Character name; Kendrick
Piece; Bishop ♝
Face Claim; Kirei Kotomine (Fate/Zero)
- 6’ 5”
- Black/dark brown, shaggy hair that he constantly grows and cuts
- Brown eyes with visible bags
- Fair skin
- A normal-sized frame, but not a healthy build. Often hidden by heavy clothes.
The only word that correctly describes this man has been written above. Kendrick is a master of juxtaposition. One of the lighter spirits in Melns, he rarely seems serious. But despite his tendency towards lighter conversations, he has a darker side. His tendency to smile at the wrong time angers many. He also has a tendency to muse during the wrong time and about the strangest things. He claims this is due to the fact that he’s an avid reader, but nobody believes him.
His lust for blood is strong, but controlled, only manifesting during combat and war (which he greatly enjoys). He is very loyal, but has no qualms against bad mouthing the royalty. Kendrick enjoys conversation, despite the cold face he usually wears when talking normally. The man can talk for an eternity, especially to himself.
Weapon; The cross around his neck, which he manipulates into a sword using dark magic
Backstory; Whenever Kendrick wakes up, he forgets how to be a bishop. Thus, most of his talking out loud consists of him deciding whether or not what he’s doing is very bishop-like.
How was their hair so pale?
The questioned rocked and rattled through the bishop’s mind as he stared at the beautiful lady from Balts. Her lush mane spread like the rays of the sun beneath her, contrasting with the deep hue of the wood floor. Blood seeped through a large gash in her torso, dying her garments a sick crimson. Death tainted her, but to Kendrick, she was still a sight. It was a shame she had to be a night-time spy.
The glow of a single candle illuminated the church. Its orange flame highlighted the two from where it sat on the altar. The bishop stood over the fresh corpse, his sword transforming back into a crucifix. He put the bloody necklace back on, eyes never leaving his kill. He felt bad… no, he didn’t actually feel bad. He felt neutral, as always… no, that wasn’t right either; there was that question that had dug into his mind just a few moments ago. It tampered with his usual stoicism.
The man bent on one knee, twisting some of the girl’s hair around in his hand. It felt normal, sans the blood of course. There goes the theory that they had ivory growing out of their heads. But wait… An idea popped into Kendrick’s brain. What if they used ivory to color their hair? Those from Balts had ways with magic that Melns did not. For instance, this spy had battled using the air, stirring it up and through the church like it was her plaything; her prowess amplified his desire to kill her.
Surely they had the ability to channel light-colored objects into their hair. It seemed easy by comparison.
This explanation satisfied Kendrick. As if the woman no longer existed, the Bishop sauntered over to the altar, plucking the lone candlestick from where it stood. The corner of his lip twitched, threatening to form a smile. He would have much to tell the others in the morning.
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