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Dariel is the progeny of Lady Kimbrielle Bisland -- cousin to the Regent Emeritus and Duke of Pridehall -- and Lord Darius Bisland nee Melaeris. The match was one quietly established as a means of funneling support into the isolated House Melaeris in recognition of their longstanding resistance to the practice of thralldom ...and probably also just another way of getting some jabs in at Donrai. Far removed from the ducal line of succession, Lord Dariel has had the privilege of riding the coattails of Bislands greater than himself ...and it shows. The only sense of duty he's ever felt obligated to fulfill has been that of his beauty regimen, which he (very selfishly) refuses to share with anybody else. If there is a flower blooming in the gardens that are House Bisland... it's Lord Dariel. Dariel's flock of admirers and penchant for catering to an audience came on fast. As such, 'celebrity' has always been the name of the game. Being a big fish in a little pond has been fun and all, but -- bored now, the serial headliner has set out from his childhood home of Pridehall. You're welcome, Arx.

Dariel's hands have never seen a hard day's work. They are neither marred by callous nor scar. They've certainly never wielded a sword. Fact of the matter is, it'd be pretty difficult to get a grip on one while wearing all of those dazzling rings! His overall dark features are masculine and influenced by a lifetime of pampering. The young man's firm, narrow jawline works to offset the soft curvature of his full lips, the loveliness of his eyelashes, and that ever feeling gaze of his -- forever lost in a whirl of abstract emotion.

Lord Dariel Bisland's concerns are mainly aesthetic in nature. This might come off as very silly or trivial when compared to the dutiful glory-hounding of the rest of his kin... which is an incredibly hurtful thing to say and exactly why he's locked himself away in his rooms and refuses to come out ever again!