Character Information: Psychology
Jul. 1st, 2009 12:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
crisis_invertedThe "child" of two parents, one a near-immortal, sociopathic, megalomaniacal, obsessive alien and one a very human woman, repressed, loyal, cruel and detachedly curious and cold, needing approval and permission, drawn to powerful personalities, the metacrisis who calls himself Ashlar Doxon has a complicated and contradictory psyche. Pieced together from the memories of the Master and the emotional memories of Lucy Cole, he struggles with bridging the gap between his two contributing personas.
Ashlar believes himself inherently superior to anyone and everyone else on Earth—he is the pinnacle of (half-)human intelligence, attractiveness, charm, and ability. No one can touch him, and he enjoys placing himself in tense situations—standoffs and fights on the edge of breaking out—and breaking them down. He doesn't fight, not physically, and will often evade even verbal arguments, but he has the politician's—or the cultured hostess's—way of talking around difficult issues. He can make people comfortable; he can make them feel silly about behaving poorly. He knows how to flatter, and how to appear to serve while really controlling a situation and working towards his own interests.
He goes to great lengths to avoid pain and violence, but, when they find him, he enjoys them, feeding on his own fear. Pain is arousing, as is being held helpless, watching whoever's holding him captive make the choice to push ahead or to pull back and let him go. This concerns him; it conflicts with parts of his personality that tell him his person is sacrosanct, so it also has the added edge and thrill of personal taboo.
He can be reckless, but he can pull back from recklessness at any time—going from a state on the edge of hysteria to cold, impersonal detachment in the blink of an eye.
Luxury is his by right, and he claims it easily. Cleanliness is next to godliness. Everything he owns is perfect and pristine, engineered to a T, top-of-the-line, both beautiful and functional. He does not, however, care for things that are showy or ostentatious in a landed-family, old-money, leather-and-damask fashion. He takes pleasure in the new, the sharp-edged, and the streamlined—and in seeing the old burn.
Relationships are difficult for him, and he avoids forming any lasting attachments. He's drawn to people in power, particularly iconoclasts, and has formed liaisons with several of his clients—a tendency he sees as a weakness. The relationships tend to be entirely sexual; he does not invite emotional connection, and does not let these flings color his professional dealings in any way.
Victims earn his contempt. He will kill them or save them, with the former being the act he considers the greater mercy.
Ashlar believes himself inherently superior to anyone and everyone else on Earth—he is the pinnacle of (half-)human intelligence, attractiveness, charm, and ability. No one can touch him, and he enjoys placing himself in tense situations—standoffs and fights on the edge of breaking out—and breaking them down. He doesn't fight, not physically, and will often evade even verbal arguments, but he has the politician's—or the cultured hostess's—way of talking around difficult issues. He can make people comfortable; he can make them feel silly about behaving poorly. He knows how to flatter, and how to appear to serve while really controlling a situation and working towards his own interests.
He goes to great lengths to avoid pain and violence, but, when they find him, he enjoys them, feeding on his own fear. Pain is arousing, as is being held helpless, watching whoever's holding him captive make the choice to push ahead or to pull back and let him go. This concerns him; it conflicts with parts of his personality that tell him his person is sacrosanct, so it also has the added edge and thrill of personal taboo.
He can be reckless, but he can pull back from recklessness at any time—going from a state on the edge of hysteria to cold, impersonal detachment in the blink of an eye.
Luxury is his by right, and he claims it easily. Cleanliness is next to godliness. Everything he owns is perfect and pristine, engineered to a T, top-of-the-line, both beautiful and functional. He does not, however, care for things that are showy or ostentatious in a landed-family, old-money, leather-and-damask fashion. He takes pleasure in the new, the sharp-edged, and the streamlined—and in seeing the old burn.
Relationships are difficult for him, and he avoids forming any lasting attachments. He's drawn to people in power, particularly iconoclasts, and has formed liaisons with several of his clients—a tendency he sees as a weakness. The relationships tend to be entirely sexual; he does not invite emotional connection, and does not let these flings color his professional dealings in any way.
Victims earn his contempt. He will kill them or save them, with the former being the act he considers the greater mercy.
