Darmani

Sogamprós: meaning son-in-law or bridegroom that joins or, offensively, not leaving or laying about, the house of the patriarch. Used as possible designation for members of The Seraglio meant to be especially active in agenda and alterations of Seraglio and agenda of it’s Lord

Pupau Chrisalice Brimford “Lucky” Deaibes

Appearance
An atmosphere of grandpa, older man, or dad energy and warmth in surprisingly well kept skin, firm body, gorgeous hair, arresting look, thick iconic mustache, and his eyes.…
Add in the beloved charm effect, akin to the sun across the plains or sea, it is only his relatively unassuming conduct, while those around him reflect his psychokinetic ardor, that make him so suited to sweep forth, a breeze in the air that is never barred merely turned about to goal.
Personality
He is obedient to the Master as Specialist to Client, a well treated, regarded specialist. And takes as a given He is as King or Royalty. Chris develops disdain for those who would disparage or inconvenience his patron, while being rather live and let live regarding himself, if dispassionately retributive by social means, if it is easy and with no long-term commitment. Though if Brimford sees a serious willful injustice or offense will take it as cause to act, though now makes sure to send message to Gryphon if not The Seraglio or The Jumper/Master, whoever most available in his mind, when moved or sees such.
Powers
You, as all, believe in his heart and charm. And he sounds so…nice. The glowing radiance of sensual loving charm, that spreads by:
Gaze, his on you or yours on him.
His voice, even if unheard if tickles your skin,

If cups you anywhere your hormones dance to his humming or subtle expressions.
A field as wide and intense as his body odor surrounds him. Always smelling elder but assuring and… strong. When in its area of effect, feelings and actions you are both in agreement with are supported, only reined by a grindstone mind that can work in parallel as converses or acts otherwise.

He is exceptionally aware due to this Stoking Aura. If touch the field he can smell, hear, see, and touch you. He even induces shadows of those sensations on a person or object in range. Even rain and water no help as when shares run-off has as many phantom limbs, fingers, tongues, and more where his effluvium graces bodies or permeates shared fluid (a shared drink, or ice cream, or serving plate). So too his heart commands your being as it does his own. Moreover he feels and can see whoever sees him, and hear all the sounds, even their arteries, who listen in on him.
While able to flip from pacifying assurance, to terrific awe with a look or a yell, his emphatic influence is always arousing, intensifying. Its not so much he reduces inhibitions, as drunkenness, so much galvanizes energy, feelings, and thoughts he observes in someone or wishes magnify at a guess.
A wet kiss lets him peek into your thoughts, sharing one that effect lasts for as little as two to many as six hours. Lovemaking peels you open and, even before he issues, can plant seeds of desire, wants, dreams, and hungers. Eight hours of continued contact and your skin is but a wrapping to the feelings and body he forms out of you like raw materials for a tire, or ingredients for a chef.
While favors insect colonies as models for his converts’ arrangements and traits, not limited to them or solely familiar with them. Raw temptation, arguably a fourth type of Love God in addition to LG, Jumper, and Thompson due to the Jumper’s augmentation and experiments. All love him and rasp in reverence, at least a little, when he doesn’t take medicine to help reduce is Appeal Field.

Origin
After obscene amounts of money spent Wilford Brimley answered a summons to put in an appearance at a birthday party. All attendees seemed enthusiastic just to have his company, hear him speak, and hold hands. He was fed custom food, his health a public matter, but felt mildly unnerved by the eager smiling toothy grins and shining eyes.

The sight of them would haunt his dreams for weeks later.

Soon he disappears from his wife as they sleep, not remembering leaving. When out of bed, drawn to a door that appears just out of the way: in an alley, at stores’ back, in his of visited basement, his agent’s office, or studio lot.
After their 20th encounter he enters.

He’d feel gone for a lifetime, then returns never lost more than an afternoon to others. At first fears suffering dementia, the dreams and door experiences are like his movies, only not quite. He isn’t on set, but IN the films, living in the world, passing along as a ghost.
At first.
Later it is reliving the characters’ lives, over and over and over again even parts never played out, with people not cast.
Then things alter.
Versions not even scripted, let alone filmed, akin to porn parodies, or fantastical remakes but with same casting and no lack of skill or production, effects visible as in post.

And soon things he’s never been in. Things he ‘dreams’ about before seeing great grandchildren share. And often the Birthday Man there, sharing that smile.

As ages he finds he grows. Stronger, hearing more, seeing more, feeling more, while his skin deadens to inexpressive leather, a shell.
He is flushed with virility and vigor the character and vastness of prairie and savanna and mountains.
As the years draw on frequently he wakes up intertwined in groups made of folks from passerby, in entertainment clubs, at swinger parties, corn-hole razing, and more. Though not a dream, he’d run home on foot, he’s never caught.
It was surreal.
Then, years later after he and his wife add another, and another, and another lover. Knowing it is impossible their problems this minimal and he this able. He is approached in the flesh by the man whose party he’d graced.
He walks into his home, door welcoming as the furniture parts. The home makes the way until at his couch, paramours languishing, wife over bare lap, his bliss blessing hands stroking from her cheek to small of back, voice hard to use but sonorous as a jazz horn and wide as San Andreas.
Wilford knows why the man there. What He, with soles inches over his third oldest’s negligee covered side, invites him to by offering a dangling candy bright marble on hook and fine chain.

He knew the object. He’s been thinking of it continuously for five months, ‘dreaming’ of it for many times that.
“Would you like to follow me across the cosmos? To place this in your ear. To close your eyes in this life, and open them forever in my chain. To become our dream?”
Unable to restrain his trembling hand, reaching out like in the grips of binge to a heavy tumbler of liquor, he, almost blindly, in thoughtless need, pierced his own ear.

and

His pupa-flesh burst open into dandelion clouds of light that flowed like a river in the speed and shape of a comet.
He blazed into a space outside all others to find a long liminal warehouse hall, piled with shelves and objects.
Not searching the swarm spill-poured into a book on a shelf

Inside, a limitless rolling hill-plain with finely shone skipping stone the width of a compound. Inside that a labyrinth. Streaming without diversion or halting down a path to a housed a laboratory. Within, a chamber machine that flares to plasma orb and Tesla coil life to disappear him.
To be taken to a building of opulence to shame Villa Paradiso that throbbed with vein-circuits of gold, flexed by tendon-vines of purple. He was taken to conversation pit centered in a room with walls like the Dolmabahçe Palace but decor like a 70s parlor room and saw

Himself.
All his roles.
All his dreams.
Stunt doubles
Look-a-likes, and actual musked throbbing WALRUS were in still and in place.
The men’s eyes closed, heads bowed, left ears mated with the earring that’d transfigured him to make it here.
The creature, a fertility god, came writhing to life from mid-air statue stillness. His bark alerting the men. They only responded by a seizing or change in posture. Their eyes stayed closed, faces downcast. The geriatric cowboy actor Korean war veteran as cloud of lights, will, and passions puffed up and returned the pinniped’s calls and exceeded them with a bellow that shook the walls.
As a quivering mass the creature fell to the center and the swarm remains of the man showered the room turning the air to conflagration
And thus the recruitment was done and he was reborn as part of the Menagerie of The Jumper. He plugs himself into the pit to alter his mind and heart, to become more. To consume more. To grow more.
Virility, passion, vigor, experience, and just More.
Until too bloated with it all to sit still, or when summoned by his Client. He has his own entire wing in continuous renovating fulfillment, populated with his lovers, his children and friends visit. Every convenience made, or recreation provided.
His mind always instructed how to enact his desires as his body act them out. Constructing, learning. The more primal and basic, the better.
As with his chambers his aura interlaces with all visitors in perpetual rapturous unity.