Benvolio Montag [D1]

Upon a face of faded bronze, coloured with care and pampered through extravagance, breathes two eyes of blue, their colours stolen from a distant sea to wash and swirl beneath feathered strands of lashes thick and short. Naturally square and thick to see a jaw of rock provides the foundation for cheeks dirty brown and shaped through sharp genetics. Within their protection a detested nose sprouts itself, spread at its tip and thin in its spout the appeal of its disproportionate size proves to be a misfortunate inheritance, its striking shape however quaintly suited to such a prominent jaw. Subtle stubble distinguishes a solid chin and lines the curve of that distinguished jawline, its length stretching to provide a faint upper-line to accentuate flushing full lips, that appear occasionally a little to feminine for the boy’s taste. Naturally arched brows, earthly in their effective colour, seem always thoughtful, calculative and soft. A side-swept fringe is constantly fiddled with, forever being pushed into place and styled to remain still, the golden strands tinted with sandy shades, his yellowed hair without challenge his most prized possession and treasured trait, often used to disguise rather large ears beneath its favoured mass.

Wealthy enough to survive and thrive comfortably without so much as lifting a finger, constant free-time provides endless hours for training. Though in the bold-shouldered District one boy training doesn’t revolve around weaponry but centers solely around hand-to-hand combat and a various varied degree of mixed martial arts. This physically challenging lifestyle has sculpted a muscled physique, bulging shoulders clash with exercised biceps, while striking obliques amplify the definition probing a trained abdomen. Standing comfortably at 5’10 Benvolio is neither the tallest nor the shortest person in his circle of acquaintances and he doesn’t much care for his height, its importance to him being next to nothing.

Sweet by nature, honest lips protect a sincere tongue, the truth so often found between charming cheeks with words laced in velvet, soft and consoling to the ear. Of course his truthfulness isn’t always appreciated and can often cause unnecessary conflict that could have been otherwise avoided with a little white lie or passing comment, however Benvolio isn’t the type to hold back his opinion to spare feelings that will no doubt recover after getting over the initial injury. Indifferent to most conflicts, the soft-eyed sandy-haired boy often remains neutral in all arguments both concerning his friends and his family, finding confrontation pointless and a waste of perfectly good oxygen, which is awfully ironic due to his families outstanding circumstances.

Charming and somewhat suave, Benvolio has the capability when it takes his fancy to be smooth, complimentary and utterly dashing. Talented with words the teenager never finds himself struggling to construct a sentence in the presence of anyone or awkwardly tripping over his vocabulary in some flustered haste. Some label him silver-tongued and often misjudge at the least or misinterpret his intentions, finding his character a little too questionable due to the sometimes vague statements that pass his lips or the questionable half-smile often cheekily embedded into the corner of his upturned mouth.

Easy-going and tender-hearted Benvolio isn’t the type to hold grudges despite the circumstance or the situation, preferring not to dwell on things not worth the time or hassle of excess thought. Rarely angered and almost always composed it is a rare sight to associate anything but calmness to the peaceful individual, his relaxed mindset and dismissive nature means most things are simply brushed over be them offensive or provoking, it would take something impressive to really ignite any sign of rage in the well-mannered golden boy.

When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.


Sweet like honey with a face carved from the heart of an angel, Benvolio was born a creature of composure, an infant that rarely weeped and shared more laughter than tears. From the beginning the fair-haired cherubic toddler had a tolerance far more capable than those with many years on their backs and experience in their minds, incapable of being provoked to the point of outrageous outbursts and attention-seeking tantrums. Even with the incessant playful taunting from a family with more branches than the grand-oak, Benvolio always seemed to manage to keep a soft-reassuring smile glowing upon his lips and words of reason fresh upon the tip of his tongue, ready to sooth the irrational and impulsive arguments that often sprung between other more hot-headed relatives.

During childhood it become obvious to the rather observant, thoughtful boy that there was something increasingly strange about the structure of his family, some persistent problem that constantly seemed to rear its vulgar head and tear rifts into all celebratory occasions, always managing to ruin fun things by dragging a black veil to smother the festivities. Instead of questioning the hostile atmosphere or involving himself with the flustered mass of red-faced titans, Benvolio simply invested his time in other things, dragging himself afar from the word of personal warfare to concentrate on something more fulfilling. Martial arts quickly became his obsession and when he wasn’t in the company of his cousins, nephews, aunts and uncles he’d be trapped in a dimension of his own, practicing for hours upon hours, living beneath the moon and sleeping under the watchful gaze of the afternoon sun.

Of course his parents weren’t best pleased that their son didn’t particularly want to involve himself in a family feud, their ultimate belief being that it was their job as Montag’s to protect their heritage and seek revenge for things that occurred so far in the past that the truth by now was no doubt mangled and mutilated to an unrecognizable new degree. But despite their displeasure they didn’t dare pressure the level-headed child, after-all they had other children to force their single-minded views upon and thus Benvolio escaped their influence and found himself more inclined to his Aunt and Uncle, who he fell in particular favour with due to the ‘good influence’ he had upon their son, Romeo. With the Teenage years on the brink of their beginning they often placed their trust in Benvolio, permitting Romeo to go wherever he pleased as long as he was in the presence of his older cousin, safe beneath the wings of the impartial blue-eyed smooth-talker.

Growing up with a close-knit family was something every child desired and Benvolio was no different, there always seemed to be someone to talk too, someone to pour your heart out too and unload every problem that ever burdened the process of your thoughts and mind upon and for some reason Benvolio always seemed to be that particular individual. The agony ‘uncle’ of sorts, and for all it sometimes grew tedious and repetitive the understanding lad always attempted to do his best to give what was usually brilliant if not extensively vague advice and never failed to be the boy who’d tell it straight, refusing to tip-toe around an obvious issues to avoid injuring anybodies pride or destroying a few feelings every now and again. Sometimes people needed a reality check and when nobody else committed themselves to doing that job Ben wouldn’t hesitate to take control and knock some common-sense into a blathering fool or love-struck idiot.

Even now with his indifference to the mindless violence surrounding his family and their opposition, Benvolio remains the man that people turn to when they’re indeed of a listening ear or some words of potential wisdom and usually Ben has no qualms with lending a helping hand even when otherwise occupied or engaged he’d always manage to find some sentiment of time to give to a family-member in need.