What
Claver stands approximately one-hundred-ninety centimeters tall, lean and muscular without being bulky; he has the build of a long-distance runner or an endurance swimmer. His fur is stark white, immaculately groomed and brushed, from eartip to tail and down to his hinds. His eyes are a vibrant, brilliant blue that seem to shine with an inner light, and a gentle smile sits comfortably on his muzzle. He's currently wearing a black silk robe trimmed in the same blue as his eyes, with a matching waist-tie of the same color, bound in an elaborate knot off-center at his waist.
When
Claver heralds from the same decant batch as
Roque, created by the
Victorians as a servant. Unlike the rabbit, however, his training took, and took well. Claver has no idea that he has been extensively
hypnopaedically trained and conditioned to accept the Victorians as his elders and follow their morals and ethics. However, even if he were made aware of them, he would still follow out of a deeply ingrained sense of loyalty and dedication to the ideals of a good day's work and devotion to sense of morality. If the Victorians had not created them, he would have created the Victorians, in spirit if not in form.
His dedication to the ideals of his elders was so thorough that they rewarded him upon graduation with a new function, superceding his original training. They outfitted him with a sample of recording and transmittng devices and sent him into the Mess to act as both a representative of their ideals and an information-gatherer, studying the inhabitants and returning his newfound knowledge to the enclave. He acts as a go-between, offering an ethical alternative to what he and many other Victorians see as hedonist abandonment of higher ideals, and in turn translating the behavior that he observes into forms that his elders can understand.
Which
Claver has never been outside of the enclave's embrace, and thus in a way his theories have never really been tested. He has grown up in a consentual-reality-bubble of pre-scarcity in
TopWarp, isolated from the consentual-reality-bubble of post-scarcity that is the rest of the Mess. Whether his ideals survive this exposure intact has yet to be determined.
Who
Roque is a member of his crèche, and as such someone in whom he is extremely interested. Claver is quite curious to see how this wayward child has fared outside of the enclave, though he is likely to be horrified at the depths of her adaptation.