BASICS
Name: Sebastian Oxford Creed
Alias/Nickname: Bastian (preferred)
Birth Date/Age: October 29 (25yo)
Sex & Gender: Cis-Male
Species: Human
Birth Place: Southern California
Race & Ethnicity: Caucasian Euromix
PHYSICAL
Sexuality: Bisexual, Kinsey 3, Average-Above Average Libido
Blood Type: A-
Hair: Blond
Eyes: Blue
Height: 6"1'
Weight: 165 lbs - 185 lbs on average.
Scars: None.
Tattoos: None.
Distinguishing Features: His eyes and mouth.
PERSONAL
Position: Top
Positives: Optimistic, courteous, benevolent, acknowledging, engaging, generous, active listener, contemplative, affectionate, gentle, considerate, passionate, romantic, exploratory, curious.
Negatives: Reckless, smug, not brave but stupid (and lucky and wealthy), easily distracted, moody, dramatic, contentious, insensitive, addictive habits, hard-headed, spoiled, prone to depression, obsessive, prone to boredom.
Hobbies & Interests: Throwing parties, attending parties, driving fast cars, poetry, reading, journaling, hiking, skiing, surfing, swimming, rowing, gambling, traveling, bungee jumping, sky diving, cliff jumping, riding motorcycles, giving random charitable donations, attending live music events, going to festivals, fencing, mixed martial arts, marathon racing, jet flying.
Likes: Romance in all forms (in real life, in fiction, in entertainment, all of it), dates, dating, cooking, drinking, good company, parties, hosting, displays of affection, festivals, escaping work, dodging his parents, hanging out with friends, having fun, enjoying life, going on adventures.
Dislikes: Juke's contract, contractual obligation (bitter), strict boundaries, lack of freedom or autonomy, the state of things (escapist), ghosting, isolation, loneliness, emotional manipulation, boredom.
Savvy: Business.
Soft Spot: Romance, love, affection, animals.
Cruel Streak: His parents → Parental figures → Authority figures → Himself (Executive Assistant CEO of his family's sugar empire). Luke "Juke" Jove → Manipulative people → Liars, cheats, fakes, con artists → Sometimes himself (he's human, after all)
HIS STORY
When Sebastian Creed was born, it was at the Creed Mansion in a room prepped for his birth. Present in the room was the doctor, the midwife, Mrs. Creed (who was adamant about the home birth), Mr. Creed (who was adamant about the doctor), and Mr. Luke Jove, a long time family friend. So, long, in fact, that everyone knew him as Juke.
There weren't any complications and the newest Creed arrived safely on a late October afternoon. When the doctor looked upon the infant, he saw a healthy babe that both parents could be proud of, thus far. They did good.
When the midwife looked upon the infant, she saw the fruits of labor, a new life, a new addition to this family --- an otherwise lonely couple previously (and perhaps even now) too busy to stop and even consider having a family of their own. She admired their love and courage and was happy for them. They did good.
When Mrs. Creed looked upon the infant, she finally saw who had been playing all manners of sport with her insides for the past months, who didn't approve of caviar or even the very smell of garlic, and who kept her up wondering many nights. Her child, her baby, her son, so small in her arms, all soft skin, downy soft hair, and watery blue eyes. He settled against her chest, warm and alive, and she was in love. When she looked at her husband, she felt like her heart would burst. They did good.
When Mr. Creed looked upon the infant, he saw his son, his little boy. He saw the games he would be attending, the recitals, the graduations, and those important life lessons he was anticipating, because he was a Creed boy. He saw a legacy, and the smile on his face was broad, eyes wet with tears. They did good.
When Juke looked upon the infant, he cracked a smile and slapped Mr. Creed across the back a few times. "You did good, Sammie. You, too, Olivia. Look at him. He's perfect!" His eyes danced and he leaned over to press a kiss to Mrs. Creed's sweaty temple before he scooped the infant from her arms.
"Just wait," he said to the babe, "you will be a king. There is an empire waiting for you, little one. It's all been prepared. Everyone has done their part, and has done so well. Soon, the time will come for you to do yours. You will sign the contract, as was promised, and the world will be your oyster." Juke grinned from ear to ear. "Just you wait."
25 YEARS LATER
When Sebastian "Please, call me Bastian" Creed was told the truth about his birth, it was in a room in the Creed mansion prepped for the occasion. It was the Creed Legacy Gallery, its walls lined with paintings of each Creed family 'legacy', every member of the family who took on the role as leader, responsible for the sugar industry giant they have run for almost two centuries now. Present was Bastian, bitterly hung over and annoyed. He assumed he was being ambushed for some kind of convention. Mrs. Creed was there, putting on her strongest face, looking to her husband for support. Mr. Creed stood, jaw and brow tense, eyes hard, ready for business. Juke was there as well, grinning from ear to ear where he sat at the desk near the book shelf. The Creed leaders looked on from their expensive frames.
"Do you know why we've called you here, Bastian?" said Mr. Creed.
Bastian shrugged. "Is it because of Venice? I promised to get it cleaned up. They said they were fine with it. No one was hurt or anything, and the damage wasn't too bad. It really could've been worse."
"This isn't about your escapades, Bastian," his mother sighed, "and I really wish you'd tone it down to something reasonable and respectable. Perhaps host something tasteful here, like you used to?" She shook her head and her husband held up a hand.
"Like your mother said, Bastian, this isn't about any of that. This is far more important. I suggest you have a seat." He gestured to the dark, wooden chair by the desk and Juke watched him move and sit. Bastian tried not to sneer back at him.
"Son," Mr. Creed began, "when you were born...no, before you were born, a promise was made, one that sealed the fate of our family. The promise is part of a contract, one that's inseparable from our business, and as such our family legacy. The contract is renewed every generation, so it's your turn to sign it, especially since you will be CEO of the company. This is non-negotiable, Bastian."
Frowning, Bastian looked at each face present, even a few of the ones on the wall, before he asked, "What's this deal? Give me the details."
Mr. and Mrs. Creed both exchanged glances before Mr. Creed cleared his throat and continued. "Well, to be frank, our business is guaranteed success if you sign the contract. The details of the contract...well, it's best if you read it yourself." He turned to the desk and Juke opened a dark leather folder. Inside was parchment and written upon it, in neat script, was a proposition to the Creed family. Bastian read it over, then read it over again three more times to make sure he had read it correctly and it wasn't the alcohol in his system playing tricks on his mind.
"It says here that I forfeit my soul to Lucifer."
"That's me," Juke chimed, a thumb to his chest, that grin still stretched across his handsome face.
The Gallery was silent for a long moment where Bastian expected someone to laugh and point to his face and say they got him before revealing the real reason why they were all gathered here on a random March morning.
Steadily, Bastian cut through all the questions that popped up in his mind and said, "And if I refuse to sign?"
"It's simple, then, my boy," said Juke, hands tee-peed over the desk. "You and your family lose everything. Every penny, every inch of land, every sugar stalk from here to Argentina, every stock investment, every property, every vehicle. Everything." He was quiet to let that sink in before he continued, leaning back in his chair. "I know you've been quite...rebellious over the past years, and we haven't always seen eye to eye, but think of your folks, kid. Do you really want to do that to them? After everything they've done for you?"
Bastian wanted to leap from his seat and run from the room and be free from all of this. "What if this is all bullshit?"
"Sebastian Oxford Creed!" his mother gasped just as his father said, "Son-!"
But Juke spoke with ease over them both, "You can take that chance if you want, boy. I will admit that I want your soul. I was there when you were born, and I've had my claim on you ever since. You and I can do amazing things, or you can destroy everything your family has put centuries into. Put your mother and father out on the street, I'm sure you'd like to get back at them by now, especially for this, an impossible choice."
Bastian stared at Juke who stared back until it was only the two of them in the room, both holding a wager, and at the center, was the Creed family legacy piled high like a house of cards.
"Look," said Juke, relaxing forward against the desk, arms folded, eyebrows slightly furrowed. "How about I give you the rest of the year to think about it, huh? Then, we'll all reconvene back here, and hopefully we all walk away happy. You have to know, kid, that you aren't the only soul in the world I want, so choose wisely." He winked, then stood from the desk and disappeared between blinks. Every doubt Bastian had about the legitimacy of Juke's claim vanished right then, and when his parents approached him, he broke his mother's hold and brushed past his father to leave.
He left the mansion.
He left the city.
He left the state.
He left the country.
He tried to get as far from it all as physically possible.
When the GSP lost its signal and he didn't recognize any of the signs or roads, when the phone calls stopped coming, he breathed his first breath of relief.
