Warren 'Epitaph' Kuliś

# Character Information

### Summary

Warren, more commonly known as Epitaph and subsequently Epi, is a satyr with... not a lot going on up there, it seems. Full of psalms, devotion, and how miraculously easy it is to take and take, and get into places he shouldn't be. An adept, physical infiltrator, that will be more often than not happy to help - although it may not come off that way.

### Goals

* *"It is selfish, I think, for us metahumans to strive for something other than what the Lord has planned for us..."*

## Background

*"Vicar... what does it mean when Sister Kennedy says that hurt people hurt people...? Why would... someone say that twice...?"* The satyr asked curiously, hiccuping after their words.
They had rolled onto their stomach, and had brought a deft hand up to trace little shapes onto the Vicar's chest, their palms adequately bandaged to cover up new wounds. *"Sister Kennedy's speaking out of turn, Warren."* The man very simply put, tapping the ash off of a cigarette on a little stained glass ashtray that sat on the nightstand adjacent to the pair. *"She's a bit, simple, some people would say."* He continued, cigarette smoke lilting in the air close by. *"When those of sin say hurt people hurt people, they mean to say sin is not innate."* The Vicar twisted the words easily, his other hand busy with tracing up the satyr's side affectionately. *"Oh..."* Warren remarked lightly, their gaze still lingering on the man, idly wondering if prophets were allowed to choose favourites. *"But... innate, what would that mean...?"* They continued to ask, hooves lightly kicking in the air and tangling up the sheets that they had been draped in, a spare hand gone to prop up their gentle head in rest. Warren was dangerously close to falling asleep, if it were not for that they had been blessed with conversation. *"It means that you're born with it; that it's natural."* The Vicar easily touted, *"Sin, my little lamb, is part of those we cull. God has looked down on both of us, and decided that we don't feel sin; we are not sin."* He started to preach, if only a little, he had been a couple of glasses of merlot in and didn't seek to stop anytime soon. *"You are holy and blessed, Warren, and if I'm to be candid, my favourite."* He said, an arrogant smirk plastered across his face as the satyr blushed demurely and averted their gaze. *"Our worship is most sanctified, I think."* The man continued.
That brought a little confusion to Warren, lightly pausing in their tracings although melting into the Vicar's loving grasp. *"If I am holy, then why must I repent...?"* They delicately asked, a curious question that the satyr knew they were chancing. A brief pause lightly rung out between the two, the man very easily bringing his hand with his lit cigarette to casually put out on the little cove of Warren's collarbones, much to the twisting pain of the satyr, them jolting in pain and letting out a howled cry. *"You question my methods, my teachings, little lamb."* The vicar told, discarding the cigarette end into the ashtray. The now empty hand went to trace the satyr's hip, who's head had been buried into the man's chest as they fought back tears, trying to wipe away the ash and the burn with a hand, trembling slightly. *"You are so smart, Warren, but it's so detrimental to you."* He told, more so apathetic to the squirming of the boy. *"Just because you're my favourite does not mean you're exempt. Did I not baptise you? Do remember that I am the prophet here, and to think you're close to me is nothing but delusion."* He chastised in a loose stream of consciousness, eventually giving in to the shaking and reeling pain that Warren was in to give a chaste kiss on their forehead, before letting his head lean back down onto the pillow below him. The satyr squeaked through trying to silence their crying, a bandaged palm going to wipe their eyes. *"I'm sorry..."* They easily said, and then buried closer to the man, breathing in the tobacco smell on his skin and the steady heartbeat that resonated in his chest. *"I'll repent later, please..."* They tiredly begged, a hand going shakily to hold the Vicar close and to trace his shoulder. *"Both you and Kennedy, okay?"* He agreed, hands busying with feeling Warren's skinny and emaciated frame. *"Maybe your questions will cease on Sunday. I've been wanting to give you dinner for a while, Warren, you know."* He mused out loud.
*"Yes, Vicar..."* They murmured, cold and woozy, nodding into the warmth of the man whilst their tears still flowed, before lightly leaning up to press a weak kiss against the man, drinking in the feeling of his stubble. *"I'm so sorry..."* Warren mumbled more, letting their eyelids drift closed as the heavy feeling of sleep permeated them.

## Narrative Significant Qualities

* Speed Reading - *"I like being well read, personally... somehow it all just slots in easily, haha..."*
* Weak Immune System - *"Colds are so very terrible to me, it really is a shame..."*
* Social Stress (Meeting New People) - *"Don't get me wrong...! I would be remiss to not seek out enthralling conversation... maybe later...?"*

## Affiliations

### Contacts

 Eve Nihambe | 2
 Billy McClain | 1
 Heinrich Schacht

# In Character Information

## Assensing Table

 2
 3
 4
 5+

## SINs

```
  R5 Matthew Keriell, UCAS issued.
  R5 Adept License
  R5 Driver's License
  R5 Private Detective License
  R5 Weapon License

```

## Appearance

Epitaph is of below average height at 165cm (5'5") with pale strawberry blond hair that usually manifests in bow decorated braids. His frame is small, almost scrawny, but decorated with freckles and most notably - a port wine stain on the right side of his face. The satyr's gaze is usually detached and distant, rarely giving away what is actually going on up there. He carries himself diligently and properly, and prides himself on trying to be polite.

### Clothing

Comfort is of great importance to Epitaph - usually donning knitwear with big sweaters or cardigans, alongside simple bottoms most of the time. He prides himself on his appearance, decorating his horns with bows, and usually takes the time to properly pick out garments that are both cute and pleasant.

### Matrix Persona

Epitaph's matrix persona is a simple little figure of an angel draped in cloth, with little wings and a halo that looks vaguely reminiscent of him.