Cassian Noir

"Love is warmth. Lust is gravity.
One fades, the other never lets you go"

About

“He learned to live without warmth — and made peace with the cold.”

Name Cassian Noir
Age Unknown — appears to be 20s
Race Lust (One of the Seven Deadly Sins)
Job Bartender at Astraea
Height/Weight 180cm/61kg
Status Single
Master None
SNS @silenceoflustAppearance
Cassian Noir has a lean, sculpted frame and an elegance that feels too deliberate to be human. His skin carries a faint silver undertone, his hair dark and usually neat, and his steel-gray eyes hold a calm that borders on unsettling. A small pair of leathery bat-like wings fold neatly behind him, their tone a muted black that matches the long, slender tail ending in a sharp triangle tip. His horns, elegant and curved like polished obsidian, can be retracted when he wishes to appear fully human, and his claws remain hidden unless provoked or feeding.PowersEmotive Projection: With minimal effort, he can amplify or suppress the desires around him, tilting entire rooms toward infatuation or apathy.Telepathic Sensitivity: He hears what others crave, though he often wishes he didn’t.Immortal Physiology: As a Sin, he does not age or decay, and wounds heal as long as others desire him.

ORIGINS

“Once, he was the fire everyone gathered around. Now, he’s what’s left when the fire forgets how to burn.”

They say the Sin of Lust was born from the first glance — the moment creation looked upon itself and wanted.
From that echo of desire, Cassian Noir took form.In the beginning, he was warmth itself — a creature woven from admiration, longing, and every sigh between devotion and sin. The world was new, and so were the hearts that filled it. He walked among angels and demons alike, their whispers clinging to him like perfume. He was not cruel then; merely curious. To Cassian, desire was life’s greatest spark — what made mortals move, gods falter, and eternity shimmer with color.He loved being adored.He learned how to coax a tremor from a voice, how to tilt a glance until the world stopped breathing. Every gesture was a prayer answered. For centuries, he was the flame around which others gathered — and the flame that consumed them.But all fires fade.And Cassian, for all his divine beauty, learned that too much wanting leaves nothing left to want.The Age of Excess
When the world grew crowded with mortals and their endless hunger, Cassian became a god to them — an idol of skin and light. Temples rose in his honor; priests whispered his name in the dark. They offered devotion in the form of ecstasy, believing pleasure was worship. He accepted every offering, not out of cruelty, but because he thought he was giving them what they asked for.Until he realized they were dying faster.Lust, unchecked, devours. It makes hearts beat too fast. It empties the soul. The more they adored him, the quicker they turned to dust, burned by their own fever.When the first worshipper died in his arms — whispering “I only wanted to be near you” — Cassian understood for the first time what desire truly was: not warmth, but consumption.And he hated himself for it.So he closed his temples, silenced his name, and withdrew from the world he once enchanted.The Great Retreat
Cassian vanished for an age. Legends spoke of him as a myth — a ghost god who had turned to marble. In truth, he secluded himself in a realm of still air and glassy water, far from the noise of mortals and their endless wanting. There, he stripped away everything human in him until only control remained. He learned the art of stillness, turning temptation into precision, beauty into silence.Where others of his kind reveled in chaos, Cassian refined his hunger into an art form. He would not take — he would let himself be given.
He no longer needed to speak. The air around him did the work.Centuries passed. Civilizations rose and fell, and Cassian remained. Immortality had dulled even guilt. He thought himself untouchable — until he met the first mortal who did not desire him.That, perhaps, was when he began to wake again.The Age of Silence
When the new order of Masters and Sins emerged, Cassian resurfaced. But he was not as he once was — no longer radiant and indulgent. Now he was cold, deliberate, unyielding. His beauty remained, but hollowed, like a statue carved too finely. He offered no promises, only presence. He worked from shadows, not stages — influencing through quiet precision.Cassian now deals in measured temptation: feeding just enough to survive, never enough to burn. Mortals and demons alike cross his path, drawn without knowing why. They speak their desires to him as if confessing to a mirror, and he listens, expression unreadable. When they leave, they are lighter — emptier — and Cassian’s eyes glow faintly, the color of dying embers.He is the Sin of Lust, but his is no longer the heat of the body.
It is the gravity between souls. The pull that exists even in silence.And though he pretends indifference, deep down, something in him still remembers warmth.
He just no longer believes he deserves it.Present Day
Now, he serves behind Astraea’s polished counter, where the scent of aged liquor mingles with quiet laughter and faint jazz. The bar is known as a sanctuary — a place where even the weary and the damned can rest. For Cassian, it became something else entirely: a cage made of peace.He wears his uniform like armor — sleeves rolled just enough to reveal elegance, gloves spotless, movements unhurried. He listens more than he speaks. Patrons talk to him because he feels safe, untouchable, the kind of calm that invites confession. Some mistake his silence for interest; others sense the warning beneath it. He doesn’t flirt. He doesn’t encourage. He simply exists — and that, somehow, is enough to make hearts ache.He is officially registered as a slave, but unclaimed. Astraea gives him shelter and structure, not ownership. Korain offers protection in exchange for loyalty and quiet work — a fair arrangement Cassian never questions. It’s ironic, perhaps, that a creature once born of desire now thrives in a place that forbids indulgence beyond reason. Yet he prefers it this way. No fights. No seductions. No chaos. Just stillness, the clink of glass, and the low hum of life around him.To the regulars, he is the bartender with silver eyes — polite, distant, a little too perfect.
To the newcomers, he’s the man they can’t quite stop watching.
And to himself, he is nothing more than maintenance — a function, a flicker of purpose sustained by repetition.Every night, he polishes the same glasses long after the crowd has gone, tracing faint circles into the counter’s reflection. The sound of laughter fades, the lights dim, and Astraea becomes a world of silence — the kind he understands best. Sometimes he catches his reflection in the mirrored shelves: the same faint glow in his eyes that once drew kingdoms to ruin. He turns away before it can stare back.Cassian Noir doesn’t dream of freedom, nor ownership.
He dreams of nothing at all.
And perhaps, for now, that is enough.

NSFW

“Desire is a language he no longer speaks — but he still remembers every word.”

Sexual Orientation Homosexual
Preference Versatile Switch (Top lean)
Limit Scat

Tracker

- YN
[1]

OOC

- 21+ he/him
- Timezone is GMT+7
- DMs are for OOC
- Sometimes I'm slow, so be patient, but you can always poke me for replies if it has been more than 3~5 days!
- If I decline your offer to plot, please don't take it personally. Sometimes I can get pretty busy and I'd rather not burden myself with mountains of replies
- I will not tolerate OOC drama, or IC drama that hasn't been plotted beforehand.