I

The Beauregard family is an old one--a house as old as the nation in which it stands. Venerable, opulent, gazing proudly both up at the stars and at the general populace below. If the upper class in general thought themselves separate--or even above, the others they shared the lands with, then the Beauregard's thought themselves even a standard above. A family that made its fortune and earned its distinction through constantly producing pioneers in astronomy. Star charts, maps for navigation, scientific literature, and even art based around the hallowed stars were several forms of treasured and highly sought after items the family produced.

This brings us to the present--or, well, several decades ago. Lacrimosa is born, the oldest child in his family. Naturally, as the eldest in a lineage with a reputation to uphold, he is recognised as the next heir to carry the family name to the next generation and bear the title of Master of House Beauregard. He has two younger siblings: Marcel and Ivarine. Growing up, Lacrimosa started to be regarded as...unusual, from a very young age. Family affairs were extremely formal, his relationship with his parents and siblings could be better described as coworkers rather than a loving familial bond. Irregardless, Lacrimosa was constantly overly emotional, overly sensitive, and sought forms of entertainment and companionship constantly outside of those pre-approved by his parents. Arguments between him and the rest of his family were more frequent than not. He tried not to take it personal, nothing between him and his family ever was, but he was so starved for true connections and affection, it was hard. Thankfully, in his childhood home he had a plethora of toys (naturally, most weren't for him to actually play with), specifically, many elaborate and elegant dolls. These dolls became more his family than any living person in that house, and he spent many a night dressing and caring for them, as well as teaching himself their construction.

II

It's not exactly that he didn't fall in line with the core family tradition--far from it. Lacrimosa's love for the stars and learning his family's history and work regarding them was evident throughout his entire time growing up. He could recreate the old charts. He learned all the names. The art he produced was beautiful. He could do no wrong here, but in the eyes of his family, he could do no right. He was constantly reprimanded for daydreaming, behaving carelessly, doing as he felt whenever he felt, his dramatic and repulsive behaviour--how was this to be the son that would deliver their family to the future? Over time, Lacrimosa went from being the rising star of the family to the black sheep. Eventually, this conflict and stress started to reflect on his work and practical outputs. No longer was he making art. No longer was he useful, no more a suitable heir. In turn, Lacrimosa felt that he no longer needed his family either. If they wanted to make him out to be a disappointment, then he might as well be the biggest disappointment the name has ever seen. He was raised to never settle for less, after all

III

Barely a young man, Lacrimosa left. There was no big argument, there was no announcement. It was no one single act of bravery, he never stood up to his parents and told him what he had really been feeling. No hero moment. He had been planning for weeks prior, and finally, in the middle of the night one day, he simply left his home. He doesn't know to this day if there was ever a search for him. Perhaps they hadn't noticed, or perhaps they found his room empty the next morning and went "oh, finally". He tries not to think about it. That night stays with him regardless. He sat straddling the open window. A modest bag in hand, in contrast to the elegant and beautiful room he was leaving behind. His hands traced the astronomical clock on the walls as tears pricked at his eyes. Before he could instil any doubts in himself, he left. If he has any thoughts about his family still, it is he regrets no longer being able to be an older brother. Though he recognises that even his siblings, much more like their mother and father, did not have much respect for Lacrimosa at all.

After travelling for quite some time, he found himself in a bustling seaside city. Lush with surrounding forests, bustling with it's prime access to trade routes from the water, and most important of all--far from home. Distanced enough from other settlements as to keep it's location out of the way and hidden, but close enough that he could travel to the markets without issue, he created a home for himself deep in the woods. Being able to animate objects works great for home building, apparently. It felt empty. His childhood home felt empty--much too large and much too impersonal, but this was quite literally empty, and he was truly alone. In his bag, alongside other mementos and clothing and tools he had used for his general survival until then (and naturally...some of that old family money), he had packed some of his most cherished childhood dolls. He thought for a moment, then realised--he had to support himself somehow, and he could not stand for this house to be empty any longer. He began developing what would become his professional craft, taking it from a mere childhood fascination to the creation of a full blown workshop on the bottom floor of the cottage in the woods. In the following decades, he would hone his skills, filling his own house with dolls, taking up carpentry design, and tailoring in the process. He sought interpersonal connection and interaction as if it were an addiction, leaving his dolls, pieces of his very being, behind with whoever he could in order to bring himself closer to people. He wasn't Master Beauregard, nor did he want to be--he had to be known as Lacrimosa. Lacrimosa--the lost heir to House Beauregard, the black sheep of the family, the overly, sensitive, childish man who just truly wanted a family and a home, and was now forging his own.

IV

Nowadays, Lacrimosa is known around the city for his eccentric character, and exceptional skill. Revered by some for his seemingly supernatural talent in creating, loved by local children who he would give anything for in exchange for just a smile from, and avoided by others for his carefree, over the top demeanour. In interpersonal interactions, he always seems just a little lost in his own head. No one really seems to know where his workshop is--he changes the story each time, same with tales of his past and childhood. The truth seems to be whatever might make him or others laugh at that moment. He’s especially fond of making these stories even more over the top with acting from some of his dolls, though he wouldn’t consider himself a professional entertainer by any means, or even a good one--he’s just having fun! Come by for tea, will you?