Arrik Parsa
My Sweet Prince
Name: Arrik Parsa
Species: Nagai
Age: 23
Sex: Male
Height: 5' 10”
Weight: 127lbs
Eyes: Grey
Hair: Black
Skin: Pale
Force Sensitive: Yes
[+] I'll Be Yours - As per his duplicitous profession, Arrik possesses a silver tongue more than fit for purpose. His learned charisma combined with an innate connection to the Force and his methodical study of his victims ensures that he wields words to his benefit in almost all circumstances. Alongside his acquired talents, Parsa's species are known for their natural charisma due to their enhanced vocal range and ability to manipulate their voices.
[+] Devil in the Details - Another part of the profession, Arrik holds a keen eye for the finer details and a remarkable memory. Often involving himself in plentiful layers of deceit, the young man wouldn't survive long without his skills in perception, foresight and recollection.
[+] Sleeping With Ghosts - The final favour of his lifestyle is born out of a need to avoid retribution for all of those he has wronged and robbed; this, of course, is his connection to the underworld. More specifically the realm of black markets, forgeries and slicers who, in order, would sell any stolen valuables on his behalf, help change his identity and then scrub all mention of the previous identity from the holonet.
[+] Plasticine - As is standard in Nagai physiology, Arrik cuts a lithe figure and is incredibly dextrous; make of that what you will.
[-] Nancy Boy - However, beyond carnal pleasures, Arrik is not at all a trained combatant, so while he might be agile and flexible the Nagai is also frail and useless in terms of physically defending himself.
[-] Black Market Blood - A connoisseur of some of the more forbidden things in life, Arrik is a habitual spice user and while he may convincingly claim to himself and others that he is no addict, words sometimes mean very little.
Arrik Parsa is both a creature of grace and beauty.
A far cry from the galactic standard of hulking, chiselled behemoths with instant five o'clock shadows he stands on the opposite end of attractiveness. He is a delicate creation; unashamedly elegant in every aspect of his face. Soft and inviting eyes and lips are complemented by high cheekbones and a clearly defined yet not overbearing jawline.
His body is typical in Nagai construction; lean and angular. Although it is not unworked sinew, and there are deliberate traces of definition in muscles. He would absolutely not look out of place upon a Tionese runway.
This is all painted by flawless alabaster, flesh seemingly untouched by sunlight and without a single blemish. The pale of his skin starkly contrasts with the rich, black of his thick hair and eyebrows. The contrast of light and dark upon him is truly chiaroscuro at work.
Yet there is a coldness to his beauty, a clinical whisper that suggests that not all of Arrik's features are natural.
Arrik Parsa, to put it bluntly, is a creature that makes you question nature versus nurture. Are some people born terrible? Or were they raised to be such?
Vain, facetious, selfish, ambitious and lacking any degree of compassion or care to others, his personality sits in direct opposition to his outer beauty. One could go so far as to say that the young man's insides are completely rotten and that his heart is hollow.
The man spends his days under false pretences, assuming fabricated identities to deceive vulnerable women and swindle them out of their valuables. He cares not for the consequences or the people he leaves behind when he moves onto the next mark, all Arrik cares about is the profit, and to a smaller extent all the lavish attention that is so often gifted to him by his prey.
What perhaps makes it all so abhorrent is that Parsa understands what an emotionally attractive person is, often assuming the guise of an empathetic soul, attentive listener and generous lover yet he does not strive to improve his actual self in any of those aspects.
No, he adores who he is underneath it all.
If Arrik Parsa's early years had to be summed up, it could only be done with one word:
Spoiled.
An only child to a single mother upon that might as well have been called doormat instead of mum, his childhood lacked discipline. From a very young age, the boy knew that he could get what he wanted when he wanted it.
From a selfish, tantrum-prone child was born a manipulative, narcissistic teenager. One would think that this would have made him an unpopular boy, but with innate charisma and through the experience of pulling his own mother's strings he quickly learned to do the same with his peers, not that he cared much for them, or at all.
Believing himself to be above education, Arrik did not apply himself in school, even though he was rather intelligent. His mother dared not to push her darling boy to apply himself and his teachers were some of the few who saw him for the cretin he was. His lack of self-application led to the young man coasting through the curriculum without care. Of course, that was a mistake, as the real world often didn't provide proper jobs to those who didn't apply themselves.
What should have been a reality check instead became a minor roadblock and once he was out of the education system it was simply a matter of finding something suited to his talents of persuasion.
Having grown from a thin boy into a graceful man, he knew that he had the aptitude and the face to be able to profit from the gullibility of others. Scam artistry was his calling, but to satisfy his ego it had to be in a manner that suited his high self-opinion.
The opportunity lay in the realm of the lonely and the vulnerable.
A galaxy so constantly at war was a galaxy of opportunity and Arrik fully utilised his inherent physical magnetism and honed (yet false) personal charm to target isolated victims of near-constant galactic warfare.
The widows.
He would attend glamorous gatherings of high-society elites, his physical beauty allowing him entry into gilded halls and granting the young man opportunity to feast on an endless menu of galas and soirees. Parsa would lurk at the fringes of gossip and conversation, picking up valuable snippets of information on which silk-stocking would best unfurl and fill his pocket.
Some jobs were quick, one night of dizzying excess and a morning after with no trace of Arrik nor the family heirlooms but others were long. Months-long tristes that involved the alienation of friends and the exploitation of a lavish, hedonistic lifestyle that showered him in gifts but ultimately ended the same way, with the man gone and the valuables with him.
He relied on their guilt and shame to keep the word of his crimes out of the news.
With each mark conquered he moved on to a different planet, his identity changed and his past indiscretions erased as much as credits would allow. Then the process would begin again, a new feast of blue-blooded opulence awaiting his callous and empty greed.
Eventually, arrogance came to call...
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