Viva la Vida
a rose by any other name would smell as sweet
Strikingly beautiful as all the Fairest are, Thomas has skin as pale and soft as the petals of a white tulip. His hair, though similarly soft, is rose red and as thick and twisted as the Hedge itself. His eyes are the lush green of springy grass and as sharp as the shears he once used to mangle the bushes. In his Mask, he still smells slightly floral but both his hair and eyes are muted slightly—a bit more human. He is still severe with prominent cheekbones and intense eyes, but to a lesser extent. In both forms Thomas is between 5’ 11” to 6’ tall, and is around average weight, though a bit more thin than plump.
He carries a whip called Hedge’s Tendril with him at all times, and has been known to use it when backed into a corner.
He’ll try anything once. If he likes it, he’ll do it again, but there are few things that can hold his attention. All the mistresses of intoxicants call his name, and he’s spent a night with each of them, but other than the occasional romp with Mary Jane, he’s since deserted them. Heroin holds little allure when the glimmer of Arcadia still lurks in the back of your mind.
That is what eats Thomas alive. Nothing that he could ever produce or procure will measure up. He desperately wants to return, but not as he is. He wants to return as a being that changes the landscape as he moves, instead of being changed. He wants to grow his own garden, taller than the trees, but have it know how to tend itself so that none may suffer as he did.
He knows this is fruitless, and he would rather die than rain down the wrath of the Gentry upon his community’s head, so he resists the call of Faerie.
But it does not quiet.
Once upon a time, there was a man.
There was a man, and there was the written word.
The man lost the written word.
The man broke in Arcadia while tending a garden, and became something more.
Now he pursues it once more.
He met Tox along the way, and they’ve been… close, you could say, ever since.
And don’t call him Tom.