About
๐ดโ๐ดโ๐จโ ๐ฉโ๐ฎโ๐ธโ๐จโ๐ฑโ๐ฆโ๐ฎโ๐ฒโ๐ชโ๐ทโ:
This is intended to be a role play account. A majority of interactions will be in character. Any interactions played out in character will be considered as a canon part of Asher's story.
Asher and I are not one in the same. Please do not confuse the two.
โงยฐใ โเผบโฑเผปโใ ยฐโง
๐๐๐ฆ๐: Asher Vale
๐๐ข๐๐ค๐ง๐๐ฆ๐: Ash
๐๐๐ง๐๐๐ซ: Male
๐๐๐ฑ๐ฎ๐๐ฅ๐ข๐ญ๐ฒ: Pansexual
๐๐ ๐: Unknown
๐๐ฉ๐๐๐ข๐๐ฌ: Devil
๐๐ข๐จ๐ ๐ซ๐๐ฉ๐ก๐ฒ:
Long before he bore the name Asher, he walked the world as William Godwin, heir to a merchant dynasty drenched in silk and silver. Born between the dying breaths of the Middle Ages and the cruel dawn of the Renaissance, he was carved from privilege - golden coin in one hand, a goblet of sin in the other.
A charmer. A dealmaker. A boy born with the world already half-bought.
William trafficked in the rare and the forbidden, sailing across storm-bitten waters to bring back relics and riches. He drank deep from the chalice of life - wine, women, and the roar of laughter echoing through candlelit halls. But such joy is never more than borrowed. The Black Plague came like a whisper in the dark - and what it didnโt devour outright, it hollowed out slowly.
His clients died coughing in their silks. And then...
Genevieve. His twin. His mirror. The best of him.
He watched the light drain from her eyes one twitch at a time, powerless. Helpless. Useless. And when his family's flesh began to rot, the boy who once bartered gems and spices now begged for miracles, clawing through scrolls, bones, and dead menโs secrets for a cure that did not exist.
Until he found the island.
Uncharted. Unnamed. A whisper on a drunken cartographerโs lips.
There, among gnarled trees and skies that wept black rain, he found it. A creature carved from shadow and teeth, wearing a shape almost human, and a smile far too wide. It spoke like a poet. It bargained like a god. And William, broken and bleeding with grief, gave it everything it asked.
His soul. His name. His bloodline.
In return, the creature breathed life back into Genevieve, cured his parents, and bathed his household in gold once more. But the price was not so simple, nor so swift. Genevieve disappeared shortly thereafter.
For centuries, William Godwin endured torment beneath the earth - skin peeled, mind flayed, identity stripped- until only Asher remained: a Devil not born, but forged. A weapon in service to the ancient, smiling god who broke him.
Now, in the bowels of the modern world, Asher walks unseen, hunting whispers, exorcising truths buried under centuries of lies. Each step he takes is a rebellion wrapped in servitude, a curse in search of meaning.
And deep in the marrow of his being, one question burns:
What became of Genevieve after the devil's kiss?
โงยฐใ โเผบโฑเผปโใ ยฐโง
This is intended to be a role play account. A majority of interactions will be in character. Any interactions played out in character will be considered as a canon part of Asher's story.
Asher and I are not one in the same. Please do not confuse the two.
โงยฐใ โเผบโฑเผปโใ ยฐโง
๐๐๐ฆ๐: Asher Vale
๐๐ข๐๐ค๐ง๐๐ฆ๐: Ash
๐๐๐ง๐๐๐ซ: Male
๐๐๐ฑ๐ฎ๐๐ฅ๐ข๐ญ๐ฒ: Pansexual
๐๐ ๐: Unknown
๐๐ฉ๐๐๐ข๐๐ฌ: Devil
๐๐ข๐จ๐ ๐ซ๐๐ฉ๐ก๐ฒ:
Long before he bore the name Asher, he walked the world as William Godwin, heir to a merchant dynasty drenched in silk and silver. Born between the dying breaths of the Middle Ages and the cruel dawn of the Renaissance, he was carved from privilege - golden coin in one hand, a goblet of sin in the other.
A charmer. A dealmaker. A boy born with the world already half-bought.
William trafficked in the rare and the forbidden, sailing across storm-bitten waters to bring back relics and riches. He drank deep from the chalice of life - wine, women, and the roar of laughter echoing through candlelit halls. But such joy is never more than borrowed. The Black Plague came like a whisper in the dark - and what it didnโt devour outright, it hollowed out slowly.
His clients died coughing in their silks. And then...
Genevieve. His twin. His mirror. The best of him.
He watched the light drain from her eyes one twitch at a time, powerless. Helpless. Useless. And when his family's flesh began to rot, the boy who once bartered gems and spices now begged for miracles, clawing through scrolls, bones, and dead menโs secrets for a cure that did not exist.
Until he found the island.
Uncharted. Unnamed. A whisper on a drunken cartographerโs lips.
There, among gnarled trees and skies that wept black rain, he found it. A creature carved from shadow and teeth, wearing a shape almost human, and a smile far too wide. It spoke like a poet. It bargained like a god. And William, broken and bleeding with grief, gave it everything it asked.
His soul. His name. His bloodline.
In return, the creature breathed life back into Genevieve, cured his parents, and bathed his household in gold once more. But the price was not so simple, nor so swift. Genevieve disappeared shortly thereafter.
For centuries, William Godwin endured torment beneath the earth - skin peeled, mind flayed, identity stripped- until only Asher remained: a Devil not born, but forged. A weapon in service to the ancient, smiling god who broke him.
Now, in the bowels of the modern world, Asher walks unseen, hunting whispers, exorcising truths buried under centuries of lies. Each step he takes is a rebellion wrapped in servitude, a curse in search of meaning.
And deep in the marrow of his being, one question burns:
What became of Genevieve after the devil's kiss?
โงยฐใ โเผบโฑเผปโใ ยฐโง