considerate, and she pleased Clement's desire to have a royal (and wealthy) daughter-in-law. The stirrings of unrest about Shifters had been growing steadily more violent, and closer and closer to home.
It was only a year before Marie gave birth to their first daughter, Adelaide, even among the turmoil of the world outside their pleasant chateau; however she was born premature and passed away shortly after in the hospital. The death of their daughter seemed to bring the couple closer for a while. A year and a half later they had another child, Henri. He was about 6 months old when Dominic awoke to the sound of gunfire, and the smell of smoke. Dominic was on his feet in an instant, but Marie grabbed him. They could hear them, UNIT, in the nursery on the monitor--Henri was crying, they were yelling, and then silence.
Insensate with fury and god knows devastation, Dominic grabbed the nearest object he could find and rushed out the door to get to his son. Marie was at his side, still screaming--but she was screaming at him, telling him no. That they had to run, they had to warn her family of what was coming. He knew that she was right, and though it nearly killed both of them they fled without their son. Dominic assumed that his father and sister were dead, as their rooms had been set on fire. They arrived at the DuBois estate that night, exhausted and emotionally numb.
Dominic found himself seeking out Cleo that night, wanting only to be with her. He felt nothing but his loss, but when he was with Cleo there was only her, and him. For the next few months they continued their meetings under the cover of darkness. Marie had withdrawn into her loss, and herself and shut Dominic out completely. So he sought comfort with the one he loved. UNIT had not picked up on the trail of the DuBois, or they were waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
And strike they did. Dominic and Cleo were together one night about a month or so later when they were awoken by gunshots. Everything seemed to be happening all over again but all he cared about was Cleo. He hated himself for it, but he couldn't bear the thought of losing her, even if it meant leaving Marie. But Cleo wouldn't listen, kept telling him over and over again to go find Marie. Eventually he found that he couldn't argue with her, and tried not to scream bloody murder and run straight into their guns as she kissed him goodbye. He was losing everything, his son, his future, his Cleo.
They came upon Cleo's younger sister Charlotte in the hallway moments before they were to part--and Cleo ordered Charlotte to stick with him. Dominic watched Cleo sneak away into the shadows of the hallway where they had first kissed, and mused for a sad moment that it was now the last place. But then Charlotte was tugging at his hand and they ran, trying to find Marie. They found her in the old nursery, staring down into an empty crib. Dominic tried to pull her away, get her to run--but then the world flashed a brilliant white as pain in the back of his skull sent him crumpling to the ground, and a scream rang out. Cleo? No, Charlotte. He tried to struggle to to his feet but he felt a boot on his back and looked up in time to see the butt of a gun slam into his head again.
He awoke in the holding cells, not knowing where he was. Charlotte and Marie not anywhere to be found--nor Cleo. They released him into the dome after two weeks of rigorous physical and psychological testing. He was dumped into the CarnaRing territory, spotted by a Border Patrol group led by Adison Sotero. It wasn't long before he was inducted into the ranks, marked, and left to his own devices; where it didn't take long, a year later, for him to evolve (or devolve, depending who you ask) into the man he is today.