Dion was never quite big on rules. Even as a child he had problems. Why do I have to go to school? Why can't I keep the candy I stole? He would have been a nightmare for his parents if he weren't so dutiful and smooth tongued. He ignored the rules when it suited him but a more charming and polite child never existed. He probably couldn't have gotten away with murder but anything else, well.
Then he got brought home in a squad car. He had been running a sam of stealing from one store and returning them to another for refunds. When his parents tried to find out why, he gave them his usual shrug and smile. It didn't work for the Judge, though, and he was sent to juvenile hall.
His easy manner and charming ways made him friends at first and it started well but he still couldn't distinguish between what was his and what wanted to be his. When he was caught with another boy's radio, he was beaten and taken to the infirmary. He thought he was dying or his head was broken because he saw some of the most terrifying things in his life. When a grotesquely scarred little boy came and offered to get him out he figure he was Death or a wish come true. Either way he'd be free and so he went.
The boy was an Unseelie Redcap who took him to McGuffin: a Redcap grump and guru of grift. The old man fixed him up and fostered him for the standard time. Dion learned a lot and after a year and a day he was a first rate con man. Full of himself he left in search of adventure. As adept as he was, though, the good life was always just out of reach. Either the police or pesky Seelie Noble always interfered. It was frustrating. On the verge of becoming a Wilder he went back to McGuffin with his problems and McGuffin listened. When he finished the tale, Dion was assured that it was not his fault success eluded him. It was the Seelie Court's fault; they didn't like anyone having a good time because fun threatened order. McGuffin told him if the Unseelie didn't get organized, their way of life would be lost. When Dion asked to know more, he was introduced to the Shadow Court and initiated into its mysteries.
No Dion has wandered over the Southeast spreading chaos wherever he goes. Occasionally he gets caught and when he can't talk his way out, he skips town. He doesn't usually cause anyone permanent harm, at least no one faerie. Women are his weakness, though. Not any one in particular but all of them. With his good looks many are interested right back and love lavishing him with gifts and favors. He serves the Shadow court when it suits him, striking little blows to the nobility when he thinks he can get away with it.
His most recent was a lucky coincidence. He became enamored of a young pooka named Twyla and began visiting her. When he learned her Mistress was Lady Una Morrowind he visited more often. The Shadow Court had not forgotten the events set in motion by Una finding a cache of Cold Iron years ago and holds her responsible for the foiled assassination attempt on the duchess of the southern coast. When he met her mortal husband he saw a way to strike at her.
With his hidden talent for Chicanery and his smooth tongue, Dion began talking to her husband, Arthur making him more depressed than usual. One fateful night Dion went all out, hoping to goad Arthur into leaving Una in the night. When he learned that Arthur committed suicide instead, he skipped town. When it was clear he was not a suspect he rationalized his actions. I mean, it's common knowledge that love between mortals and fae are doomed. He had only taught the Seelie lady a harsh lesson in reality. And it's not like Arthur was important. He was just a mortal gardener. He stayed away from Savannah until the guilt subsided. He still wanted Twyla so he returned to find that Una had a new mortal lover... a feckless painter and a boor. Dion almost felt guilty abusing him. Almost. But it's easy to feed the man's bitterness when there is so much raw material.
Dion exudes sensuality in either fae or mortal guise. Human women find his thick, curly black hair and dark, heavy lidded eyes virtually irresistible and many are more than happy to buy the silks and linens that typically clothe his lean, graceful form. To Kithain he has the combined appeal of a young Valentino and Flynn at his most dashing. His dark, muscular chest is showcased by the open silk shirts he favors and the cutlass at his hip does nothing to discouraged the romantic comparisons.