Whisper
 |
Name: Whisper Age: Adult Gender: Faggy Species: Fairy Occupation: Muse Favorite Color: Corpse-blue Favorite Food: Rotten mulch Likes: Ugly things, Cold and wet sensations Dislikes: Bright lighting, Dry weather, "Unappetizing" mortals Best Traits: Makes a lot of people very happy Worst Traits: Callous, Selfish, Overall aura of unpleasantness |
"Go on, I can keep a secret."
Appearance
Whisper has a lean, "twink-ish" body. Not particularly short or tall, but with noticeably long and dextrous fingers. His whole body is really very flexible. Most often he is seen in head-to-toe latex, but when his skin is visible it is completely hairless. It is a cool translucent gray through which purple veins can be seen, and it becomes a little flaky when dry.
Most people struggle to describe his face. In a world of animal-headed people, the closest reference for something like him would be Roswell aliens, with their pointed chins and rounded craniums.
Those who catch a glimpse instead tend to recount the most striking details. His horns of silver, asymmetrical but neatly ordered in their diagonal curve. His eyes, large and white, which on closer inspection are patterned like the compound eyes of an insect. And his dark, wet mouth, bare and gummy, 'til it erupts with tiny needle-like teeth.
Ugly Appetite
Whisper feeds on dark urges and erotic nightmares. The shivering, churning fumes found where disgust and arousal meet. He loves masturbation-addicts, fetishists, and other perverts, he especially loves the ones that feel all alone in this world. This love he feels is the love that worms feel for rotten fruits, or that a vulture feels for raw intestines.
Rarely, he encounters someone truly nasty. Sickos who need help, but aren't seeking it. So they just keep destroying and defiling (if not themselves, then others). If he's feeling peckish enough, and greedy enough, he almost can't help himself. He wants them to himself. He lets his fae magics ooze into every part of them, traps them in his own corner of the Otherworld. Subjected to rhapsodic torment, a state of ecstasy that threatens to stretch on without end, his prey is either left a hollow shell, or literally frightened to death.
He doesn't do this thinking it's the right thing to do. He's just hungry.
More often, he feeds in a more sustainable way. He maintains friendships with mortals, giving them an outlet for their fantasies and sexual impulses. Artists of a certain sort tend to be drawn to him, and either consciously or unconsciously create works in tribute to him. Club- and concert-goers experience nights they never forget, but think they must've dreamt up.
If he were a nastier, hungrier creature, he might be a true menace to society. Giving people something to be afraid of, rather than finding those who are already afraid of themselves. But no, Whisper is quite content and care-free. He's so relaxed, in fact, that when they aren't encroaching on his "feeding grounds", he's the sort of fairy that gets along with the Risen Dead. Perhaps that's mostly because they're hardly nastier than he is.
Cross-compatability
The first concept of Whisper came about during a Nosferatu playthrough of VtM: Bloodlines, and he became a richer and more coherent character when placed in the context of Changeling: the Dreaming. He can easily be placed back into the World of Darkness as an Unseelie Sluagh.
Connections
Luna — "Hehe."
Gabriel — "Dirty boy. I can smell it on you."