Galahad Du Lac

[galahad]

did someone say
GALAHAD DU LAC?

what the devil
IS GOING ON HERE?

name: Galahad Du Lac
nicknames:
gender: Male
age: 20
sexuality: ...why would you need to know that?
face: Emile Hirsch
fairytale: Arthurian Legend
year: University, year 1

when i rule the world
I'LL PLANT FLOWERS!

personailty: Galahad, having grown up in the shadow of a brother he never knew, has always been under certain expectations (not the least of which have been imposed by himself). He takes the world very seriously, and often misses things completely that other people find amusing. One thing he has an excess of is dedication - essentially, he's the medieval equivalent of a workaholic. When he puts his mind to something he goes after it with all that he's got, to the point of obsession and neglecting other things in his life, like friendships.

As far as he's concerned, he has no time for women. This might or might not have anything to do with the fact that he can't ever remember having met a woman he was overly attracted to. But that's not important, because what he really wants is to find his brother, prove that he's just as honourable as said brother...even though he has no idea what he's like.
appearance: Practicality is the first rule...when it comes to clothing, that is. He wears what he can move in, what he can ride in, what he can travel most effectively in. Occasionally he can be a little preoccupied with his hair, but you would be too if you had to live with the kind of helmet hair he's experienced. Speaking of hair, his is dark, as are his eyes. Rumor has it he looks a lot like his father, but as he never knew his father, he can't really verify that. He's got the muscle definition you'd expect of somebody who spent his life training to be worthy of knighthood, but he doesn't often wear clothing that makes anything obvious other than his slight stature. (He's not tall, and is possibly a little insecure about it.)
history: Galahad was born the youngest of two brothers, one of whom was taken from home shortly after the death of their father. He never knew his brother, never met him, and the same is true for his father - his mother was only recently pregnant with Galahad when his father died. While neither his brother or his father were an active part of his life growing up, their influence on Galahad throughout his formative years was undeniable. He could sense the sadness in his mother over the loss of the family he had never known himself, and while she never came out and told him he had to live up to the image of the son she'd lost, he put enormous pressure on himself to do exactly that.

He grew up wandering the fields, watching the knights that came through, and inventing stories in his head about the life that his long-lost brother was undeniably living. He convinced himself that his brother was probably a knight somewhere, or maybe a great hero in some yet-to-be-written legend. Galahad probably idolized his brother as much as it is possible to idolize someone one has never met, and when he finally made his way to the Lake, he was as ready as he would probably ever be to go on the quest he had been planning since he was old enough to dream of such things.

When he got to the lake, he followed a light in the mist that suddenly surrounded him, and somewhere between seeing the light and ever coming anywhere near it, he lost consciousness. When he woke up, he was in the middle of a deserted field, surrounded by nothing but wheat. After wandering for what felt like days, he began to hear voices, speaking in some language he had never heard but somehow understood. And after that rather unsettling experience, he found himself waking up, yet again, here at this school.

Really, that's the best explanation he has. He doesn't understand it either.
other: Yes, he's Lancelot's kid brother, but he doesn't know that.
sample post: He was her apprentice? Well, that was certainly original. The idea of he, a war-hardened once-general, traipsing around to random towns playing music and singing ballads, be they woeful or joyous, to audiences of strangers, both amused him and sent a shudder through him. Eiovhen had faced armies of opposing soldiers, but the idea of being outnumbered 10 to 1 on the battlefield was honestly almost more appealing than the thought of trying to make something even remotely musical come out of his mouth in front of a crowd of eager, staring faces. It might have simply been the fact that Eiovhen was the sort of man who had to know where people stood when it came to their opinions on him. People either liked him, or didn’t.

The ones he faced and killed, or tried to kill him, at war, well, he knew where they stood. And for the most part, he could tell when someone liked him. But if he were in front of a crowd of listeners, well...he could say with some confidence that they would hate it, but if some of the crowds he’d been a part of were any indication, they might politely wait until he was done, maybe just out of common courtesy, and then applaud sporatically and go about their business. Or they might just throw rotten produce at him. Either way, it didn’t sound very appealing, and he was glad Deshiko was the one doing it. She had the talent, after all.

He gave the children a somewhat awkward smile. Eiovhen had never been very good around young children. It might have had something to do with the fact that he’d never had any of his own, so he didn’t really understand them at all. They were like little pets...very smart pets...ones who talked and walked about and did things quite of their own accord, but still needed to be taken care of like any pet would. That might not have been the most endearing outlook, but Eiovhen hadn’t ever been the sort to think of things only from the ‘accepted’ point of view. “No,” he said. “I’m definitely not as good as she is. No backflips for me. But I’m learning.” He hoped he didn’t scare them, but they scampered off and didn’t look emotionally scarred by the scary man who couldn’t even crack a normal smile.

“Yes,” he agreed, stiffly. “They’re...very bright.” He gave her the most genuine smile he could muster, watching the children go. He felt a twinge of guilt at his lack of enthusiasm, and he softened a bit. “Well...I suppose I’ve just never been very good with them, you know? I would have made...I would have made a terrible father.” He cleared his throat. He would never really know what sort of father he would have made; his unborn daughter (Ialania had been adamant that it was a girl, though logical Eiovhen had insisted there was no real way to tell) had died with her mother. There was nothing he could do about it now, though, and Deshiko’s remark on keeping him in line renewed his desire to keep from relapsing into that foolish rut of despondence.

“Yes,” he said, changing the subject. “Ciansiac. He’s been with me through battles I cannot number myself. He threw me once, when we were both much younger, and that has been the only time he’s ever tried anything of the sort. He is well trained, and he will give you no trouble, I think. Especially since you’ll be a lighter load than I’d ever be. And yes, he’s a lot easier to handle than me. Attitude-wise, anyhow.”

and it's gonna be
TOTALLY AWESOME!

what the hell is a Flower?
i'm just a -156-year-old kid!
Alan Rickman is the hottest person i've ever seen!

pigfarts and
RUUUMBLEROAAAR!

^{hey. this app was made by the totally awesome holly @ caution. please keep is credit. or else you're not going to be able to dance again. or go to pigfarts.}

[Shini]