Asphodel Tseskh is a slight 'dragon, hardly 5'8 and a meagre 106 pounds. His body is wiry and supple like a willow switch, and when he moves, he glides as if on oiled caster wheels. There is something beguiling about his face--the pale moon-glow of his narrow eyes, the gleam of tooth through half-smiling lips. He is small but finely made.
A sharp dresser, Asphodel has amassed a wardrobe of sleek vests, prim collared shirts, well-cut jackets, and fitted slacks. Everything is made of dark, rich fabrics; everything is custom-tailored.
The apparent opulence of tailoring is, in fact, a necessity; Asphodel Tseskh has four arms. A mutation owing to his Lukuo genes, the extra limbs have proven to be an asset to the 'dragon in his professional life but rather a hindrance to him personally. At the slab, a corpse before him, countless polished instruments arrayed for his use, Asphodel can make his limbs work the wonders of a two-'dragon team. These hands cut, and these hands cradle; these hands sew, and these hands wash.
But in day-to-day activity, the mutant arms are not so beneficial. Certain bigoted 'dragons mock him, reminding him that his imperfect body is a physical manifestation of something flawed within him--genes, soul, or whatever else, Asphodel neither knows nor cares to think on it too long. When Asphodel is faced by a living, breathing 'dragon, the arms are not assets but great sodden lumps of flesh that mark him as Lukuo.
One can only hear the words "filthy mutant" so many times before one begins to believe it, but he hides his self-loathing well. Professionally, he is courteous and remarkably empathetic--his own internalized sorrows give him an instant bond with the mourners who bring him their dead. In the outside world too, he is capable of maintaining the smooth face he wears in his funeral home. Regardless of the names he is called and the occasional physical abuses he endures, he does not let slip his true unhappiness.
Aside from the accursed extra arms, he is quite average in appearance. His stature is slight, his body narrow. He possesses some strength from hoisting corpses around his facilities, but one wouldn't know from looking at his scrawny limbs. When dressed in full formal regalia, Asphodel doesn't appear quite so petite as he does nude, but he is still clearly smaller than the average 'dragon.
His fur, a bright, burnished orange, fades to cream around his muzzle and underbelly. Like an earth-fox, his limbs darken to grey toward the ends, and his tail is bushy, short, with a small orange flame almost invisible amongst the fur. During winter months, he appears to bulk up slightly, but it is simply an illusion created by his thickening winter coat.
Asphodel's ears are quite tall, tufted at the end with dark fur. He wears a silk top hat between them. Beneath the brim, engulfed in shadow, his bright grey eyes glimmer, wet and shiny. Their paleness can be unnerving at times, but he tries to compensate for this--and for all of his physical shortcomings--with a soft, warm demeanor.
History:
Asphodel doesn't like to speak of his past. It was a bit tumultuous, as pasts tend to be.
Only his mother's side of the family shows Lukuo blood; particularly, one of his mother's cousins, who lived with his parents for a time, has an extra pair of arms. After Asphodel was born, his cousin moved away and his parents moved to separate bedrooms. His father was a spiteful man, and one of his only joys in life was bringing Asphodel misery. It was never more than words--name-calling, reminders that his genes were flawed, that he was different--but it made Asphodel into the arden he is today.
That is to say, it made Asphodel deeply self-loathing.
