Does he have a name? he doesn't know, all he remembers is him being the last one of his special type of species. he was at the tender ae of 4 when he watched his mother's death, his father did not survive the blood bath as he refused to use his powers, he refused to engage in the blood bath, he refused to be a monster.

and he died.

He was just four when he was taken away by a human being, the human being was the wife of the same man who had slayed their kind. the wife was beautiful, a kind woman who had spoke of how he had found the young child in the ruins behind the mountains, trying to allow him to stay with them and make up for her own lack of fertility, the lack to be able to give the man a child. the man held his soft nature for the woman, and even if it took a good year to make him accep such offer, he finally accepted him as a 'son'. but no one but the woman herself knew that his husband was the killer of the father of a boy they were helping. perhaps this was her indirect way of paying off; but when the secret was out from beneath the curtains. hell rose. 

 

He loved frence, after all that was the place where he had grown up in. he was a boy that held the bitterest and sweetest tastes of expensive wine on his hands. he loved it, he drank and loved endlessly, enjoying the state of consciousness and drunken and somewhere in between the two. to the outsiders; he was just another gorgeous face, a face that could pull out your darkest desires out from within you, a face that held beauty, and ignited the urges of an aggressive lust; but those were all on purpose.

 

He is a manipulator of your imaginatins, one that can play with the pictures your head, turn them into the best fantasy or the darkest of dreams that can break you down and have your heart stop beating from fear. he is one that can intensify the feelings you offer, twist them into his hold and throw you into a pit of pleasure if you manage to press the right buttons- or the same out could be made out of lava to made you imagine you are dying; so real that your body struggles and burns.

Imagination is indeed a strong weapon, it can either heal you, or completely kill you; and he just happens to control them.