✧ Klaus ✧

An established artist in the kingdom of Eliar, Klaus is a relatively prominent figure and a man commonly mentioned in between royal folk's chatter. His stone and glass sculptures were known to charm many, with his keen eye for detail and perfection being constantly desired.
Despite mingling around these types of crowds a lot, Klaus was never really a person who liked talking much, always preferring quiet surroundings that wouldn't bother him and his work. He keeps himself busy almost at all times - He knows that if he leaves his thoughts unattended for too long, his mind will inevitably push him to a point of pessimism and possibly total reclusion.
. . .
Klaus was both blessed and damned. Born with the traits of a blessed Ragyael, he and his younger brother were magic prodigies, capable to use magic so effortlessly and in a way that everyone knew - They were meant to serve the kingdom as Chasseurs.
In his younger years, his brother, Modeus, looked up to him more than anybody else. Klaus taught him everything he knew at the time when it came to magic, always in full support of his brother and for any and all achievements he'd accomplish, regardless of age.
When his illness took hold of him, he suddenly was no longer able to use his magic despite having the blessed traits, as it would drain him to the point of unconsciousness. These traits that were once looked at with pride, were now becoming his own undoing, his shame forming when he was already so young. He had dropped out of the academy he was initially in, locking himself away from everyone for many years, instead having private instructors and staying indoors for the majority of his younger years.

He'd continue to punish himself for any mistake he'd make in whatever task he'd attempt to accomplish, any skill he'd attempt to learn. Failures were no longer an option for him - He was a disgrace to his own family, and to his people. Because of this, he'd focus on his art endeavors instead, losing himself fully to it and letting it guide him and his life, and it became the only source of comfort for him when even his precious brother couldn't be that for him.

Despite it all, he continued to do his best to be a rock for his brother when he needed him, even as they grew up and even as they slowly were becoming more and more separated. His struggles stayed, for the most part, in his mind, externalizing it only when no one else was around.

The illness shows itself over time more prominently, and it is slow as it is ugly. It eats at his muscle and bone, it prevents him from being able to walk properly, having to help himself with a cane that would eventually become an elbow crutch instead. It placed him in a position of pity, and it all continues to hurt.

Almost every part of him is dying, he knows this. His family knows this. He's falling apart at the seams, yet he cannot allow himself to simply stay still or to lay down. Every year that goes by, his health declines further and the symptoms become more apparent, but his art instead grows all the more beautiful. Perhaps it is his way of saying "thank you", for keeping his inner flame still alive - A slave devoted to the arts and its sentiment.