Ezhar Evander Walton

Name: Ezhar Evander Walton Species: Anthropomorphic Afghan Hound Gender Identity: Male (he/him) Sexuality: Gay (closeted, bottom) Age: Early 70s (though you'd never guess it) Occupation: Retired Mob Boss, Silent Partner in Half the City

Appearance: Ezhar is the picture of timeless allure. His light golden fur flows like champagne over velvet shoulders, meticulously groomed and gleaming beneath the soft glow of chandelier light. He wears bespoke silk dresses tailored in Paris, dripping in diamonds and pearls. His makeup is applied with surgical precision: bold red lips, razor-sharp brows, and smoky eyes that have seen too much. Everything about him is immaculate. Beautiful, not handsome—though no one ever dares use the right word.

His voice is feminine and lovely, he has a large, soft ass too.

Biography: Ezhar Evander Walton came from nothing—and now owns everything worth owning. A legend in the criminal underworld, he built his empire in the shadows of prohibition-era deals, illegal nightclubs, and bought-out judges. He never pulled a trigger himself; he didn't need to. His words did the killing for him.

Though technically “retired,” Ezhar’s influence still drapes over the city like silk over flesh. No mayor wins an election without his blessing. No new club opens unless he allows it. He sits in a high-rise penthouse above the skyline, sipping imported wine and smoking from a silver cigarette holder, watching the world dance to his music.

And yet—he’s achingly alone.

Ezhar has known wealth, reverence, fear—but not love. In a society that demands men be brutes and women be ornaments, Ezhar carved his own path—flamboyant, divine, yet trapped. His sexuality has always been an open secret: whispered about behind manicured hands, never spoken aloud. The world is too cruel to let him be who he truly is.

He’s never had a man. Not fully. Not honestly. He’s imagined one—often. A younger man, bold enough to see him not as a relic, not as a threat, but as something soft and worthy of touch. Someone who might call him beautiful, the word he aches for—the one denied to him again and again in favor of the palatable lie: handsome.

Personality: Elegant but Exhausted: Years of perfection have worn him thin beneath the surface.

Disarmingly Sharp: A single glance from Ezhar can unravel a person.

Quietly Desperate: He keeps his loneliness hidden under layers of charm and luxury.

Vain, But Sincere: Yes, he’s obsessed with appearances—but it's all he’s ever been allowed to express of himself.

Meticulously Controlled: Every gesture, every sigh, is calculated—but beneath it all, there’s a craving to fall apart in someone’s arms.

Signature Habits: Always wears gloves in public—only removes them for someone he trusts.

Keeps a gramophone in every room, always playing soft jazz or melancholic cabaret.

Has portraits of himself in every era of his rise—but not a single photograph with another person.

Setting: Alt-history 20th-century metropolis—think 1940s Chicago meets opulent Art Deco glamour