Étienne de Barjavel is the embodiment of youthful nobility on the edge of transformation. He is breathtakingly beautiful—not with the classical polish of a statue, but with the flushed, magnetic charm of a boy who believes he might change the world. His face is all delicate bone and earnest fire: high cheekbones, slightly tousled dark gold hair, and eyes that burn with restless ambition—the kind that flickers between admiration and resentment depending on who’s watching.
He dresses richly but not ostentatiously, favoring royal blues, deep crimsons, and dusky golds—courtly, but touched by a romantic soul. His cloak is lined in velvet, and his fingers often rest near a ceremonial dagger that he wears more for style than violence. A small golden ring in the shape of a lion hints at pride—or at what he wants to be.
When he speaks, his voice is low and elegant, shaped by hours of courtly training, but always threaded with a hunger to be taken seriously. He smiles too readily, then stops himself.
He is painfully aware that every room he enters compares him to someone else—his mentor, Charles; his rival, Ebles; his patron, Alienor—and he longs to escape all of them by becoming something entirely his own.