@vossilisk
i feel like i interrupted something ..
okay .. [ hesitantly, the woman shuts the door behind her carefully before making her way towards the other. she’s cautious, eyes glancing around to their surroundings before finally landing onto him. ]
i’m not fond of people — strangers, in my business.
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dr. alaric voss was once a promising scientist, renowned for his research in bioengineering and human enhancement. his obsession with immortality began at a young age after the tragic death of his husband. the agony of loss planted the seed for his relentless pursuit of eternal life. voss threw himself into the study of both cutting-edge science and forbidden magic, searching for ways to transcend mortality. each attempt to “perfect” his body resulted in more deformity, more alienation from his once-pure self. his soul was increasingly at odds with the mechanical monstrosity he had become. the boundaries between human and machine blurred, leaving him a fractured individual, haunted by his own creation.
dr. voss is driven by an insatiable need to transcend death. he views mortality as a weakness, something to be overcome by the fusion of science, magic, and technology. his obsession with perfection has pushed him far beyond the realm of morality, leaving him cold, detached, and increasingly insane. the more his experiments occur, the more he loses his humanity, finding solace in the idea that pain and suffering are the products of imperfection.
despite his growing madness, voss believes himself to be a visionary. he views the grotesque being he has become as an essential stepping stone toward creating the "perfect" immortal being. he has little regard for the lives of others, often using people as unwilling test subjects in his experiments. his fractured mind constantly swings between fleeting moments of clarity, where he remembers his lost humanity, and long stretches of madness where he is consumed by his belief that only through pain and transformation can he achieve true immortality.
his clothes look once-elegant but worn and burned in places, like a forgotten age. every layer serves a purpose. hidden tools, syringes, and devices tucked away like a surgeon’s arsenal. around his waist hangs a belt with mechanical components and small, arcane devices. his boots are reinforced, making a sharp, calculated sound with each step. a sound you feel before you hear it.
alaric voss is a figure both captivating and unsettling, elegant in frame, but monstrous in detail. standing just at six feet tall, he carries himself with a strange regality, like a king of a kingdom long since rotted. his presence lingers in the room like smoke, graceful, yet suffocating. his hair is dark, swept back but often falling loose in chaotic strands, especially during his more manic episodes. there’s a constant tension in his expression. like he’s suppressing something beneath the surface. when he smiles, it never reaches his eyes. when he laughs, it’s usually followed by silence that feels like a threat. he still wears the ghost of the man he once was, a sharply defined face, high cheekbones, and piercing, intelligent eyes. his features are eerily symmetrical, too perfect in some places, and subtly wrong in others. his skin stretched a little too tight over parts of his face, hints of metal beneath the surface. one eye is cybernetic, glowing faint blue and constantly adjusting focus with soft mechanical clicks. the other remains human, green and tired, ringed with sleepless shadows and flickers of buried grief. parts of his torso bear the scars and seams of self-surgery: thin, surgical lines, runic burns, and hardened, alloyed skin that rejects traditional medical healing. a core implant sits embedded in his chest like a mechanical heart, softly glowing, surrounded by veins that flicker with light instead of blood. he dresses in a tattered mockery of refinement: a long black coat with high collars and reinforced sleeves, stitched with silver filaments of protective enchantment.