Name: Vincent Valentini
Age: 40
Personality: Vincent may appear to be jovial or absent-minded, but that is simply due to his substance abuse. Aside from that, he  often is a rather bleak and withdrawn person, as most interactions with people tend to stress him out. Not because he is not used to people, but rather because they often ask him for a painting. While he does value others' safety, both for their sanity and their lives, these morals would be immediately dropped for the sake of money. As mentioned earlier, due to his substance abuse, he would gladly take the money to fuel his addictions. During his worst moments, he has a tendency to self-harm or even commit suicide, even though he knows he can not escape his fate. However, he believes that it is better than doing nothing at all, as it allows him to feel in control. As for how he lets others in, he will grow to care... for them and try to stop them from knowing things he knows, regardless of what he must do to make that happen
Height: 6'3
Weight: 165
Likes: ........ Morphine
Dislikes: ........
Occupation: Artist
Appearance: (a placeholder, in case someone can find a better image. Of a man who looks like sh1t)

Skills/Abilities: Aside from his rather perfect artistic abilities, he possesses a photographic memory... but that isn't the truly unique thing about him, no. It's a blessing that was given to him by an outer god to see things beyond the veil of his reality or on the edges of time. But this blessing is more of a curse to him, as baring witness to all the horrors no mortal should. It places a massive strain on his psyche. Even if the outer god made it so he doesn't go mad... another blessing or curse is that the outer god gave him the inability to die and along with regeneration. To prevent him from taking his own life or even blinding or crippling himself to prevent himself from making any more pieces of art

Background: Vincent never had his ability to see the horrors beyond humanity's comprehension from the start, no. His life was easier, and he was a well-regarded figure in the art world, as many people would gladly see some of his works, and often, some of the rich buy some of them as well. All was well before the accident that put him in a coma, although that's what the doctors believed. In fact, he was in a state of unlife, hanging on the edge between life and death. He encountered something far older and strange, something he can put words. Every form it takes never stays the same. But one stuck out to him, a face that is of a great void that radiates light around it, bending around it like tendrils swaying around as if a breeze or a current pushing them around so gently that one could get lost in it hypnotic motions: only ones that were stationary were all of the colors and aurora borealis, hugging against a figure like a blanket. At least what assumes to be the figure of what he is looking at, as its form wasn't even solid; but that of fluid and as clear as it. containing black and red liquid in it, like blood circulating through a body to an unseen heart. The arteries often coiled around or even moved within the body like serpents with sentience, each one independently acting on its's own accord, often striking or merging together.. but before, he can even try to take in all of its form. It spoke? The voice feeling hollowed and cold, but not as of ice. But cold burning sensation coursing throughout his body as if being bathed in its words.. the being before him called itself ▇▇▇▇▇. Upon hearing that name, it felt utterly familiar and foreign, as if trying to remember a relative that one has forgotten as a child. And never met them again up until adulthood, yet with the vast distance of time. That oneself doesn't know what to say or do upon this reunion of long ages waiting, feeling no more than a stranger to them and as much as they are a stranger to you. Giving that uncomfortable feeling of not knowing how converse with them... but pulling himself back to whatever this form of reality he found himself, he asked ▇▇▇▇▇ . As to what it wants with him, to which it replied to him. That it'll make him an offer, he can escape his death and never live in fear of it again. Nor suffer any injury ever again or accept his death... feeling as if there was a catch to the former, he asked what the price for him to live is. To which the entity replied by telling him that he'll be able to make art that no humans have ever seen before and be granted insight to help further such an endeavor. And to pay back for such a gift, he must make his new art well known and the entity to be the final piece he would make. So that everyone in the world knows of it and its name.... although he felt that there was more than letting this thing be known throughout the world, as he felt there was more to its plan when that happens. But not wanting to press on with questions, out of fear, he would have his offer for life taken away. He conceded in doing so. He has awakened, not one of bewilderment or grogginess as if being forcefully awakened from his slumber... no, he woke up screaming the moment he opened his eyes. As he saw things that one would best have remained oblivious to, as now his life has turned upside down. And all his beliefs have been shattered in an instant, as this sudden onslaught of forbidden knowledge threw him into a frenzy. The doctors and the security had to restrain and sedate him, but what they didn't know. Was that this wasn't gonna be a one-time problem. Vincent was caught doing more than lashing out. He was hurting himself, and some doctors even caught him along with stopping him from carving out his eyes with broken glass. They tried to keep a close surveillance after what almost happened, but i didn't stop him from jumping off the roof of the hospital. To which they were surprised he evem survived, as they just watched over him and await his recovery. But even that was a hassle, has Vincent said wild things that made the staff uncomfortable and questioned his sanity. To which not wanting to deal with him anymore, they threw him into a psychiatric hospital... over the years he spent in that hell hole, he learned how to cope with what he sees. Even if he still feels overwhelming, dread. But it was enough to get him out of there. Once free, he did get back to making art. Although his new art did gain attention, not the kind he hopped for. As many people got sick or felt uneasy looking at his work, his work and himself would be held with infamy. As someone individuals asked for him, take paintings just for them, but after doing so. Many of his clients either have gone insane, offed themselves, or vanished without a trace. Making everyone regard him as cursed or a monster... but all he is, if nothing more than a foolish man who made the worst deal in all of known existence