†Born by a Storm†

✝Died by a Thorn✝

Alexander Anderson
29 September
External Services:
  • dusty_angelus@livejournal.com
  • Saint Angel Dust
We are Messengers of God...

Name: Paladin Alexander Anderson

Fandom: Hellsing

Occupation: Secret Assassin for the Vatican

Appearance: Anderson is a looming monolith of piety and zeal. At just past 7’, he dwarfs the common man with a solid form of strong shoulders and a sinewy physique. Topped with a crown of gold ‘thorns’ that sweep back as his cropped hair, his face is sharp as it is square—with a sturdy jaw-line lined with stubble, and an imposing wedge-shaped scar upon his left cheek.

Behind circular silver lenses is a pair of deep viridian green eyes that cast judgment upon whomever they lay. Clad always in the vestments of the Iscariot Organization, Anderson wears a long gray cassock and a black clerical collared suit beneath, all adorned by a large silver cross that hangs down to his waist. Finally, upon his hands are white gloves with scriptured insignia: Jesus Christ is in Heaven Now, and Speak With the Dead.

Personality: Anderson by casual nature is calm and inspirationally spoken, with a deep Scottish brogue. He holds a great air of spiritual knowledge and an affinity and empathy for young children whom he sees as none other than God’s miracles. As head of the orphanage St. Ferdinand Luke just outside Rome, he is a great and willing service to such needy ones who cry out to be fed and loved. He answers them with the compassionate and patient words of Christ and acts as their mentor, teacher, and friend.

On the battlefield, however, his mask of peacefulness cracks with a maddening grin and an excited hiss. The thrill of war, against the creatures and heathens who oppose his beloved God, drives him with an insatiable obsession that dares not to be stopped. It is an obsession to slaughter and butcher all heretics without distinction. Seemingly uncontrollable when facing down the demonic undead, Anderson, however, can steady himself and display his fine tact and precision with a blade and all other manners of preternatural extermination.

His devotion and fealty to his God and the Section XIII with which he carries out his Divine Punishment, knows no bounds or obstacles. As a devout and pontifical man, by any means he will accomplish his goals and orders, so long as they are ordained by His Holiness of the Vatican. Any whom so much as turn their eyes from God, spurn a wrath within him that cannot be quelled, even by order of his leader and brethren Enrico Maxwell. He, however, can find himself easily deterred from and critical of his motion to slay what abominations flail before him, if the situation poses a threat to the Vatican’s public demeanor. Never will he act in a way that might bring shame upon the Vatican that had given him such great purpose.

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Artwork (c) Aileine

Too eager to appease
The cure is the disease
And it's only growing worse

Day by day it takes its hold
Divides its cells a thousandfold
And makes your blindness seem perverse

Out of sight and out of mind
Are deadly traits when they're combined
But it's easier that way

Sit and watch the world go by
While all the problems multiply
With nothing left to do but pray

I am the rain
Falling down to cover you
Wish me away
But I'm here for your own good
I am the storm
Sent to wake you from your dream
Show me your scorn
But you'll thank me in the end

These amenities are nice
But there is need for sacrifice
You must lose so you may gain

It's too easy to malign
The implements that steal our time
But it's we who are to blame

Fill your pockets while you can
And try to keep the upper hand
The voice of reason sounds so shrill

Surround yourself with all you own
Work your fingers to the bone
And happiness evades you still

Too eager to appease
You've lost the forest for the trees
And it really is a shame

It is such a sorry sight
When you evaluate your life
You've only got yourself to blame