Availability: Open!
Genre: Modern, modern fantasy, supernatural, omegaverse
Bedroom: Top
Name: Fane Claudius Vasile
Age: Deceased in 1978, aged 26
Gender: Cisgender alpha male
Nationality: Romanian
Sexuality: Bisexual, male preference
Appearance: 
Tall, broad, thin; stands at 6'2". Long blond hair, which was often rather unkempt during his life of hedonism, but as an angel is soft and attractive. Was known to occasionally sport a beard if he was feeling particularly lazy. Which was most of the time.
Is quite tattooed; full sleeve on his right arm, half on his left, 'stay free' across his knuckles. (Art similar to
this in style; imagery not the same.) Most of his tattoos - to his regret - have no meaning; a lot of them he got for fun, while high out of his mind, because they looked cool or - in the case of the image of a nun with red eyes and devil horns - because he thought they were edgy. Several of his tattoos are anti-church, anti-religion, and anti-establishment, much to his embarrassment when he woke up in the afterlife.
Biography:
Fane did not have an honorable death. He was caught up in the decade's music scene, infatuated with the lifestyle that accompanied it. There were no rules he needed to follow. He was free to make mistakes and enjoy them. He could drink from sun rise until sun down, cause havoc in the quiet city streets, and had access to as many men and women as would have him. It was a time of pure hedonism, and he reveled in it.
Though they say it is good to die doing what you love, upon his realization that he had passed away from an unintended, unaided drug overdose, Fane felt for the first time remorse. Whether it was remorse for his actions, or remorse for the fact that they caught up with him, is hard to say. His pang of remorse was only overshadowed by his complete surprise at being welcomed into the afterlife - and as an angel, no less. He learned quickly that every mortal had their chance to redeem themselves after death, and that he was no exception.
Unfortunately, what Fane did not expect was more rules.
It was a difficult adjustment to make. He had always been a bit of a rebel, even as a young child. Psychologists crooned about an absent father, a distant mother, and the pack of devious miscreants that took him in, blaming them all on his trouble with authority. Fane never thought too much about it. The cold, analyzing glance of the doctors made him uneasy, and digging into his emotions was painful. He swallowed them down his entire life, allowing a kind of sentimental bezoar to collect in his gut.
It was not to say he didn't try. He cleaned up his act quite a bit, keenly following his mentors, actively trying to learn the ways of the council. He was almost allowed the title of apprentice when his old impulsive ways caught up with him.
He broke the cardinal rule: do not interfere with fate. He became enraged with the sight of a child being abused by her father, and sent him flying across the concrete. This was how Fane became faced with the ultimate dishonor: the title of guardian.
