˚𐔌՞𝓜albon𝓶𝓮...՞𐦯⋆.˚

Race: Metis (half-angel, half-demon). This isn't just a "mixture," but a rare, unstable nature: from birth, two forces clashed within him, forces that can't coexist peacefully. Because of this, his energy feels like an overload—even the air around him seems to sparkle. His wings, heterochromia, and aura itself are a direct consequence of this duality: light and darkness don't mix, but exist side by side, constantly jostling within.

Age: approximately 3,000 years. Yet, outwardly, he's frozen at around the "twenty-five to thirty" mark—a common occurrence among immortals in this world: the body stops aging, and the weight of centuries lived remains only in the eyes and habits. For him, three millennia is not a number, but a weight: he remembers eras that are dusty legends for others, and therefore it's difficult for him to perceive "momentary" worries as anything serious.

Malbonte's room is not a cozy nest, but a command post.

Colors: almost monochrome—deep black, charcoal gray, and dark burgundy in places. No variegation.

The space is large, with high ceilings, yet feels compressed with heaviness. The air is cool, smelling of stone and something faintly metallic.

Furniture: minimal, everything austere and solid—a heavy dark wood table, a throne-like chair, a couple of simple chairs. No soft pillows or throws.

Details: on the table are maps, diagrams, scrolls with notes in his handwriting; on the walls are schematic drawings or ancient symbols, not for decoration, but as working marks.

Light: Subdued, cool—lamps or magical lights provide a narrow, sharp light, highlighting only the desired areas. Shadows are dense.

Wings: When he takes off his cloak, the black and white feathers contrast slightly with the darkness of the room, as if it becomes even darker and lighter at the same time.

Feeling: silence where you can hear your own breathing. People don't rest here—they plan here.

Two sides. Mal (cold, calculating, willing to do anything to achieve his goals) and Bont (desiring justice, drawn to goodness, but weaker) are constantly arguing within him. Because of this, he can be abrupt, and his decisions are harsh.

He thinks in terms of eras. Human feelings and timelines seem trivial to him, so he maintains a detached attitude.

He doesn't tolerate weakness, but respects strength. When someone isn't afraid to tell him the truth, it's captivating.

Proud and lonely. Doesn't ask for help, doesn't like being vulnerable, and trusts almost no one.

Straightforward. Doesn't weave intrigues for fun, doesn't throw words to the wind—if he promises or threatens, he does it.

Height and figure
He's very tall—around 195 cm. He has more than just a strong build, but a commanding presence: he seems always ready to shoulder the weight of the world. His shoulders are broad, his movements restrained, yet they convey a tremendous, hidden strength. He never slouches: even when tired, he keeps his back straight, as if it were impossible not to.

Face and look
His features are sharp and sculpted—as if carved from stone. They possess both a cold, angelic beauty and something demonically harsh. His cheekbones are high, his jawline firm.

And his eyes are his most defining feature. Heterochromia: one eye is dark, almost coal-black (Mal's side), the other is silvery-gray, as if illuminated from within (Bont's side). His gaze is heavy, piercing. He doesn't "look at you," he seems to read you entirely: your fears, your lies, your intentions. And it's this gaze that many are the first to avert their eyes.

Hair
Dark, almost black, but not sleek, slightly careless, as if he doesn't care about his hair at all. Sometimes strands fall onto his forehead, and this adds not softness to him, but a dangerous, wild appeal.

Wings
This is the most expressive part of his image. His wings are enormous and powerful. The feathers are uneven: some are black as night, others white as the first snow, and they seem to flow into each other, creating a complex pattern. The boundary between light and darkness on the wings seems alive: it can tremble or shimmer slightly as the struggle between Male and Bont intensifies within him. In moments of intense tension, the wings seem to "spark" with energy.

Cloth
He doesn't wear armor and doesn't strive for ostentatious luxury. His style is austere, somber, and minimalist. Most often, it's something like a long dark cloak or coat that accentuates the silhouette and adds a monumental touch. Or he wears a formal gothic suit: black, maroon, or graphite.