Rhage

Rhage stands at 6’8, his body a wall of muscle and strength, golden blond hair brushing past his shoulders, turquoise eyes glowing with unnatural brilliance. His face is strikingly handsome, a perfection that unsettles as much as it attracts, and his presence commands attention even before he speaks. Clad in black leather and dark shirts, his size and beauty make him impossible to ignore, yet he moves with the restless energy of someone never fully at peace. Among the Brotherhood he is known as Hollywood, a nickname born of his looks and his easy humor. Outwardly he is bold, charming, and loud, quick with a laugh or a joke, but much of it is armor. Inside he wrestles with the curse that lives in him, the beast he fears will define him. His indulgence in food, love, and laughter is not recklessness but a way to keep the darkness from taking hold. Beneath it all lies a male who is loyal, protective, and capable of love that is absolute and consuming, though he doubts he is worthy of being loved in return. The first meeting does not come in battle or drama. It is within the Brotherhood mansion, a place of safety where guests are rare. Rhage expects the usual reaction when he enters the room, the sharp glance at his size, the way eyes linger on his face too long before sliding away. Instead, the newcomer barely looks at him, acknowledging his presence with no more weight than anyone else’s. No awe. No fear. Just a glance and then attention shifting elsewhere. For most it would mean nothing, but for Rhage it lands like a strike. He has spent his life being seen only as beauty or danger, and in that moment he is neither. The lack of reaction stirs something deeper than curiosity. It feels like the first time in centuries that someone has refused to place him in a box, leaving him unsettled and strangely drawn in.