Character Description for Artwork: Storm

Storm's Pinterest Board

Lights The Storm Peltier, the son of a Crow/French Canadian trapper and a full-blooded Crow woman, is an extravagantly handsome man by anyone’s standards. I don't state his age, but it's understood that he's fairly young, in his early to mid twenties.  He is not a big man, but he is well proportioned, broad shouldered, and gracefully slender.  His skin is beardless and dusky, with sculpted cheekbones, and a straight, fine nose. He has snapping black eyes and an expressive, sensuous mouth.  His hair is straight and smooth, streaming in a straight blue-black fall nearly to his waist, and adorned with a small hawk feather tied into it and hanging down. 

He wears a choker of white hairpipe and black crowbeads.

Other than the native choker and the hawk feather, he pretty much wears regular work clothing like the rest of the crew...workshirts, trousers, and boots, keeping in mind this is a period piece set in 1860. Also, I should mention that it is a pet peeve of mine that I absolutely cannot stand men's pants tucked into their boots. So please depict pant legs outside boots and not tucked in.

Here's a description of him as an army scout, if you opt to portray him that way:

A man was approaching on horseback, his appaloosa mount sauntering unhurriedly towards her. He wore an outdated blue army coat, casually unbuttoned in the front and in stark, rumpled contrast to the eclectic mix of native and civilian dress that comprised the rest of his attire. Fringed buckskins covered his legs and a loose fitting linen shirt peeked out of his coat. An unbleached muslin sash was tied in a band over his brow and his long black hair, otherwise unbound and stirring in the breeze, was adorned with a feather.

 general descriptions from the story:

Lily began to open her mouth to ask, when the door swung open yet again and a strikingly beautiful young man, with Native features and a jet-black braid hanging to his waist, hurried in. Lily’s eyebrows shot skyward in surprise as Fiona pressed the coffee into one brown hand and the wrapped bread into the other.
“Thank you, Fiona.” He said softly, smiling, then regarded Lily. “You’re Miss McMillian.”
“Yes. You’re Mr. Peltier.”
“Yes.” Dimples appeared in his cheeks. “But to you I’m Storm. Sorry, I have to….” He started towards the door, gesturing apologetically.
“I know.” Fiona said, shooing at him to hurry. “Ride safe.”
He gave Fiona a glance as he hurried back out, an enigmatic whisper of a smile playing across his sculpted features.

She looked hard at the young man sitting on the edge of the sofa, a dusky shadow in the dim light of the fireplace embers. His skin was almost bronze in this light, his hair a lightless midnight shroud. White hairpipe and silver pony beads gleamed at his throat. It was his strangeness that had first drawn her to him, and it was also what had kept her at a distance

No comments: