Remus

He lost himself long before bevelled glass and light conspired against him; he's very sensitive as souls go--every inch a melancholic soul wrapped in bitterness and old aches chasing the ephemeral. Preserving small details in an effort to paint a much bigger picture; a grand altar to that which has decayed.

Because of this intention behind his turning: people often grow to resent him and become alienated by his fixation. It also undermines his role, his repute, any semblance of perceived power by his peers.

He feels their eyes. He knows what they think. That he's weak; mad; a ship wilfully run aground and wrecked on the rocks of sentimentality. He expects they may move against him, and to this eventuality, he overthinks; overanalyzes; attacks every angle with snarling, spit-crackle mania.