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This is OOC information.
Information detailed here is for OOC uses only.

Full name Fenton C. Godfrey
Date of Birth June 26, 2513
Parents Banning Godfrey, Sponsor
Siblings None
Spouse Aubrey Everson
Assignment Companion, House Madrassa
Specialization Cello, Mysticism
Gender Male
Eyes and Hair Blue eyes, black hair.
Height and Weight 5'11", 165lbs
Status Active
Education Information
  • House Madrassa, Sihnon
Military Service



Fenton appears young. Baby faced, in fact, if it weren't for the strong line of his jaw. No wrinkles are to be seen, nor abuse of skin from too much sun. Privileged, one could say, down to the careful manicure of his fingernails and smooth cuticles. His hair is kept long on top, carefully coiffed with a bit of fragrant wax so that it looks perfectly unkempt. The dark black locks are clipped on the side, neatly up around the ears and tidy at the back of his neck. Contrary to the perpetual smudge of ebony lashes, his eyes are a crystalline shade of blue flecked with soft grey and each seemingly stamped with a dark ring of the latter around each iris. His mouth is full and generous, his most expressive feature besides the wide expanse of his hands. His only constant jewelry lies in the fact that both his ears have small gauges in each, allowing additional earrings to be looped through at his will.

Broad in shoulder and narrow in waist, Fenton's clothes seem tailored to him. A violet paisley ascot is worn in the open neckline of his white shirt, the cuffs of which are rolled stylishly to the elbows and neatly fitted beneath a grey three-button vest. His trousers have delicate pleats at the hip, the waistline of the pinstripe fabric high to his ribcage as must be the fashion in some portion of the 'Verse. Black shoes are tapered but end in a blunted point, the heels capped in silver.


History is written by the victor, so my story may never be told. Surely I've lived a life of privilege, the man who sponsored me seeing a spark in my young eyes. I was raised to believe my parents had given me over to his lordship so that I would have a better life. Placed in the guild at a tender age because I showed promise. My delicate hands could draw the bow of a cello, dexterous enough to fool keen eyes with the illusion of parlor tricks and yet strong enough to be a lover's hands. I was trained well. I have loved well. But now something darker grows in my soul, and it's become the biggest illusion I've had to master yet: not letting it show.

But let me take you back first, for what is a story without a beginning? I wasn’t truly aware - that is until recently - of life that transpired before I was living with Banning Godfrey. Now I only can conjure scraps of life with a dark haired woman who laughed easily and that of a strong-fisted man who smelled always of dust. I think our house was small but joyful, and I remember there being perpetual nightfall. How my parents knew Banning I will never know the truth of it, but I gathered he and my father were friends through trade.

Maybe it was guilt that had Banning scuttling me away from the mining planet and securing me away in his home, but as a young boy I never knew the difference. I was loved. I was nurtured. The tradesman raised me as his own, giving me the finest education even if it was on his own knee or bent over it. Dinner was conducted in French, the ancient Latin language spoken between our eggs at breakfast. I had a knack for it, he said, a brain like a sponge. He used to make make my spoon bend and then disappear at high tea, but even those secrets I learned how to do. When I had surpassed knowledge he could easily teach, he took me to visit with the priestess at House Madrassa. She took a liking to me, and I to her, and I suppose some contract was struck between she and my foster father for at the tender age of thirteen, I was to begin my schooling as a Companion.

While schooling at the guild was rigorous, I enjoyed my work there. There isn’t another opportunity out there like that in the entire ‘Verse. I could polish my languages, my penchant for mysticism was embraced as an art, and learned to play the cello and make the strings weep with my bow. When I was eighteen, I finally had the blessings to take on my first client. I think I was shaking when I poured her a drink, but she smiled and my nerves eased and as they say: that was that.

Heavy - Who Needs The Sunshine

Got goose-flesh
Got butterflies
Got a temperature you're gonna feel on the rise
I make a good man
Like a bad son
Like a daddy that you call number one
I see the this big heart
Like a big steak
Making your love make me feel the lick
So when the clouds come
Back waiting room
Ain't ashamed if I don't see no sun because

Who needs the sunshine when you're here?
When you carry the sunshine with you

Don't need no big drink
Or cigarette
I got more than I need to complete the set
Make picturesque
On warm breast
Hitting hard cause mind don't need no rest
But get me medicine
In shape of your something
Whatever fetish I decide myself to cast you in
So when the storm breaks
I leave the headache
To walk alone in the cloud for my own sake

But who needs the sunshine when you're here?
Who needs the sunshine when you're here?
When you carry the sunshine all alone with you

You've got to let me know
You've got to let me know why
All alone with you