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When he was young, it felt like every instructor could not stop praising Luca for just how talented he was with a blade. It just seemed to come oh-so-easily for him, that the balance never felt wrong, that he could feel instinctively precisely how someone else would slash before they realized it themselves, just how to deftly cut in to get under an opponents defenses. He loved the blade, and dedicated every waking moment to its study, fine tuning himself to a weapon without peer and rejoicing in competition after competition as a young man as he dueled for sport and the honor of House Velenosa. But as he won one competition for another, he started to wonder if his opponents just weren't trying at all. If they were yielding at the barest first brush of effort, if they gave up without even making the smallest attempt, if they had even trained a fraction as much as he did. He didn't stop winning, but with each successive victory, Luca was losing his taste for it. He had spent every moment since he was a child training for this, and it felt like every opponent barely knew which direction to a point a sword. It was downright insulting to his efforts! Why did he have to spend twelve hours a day honing himself with a blade when they just randomly throw out some random count's son with a borrowed sword to 'compete for the honor of his house' when the man was going to practically walk into the tip of his dulled sparring sword and call it a day? Luca felt himself slowly but slowly losing interest in training. He could beat any of them without effort, and if they weren't trying, why should he? He finally remembered some snide remarks about him not bothering to train before major competitions when he lost his temper and decided that if the Lyceum couldn't offer him any challenge at all, then he would go to Arx in the hopes of finding someone that could. Yes, yes, the Champions of Arx are not the most reputable as it has a collection of sellswords and shady individuals that champion the honor of noblewomen in need, but at least he might find some competition that would give him a reason to -try- again. And maybe he could find other reasons to be at court. Surely in the hundreds of thousands of people, there's bound to be someone that can offer a new champion a challenge. He just wants a reason to try, is that too much to ask? Any reason. Just one.

Luca's hair is always in one stage or another of growing out a respectable haircut. Straight and very dark brown, it brushes over his ears and curls slightly against his collar. He's clean-shaven and his clothes are in (mostly) decent repair, but he gives off the impression of not caring a whit about his appearance. He gives off that impression because he doesn't care a whit about it. Lucky for him, he's dreadfully handsome, with a broad-boned face and low black brows that cast deep shadows on eyes the color of cinnamon. His 'fashion' is best described as extremely casual, but with his lanky build and smoothly bronzed skin, he manages to make it look just a little bit stylish.

A friend might call Luca "easygoing". A casual observer would call him lazy. Possibly also unmotivated, unimpressed, and in need of a new shirt. In truth, he's bored to the point of despondency. It's not like he's a depressive, he still has his hobbies. Like giving in to his intense need for a drink after another easily-won duel. He just finds it hard to get worked up about things. He has a good sense of humor, and a good heart. His laissez-faire manner means he very rarely gets truly angry, even when being insulted. He's easy to be around, if not the most dependable friend.