Thread Requests

[Lady Thorn]

Thread Post Request
Username - bloodarchivist/ptolemy
Thread Name - An Unexpected Turn of Fortune
and
Solemn Contemplation is the Poison of the Soul
Location - the first- Villa Corvidae (Europe)
the second- The Undead Clinic (Ghetto)

[Isi Runasimi]

An unexpected turn of fortune -

Initially, Tobias sighed in relief. Oh! Oh thank goodness. I thought you were going to tell me that someone had died... He laughed... but then the realisation kicked in, relief disappearing in an instant.
Wait... I'm going to be... a... a... Tobias could hardly bring himself to say the word. Father? He whispered, before his jaw dropped open in a stunned silence.
Looking helplessly to Nathaniel, his brother only nodded and shrugged his shoulders, still seeming rather shocked himself.
I... I... He stuttered, the power of speech leaving him just like it had done for Nathaniel. Blinking, he gently pulled Lady Thorn closer to him, cradling her in his arms.

I'll just wait downstairs, shall I? Nathaniel suggested quietly, backing out of the door and closing it behind him. They needed to come to terms with... well, with what? Was it a loss, or was it a gain? It could be argued from either side. Still, he dreaded the thought of having to take care of a baby, the very idea causing him to shudder.
Babies didn't seem to like Nathaniel. They often began to cry and scream loudly whenever he approached a mother with a young child. There had been many a missed opportunity for a meal when a screaming child is drawing attention from miles around.

A father... Tobias repeated in a murmur, staring off into space. And you will be it's mother... Eventually, once the initial shock had worn off, he then said, But what if I don't want to be a father yet...? What if I'm not fit to be a father...? I don't know anything about babies, but I don't want to let you down.
Then he began to mutter, over and over. I've fathered a child... I've fathered a child... Before it all became too much for him and he passed out cold.

"What if I'm not fit to be a mother?" Lady Thorn echoed Tobias' words with a whisper, adding another fear to the pile. She was glad of his arms around her, for the comfort, though... right up until the point when he fainted.
Frowning, she looked up, confused, then her face shifted gently to a mild anger. He could very well be like this... he wasn't the one with a living creature inside his womb... all he had to do was look sympathetic for nine months...
She was perhaps a little more rough in waking him than she ought to have been, but not so much as she'd have liked, so she figured it evened out a little.
"Tobias! Tobias! Wake up!" She shook him by the shoulders, none to gently.
"I don't care what sort of father you'll be but you will be and this is not the time to be passing out on me! How do you think I feel?" She was vaguely hoping he wasn't awake to hear her ranting like this... she didn't like to make her weaknesses so plainly known... but the words were tumbling out in her annoyance and there was little she could do to stop them. "I've avoided this for more than two thousand years... why do you think I'd have done that unless I was afraid of it, hm? I don't want to give birth, I don't want to raise children, but that's what's going to happen, so by the gods' you'd better wake up because I am not doing it ON MY OWN!"
She gave him another shake, suppressing a sob. Why couldn't he have taken the news... better? Not even that, just been more stoical about it and comforted her, maybe. Too much to ask, she supposed. Wrong person, too. Well... it was his faul-... no, it wasn't. Any other man she could accuse of carelessness but not him. It was all her own doing and no denying it, worse luck. With no one to blame she just had to sit there and wallow in self-pity and hope the morning-sickness wouldn't last.
She took a few deep breaths, steadying herself and trying to stop the shakes of fear. She could do this... she could. It couldn't be so hard... human women did it all the time, much younger than her... what was there to worry about?
Now that was a question she'd best not ask. She knew too much and too disgusting to dwell on that thought.
And she couldn't even tell Tobias in the hope of reassurance because he'd panic worse than her.
Fantastic.
But the pain was distant enough that she could put it from her mind. Well, she could try. Right now, she had the unenviable task of comforting her poor lover. What the hell could she say to make it alright?

Tobias could barely hear what Lady Thorn was ranting about as he gradually came round. His neck and shoulders ached a little from being shaken so much though.
In his mind, five vague, very shadowy figures whispered to him. They expressed their fear, anticipation and frustration. They were like white outlines on a black background, the white lines being very thin indeed and barely visible, but they were still there, and it made Tobias all the more eager to return to consciousness.
Eyelids fluttering open, Tobias slowly sat up, wrapped his arms around Lady Thorn and held her tightly. He gently kissed her cheek before nervously biting his lower lip. I'm sorry. He said in a hushed tone, looking guilty. For making you... He swallowed before he said the next word. Saying it made the situation all too real. Pregnant. He whispered.
Unfortunately, he was still innocent enough to not know what he might have done to prevent this disaster. He didn't have a clue as to if it was possible, but he felt guilty all the same.
Placing a hand lightly upon her stomach, almost as if he might be able to feel some change already. But, it can't be too bad, if we're together. Can it?

And with that, he managed to evaporate her anger, leaving her feeling guilty that it had ever been. Whatever else he might be, he had a knack of manipulating her that in anyone else would annoy beyond belief.
"No, I'm sorry. I should have ensured against it, and you weren't to know, so it is entirely my own stupid fault." She harrumphed slightly, glad of his arms around her for the comfort they gave. "I sometimes forget that I need to... well... not assume you know these things." She gave a weak smile and kissed him lightly in return.
"Don't feel guilty. It's done now. We just have to go on as best we can." False sentiment, but she felt a duty to comfort him. He really hadn't known, because she hadn't told him, and it really was all her own issue that she hadn't thought. Stupid, but done.
"I mean..." she added, though the idea left her deeply uneasy, but she felt she owed him the choice, "I... could have... an abortion..." the word came out as a choked cough, so she repeated it, "if you really don't want me to... if you really don't think you can..." It was a testament to her views on the sanctity of life that she felt so uneasy about that option, even in her own case. She sometimes wished her morals weren't always in such conflict with practicality. It did so get in the way.
"I could, well, Mika could... if it really is that awful an idea for you to be a father... and we could just be careful... in the future..." Much though the idea of a child-free life was appealing, she still couldn't give her enthusiasm to abortion. She hoped, against all expectation, that he wouldn't want it. Now they were there, now she knew that there was a living being of Tobias' kin inside her, she didn't think she could make that choice, to kill it.
She somehow thought Mika might have different thoughts, of course. He wasn't going to be happy about this.

_____________________________

Solemn Contemplation is the poison of the soul

Matthew had just begun to doze off, his eyelids feeling heavy and his brain weary. One arms was underneath his head whilst the other lay across his stomach, and socked feet were crossed at the ankles as he lay upon his back. Sleep had been welcomed, and just as he had been crossing the border into the Land of Nod, Mika entered the room.
What? He groaned, not even opening his eyes but a frown appeared, creasing his forehead.
"I just had a phone call... you're not going to like this... Lady Thorn's pregnant, and you're going to be an uncle..."
This information caused Matthew to sit up in alarm, his eyes snapping open instantly. WHAT! He roared, leaping to his feet and grabbing Mika by the collar. She's what? He snarled, glaring fiercely at the vampire.
Matthew's eyes had become a vivid yellow, and his teeth all seemed sharper than they had moments ago. It was a sight that would have most sensible people running, terrified, for their lives.
Matthew raised a fist, still holding tightly onto Mika with the other hand, and it looked like he was about to thump the poor vampire, who didn't want to be the messenger in the first place. Thankfully, however, Matthew's rage didn't blind him that much and he released Mika before turning and beginning to pace the length of the room, muttering mutinously to himself. How could she do this? Now Tobias will never be free of her! She must have done this on purpose to keep my brother to herself. When I get my hands on her... He paused in his pacing to strangle the air with astonishing fervour.
Finally, after some of the initial shock and rage had worn off, Matthew slumped down onto the bed, breathing heavily. His jaw was clenched and so were his fists but at least it didn't seem like he was going to strike out at anybody in the proximity. Still, any ornaments and small objects were in danger of being thrown.

Scared, but not entirely surprised by Matthew's reaction, Mika gulped and spoke up. The vision of the werewolf behind the mask of humanity had sent a shiver down his spine, but he hid that easily enough as he spoke in his lady's defence.
"In all fairness, she is quite as distraught as you about the... event," he murmured, keeping his distance, lingering in the shadows of the corner to try to mask his own displeasure. He had his own reasons not to be happy, after all. "She didn't plan it, and has never wanted children, so it may well have simply been a case of foolish carelessness." He spoke the last bit through gritted teeth as he endeavoured not to think about it.
"Please, don't feel too harshly that this is all her doing. She was rather upset on the phone..." Yes... upset didn't quite cover it, but he didn't feel that arguing her case too strongly would do him any favours here. "She's scared, to be honest," he added, sounding rather weary as he thought of what was to come, in the months to follow, "very scared, so I'd hope you won't be too rude or anything to her when next you meet. I shouldn't think she'll be able to take it right now..."
Stop!
Something in his mind said that this track was not healthy and he should swiftly switch to something more comforting. He valued his life, after all.
"But," and he tried to smile with this one, in his shadowy nook, "think of it this way. Tobias will be a father and you an uncle... they are Tobias' children as much as hers. Is that not something about which to be pleased?" As for keeping Tobias to her... well it hardly needed doing anymore. You'd need a crowbar to prise him away, more was the pity.

Won't be rude? Matthew thought, I'll be far more than rude to her... And he had to stop himself from thinking of ways to hurt her in his brother's absence.
Releasing Mika from the venomous glare that he'd fixed upon the vampire when he had tried to defend Lady Thorn, Matthew's gaze fell to his hands. Flexing his fingers, he then cracked his knuckles.
Tobias is not... suited, to be a father, as you should know. Matthew had to stop himself from almost saying fit, instead of suited. He didn't want to talk about his brother in a derogatory way, but Tobias just was not father material, end of story.
Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm down and not smash anything, Matthew fell silent, focusing on a patch of floor which could almost be seen to be smoking with the intensity of the glare. I cannot be pleased. He muttered. What if Tobias' insanity is hereditary? Could you just imagine what the child will be like? I've been put through a tortured childhood with my brother, I will not go through something like that again with his child. It is too cruel... for all of us. Matthew's voice almost broke. He didn't like to think of his youth, for most of it was too painful.
Standing up, Matthew walked over to Mika, jaw still clenched but not looking as fierce as he had done before. Then he pulled the vampire into an embrace. It was like he needed some kind of comfort, but wouldn't ask for it or accept it when it was offered. So, he simply took it instead.

"Even if it is hereditary, it is not certain the child will inherit it." He patted the werewolf in an attempt at comfort then pulled away, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Bear in mind that the mother isn't insane, so it could well be that the child is completely normal." It was nowhere near that simple, but he had to make it comprehensible. Matthew wouldn't exactly understand if he started rabbiting about epistasis.
"And just as you say it is cruel for "all of us", do you include Thorn in that? She's the one who must give birth, which you may or may not know is not a pleasant business. She doesn't want it any more than anyone else does. You shouldn't be so hard on her."
He bit his lip. His voice had been quite loud there. This was dangerous territory. He had seen first-hand the way these two got on. House on fire was accurate enough. Not that Lady Thorn was blameless herself, but in her absence, Mika felt the urge to defend her. It was seriously bringing him into danger.
Unfortunately, survival instinct wasn't on duty today.
"Look... maybe if you talked to Tobias and her about this, maybe then you can get used to the idea or maybe even be pleased..."
He shut up.
Fool.
Just could not keep his mouth shut. It was her, damn it.
He held his hand to his lips to prevent any more stupid things leaking out.
He was almost scared what Matthew might do.

The last ones are most recent. Welcome to the site.

[Lady Thorn]

Thanks, but could I ask for a few more back? I know it's a pain and all, but Farkas and I need them. We saved in Solemn Contemplation up to:

""Stay or go as you like, but understand that it will hurt you more than me to be around me if you truly do feel that way. You may decide you're better off alone."
He kissed him again before he could answer. He wanted to feel what it was like to be kissed when there was feeling behind it, just this once. He knew he might never have another moment like it."

Which was posted by me.

And in An Unexpected Turn of Fortune:

"Stop it. He begged, standing in between Nathaniel and Lady Thorn. Please... just stop it. Please don't fight over something that's my fault. Tobias had his head in his hands, his eyes screwed tightly shut in anguish, and for a split-second, he could hear the taunting voices on the very edges of his mind. I don't want to be whole!"

By Farkas.

[Isi Runasimi]

Do you just want me to bring the whole thread over. And if so, do you mind terribly if it doesn't include the colors.

[Lady Thorn]

Just from those posts, since the rest is already saved on Word. And colours don't matter.

[Isi Runasimi]

Alright, on it- [An Unwelcome Turn of Fortune]

She cracked. She couldn't help it, with the fire's anger bubbling through her and her composure slipping from exhaustion and irritation. She'd not let go like this for a long time, and so, as she did it, she felt even more annoyed with herself for so doing. Which of course lent heat to her anger. A vicious circle all inside her head.
It manifested itself slowly, a tick of the muscle beneath one eye, slow and soft at first. Then the clenching of fists, the shifting of posture. Her instincts told her to hit him again, to prove herself in charge of this territory, to make her mark as dominant female. But she held that in check, or so she thought.
She managed to stop the fist before it hit, eyes closed and breathing laboured in concentration. It was this which snapped her mood more than anything.
Turning on her heel, she marched up the stairs, footsteps horribly loud and curses echoing.
"The curse of Hades on you all, I've had enough. Sort out your own bloody differences and come and find me when you can play nicely. I have just had enough. You think this is easy for me either? No!! It is NOT! So for gods' sake just leave me alone or do what you want, I'm going to bed."
With that, she slammed her bedroom door, though it was clear she hadn't locked it, and proceeded to change for bed, continuing to mutter curses under her breath.
She wasn't sure, not entirely, where her anger came from, but it felt good and she didn't care and she'd had enough of choices and decisions and trying to sort out the squabbles of lovers old and new. All she needed now was Matthew and Mika to turn up and make a complete hash of things. She sincerely hoped not.
But inside, she felt, as she flopped down on the bed and growled Romanian expletives, she wanted to just be lying here with someone's arms around her, protective, and to spend the night thinking herself safe under another's protection, not the other way around. At that moment, she doubted she'd have cared if it had been Nathaniel who had climbed into the bed with her.
Downstairs, Ovid sorely wanted it. He wanted to keep her safe from such rabble as seemed to beset her. He wondered if Tobias was thinking the same.

Nathaniel didn't move to avoid the fist travelling towards his head but he was ready to step back if it came too close. Thankfully, it didn't, stopping a couple of inches away.
He had never seen Lady Thorn this angry before. He supposed that he couldn't blame her much, the entire situation at the moment was volatile and ready to explode with no notice whatsoever. However, he had felt the need to point out what was incorrect, as a friend more than anything else, but also because he would not let Tobias take unjust abuse.
When Lady Thorn stormed off, Nathaniel too turned on his heel and strode into the living room, slumping down upon the sofa. Rubbing his eyes, his sigh was engulfed by a huge yawn. Then his put his head back and closed his eyes, intending to sleep for now.

Tobias watched helplessly as Lady Thorn disappeared, wincing slightly when the door slammed. He wanted to go after her, comfort her, reassure her with his love, but at the same time he wondered if perhaps giving her some time to herself might be better.
Glancing at Ovid, Tobias sorely wished that he had never come and realised that he was jealous of the Ancient, still holding Lady Thorn's love after all this time. Then, a nasty thought crossed his mind. We will never be free from him now, unless he dies. I could do it! I have the power to kill him many times over... but she would never forgive me... He heard a sinister chuckle echoing around the hallway, but it was inaudible to anyone else. Twisting around, Tobias tried to find the cause of it, but found nothing.
Frowning, he made up his mind, streaking up the stairs like an arrow and slipping quietly into Lady Thorn's room, locking the door behind him so that Ovid couldn't interfere.
Could I... lie with you? He asked, hesitantly, moving closer to the bed with silent footsteps, a little nervous about what her reaction might be.

She growled another low expletive, but without much fervour. Her anger had dwindled to embers now, simmering and waiting for another time.
Her attention sparked as he clicked the lock, wondering what he intended to talk about, or do... or maybe he just wanted to ensure Ovid would not intrude again. Who knew? She was finding this Tobias a trial to understand.
But right now, he was a Tobias, and she was cold and irritable and feeling very alone, and she would take him over any other asking the same question.
"Please..." she sighed, more heartfelt than she'd intended it to be. She lay there, still for a moment, before another impulse kicked in to carry her without a thought.
She sat up, pulling him close and leaning in closer, expensive bedding trailing thoughtlessly as she moved. Her arms were wrapped around his waist and her head pressed to his stomach in a close embrace, her skin still strangely hot compared to his, the fires inside still burning somewhere, it seemed. One finger trailed a dancing path across his smooth, white skin, mindlessly. She kissed his belly button with a smile of affection.
Looking up, she wondered at his new appearance, his hair and eyes, and considered them. Now she had grown a little accustomed, she thought perhaps he came close to truly handsome like this, the fairness of his hair and eyes making his skin no longer stark but beautiful. She wondered too if she could get used to this Tobias, if he grew accustomed to being whole and learned to deal... did she want to?
She didn't know.
She noticed that, as she thought, she moved herself up towards him, kneeling on the bed to face him, one hand on his cheek and faces pressed so close together. She hadn't noticed... how odd.
She did notice as she kissed him, though, her warm lips pressed gently to his cold ones, her hands slipping softly down his chest and stomach.
When she pulled away, sitting back on the bed, her cheeks flushed, she smiled, a little embarrassed.
"I must say sorry..." she murmured, watching him. "It is in the nature of fire to be changeable, to be capricious, and I think I've been listening to those flames too much today..." She held one hand up to her face, flames lighting gently at each fingertip. It was always easier to do, when she was angry... full of any strong emotion really. "I've been too quixotic with you... too difficult... I really am sorry..." Her words were whispers of flames themselves, the tone changing with each new phrase. "I love you..." The flames on her fingers grew brighter, hotter, "and I know you must love me to deal with such a problem as I am." She smiled at him, closing her fist and killing the flames. There were still glimmers of it in her eyes, though, echoes of the embers burning within. It was perhaps they which drove her now, perhaps they which made her skin so warm, her smile so soft.
She stood, pressing her body close to his, her lips to his ear. There was, beneath her words, the tiniest hint of the whisper of flames.
"Come... you're whole now... take this opportunity while you can..."
Her tongue touched his ear as she spoke, her hands his skin.
Her lips fluttered across his neck before she looked into his eyes.
Her smile said all it needed to.
"Well?"

It was nice to have a sense of intimacy back, the knowledge of safety and comfort that he felt whenever he and Lady Thorn were together. But Tobias was a little confused.
B... but I don't want to be whole anymore. He stuttered, his arms encircling her waist. I don't think that I was ever meant to be like this. I can either be whole, or make you truly happy, and I would choose the latter every single time. It's because I don't need to be whole if you are there to complete me.
He could see the flickering of flames in her eyes, but he didn't care. Neither of them were quite their ordinary selves, but at least they weren't at logger heads anymore.
Tobias could feel the definite traces of lust preoccupying his mind and moved to sit down upon the bed, pulling Lady Thorn gently to sit upon his lap. Kicking off his boots, his cheeks coloured a pale pink, his first kissed her lips, then her neck, before lightly scraping his fangs across her smooth skin. I would like to make love to you, if you would let me. Tobias whispered huskily, gently biting down upon her neck and licking up the drops of red with care. Then he slowly laid her down upon the bed, his fingers caressing her exposed skin.

She curled there, on his lap, taking his kisses and giving her own, her lips still heated from within as they left raw, red marks on his white skin. His fangs on her flesh took her breath away.
And then, with all the confidence he'd never had, he laid her down and wanted her and asked her and she smiled, not just a seductive and a sensual one, but one of pure pleasure. She could get used to him having some free will, some impulses and drives of his own.
"There is nothing on this earth right now that I would rather do," she purred, pulling him down to kiss her. One hand stroked his newly pale hair, amazed at it, and the other tugged at his coat.
Her eyes now blazed with a different sort of fire, as she roughly kissed him, once and again, her breath short and ragged as she felt his hands upon her.
And in some quiet place inside her head, where the storms of physicality dared not tread, she wondered if she might prefer this after all, if her initial dislike had simply been the shock of the new. Did she like this Tobias, who took control, not only of himself but of her? She wasn't sure... she thought perhaps she did. He was interacting with her in a way he never would have before, never taking such an initiative without being prompted and pushed and cajoled into any major step. Sure he was unpredictable, sure unnerving at times, scary even, but he had always been that, only in a different way. Now he could be so in a good way, as well as bad. He could surprise her as he was now. She could become quite used to that, she thought.
In the outer regions of her mind, though, all she felt was the exhilarated passion of his touch and his desire, all the stronger for the fact she hadn't encouraged it as before. He wanted her, she him... what better was there in this world?
Her nightdress slipped away on a thought... had she done that or him? The land of the real was slipping into the realms of touch and thought and sense, no more of action and reaction and logical progression. No more of reason, but of rush, of elation and ecstasy. With the burning heat of her skin and the fire inside her mind, she felt more alive at his touch than she had for so long.
Maybe she did prefer this, treacherous as that thought was.
Perhaps in some way to push it aside, she spoke again, another breathy purr.
"Tobias," her lips were by his ear, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest and her heart beating fiercely strong against him as she held him close, "I love you, I want you... I want you to make love to me..." Her whispered words, an echo of his own, were sweeter and more confident, more intimate than hesitant.
Her fingers traced their way downwards, her lips too, lingering on his collar to leave a trail of warm kisses.
She looked up at him with burning, stormy eyes. The flames there were of a more natural sort than had glowed in recent moments, and all the stronger for it.
"Tobias... I want you to make love to me..."
What more was there to say?

Tobias heard her words and obeyed her wish, giving into his feelings of lust and love, expressing all the emotion he felt for her.

(tactful pause)


With a sigh, Tobias lay next to Lady Thorn and wrapped his arms around her. I love you, so, so much, that I feel like my heart is going to burst. He whispered, smiling, softly kissing her, his fingertips lightly dancing across the skin of her stomach.
I've waited all of my life to be accepted and loved. And now that I am, I am truly happy. However, he thought it might be tactful to mention his dislike of Ovid being allowed to stay in the area, let alone the building. That jeopardized his happiness.
Unfortunately, the whispering echo of voices on the edge of his consciousness had returned and it sent shivers down Tobias' spine. He thought for a moment, that he could see a leering face peering out of the shadows in the fringe of his vision.
Releasing Lady Thorn, Tobias sat up, closing his eyes to put his head in his hands. However, a change had come over him, but he couldn't see it. This change was that some of his hair had reverted from silvery-white to black, which formed a dark stripe down the back of his head. Not something that Tobias would be able to see, but one that Lady Thorn most probably would.
I want them back, but at the very same time I don't. I don't know what is the right thing to do anymore. Is it this difficult for everyone else? How can they cope, being their own evil?
Eventually, he stopped trying to figure out how being normal would work and looked at Lady Thorn, a weary smile upon his face. Perhaps we should sleep now. I'm worn out. He chuckled, as though nothing had disturbed him.

She lay there, warm and content and safe in his arms. His kisses calmed her, and she was already drifting in that halfway stage of sleep and waking when the warmth of him, his soft caress on her skin, was pulled away. She sat, looking at him with concern, and watching the darkness creep up his hair. One finger traced its path into his hairline, not sure whether to feel relief or sadness. One hand laid gently, warmly, comfortingly on his shoulder.
So it wasn't permanent. She wondered how painful it would be to go back for him. Whatever he said, she knew that this wholeness had meant a lot to him, and she was sad that he had to lose it so soon, that he was willing to give it up because of her.
Her arms wrapped around him, skin to bare skin, in a warm embrace, wishing she could lend him her strength and knowing that, whatever came, there would be unhappiness for him. She wished it wasn't so.
But then she felt a brief sting on her cheek, and knew that there had been pain this way as well. Perhaps confidence could be learned, gained through experience. Perhaps he could be the same Tobias as he wanted without having the fear of Evil lurking always in his soul. Separate, at least he could make his own decisions.
She wondered if she should say anything about it, and decided not. He must know what was happening, and from her face it would no doubt be clear that she did too. Best to leave those words unspoken and to enjoy what closeness they had, in these brief moments, without the fear of any others disturbing it.
"Indeed," she said, an equally weary smile gracing her own features, "we've earned our rest, I think."
A kiss, one more, and then she curled up against him, under the warmth of the thick blankets, and let sleep engulf her. As it came, a velvet blanket on her senses, she wished for peace, if only for a time, to stay. Then her mind was loosed from the shackles of consciousness, and all fell into dream.

* * *
(I am zooming forth to the morning/evening/thing, hope you don't mind)


Her eyes opened to the thick darkness of a room deprived of any source of light. It was night once more, but someone, she didn't like to contemplate who, had unlocked the door, come in, and switched the lights off as they slept. An unwarranted and unwanted breach of privacy. Words would be had, she was certain of that.
At least, she was until she sat.
As the covers slipped away and she moved to stretch, something lurched in the region of her stomach and she rushed headlong for the bathroom.
The implications, as she emerged, slightly green, very pale and shaking like a leaf in autumn, did not escape her. But she couldn't be. It was just... no.
Her gaze slid back to Tobias' sleeping form, shrouded in the soft of night and sweet in slumber. She hadn't the heart or the courage to wake him with this. She daren't. She needed a cooler head... she needed advice...
Still shaking, she slipped on a dressing gown and left the room, closing the door behind herself with a quiet click and making her shivering way down to the living room.
Her first thought, a glad one, was that Ovid was gone. Her second was that waking Nathaniel with this would be rather cruel.
She dismissed it.
Crouching, her hands roughly shook his shoulders, wide eyes close to his and messy hair scattered around her stretched and pallid face.
"Nathaniel!" A hiss, trying to be quiet in the slumber of the house. She didn't care to wake Tobias with this, not yet. "Wake up!" Her voice was on the edge of hysteria, and she desperately needed someone, anyone to take the edge of it away... with sense or some kind of comfort, she didn't care, but she needed him awake. Previous night's altercations or otherwise, this was beyond that.
"Nathaniel Harker, in the name of the gods, WAKE UP!"

Nathaniel had been sleeping perfectly peacefully, despite the fact that he was still sitting upright with his neck being tilted at a funny angle. He was in no way expecting to be woken in such a violent manner.
Giving a slight grunt, he raised his hand to his head, wondering if there was an earthquake occurring. Then, he peeled open his eyes and got the fright of his life seeing Lady Thorn's, pale green face, pressed close to his own.
Giving a rather loud cry of surprise, he tried to scramble backwards, almost ending up tipping back the sofa and finishing on the floor.
Gulping in some air, Nathaniel managed to calm himself down, despite his hands still shaking a little in shock. What! He hissed, automatically keeping his voice low in response to hers. What do you want? And why am I whispering? He went to push her away but something in his neck when 'twing!'
Ah! Ow! He winced, feeling the price he'd had to pay for sleeping like he had, a cricked neck coming back to bite him. But eventually, he saw what state that she was in, and, with a sigh, sat her down on the sofa before his hands went back to rubbing his neck. You look like death. He commented. He'd not forgotten the slap from last night. His face still ached where he had been struck.

Meanwhile, blissfully unaware of what was going on, Tobias rolled over. He was barely scraping consciousness as he hugged one of Lady Thorn's pillows, breathing in her scent but not noticing that she was absent from the bed.

She hadn't thought about how she might look... gods this was awful. Why? But there were more important things to think about than that.
She sat on the sofa beside him, but it did nothing to calm her agitation. She was still shaking, her eyes still wide and her face still terribly pale. She grabbed one of his hands, holding it in both of hers, she needed something human, or close. But his hand was cold, and he'd be able to feel her shaking through it. No matter.
Her thoughts were swimming on the ever-stronger currents of fear, fighting for coherence in the growing tide. They were only just making it.
"Something awful has happened," she hissed, leaning close. She was paying no mind to dignity, and it was quite possible there was a slightly revealing view down the front of her dressing gown. But what she had to say would probably remove any interest in that, or embarrassment, on Nathaniel's part.
But in her terror, she couldn't bring herself to say it.
It wasn't that she was unsure. She was certain, and that lent its own fear on the situation. If there had been any uncertainty it might have been a comfort.
But no, she knew, for all she thought it had been impossible. Foolish and stupid to assume that.
A small part of the terror did come from Tobias, after all, how would he take this? That was why she was here with Nathaniel, not there with him. She needed the slimmest chance that someone would try to console her, not throw a hissy fit of panic and need comforting himself. Perhaps, in his newly held-together state he'd be good with the news, but she didn't know that. She didn't want to risk it alone.
Weakness came at the most inopportune moments.
Most of the fear came from herself. She didn't think she was strong enough for this. She'd avoided it for more than two thousand years... why now?
She took a deep breath, an attempt to quell her shattered nerves, in vain, then plucked up the courage, what dregs she had, to try to tell her lover's brother.
"I..." The words came difficult. "When I woke up this evening... something had changed... something dreadful... I can't tell Tobias, not on my own... don't know what he'd say... or do... scared... so... scared..." Her voice was a shaking whisper, all attempt at courage gone. Her hands gripped his with some great strength, clinging to solid in her panic. "I can't..." She tried to steer herself back to coherence... he wouldn't be understanding any of this at all. Another deep breath. Her voice was still a trembling aspen of a murmur, but it was better. "I'm..." But saying it out loud made it more true... and it was a dreadful truth to have. She threw her arms around his neck, tears welling in her eyes and any hope of dignity long lost.
Beside his ear, so quiet as to be almost unheard were she not so close, she said the words she'd never wanted to hear from her own lips.
"I'm pregnant."

Unfortunately, Lady Thorn did provide Nathaniel with an astonishingly revealing view down the front of her dressing gown. Quickly shutting his eyes, Nathaniel raised his head so that it would be impossible for him to glance the contents of the garment again and opened his eyes. This time he made sure that his gaze remained upon her face.
What is it? What is wrong? He asked, as Lady Thorn only came forth with a load of apparent gibberish. His concern with slightly spoiled by a wince as she squeezed his hand a little too tightly.
However, when she flung her arms around his neck and whispered the terrible secret into his ear, Nathaniel was completely and utterly gob smacked. Stuttering, he managed to bring forth some sound, but it was no where near comprehensible. When he finally did regain the power of speech, he wasn't sure what to say. Presumably, as her terror suggested, congratulations wasn't to be high on the list of responses, nor was asking Lady Thorn to repeat herself. Either might lead to him being hit again, which was definitely something that he didn't want to happen.
Slowly, Nathaniel placed his arms around her, vaguely patting her back in what he hoped was a comforting manner. I'm sorry if I say something stupid. I am a little surprised here. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed, evaluating the situation in his mind before speaking again to avoid stupidity.
Well then. I take it that from your point of view this is bad, so, why not talk to Mika? I'm sure that he could do something to...remove...the problem. He suggested lightly, trying to put his logic into words as gently as possible.
But I never thought that I would ever have a niece or a nephew. Tobias is, or was, too inexperienced. And Matthew...well, he's about as lovable as an ice age. It would be a shame... He muttered to himself, trying to work out if he was pleased or horrified by her revelation.

Mika? Oh god she'd not thought of that... Could she do that? She didn't want a child, that was for sure, but could she be responsible for killing one, her own flesh and blood... Tobias' own...? Nathaniel certainly didn't seem so keen on the idea... but he wasn't the one who'd have to go through the agony of childbirth...
Another thought she didn't want to have. She pushed it aside. Nine months was a long time. A long time to dwell, but also to prepare. Maybe she could...?
Why was she even considering this? Her, a mother? Ludicrous.
But it was Tobias' child... and much though the thought of motherhood abhorred her, she couldn't kill his child... it would be... wrong in so many ways. Nefas. That was the word. Sometimes only Latin would do to articulate her thoughts.
She was glad of Nathaniel's arms around her, it helped a lot, but she felt now calmer... calm enough to have some dignity.
She pulled away, sitting up with folded arms, her dressing gown firmly shut around her. She only shivered a little now, forcing herself to quell the urge to scream. The tears dried on her cheeks.
"No... I couldn't do that... it would be killing and I could never manage that to a relative of Tobias... and of yours..." She placed a hand on her stomach, a frown on her face. It only just dawned that, in there, was a boy or a girl waiting to be... not just some awful thing to plague her. A child...
She couldn't be happy about the thought, however hard she tried, but thinking about it like that was... less scary.
"I've still got to tell Tobias, though..." she whispered, thinking too that she would have to tell so many people. "And... gods... someone has to tell Matthew... I'm not doing that!" She knew he wouldn't take this news well. "He'll kill me!" The fear returned, now the honest cowardice of fear of death. "He already hates me for leading Tobias astray with my evil feminine wiles... just because he's gay doesn't mean everyone can be..." she muttered darkly, aware that this was perhaps not the best audience for her dislike. Leave it for another time.
"How am I to tell Tobias? What's he going to say?" She clasped Nathaniel's hand again, now not too hard, just the gentle grip of one in need of support from a friend. "Please, will you help me? I don't know how..."
She couldn't find the words for it, in her head. She couldn't think what she'd say to anyone. It was a miracle she'd made it clear to Nathaniel. How would she tell Mika too, and Fabian...? All the people she knew... she'd have to tell them... she'd have to suffer their happiness for her awful state.
She ran a hand through her messy hair, still unkempt from sleep and other things. Her eyes were still stained with yesterday's makeup, her lips with false tint. She was a wreck, body and spirit.
"No time like the present, eh?" She made no move to let go of his hand.

Gently patting her shoulder with one hand, Nathaniel scratched his head with the other. Leave Matthew to me. I shall make sure that he knows. But he won't be thrilled, and knowing my brother, he will want to confront you. I know that you and he have never been on the best of terms, but please try not to speak ill of him in my presence. He asked politely, understanding that this wouldn't be the most stress-free experience of her life.
Holding her hand supportively, Nathaniel spoke to her in a low voice. You simply have to tell him the truth. Come on now, I'll hold your hand whilst you tell him, if that would make you feel better. The sooner it is done, the better. Still holding Lady Thorn's hand, Nathaniel helped her to her feet and slowly led her back upstairs.

Tobias was slowly waking up while the conversation was going on downstairs. He yawned widely, still cuddling the pillow, and rubbed his nose with the back of a hand. Peeling open his eyes, he saw that Lady Thorn was gone and instantly began to panic.
Opening his mind, he quested around the building, searching for her to see if she was safe. But then the door swung open and Lady Thorn and his brother entered.
Sitting up, continuing to hug the pillow for comfort, he looked at their faces. What is it? He whispered, fearing that something truly terrible had happened. What is wrong, Lady Thorn? He almost stood to go to her side, but then remembered that he was naked and sat again.

She wanted to tell him not to patronise her so, but now was not the time, and she really would not relish the removal of that hand. It was her anchor right now. Somehow, she doubted she could ever do this alone. She'd have had to, maybe, if it had come to it, but she would really not like to imagine how that conversation would go. This one already wasn't promising.
She wondered how dreadful she looked, that Tobias could so easily tell that something was wrong. Then again, maybe being whole had given him some time for observation, when before much of his mental faculties were directed inward, focused on his own issues. It would be comforting to think not, to think that he could still manage such care once he'd returned to normal... well... normal for him.
But normal or not, he needed to know.
The truth, Nathaniel had said... how hard could it be?
She suppressed a shudder.
"I... I have something to tell you," she told Tobias, her voice already shaking.
Come on, woman... have some backbone... you've done worse than this...
She scoffed at that thought. There were different types of fear.
Still clinging to Nathaniel, she took one of her lover's hands, bringing it to her lips for a trembling kiss before continuing.
"Well... I..." she sighed, wondering how to go about this. "We've slept together, you and I, um..." she coughed, "several times..." Nathaniel probably didn't want to hear that, "and, well... I suppose it's my fault, since I never took any precautions, and I should have told you to, I suppose, but I thought I'd be ok... well... I always have been... it's never been an issue... I'd forgotten it could be really..."
Stop rambling, woman. Tell him already. The poor love must think you've given him cancer or something.
Right... yes... tell him.
"Look. When I woke up just now, I noticed something that I really need to tell you. I don't know what you're going to think of it, and I'm so sorry for being so careless, but I can't get rid of it before you suggest that, even though I hate the thought of it..." she squeezed Nathaniel's hand, and Tobias' hand, just gently, just for reassurance that she could do this. "But, well, I'm pregnant." She didn't smile. She couldn't, not with this news. Somehow, however she put it, she didn't think he was going to be thrilled at the news. "You're... you're going to be a father."
Gods... it was over...
She dropped the brothers' hands and buried her face in her own, sliding gently onto the bed, legs curled beneath her and hunched over, fingers open slightly so she could see what the hell Tobias would say about this. She just hoped he wouldn't be too happy about it.

Initially, Tobias sighed in relief. Oh! Oh thank goodness. I thought you were going to tell me that someone had died... He laughed... but then the realisation kicked in, relief disappearing in an instant.
Wait... I'm going to be... a... a... Tobias could hardly bring himself to say the word. Father? He whispered, before his jaw dropped open in a stunned silence.
Looking helplessly to Nathaniel, his brother only nodded and shrugged his shoulders, still seeming rather shocked himself.
I... I... He stuttered, the power of speech leaving him just like it had done for Nathaniel. Blinking, he gently pulled Lady Thorn closer to him, cradling her in his arms.

I'll just wait downstairs, shall I? Nathaniel suggested quietly, backing out of the door and closing it behind him. They needed to come to terms with... well, with what? Was it a loss, or was it a gain? It could be argued from either side. Still, he dreaded the thought of having to take care of a baby, the very idea causing him to shudder.
Babies didn't seem to like Nathaniel. They often began to cry and scream loudly whenever he approached a mother with a young child. There had been many a missed opportunity for a meal when a screaming child is drawing attention from miles around.

A father... Tobias repeated in a murmur, staring off into space. And you will be it's mother... Eventually, once the initial shock had worn off, he then said, But what if I don't want to be a father yet...? What if I'm not fit to be a father...? I don't know anything about babies, but I don't want to let you down.
Then he began to mutter, over and over. I've fathered a child... I've fathered a child... Before it all became too much for him and he passed out cold.

"What if I'm not fit to be a mother?" Lady Thorn echoed Tobias' words with a whisper, adding another fear to the pile. She was glad of his arms around her, for the comfort, though... right up until the point when he fainted.
Frowning, she looked up, confused, then her face shifted gently to a mild anger. He could very well be like this... he wasn't the one with a living creature inside his womb... all he had to do was look sympathetic for nine months...
She was perhaps a little more rough in waking him than she ought to have been, but not so much as she'd have liked, so she figured it evened out a little.
"Tobias! Tobias! Wake up!" She shook him by the shoulders, none to gently.
"I don't care what sort of father you'll be but you will be and this is not the time to be passing out on me! How do you think I feel?" She was vaguely hoping he wasn't awake to hear her ranting like this... she didn't like to make her weaknesses so plainly known... but the words were tumbling out in her annoyance and there was little she could do to stop them. "I've avoided this for more than two thousand years... why do you think I'd have done that unless I was afraid of it, hm? I don't want to give birth, I don't want to raise children, but that's what's going to happen, so by the gods' you'd better wake up because I am not doing it ON MY OWN!"
She gave him another shake, suppressing a sob. Why couldn't he have taken the news... better? Not even that, just been more stoical about it and comforted her, maybe. Too much to ask, she supposed. Wrong person, too. Well... it was his faul-... no, it wasn't. Any other man she could accuse of carelessness but not him. It was all her own doing and no denying it, worse luck. With no one to blame she just had to sit there and wallow in self-pity and hope the morning-sickness wouldn't last.
She took a few deep breaths, steadying herself and trying to stop the shakes of fear. She could do this... she could. It couldn't be so hard... human women did it all the time, much younger than her... what was there to worry about?
Now that was a question she'd best not ask. She knew too much and too disgusting to dwell on that thought.
And she couldn't even tell Tobias in the hope of reassurance because he'd panic worse than her.
Fantastic.
But the pain was distant enough that she could put it from her mind. Well, she could try. Right now, she had the unenviable task of comforting her poor lover. What the hell could she say to make it alright?

Tobias could barely hear what Lady Thorn was ranting about as he gradually came round. His neck and shoulders ached a little from being shaken so much though.
In his mind, five vague, very shadowy figures whispered to him. They expressed their fear, anticipation and frustration. They were like white outlines on a black background, the white lines being very thin indeed and barely visible, but they were still there, and it made Tobias all the more eager to return to consciousness.
Eyelids fluttering open, Tobias slowly sat up, wrapped his arms around Lady Thorn and held her tightly. He gently kissed her cheek before nervously biting his lower lip. I'm sorry. He said in a hushed tone, looking guilty. For making you... He swallowed before he said the next word. Saying it made the situation all too real. Pregnant. He whispered.
Unfortunately, he was still innocent enough to not know what he might have done to prevent this disaster. He didn't have a clue as to if it was possible, but he felt guilty all the same.
Placing a hand lightly upon her stomach, almost as if he might be able to feel some change already. But, it can't be too bad, if we're together. Can it?

And with that, he managed to evaporate her anger, leaving her feeling guilty that it had ever been. Whatever else he might be, he had a knack of manipulating her that in anyone else would annoy beyond belief.
"No, I'm sorry. I should have ensured against it, and you weren't to know, so it is entirely my own stupid fault." She harrumphed slightly, glad of his arms around her for the comfort they gave. "I sometimes forget that I need to... well... not assume you know these things." She gave a weak smile and kissed him lightly in return.
"Don't feel guilty. It's done now. We just have to go on as best we can." False sentiment, but she felt a duty to comfort him. He really hadn't known, because she hadn't told him, and it really was all her own issue that she hadn't thought. Stupid, but done.
"I mean..." she added, though the idea left her deeply uneasy, but she felt she owed him the choice, "I... could have... an abortion..." the word came out as a choked cough, so she repeated it, "if you really don't want me to... if you really don't think you can..." It was a testament to her views on the sanctity of life that she felt so uneasy about that option, even in her own case. She sometimes wished her morals weren't always in such conflict with practicality. It did so get in the way.
"I could, well, Mika could... if it really is that awful an idea for you to be a father... and we could just be careful... in the future..." Much though the idea of a child-free life was appealing, she still couldn't give her enthusiasm to abortion. She hoped, against all expectation, that he wouldn't want it. Now they were there, now she knew that there was a living being of Tobias' kin inside her, she didn't think she could make that choice, to kill it.
She somehow thought Mika might have different thoughts, of course. He wasn't going to be happy about this.

[Isi Runasimi]

[Solemn Contemplation is the Poison of the Soul]

Managing to stay calm, Matthew continued to take slow, deep breaths to stop his voice from wavering when he did speak. Now that Mika knew just what he felt, Matthew resented himself for letting the words slip out. But he had been frustrated. He had been trying to show the vampire the love and affection he held for him, but it seemed to be that Mika was throwing it back in his face. He hadn't been sure what else to do.
He didn't want to be pitied, he didn't particularly wanted to be comforted. He wasn't a charity case, not a sop-story. He could deal with this by himself, as he had done before for some many other things. But at least it wasn't rejection. Then, Matthew would have left Mika's life forever.
I don't want you to feel sorry for me. He whispered as the cold fingers traced their way over his skin, only accepting the kiss but not giving anything back.
Looking solemnly at Mika when he pulled away, Matthew had barely opened his mouth to reply before his lips were captured again. But this time, he put emotion and feeling into it, running a hand through the vampire's short, dark hair.
Eventually pulling away, Matthew still appeared solemn, but his eyes were bright and shining with warmth. Gently, he caressed Mika's cheek, opening his mouth to speak again. Being alone would do me no good. Now I've finally accepted my feelings for you... He paused, looking away to organise his thoughts into the words that best described them.
I've been denying it for weeks. But I've lost focus. Whatever I concentrated on, something always, in the end, brought me back to thoughts of you. That's why I came to see you, to see if being with you again could remove you from my head. Matthew sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and for a moment, he seemed old and world weary.
I've rejected the idea of love. It is a weakness that I cannot afford. A weakness that is there to be exploited. I've done it many times myself. I already have two great weaknesses, I did not want a third, but I cannot stop what I feel. I know that you cannot love me, I accept that, and I can make do with affection and lust. I can cope with just that. His voice had now faded to a whisper and he drew the vampire into his arms, giving his warmth to Mika.

At those last words, as he stole the heat of Matthew's embrace and lay there, quiet, in his arms, Mika felt truly cruel, truly evil. It was all he could do not to shake with the horrible guilt of it. He was responsible for the suffering Matthew would have had, and would no doubt have to come, and know those sufferings as he did he felt so much the criminal for doing so. It wasn't his choice, and he knew this too, but surely he could have lied? Surely a honeyed trickery would be better than this? A few bright weeks, months, maybe even a year, and perhaps Matthew would have worn out the thing he felt, be it love or longing or lust or infatuation as he thought his brother had. Perhaps it would have faltered on its own, leaving Matthew cold and disenchanted, slightly harsher but none the worse for wear, and Mika feeling guilty for his lie but otherwise an innocent still.
Perhaps... a word of longing and of fractured pasts and things he could have better done without.
But done they were, and now he felt the price of it.
"I already have two great weaknesses, I did not want a third, but I cannot stop what I feel."
A silver knife, cold and cruel, sliding into his lying, shrivelled heart.
"I know that you cannot love me, I accept that, and I can make do with affection and lust. I can cope with just that."
Cope? He would watch Matthew, day by day, growling in the shadow of a distant woman, coping and dealing with only scattered morsels of affection which, while true and honest, were no recompense for the true and whole thing. Coping would hurt him, of this Mika was sure, and he would be there to watch it happen, to watch the wounds slice open, one by one, each a damnation on his own foolish actions.
If his heart were not already dead, he thought that it might break at this. He was as shameless as the rest of them, his cold, vampiric fire used to trap others' hearts when he himself could not sustain their fancies. What had he become?
He had no answer to that which he was willing to articulate.
He just sat there, stealing loving kisses and caresses.
But what could he do?
His mind blossomed and flowered open with several possibilities. Some were more dreadful than this sham, leaving both or only Matthew left to rot inside, and he dismissed them. Some were too duplicitous, lying of a changing heart and a new love on the vampire's part... he couldn't bear that lie, not now he had spoken his true feelings... those plans were too late for him. Some, however, spoke to deeper feelings in his bones, resonating against the notes of his character and slipping him an option which, however cowardly, would save both him and Matthew from a sham of hollow care.
Coward... he was turning into his sire. He could have wept. But it was a way out.
He could run.
A wild idea, one he might once have never considered, but one which now appealed to all his problems at once. His findings were safe here, in his head, and his notebooks would be safe enough without him, for however long it took. He could be gone from this place, seek sanctuary with others for a time, until Matthew's rage subsided and his love burned away and Mika could watch him without the guilt of causing pain. He could bear Matthew's hatred, if it meant not watching him suffer.
Coward... his conscience taunted him, but he didn't care. He set the plan aside for another day. He already knew where he could flee, and that she would take him in without a word. Matthew would look there first, of course, but if he let her see his feelings, he knew she would keep him secret, if only as an echo of her own awful deeds in the past.
But for now, he returned the embrace with honest warmth. Whatever he said, he did feel true affection for the man before him. He just felt sorry for the heart whose thudding beat he felt and heard through the lycan's chest.

Holding tightly on to Mika, Matthew whispered next to his ear. Don't pity me. Don't feel sorry for me. These feelings are my own fault and I have to deal with them, it's as simple as that.
Matthew was fine right now, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to keep himself so tolerant and calm in the future. Love was a nuisance, but one he could not so easily discard. However, he was very good at denying himself his emotions, pushing them away so that they didn't interfere so much with his life, and he knew that he would have to do that for this. By restraining the feeling of love, he would be content with with receiving the vampire's minor affections.
I'm not going to let you go. I want you to be mine, no matter how much I know that it will never come true. He muttered, lightly gripping Mika's shirt. What the most ridiculous thing is, that I have a strange sense of hope that, someday, you might love me in return. Even though I know you will not, I cannot quite quell his hope. Stupid, isn't it? That the one who will break me is just as emotionally numb as myself. I cruel irony I suppose.
Matthew's lips then moved to Mika's neck, sucking softly upon the skin to leave a mark. He was possessive, but also very protective. At least Mika wouldn't be placed in any sort of danger as long as Matthew was around.

Mika couldn't help but speak his mind, at that first comment Matthew spoke. He couldn't help but let the words escape before he wished he'd kept them silent.
"But I do pity you. I know how it feels." Stupid, stupid, stupid man. He stood, turning away from Matthew to hide the blush of shame across his face. He just couldn't keep his mouth shut, could he, couldn't manage to do anything right. Fool!
"I'm sorry," he said, muffled as his face was to the window, where the green curtains shone with the muted hints of the lamps outside. "I shouldn't have said that. I know you don't want to hear it any more." He sighed, frustrated at himself and at the position he'd managed to work himself into, all from one chance meeting in a forest. He sorely wished, now, despite what he did feel for Matthew, that that meeting had never come to pass, and that the lycan hadn't wished to torment him with jibes and innuendoes about his sexuality, and that he hadn't been a klutz and a fool and all manner of things to lead himself to this wretched spot.
But here he was. He didn't want to hurt Matthew any more than he had to, though he failed to see how the werewolf's ability to hide his feelings would serve him well enough. He knew from experience that they always found a way through, eventually.
"Look, I truly am sorry for what I am, and what my life has lead me to. If I could be any other way then I would be, but what is is and will never be otherwise, and I cannot be sorrier." He was pacing now, agitated. He wished he could do something for the werewolf, find someone on whom he could bestow his affections undeterred, someone whom he could love and who would love in return. Alas that feelings were not that easy to manipulate. He wished that he could make him forget...
No.
He stamped on that thought as quickly as it came. He could not suffer his conscience if he drugged Matthew that way. Such a great abuse of trust was unsolicited and unforgivable, on his own part or the lycan's. He just couldn't.
He would stick with his previous plan. He would go. Not now, but soon. Let Matthew think he'd lead him in this sham for now. He didn't know what pain was to come, and Mika intended to spare him from such knowledge. Better the hatred of a missing man than the aching love of ages.
But Matthew couldn't know that. He couldn't let him see what a heartless beast he was being, even if it was all for the good. To that end he stopped his pacing, forcing himself to calm and sit on the bed once more, his fingers now tracing the mark on his neck as he thought about it properly.
Love... and hope... the twin evils of the human condition.
But he could manage hope for the werewolf, for a time. He owed him that.
Feeling ever more malign, he turned his lips to Matthew's own neck, tasting his blood with a relish all to real, returning his affections with an act all too convincing. He cringed inside to do so, to take the blood and force himself to be so forward and so caring when all the while he plotted to be far away. But it was for the good.
Do no harm... The words that governed his life. A creed he lived by, day by day. He only wished it wasn't so hard.
And so he kissed the lycan, tender and passionate, showing all the marks and traits of a man overcome by lust. Not even Lady Thorn could have told the difference, had she seen him, and she knew him better than any, she could read him better than any.
He only wished he didn't have to act.

Taking a deep breath when Mika stood up, Matthew managed to watch his pacing in a calm manner, far calmer than he actually felt. The vampire had just gone and said the words that Matthew had expressly told him not to.
I do not want you to apologise for the way you are. Mika, I love you as who you are, despite the fact that you can be so frustrating that occasionally I have been tempted to throttle you. There would be only one thing that I would want to change about you, and that would be where your heart is placed. Matthew sighed, refusing to let anymore words of that kind issue from his lips. The more talked like this, the easier it seemed to become, and that worried him. If things carried on like this, they both would possibly be hurt. He would have to stop all mentions of love.
Be happy with what affection you have. He mentally told himself. But that was soon driven from his mind when he felt Mika's lips and teeth against his neck.
Giving a soft moan, Matthew kissed back with fervour, taking the vampire in his arms, fingers snaking their way into his dark hair. But suddenly, he seemed to awaken from the lusty haze, and pulled away. For a moment he seemed troubled, as though torn as to which way to go, however, that soon vanished when he stood up and began to dress himself. He thought perhaps that, once dressed, he might be able to think clearer with one more preventative layer between himself and Mika.
Do you realise how much you are tempting me? He muttered. I'm sorry, but I need a little physical distance between us for the time being, before I can make sure that I am not going to make a fool out of myself. I shall go and rest in one of the other rooms for now. By physical distance, Matthew didn't mean keeping a 5 metre space between them at all times. He did mean more like no physical contact, but both being in the same room would be fine. His reasons for moving now was only because he wanted to be away from the staring eyes of Lady Thorn, even if she was only drawn.

Mika nodded, about to say something more, when the phone began to ring, loudly and shrilly, downstairs.
He cursed, looking apologetically at Matthew before sprinting off at a surpising speed to answer it.
The blasted machine was an old-fashioned-looking beast, a behemoth of black plastic, mounted on the wall and wobbling slightly as it jangled, sending little spirals of plaster dust as it rang.
Breathing slightly heavily, he unhooked the phone, wondering who it might be. He sometimes got odd calls at odder hours from patients, but some instinct in his gut told him that this was otherwise.
After a few moments spent listening, he wished it had been.
His face fell, mouth left gaping and the muscle beneath one eye twitched erratically. If he could have seen himself in a mirror, he'd have marvelled at his capacity to turn any paler than his normal pallid self.
The phone conversation continued for a few moments, his end held up only as the odd grunt and meek noise to the affirmative. He didn't even try to bother being happy at the news. He just couldn't. His thoughts floated around the conjunction of the words "worst" and "nightmare". He suspected Matthew's might follow similar lines, though tending more to anger than horror.
Speaking of...
Is Matthew there with you?
He sensed a slightly accusatory tone to her voice, though directed not at him, but at the werewolf. He ignored it, managing to voice himself properly, with some difficulty.
"Yes... he is... you want me to pass him over?"
He had to hold the phone away from his ear from the force of the shouted "NO!".
"Fair enough... I'll tell him then... but you're responsible if my body turns up buried nearby." He was tetchy, and understandably so. He didn't want to be this messenger.
But he dutifully hung the phone up when she said her curt farewell and headed up the stairs to find the werewolf.
"Matthew?"
He pushed his head around the door, already looking nervous on top of his ashen features.
"I just had a phone call... you're not going to like this..." He winced in anticipation. "Lady Thorn's pregnant, and you're going to be an uncle..."
He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable response.

Matthew had just begun to doze off, his eyelids feeling heavy and his brain weary. One arms was underneath his head whilst the other lay across his stomach, and socked feet were crossed at the ankles as he lay upon his back. Sleep had been welcomed, and just as he had been crossing the border into the Land of Nod, Mika entered the room.
What? He groaned, not even opening his eyes but a frown appeared, creasing his forehead.
"I just had a phone call... you're not going to like this... Lady Thorn's pregnant, and you're going to be an uncle..."
This information caused Matthew to sit up in alarm, his eyes snapping open instantly. WHAT! He roared, leaping to his feet and grabbing Mika by the collar. She's what? He snarled, glaring fiercely at the vampire.
Matthew's eyes had become a vivid yellow, and his teeth all seemed sharper than they had moments ago. It was a sight that would have most sensible people running, terrified, for their lives.
Matthew raised a fist, still holding tightly onto Mika with the other hand, and it looked like he was about to thump the poor vampire, who didn't want to be the messenger in the first place. Thankfully, however, Matthew's rage didn't blind him that much and he released Mika before turning and beginning to pace the length of the room, muttering mutinously to himself. How could she do this? Now Tobias will never be free of her! She must have done this on purpose to keep my brother to herself. When I get my hands on her... He paused in his pacing to strangle the air with astonishing fervour.
Finally, after some of the initial shock and rage had worn off, Matthew slumped down onto the bed, breathing heavily. His jaw was clenched and so were his fists but at least it didn't seem like he was going to strike out at anybody in the proximity. Still, any ornaments and small objects were in danger of being thrown.

Scared, but not entirely surprised by Matthew's reaction, Mika gulped and spoke up. The vision of the werewolf behind the mask of humanity had sent a shiver down his spine, but he hid that easily enough as he spoke in his lady's defence.
"In all fairness, she is quite as distraught as you about the... event," he murmured, keeping his distance, lingering in the shadows of the corner to try to mask his own displeasure. He had his own reasons not to be happy, after all. "She didn't plan it, and has never wanted children, so it may well have simply been a case of foolish carelessness." He spoke the last bit through gritted teeth as he endeavoured not to think about it.
"Please, don't feel too harshly that this is all her doing. She was rather upset on the phone..." Yes... upset didn't quite cover it, but he didn't feel that arguing her case too strongly would do him any favours here. "She's scared, to be honest," he added, sounding rather weary as he thought of what was to come, in the months to follow, "very scared, so I'd hope you won't be too rude or anything to her when next you meet. I shouldn't think she'll be able to take it right now..."
Stop!
Something in his mind said that this track was not healthy and he should swiftly switch to something more comforting. He valued his life, after all.
"But," and he tried to smile with this one, in his shadowy nook, "think of it this way. Tobias will be a father and you an uncle... they are Tobias' children as much as hers. Is that not something about which to be pleased?" As for keeping Tobias to her... well it hardly needed doing anymore. You'd need a crowbar to prise him away, more was the pity.

Won't be rude? Matthew thought, I'll be far more than rude to her... And he had to stop himself from thinking of ways to hurt her in his brother's absence.
Releasing Mika from the venomous glare that he'd fixed upon the vampire when he had tried to defend Lady Thorn, Matthew's gaze fell to his hands. Flexing his fingers, he then cracked his knuckles.
Tobias is not... suited, to be a father, as you should know. Matthew had to stop himself from almost saying fit, instead of suited. He didn't want to talk about his brother in a derogatory way, but Tobias just was not father material, end of story.
Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm down and not smash anything, Matthew fell silent, focusing on a patch of floor which could almost be seen to be smoking with the intensity of the glare. I cannot be pleased. He muttered. What if Tobias' insanity is hereditary? Could you just imagine what the child will be like? I've been put through a tortured childhood with my brother, I will not go through something like that again with his child. It is too cruel... for all of us. Matthew's voice almost broke. He didn't like to think of his youth, for most of it was too painful.
Standing up, Matthew walked over to Mika, jaw still clenched but not looking as fierce as he had done before. Then he pulled the vampire into an embrace. It was like he needed some kind of comfort, but wouldn't ask for it or accept it when it was offered. So, he simply took it instead.

"Even if it is hereditary, it is not certain the child will inherit it." He patted the werewolf in an attempt at comfort then pulled away, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Bear in mind that the mother isn't insane, so it could well be that the child is completely normal." It was nowhere near that simple, but he had to make it comprehensible. Matthew wouldn't exactly understand if he started rabbiting about epistasis.
"And just as you say it is cruel for "all of us", do you include Thorn in that? She's the one who must give birth, which you may or may not know is not a pleasant business. She doesn't want it any more than anyone else does. You shouldn't be so hard on her."
He bit his lip. His voice had been quite loud there. This was dangerous territory. He had seen first-hand the way these two got on. House on fire was accurate enough. Not that Lady Thorn was blameless herself, but in her absence, Mika felt the urge to defend her. It was seriously bringing him into danger.
Unfortunately, survival instinct wasn't on duty today.
"Look... maybe if you talked to Tobias and her about this, maybe then you can get used to the idea or maybe even be pleased..."
He shut up.
Fool.
Just could not keep his mouth shut. It was her, damn it.
He held his hand to his lips to prevent any more stupid things leaking out.
He was almost scared what Matthew might do.

[Lady Thorn]

Thank you. And now, sorry to be a pest, can I get my bios? They are all linked to my sig, so not hard to find or anything.

[Isi Runasimi]

It's not a bother. It's partly my fault that the other site is decimated. -retrieves-

[Isi Runasimi]

My main character, whom I adore. A self-confessed coward who will run away should the need arise, or even seem likely.

Alias: Lady Thorn

Real Name: Catalina Alexandra Corvinus

Age: 2874

Gender: Female

Species: Vampire

Specialities: Most of Lady Thorn's skills are academic, as she has a passion for learning languages. Due to her nomadic nature during her centuries of life, she has had the opportunity to master many tongues, particularly the European ones, as that was where most of her wandering took her. She is fluent in Latin, English, French, Italian, Greek (both Classical and Modern) and Romanian. There are other which she can speak to some degree of fluency also. Her other academic skills include a knack for finding things in archives which other people would overlook, and she has utilised this skill over the ages to earn a bit of money. She has also written the odd poem, penned under a pseudonym, which has kept her income secure (due to continuing royalties).
Her martial abilities are not meagre either. Though not the most accomplished and brilliant of fighters, she can be pretty dangerous when using her throwing knives (of which she has many, concealed in her coat) or her gladius. She has never adapted her fighting style to accomodate her using guns, but since her accuracy and speed with her blades is formidable, if not masterly, she has never felt the need to do so. When deprived of the blades, she can defend herself, though she is loathe to do so.
Emotionally, she is relatively stable, tending towards a more solitary, quiet nature. She has no aversion to friendship and company, but does not feel the need to spend every moment in the presence of others. She is difficult to anger or scare (weaknesses notwithstanding) and when this happens, she calms down relatively quickly too. This is useful, as it means she fights (mostly) with a clear head, using logic and thought instead of instinct and brute force to overcome her opponent.
She is also pyrokinetic (see History).

Weaknesses: As well as all of the normal vampiric weaknesses (though the holy symbols which affect her are not Christian, but Roman pantheonic), she has a great and irrational fear of moths. If confronted with one, she will generally scream and attempt to flee its presence. She also tends to get more than a little irate on seeing people deface or damage books. This tends to lead her to irrational acts and she has regretted her actions on the odd occasion for this.
Her only great emotional weakness is an incident in her past which she hates bringing up- a lover she had in Ancient Rome, the poet Publius Ovidius Nasus. She detests speaking about him and feels guilty for his death (see History).

Physical Appearance: She is fairly tall for a woman of her time, about 5ft 9, and very thin. Her skin is the porcelain, flawless white of most vampires, though it's pallid tone is accentuated by her vibrant copper hair with balck highlights, which falls to her earlobes, though longer at the fringe. Her eyes are a pale, grey-blue colour, wide and large. They seem always to be very expressive, reflecting her moods and feelings as she speaks. Her eyebrows are very pale and thin, set a little higher than is usual, giving her a slightly surprised look. Her fingers are long, and she keeps her fingernails likewise, more often than not painted in one of various colours.
She normally wears dark jeans (black or blue) with a dark, goth-style top, though always a neat and presentable one. She wears little jewellery, normally just one necklace or a ring, and keeps her hair loose around her face. Her footwear of preference is a pair of black boots with reinforced, stiletto heels. The only piece of clothing she has with her at all times is her coat. It is a long, brown leather number, and contains her many knives sheathed in the lining and sleeves, ready for use.

Personality: Though emotionally, she is relatively stable within herself, she presents a rather quirky front. She often does strange things just to see how people will take them, and her mood swings and supposed feelings are more often for show than genuine. She is quite capable of true and earnest emotions, and will show them when they appear, but it is almost as if lack of feelings bores her, and she invents some to wile away the time between. Her likes and dislikes are normally extreme, tending towards love and hate rather than anything mediocre.
She is more than a little cowardly, admittedly so, and will avoid a fight if possible. She does this not so much out of fear but out of the desire to preserve herself, and this may be what has kept her these many years. She does, however, recognise that there are some times when fighting is necessary, and will do so then and without reluctance.

History: She was born outside the city of Rome at the height of its powers. Her parents were at the head of a rich family who were all vampires for many generations back, and were proud of their heritage. She was raised in a culture that tolerated such oddities as vampires, as many of the Roman nobility had their own bizarre quirks that far outweirded anything she could offer. Her family trained all the children in fighting arts from a young age, and she was given her sword "Arderius" at the age of 12, when it was deemed she could wield it with enough skill to defend herself.
As a child, she had a long-standing rivalry with her sister, a mutual hatred, almost. They had very different viewpoints, and would often come to blows or full-on sword bouts over their arguments. In all of these, Thorn never lost once. She was, by contrast, very close to her brother, a pacifist, and would spend many hours in conversation with him. On the whole, she was not well received by her parents, who misliked her reticence to fight and would often berate her for it. It was because of this that she ran away in her late fifties to the city of Rome itself.
In Rome, she disguised herself as a man and attended the school where most of the young aristocrats went to study rhetoric and wordplay. She was well-received, despite the drawback of vampirism, and kept most of the tutors and other pupils fooled as to her gender. Only one managed to figure her out, Ovid, but he told her he did not dislike her for it. They became firm friends, and later, lovers. He often wrote poetry for her, once he grew up and became a poet full time, and they spent most of their nights together, wandering the streets and listening to the public speakers. She even went away with him to the Baltic when he was banished for his works. She remained there with him, despite the fact that every day he grew older and older and she remained the same. As he became sick, she begged him every day to let her turn him into a vampire like her, but every day he refused. Finally, he died, having never been allowed to return home to the city he loved. She buried him, and made her way back to her family estates, in mourning.
When she returned home, her mother immediately locked her away inside the family villa in punishment for her "dalliance with a mortal". It was seen by most of the family as the gravest of embarrassements for one of their own to be with a normal human, and she was, from that point on, shunned by most of her vampiric peers. Her brother and father often visited her whilst she was locked away, bringing her things to read and news of the world outside, since they both were less inclined to elitism than most of the clan. The imprisonment was short, but was to be one of many, as from that point on she took great delight in flouting the many rules and regulations her mother so adored. She was, however, still loyal in some degree to her family and clan.
This changed, due to an incident that happened when she was around four-hundred years old. She was in a brief period between imprisonments, having spent a lot of time in contemplation of her morals, and was lounging around the family villa, when she heard some of the slaves muttering about her sister being out on a killing spree. She took her sword and headed after her, unsure why exactly, but wanting to do something. She found that her sister had destroyed a whole clan of werewolves, murdering families together. As she approached the scene of the murders, some of the clansmen of her family tried to stop her, but she sent them away to tell her father. Then she ran up the hill to confront her sister, who was standing in the doorway of an old, disused hut, fighting the last three werewolves. She killed the two parents as Thorn ran towards her, and advanced on the child, a young teenager, fearfully defending himself with his father's sword. Thorn stepped in as her sister attempted to strike the killing blow, and sent Rufilla away, muttering and defeated. She knew now that her family, Rufilla in particular, had things wrong and that she had been living her life by their morals. She decided to change herself, to try to abate the sudden guilt she felt for all the things her family had done amiss. The first thing she did was to give her sword to the young werewolf boy, knowing it was no repayment for his family's lives, but needing to give him something of value to show her sincerity in apologising. She left the hill thoughtful and depressed, only to be mobbed by some of the clan's soldiers and taken away to the villa once more.
She was locked away for the longest time yet, as her mother saw what she had done as being against the principles of the family. Even her father was a little unimpressed, and so only her brother came to see her in the years she was kept away.
After a long time alone, with only the odd bit of news to keep her aware, she heard strange noises above in the house, like fighting. Then she felt the heat of flames as the villa was set alight and began to burn around her. She began to fear for her life, locked away as she was in the cellar, but then the door opened mysteriously, and she was able to rise into the villa itself. The whole building was aflame, and Rome under attack from barbarian hordes from the North. Seeing the Goths advancing towards her, Thorn attacked, defending herself with force against the men who, she believed, were killing her family. Much as she hated her family, she didn't want them dead. She fought her way up to the atrium, only to see her parents murdered at the door as they attempted to leave the villa. Then the structure of the villa began to collapse, as the heat of the fire reduced the plaster and lathe walls to rubble and dust. Unable to leave via the front door, she searched for a way to another exit, passing the dead bodies of many of her family or clan. On more than one occasion, she was forced to kill foreign invaders who had found their way in and were determined to attack anyone they saw. Unable to find an exit, she realised she was trapped in her burning home, and alone. There was no one to save her. As she stood there in the wreckage of the once fine home, close to tears, she realised that she was about to die. Unwilling, she began to cry, angry at her fate and that of Rome. The flames came closer and closer to her, burning her skin, clothes and hair. At the point when she believed herself about to die, she discovered within herself a power that she never knew she had, though it had been known to her distant ancestors. Suddenly, the flames no longer felt hot and threatening, and she was able, by forcing her will out of herself, as though projecting her soul at the flames, to control the fires and create a path for herself. When she finally left, shaken and afraid, she was confronted by more Goth soldiers, ready to sack Rome. As they attacked her, she burned them each away, entranced by the flames she could control. But there were too many to fight alone, and she was forced to flee, her only escape lying towards the burning city.
Choked by the smoke and fires, the city did not see sunlight for days, and Thorn spent her time there defending the place she had felt more to be her home than the villa in which she lived. On the third day there, she finally gave up, knowing that the city was lost. She ran away from the city, heading North, the power of the pyrokinesis fading as she left the flames behind.
After that, she travelled around Europe, spending no more than a few years in each country. For a long time, she was unable to use the powers locked inside her, though she could still feel them, and it was only after many years of careful practise that she succeeded in harnessing them once again. She decided, though, to only ever use them as a last resort, remembering all the lives she had taken in Rome under their thrall. It was simply too dangerous.
Over the years, she spent as much time as possible in the great centres of learning, studying languages and history and burying herself in the past. She was reluctant to venture out amongst people, especially with the rather conservative attitudes towards women that characterised many of the middle ages.
She ceased her greater wanderings when she moved to England, shortly after the Battle of Agincourt. She had been in France, but saw in England the makings of a new Empire, and she hoped to see some remnants of her own lost home. She remained in England, though still moving around, masquerading as a lady of the night (much to her dark humour) and taking the pseudonym Lady Thorn, in order to procure victims to drink from and to earn the money to live by. She moved to London, knowing the city was riddled with such vice, and gained some measure of notoriety, which brought her into contact with the great artistic society of the Victorian era, who were often to be seen frequenting opium dens and brothels. She moved in the circles of poets and painters, finding in them some reminder of Ovid, and many of them became entranced by her, somewhat foreign, appearance. She knew many of the greats, Keats, Byron, Shelley, Blake, remaining in the company of each for a short time before the pain of memory became too great and she had to move on.
In the past few years, she has settled down, finally coming to terms with the loss of her lover, and meeting a new one for whom she could care. Her memories serve only to make her lenient towards those she takes blood from, as she knows the actuality of pain and death, and does not wish them on anyone. She still moves around, unable to find anywhere that feels like home, but she does so less regularly, and often returning to her house, rather than leaving it deserted and empty.
She seeks her sister, knowing somehow that she survived Rome's fall too, and wanting to end the hostility of centuries. She is still unsure, in herself, whether this will be by violence or by negotiation on her part.

Family: Mother: Clavia Thalia Corvinus (deceased)
Father: Catallus Alexander Corvinus (deceased)
Younger Sister: Purpurea Rufilla (unknown)
Younger Brother: Septimus Augustus (alive)

[Isi Runasimi]

A psychologist determined to understand vampirism, lycanthropy, and any associated problems. Not that he's succeeded yet, mind.

Alias: Doctor
Name: Mika Evangelus Reed
Gender: Male
Orientation: Bisexual... sort of.
Physical Age: 21
Real Age: 132
Species: Vampire
Sire: Lady Thorn, in 1896.
Wealth: He has around £800,000 in his bank account, and some items of value in his house, just in case.
History of Wealth: Mika's clinic charges for the services he offers. Almost all his patients would be happy to pay anyway, but since there is a fee, this has never been an issue. And since he has been working in his clinic for around 100 years, and he has not been much of a spender, the money has built up and accumulated in his savings account. He also inherited a good deal of money when his grandfather died, since he had had savings in trust from his deceased parents. His grandfather also left him everything, including two houses.
Job: He runs a clinic for vampires and lycans, specialising in mental illnesses but working with all ailments. He also aims to find cures and treatments for mental illnesses in humans, as this was his job and his passion before he was turned.

Specialities

Mental: Mika has an exceptional IQ, around 160, and is highly intelligent. He is also very perceptive and logical, making him an adept problem solver. As a human doctor, he was once described as having "healer's hands" for his skills in the medical profession, and this has not diminished since his turning, quite the reverse in fact. His mental outlook is generally calm and reserved, allowing him to analyse situations and problems more effectively, though it can make him seem a little detached and remote. It also allows him to better deal with emergencies and sudden happenings.
Physical: Physically, Mika is in excellent shape. He trains often, being adept at fighting with a wooden stave and also at tai chi. His body is lean and fit, without being overly muscular, and that meant he was always in good health as a human, something which carried over into his life as a vampire. From his youth and his ballet-dancing mother's tuition, he also has some skills as an acrobat and all round stage performer, though he rarely puts these skills to use these days.
Hobbies: Mika's passion, his entire scope of existence, is focussed on his work and research, with little time for much else. He takes scrupulous and meticulous records and recordings of all he does, and is constantly seeking new ideas for further investigation. However, when he has a spare moment, he has been known to write, in rather elegant prose, articles noting some of his more publicly acceptable findings, and he has been published in several scientific journals and periodicals. In the course of his research, he also discovered a slight interest in medicinal plants and herbs and has found a little time to begin cultivating his own.

Weakness

Mental: Mika's high IQ and talent as a physician have lead him to be, in some ways, highly arrogant. He believes very firmly in his own opinions, and will not concede a point to someone else unless they have proven it to the furthest degree. This can make him difficult to deal with, especially in medical areas.
On the other hand, in his personal life, he is very naive, and this is marked by a strange contrasting pattern of behaviour. Where he would normally be assertive and determined, dominating conversation and the room, he becomes passive and shy, allowing others to take the lead. He also has difficulties dealing with strong emotions, and this has, on occasion, lead to embarrassing outbursts.
Physical: Being slim and lean, Mika isn't the strongest of vampires, despite his training and physical fitness. He isn't a weakling, by any means, but nor does he possess strength that would be much of a threat to most of his kind.
Neither is he particularly fast for a vampire. His skills are generally mediocre on this front. Astonishing neither for their brilliance nor their lack.
Other: Mika perceives himself as being a lot less capable than he is, and though he won't admit it, even to himself, his arrogance is borne of a strong sense of self-loathing. He believes himself inadequate, and treats himself and others accordingly, pushing people away rather than having to see how much better than him they are.
His affection for some people, always contrasting its rarity by its strength, can be a problem for him too. When he likes, or loves, someone, he puts his entire being into it, and rejection can wound very deeply. It is another reason why he tries to push people away.

Physical Appearance

Hair: From his father, Mika has very dark hair, a shade of brown almost black. It hangs down to his earlobes at the front, and a little shorter and messier at the back, due to his inability with the scissors. Generally, it is well managed, never particularly greasy or dry, and hanging straight and neat, but he does not take great amounts of attention over it, letting it behave as it will, meaning that style is more of an optional extra.
Eyes: From his mother, Mika has his green eyes. They were the thing that caught his father's attention about her, and they are, if anything, more captivating in the son. The shade can be described as emerald, or perhaps simple vibrant green, and it seems to glow with its own light. The colour accentuates the pale of his face and the dark of his hair, and also lends him an intensitof gaze which can disquiet the subject of his intent.
Facial Structure: He has quite a thin face, though with a pointed, chiselled jaw and high cheekbones, he is quite attractive for all that. His eyes are sunk a little deeper than is considered aesthetically pleasing, and his mouth is a little thinner, his nose pointier, than general fashion ideas find attractive, but all this serves to make him seem all the more intense, and rater suits his character.
Skin: Like most vampires, Mika is pale and pasty, though in his case, it was only a matter of exaggeration rather than change. His has quite rough skin on his hands, calloused from training and work, but the rest of him is still full of the softness and beauty of youth and inexperience. He has no defining scars and no odd birthmarks.
Height: Like his father, Mika was tall for his time, at about 6'3". Even now, he is a little above the norm. He seems shorter, since he stoops, though.
Weight: Due to his intensive training, Mika weighs the medical advised weight for his size. He always aims to remain within the healthy boundaries of size and shape.
Body Type: He was naturally inclined to leannes anyway, with gawky limbs and an undernourished look to the face. Training and lack of eating at times of stress or high levels of work have accentuated this, and he can sometimes look positively anorexic, though in fact is he is quite healthy.
Clothing: Since being turned to vampirism, Mika has felt most aggrieved that he has had to alter the style of his attire. Were it up to him, he would wear the clothes of his Victorian days, but common sense has encouraged him to update. Nowadays, he wears a neat shirt, with an old fashioned collar to suit his tastes, along with neat trousers, generally black and often a smart jacket or lab coat. When not working, he dresses to be inconspicuous. Genrally his style can be described as "smart/casual", though on days it can lean towards old fashioned and outdated.
Footwear: In defernce to his prefences of old-fashioned wear, his shoes tend to be neat, unfussy, of the black, patent-leather variety. Lace-ups, normally. He does wear sensible boots however, on the odd occasion.
Other: Being from a Russian mother and an English father, Mika's appearance favours both in some ways. Though not strinkingly odd, he was differet enough in his looks to be teased as a child, and sometimes as an adult, though now he finds this much easier to deal with.

Personality

Likes: Mika likes his solitude, his silence and his personal space. He detests most disturbances, unless they are patients, and will be even more cold and distant than normal when dealing with them. His food preferences are generally simple, a mixture of the favourites his mother cooked when he was young, and the solid English food provided by his grandfather. His taste in books, however, is wide-ranging, and he will happily devour almost any novel or history or other book with equal fervour.
Dislikes: His pet peeve is to be questioned. He will not stand to be disbelieved, dismissed. Nor does he like to be compared as being worse than others, or inferior.
Food-wise, he will leave alone anything which he knows has an unpleasant duty in the owner's body, and anything he knows is bad for him.
He detests romance novels, especially Mills and Boon.
Attitude: As mentioned in his personality, Mika is arrogant, and this can shine through his cold exterior. His does little to prevent this, not minding in the slightest that he appears cold and aloof. He likes to keep himsef to himself, and will do whatever to others to allow this. He doesn't care about hurting their feelings, unless they are one of the few people dear to him. Then, he is, if not caring, at leats pleasant enough. For some, he will do his utmost to protect them.
His work attitude is simple. He takes his Hippocratic oath very seriously, and will hold true to it, no matter what. He lives to save life, to preserve life and to discover cause of illness. He will do no harm. Outside of his job as a doctor, he tries his damndest not to hurt people physically, but understands that it is necessary in some situations.
In Tight Situations: In most dangerous or new situations, Mika is good at remaining calm and cool and thinking it through. He is rarely subject to bouts of panic. When in danger, he will defend himself, and try to save others when he can. He will only move to kill if it is the last, and final, resort. His respect for life is too great otherwise.
Schedule: Mika spends his nights and days working hard in his clinic. He rarely leaves the house, let alone the city, and so does not have much in the way of variety in his life. Each new patient is enough variety for him. Sometimes, though, he gets cold feet, and cannot help but go a-wandering, even for the shortest space of time.

History

Birth: Born in October 1875, Mika was the healthy first and only son his parenst had. They were living in Whitby at the time, though they soon moved to London.
Childhood: His father, a doctor too, was quite well off, as was his grandfather, and so the family lived in relative comfort in their Georgian townhouse, within close reach of the grandfather’s home. As a young child, Mika got all the attention and mental encouragement he needed, from both parents, and got his desire to become a doctor from watching his father work and from admiration. His mother helped to give the young boy his respect for life and for others. Until his adult years, Mika was frank and open, not the cold individual he would become.
However, when his parents died in an accidental fire, Mika went to live with his grandfather, who, while still kind and supportive, left Mika to fend for himself far more. This let the boy come into contact with his peers, who often ridiculed him, leading him to become a quiet, remote teenager, though focused on his studies, and an even quieter and more remote adult as he attended medical school. The death of his grandfather after he had begun work in New Bethlem mental hospital only served to drive him further within himself.
Transformation: Having never been in a real relationship, and living in London, the young Mika was sometimes tempted by the services of local ladies of the night. One night as he was walking home, he came across one who made him more than tempted. She was very beautiful, very strange, and it turned out that she was a vampire, although it took a while for him to realise. She agreed to “go somewhere a little quieter” with him, and did her job, but tried to drink his blood when he was vulnerable. Somehow, he got away from her long enough for her to feel sorry for him and he was allowed to leave.
He thought about her and her strangeness for several nights, and, realising that he could never do all that he wanted to do with medicine in one lifetime, he decided to seek her out to ask to be turned.
He found her in a different part of London, and she almost escaped him, afraid he would try to kill her, but eventually they managed to have a decent conversation. And he realised he had fallen horribly in love with her, though he didn’t tell her that.
She flat out refused to turn him, but he bargained and bargained and eventually she agreed. They went to her lodgings and she drained his blood until he was close to death, then allowed him to drink from her.
After the change was complete, and after she had explained what he was and what he would need to do to survive, though he was feeling weak and unsteady, Mika finally felt brave enough to tell her he had fallen for her.
She scoffed at his feelings, so silly and sudden, telling him that he was only a child to her and not to be so impulsive. Ashamed and embarrassed, he fled home.
For a few years afterwards, he worked still at New Bethlem, changing to the night shift and avoiding his colleagues. After some time, they began to suspect he wasn’t normal, however, and he left to set up his clinic in his grandfather’s old house.
Prey: Mika’s respect for life prevents him killing any of his victims. In truth, he dislikes drinking from humans, and will take donor blood when he can. Sometimes, he has to drink from people, though, and at those time he will take as little as possible, leaving them as unharmed as possible. He keeps a good stock of fresh blood at his home and his clinic, just in case he should ever need it.
Relationships: Being solitary and quiet by nature, Mika finds friendships and relationships harder than most. He had truly wanted to be with his sire, Lady Thorn, but since her rejection of him, he had ever more trouble forming bonds. Over time, he has gained a few friends, even a lover, but still he finds it difficult. The presence of his sire itself will trigger unhappy and problematic thoughts. He will generally not be at his best around her, and act geeky, and slightly odd.
Other: Mika has spent his time since being turned working hard in his clinic, and does little else with his time, except those thing mentioned earlier. He has met his sire a few times since her rejection, and has accepted her apologies for rudeness, though she has made it abundantly clear that she is not interested in him relationship-wise. So he spends most time alone, working, though recent events have brought him closer to other people, including his sire. He also discovered his bisexuality, which scared him at first, and he still isn’t comfortable with it. Otherwise, his life is still dull and monotonous, though not in his eyes. To him, his research is enough to keep him occupied.
Family: Parents, deceased: Christopher Alan Reed and Korshka Lukyanenko (an immigrant from Russia).
Paternal Grandfather, deceased: Edward Arthur Reed.
Maternal Grandparents, unknown: Aleira and Sergei Lukyanenko.

[Isi Runasimi]

Born a normal vampire, he now roams the world, believing himself to be death incarnate, charged with the judgement of all evil souls. Basically, he kills people. And he has a bazooka.

Alias: Thanatos

Name: Edward Mortimer

Gender: Male

Orientation: Straight

Age: 212

Species: Vampire

Job: Psychotic killer and, according to him, hand of god and personification of death.

Specialities: Through much training in his early life, Thanatos is an incredibly skilled fighter. He has mastered several martial arts completely, as well as being trained to fight with a variety of weapons. Those he handles on a regular basis are: guns, normally semi-automatics and small handguns; swords, though normally just the one, a longish, katana-style blade which he calls “Carnifex” (“Torturer”); knives, as he carries throwing knives and other varieties about his person at all times and, lastly, his bazooka. His skills stretch beyond martial excellence, though. He can, even for a vampire, produce an amazing turn of speed, outrunning most human and superhuman foes. He has even been known to dodge bullets, on a good day.
He is also rather amazingly intelligent, though only in certain specialised areas, mostly those involved in covering up his crimes and murder sprees.

Weakness: Not only does he fall foul of the banes of normal vampires’ existence, holy symbols, sunlight and the like, he has his own little flaws and faults. Being clinically insane, his logic and rational thought processes can sometimes be heavily impaired, when the madness completely overtakes him. At those times, he is an almost entirely instinctual creature, doing as he believes he wants at each moment. Generally, this means he kills things, and lots of them. His speed can also be a detriment, as overuse can wear him out far faster than normal exertion, causing him to have reduced stamina in fight situations. He is also an albino, and so stands out rather more than would be desired, though this is rarely helped by the bazooka he carries on his back.

Physical Appearance: Looking to be around 20 years old, Thanatos stands 5’9” tall and is of a tough yet lean build. He is relatively muscular, but naturally inclined to slimness, and so seeming rather less tough than is actually the case. Being an albino, his skin is not only the white of a vampire but entirely lacks pigment at all. His eyes, subsequently, are also red, which only serves to enhance his, rather daunting appearance, along with his white hair. This hair is kept longish, and gelled into spikes. It is the only area of personal grooming, save shaving (as he is permanently clean shaven), to which he pays any attention. His hands, calloused from years of sword-work, are long-fingered and rather appear artists hands, save for the wear and tear.
His clothes are generally black and practical. Combats, jeans, t-shirts and jackets, as well as tough gloves to protect his hands and thick-soled boots, complete with metal toe-caps and hobnails.

Personality: Primarily, Thanatos is entirely geared towards violence and his aims. He is obsessed and completely driven by them, holding them more important even than his own life, and certainly more so than the lives of others. He will go to any lengths to achieve them, pushing himself to the farthest limits and even beyond. Violence is his general modus operandi, if not an end unto itself. He is only careful and considered after the fact, when directing his mental capabilities to the clean up job.
Otherwise, he has many more undesirable traits. He is vain, arrogant and generally smug. He considers, since he was “picked by god”, he is better than all others, and should be treated as such, by those he does not kill. He detests criticism of his person or actions, and will kill the perpetrator almost always for this. On the odd occasion, when his madness recedes, he can seem almost normal, though at the furthest end of the spectrum. This is almost exclusively to vampires, since he has little regard for lycans or humans.

History: He was born in September 1795 to a small family of English vampires in rural Wiltshire, near Swindon. He was well educated by his mother, Victoria, as he was the youngest of three sons. The older two were Gabriel and Simon. He rarely saw his father, Adam, who travelled a lot overseas. This didn’t bother the family much, being vampires, they knew they’d always have the time to catch up, and they planned to travel with their father once the children were old enough. Their mother, always a little sickly, especially since the birth of Edward, would have stayed at home in these times.
Though originally a nice enough vampire, he developed a delusional mental disease at quite a young age, which led him to believe that he was Thanatos, the personification of death. No one knew from where it came, or why, and Thanatos has never ventured an opinion on the subject, save that it was a gift and a duty from god. This surprised his relatives, as he had never really shown any tendencies towards religion in the past. It wasn’t considered healthy for a vampire, after all. It is also possible his delusion came from his appearance, which he was always teased about as a child. His brothers in particular were mean about it.
This madness, then, caused him to become incredibly violent and also very focussed, running away from his family in order to learn to fight, and kill, more efficiently. He spent about fifty years in Japan, where an older vampire trained him, and also in Europe, where he met (and was trained a little by) Lady Thorn, though she fled his presence upon learning his “calling”. He then returned to England, in around 1875, and sought out his family. They tried to lock him away because of his mental state, so he fought back and killed both of his parents, and three of his grandparents. His brothers escaped the carnage. He then moved to London, where he remained for many years, killing at random. He was known under the name 'Jack the Ripper' and was never caught, though sometimes it could be close. He still lives in London, though occasionally goes elsewhere to sate his lust for blood, especially when the police seem close to catching him. He has been wanted under different names many times by the police of various countries, but has never been captured.
His aim is to mete out justice to humans, but he has no clear logic as to this justice. He just kills, seemingly at random, and attacks all who question him.

Family: Mother- Victoria, dead.
Father- Adam, dead.
Brothers- Gabriel and Simon, unknown.

[Isi Runasimi]

A shy sportsman, given the gift that allowed him to carry out his heart's desire, but at the cost of his freedom. Now lost and adrift from the world, he seeks to regain his sense of belonging.

Alias: Tom

Real Name: Thomas Gaunt

Age: 62

Gender: Male

Species: Vampire

Specialities: Most athletic type sports, including acrobatics and some other circus arts. He is (and was as a human) very flexible and agile. He was a top-class rower at Cambridge University, and was on the team when they won the boat-race in one of his years at the University. He participated in most sporting activities available to him in his youth, like fencing (which he was and is particularly good at, and he still continues to use his skills nowadays, as he always carries a fencing foil or similar sword), boxing, rugby, football, tennis, polo and cricket. Also, he is very academically intelligent (if lacking in common sense and general awareness). He is also very talented at moving stealthily and quietly, a talent he developed because of his tetchy parents at home when he was young. He has never really got out of this habit, and so tends to move in utter silence except when he is concentrating very hard. He does have the ability to stick with something he enjoys or really wants to do right up until it comes to fruition.

Weakness: Normal vampiric weaknesses. Is often quite thoughtless and impulsive in his day-to-day life. He forgets other people and does things simply because they seem to be a good idea at the time. He is often drunk for this reason. He also tends to be easily persuaded into doing stupid or rash things, especially when drunk. Often, he comes to regret his actions later. Another bad habit he has is not leaving things (sports and academic things) alone until they are finished or until he has won/succeeded. Though this is a useful trait sometimes, it often leaves him overtired or injured because he doesn't know when to give things up.

Physical Appearance: He is relatively tall, around 6'1", but this is hidden by his stoop, unless he is playing sport. He isn't muscular, but is very wiry, which allows him to be able to move quickly and fox his opponents. His thin appearance is accentuated by his long fingers and pointy face, often considered elfin by people who encounter him. He has longish, dark brown hair, which is slightly wispy and hangs around the bottom of his ears. It can appear black, in some lights. It also tends to be quite messy, as he is never in the mood to tidy it up. His skin is pale, due to his family background, but he has a lot of freckles, so he seems a little darker because of this, and is often not immediately obvious as a vampire. His eyes are deep blue, the colour of the sea when the sun is shining on it (I mean a proper sea like the Mediterranean, not the ones in Britain, they're brown), and they are very expressive and large. His emotions are clearly visible to anyone looking at him, as his eyes and eyebrows move around a lot, and he can't really hide his thoughts because of this.
He tends to where a rugby shirt or similar top along, sometimes a Cambridge University top, with scruffy trousers or sometimes jeans. He also wears relatively old fashioned shoes, as he has never outgrown the fashions of his youth. He nearly always has a leather satchel with him, in which he generally carries a book and his fencing foil or other sword.

Personality: He is actually quite shy, despite his sporting background. The clubs and sports he tried as a child were foisted on him by his parents, and became a habit, but he never really made friends through them. He is relatively good at working in a team, but is sometimes a little jilted and will work to his own advantage before others'. He is fiercely determined, in his own way, and will succeed at the cost of others, as he values their happiness and enjoyment quite little. He isn't afraid to hurt people in sport if it means he will win. He is also very hard to sway once he gets to something he likes, and will stubbornly hold on to it long past the time when he should have given up. He is very independent, tending to shun help unless he is in dire straits. However, if he does make a friend, as rarely happens, that friend is a friend for life and he will defend them no matter what and will hold their interests above everyone else's, except his own of course. His stubborn nature also makes him a talented debater, and he was captain of the debate team during his time at Cambridge.

History: He was the second son of Alexander of Gaunt, though not the inheritor of the title passed down in the family. The Gaunts, however, had long ago lost all wealth and property associated with their name, as many of the old lords of the family had been compulsive gamblers or drinkers. This left Thomas feeling bitter and resentful towards his family, who live in an old house in the town of 'John-of-Gaunt' in Rutland, named after a very early ancestor. The family had five boys, all of whom were encouraged to become sporty from an early age, and there was very little room in their small house for them all. Also, the youngest son, Robert, caught tuberculosis at a young age and, though he survived the disease, was severly weakened by it. He and Thomas were the closest of the brothers, despite the three year gap in their ages and Thomas was often scolded by his strict father for coming and talking to Robert instead of playing sport instead. It was from these talks with Robert, who read voraciously as he couldn't do much physical activity, that Thomas developed an interest in Classical Civilizations, and also in debating. It was this interest that drove him to study at Cambridge.

When Thomas was eighteen, and had already been accepted to attend Trinity Hall College Cambridge, Robert became seriously ill with pneumonia. Thomas wanted to defer his university place, but Robert, who was then fifteen, insisted he go. Thomas came back in holidays to visit his brother, who gradually worsened, but enjoyed himself a lot at university.

In Thomas' second year, Robert died. At the time, Thomas was told it was due to another bout of pneumonia, but he later discovered from his mother that it had been down to a severe beating from his cruel father, who had become angry while drunk that a son of his was so unable to achieve how he wanted him to. Thomas was angry, but his mother, who had corresponded by letter a lot with him whilst he was at university, told him to leave the subject alone and to continue his studies and get his degree. This he did, achieving a first, but he never forgot the great anger he felt towards his father.

After his graduation, when he was packing up his things from his college, preparing to return home, he was attacked by a vampire in the street. He fought very hard againt the assailant, not wanting to die until he had confronted his father about his brother's death, and the vampire was impressed by his determination and guts, especially as Thomas almost beat him. After he had drunk from him, he decided to make Thomas a vampire. When Thomas awoke, he realised what had happened and almost attacked the vampire, until he realised that the change was a good thing. He calmed down and listened to what the vampire told him about how he must conduct himself after the change. He then went back to his home and confronted his father. None of his siblings were at home at the time, and his mother had hidden herself away, presupposing what the events to follow would be. Alexander was unrepentant about Robert's death, and would not apologise even as Thomas drained his blood. He tossed the corpse out into the garden and burnt it. He then went to find his mother, apologising to her about the murder and telling her that, once the police investigation was over, she should leave the family and go back to her old home in Kent. Afraid of her son in his new form, she did so, though they exchanged letters until her death from influenza in 1994.

After killing his father, Thomas remained in his home village and preyed upon the inhabitants in secret. They soon came to believe that the place was haunted by the ghost of Alexander and took to avoiding the family home. The remaining Gaunts left soon after, as Thomas had hoped, and he took possession of the house, maintaining the haunted image to prevent trespass. He travels often, now, but still returns frequently to his house where he mourns his brother.
He has had relatively little interaction with other vampires in his life, except that he killed one in 1987 who was hunting in his village and killing people. This had tarnished his [the ghost's] reputation and had to be stopped, though the villagers still attribute the sequence of particularly gruesome murders to him.

Family: Father- Alexander Webster of Gaunt, murdered by Thomas in July 1966, aged 53.
Mother- Marianne Charlotte of Gaunt née Beaumont, died of influenza in December 1994, aged 76.
Brothers- Matthew Albert of Gaunt, inheritor, died of cirrhosis of the liver in March 2000, aged 56;
Twins, Johnathan Patrick Gaunt and William Harold Gaunt, still living, currently aged 60;
Robert Michael Gaunt, died in May 1965, aged 17.

[Isi Runasimi]

A pacifist born in a violent time, he became the epitomy of rebellion, now so disregarding of rules, he barely notices them. A patron of the arts and music.

Alias: Fabian

Real Name: Septimus Augustus Corvinus

Age: 2871

Gender: Male

Species: Vampire

Specialities: As a Roman male, he was trained in the arts of rhetoric, public speaking and writing, and found himself to have natural talents in those areas. He most often uses his skills to pen poems and stories, but is not averse to the odd debate should the mood overtake him. He also has some good skills with a blade, again through training in his home city when he was young, though he rarely demonstrates these, being the pacifist that he is. Should he ever be given just cause to fight, he can be a formidable opponent, especially with his sword Ureritus (Frostbite). Due to his great age, he can speak several languages, though this is not so much a skill as a necessity, since Latin is no longer a common tongue. Those he speaks with a good degree of fluency are: English, French, Italian, Gaelic and Romanian.
His self-control is exceptional, as well as his thespian skills, and seldom does he show those emotions which he does not wish to show. He also has a great deal of self-confidence, though it is very well hidden at times, and this means he is willing to do whatever it is he wants to do, regardless of the opinions of others. He also manages (to his constant perplexity) to be rather attractive to women (and sometimes men), and not always to his benefit. He tends to misuse this skill to his own advantage, but there have been time when it has come back to haunt him.

Weakness: His self-confidence often leads him to underestimate others, not always aloud, and he will not acknowledge their worth until he sees it proven with his own eyes. This is especially true of beautiful women, (his sisters excepted) whom he rarely believes capable of anything much. At times, he can even tend towards arrogance, though mostly internal and without outward verbalisation. Its only great affect is that it gives him an air of cold indifference when coupled with his emotional control, meaning he can appear distant to those who do not know him.
Though at first it seems a strength, his great open-mindedness about the world and life in general is more often to his detriment due to its extremity. He really doesn't give a damn what people do, on the most part, and this can affect him when he doesn't take into account the ramifications of their actions until far too late.
Due to his age, his affinity with modern technology is minimal at best. He will not utilise guns and computers and the like unless his need is great.

Physical Appearance: He is tall for the time at which he was born, standing at about 6ft 2, and very lean. Unlike his sister, Lady Thorn, his eyes and hair are of a darker caste, almost black. His hair is generally kept long, hanging around halfway down his neck, and is completely straight, seeming styled when he takes no effort towards its upkeep. His dark eyes are large and dreamy looking, aiding his indifferent air, and his eyebrows are thin, generally held in a thoughtful, not-exactly-right-in-the-head pose, as he thinks things through. His skin is the same pallid tone as most vampires.
He generally wears dark jeans and a dark shirt (blue, black or dark grey for preference) with a silver necklace that he never removes. He occasionally paints his nails or dyes his hair, but mostly just because he feels like it, not under any vain impulses. His ears were pierced for the same reason, though he rarely wears earrings.

Personality: Cold, indifferent and completely open-minded. He gives "doesn't give a damn" a whole new meaning. When he first discovered the word "whatever", he gleefully added it to his vocabulary and has used it far too often ever since. He feels human emotions just as readily as the next man, he just chooses not to show or act upon them, viewing them as detached things for evaluation rather than things upon which he should base every decision. The only great exception was the affection he felt for his sister when they were young, though in the seperation of millenia this has become nothing more than a warm, nostalgic recollection. Mostly he views acquaintances as interesting breaks in the monotony of life and little more.
His true passion is more in the line of his writing. He is incredibly secretive about it, having written poems in the 17 and 1800's under various pen-names, some of which are still in publication. He dislikes their criticism, though he will often act upon that which he scorns openly, amending his work secretly later on.

History: As the only son to his parents, it was originally thought that he would grow up to inherit the family's land and titles. It was soon clear, however, that his temperament was not suited (he didn't feel like slaughtering the family's enemies, for one thing) and that job was due to be left to his younger sister, the more vicious of the three children. For most of his young life, therefore, he was left to his own devices, unhindered, as his sisters were, by the machinations of his mother. As such, he grew up lacking in the family prejudices and possessed of a much more open mind than many would have expected. This might have had something to do with his frequent visits to Rome, where the decadence of grand civilisation was on display in every rich villa and party, for many of which he gained invitation. Much to his parents' dismay, he also gained no scruples as to whether those he had amorous encounters with were male or female.
As he grew up, he spent more and more time with his elder sister, also a black sheep of the family. They became very close, and he stood by her, even when she was put down as a traitor to the family by his old-fashioned parents and sister. When his mother had her locked in the house for many years for her "outragious" behaviour, it was he who brought her books and news of the outside world, spending many hours of the night in discussion with her. His one treasured possession, a silver necklace, was given by her in thanks during those times. He wore it permanently since that time.
When Rome fell to the invading barbarian hordes, it was her for whom he searched in their burning villa. In her room, he found nothing to indicate her presence, and thinking her already dead, he fled the city, seeking sanctuary in the hills and woods to the north. Afterwards, he fled the country altogether, living for many years in what was then Gaul (now France).
During the Middle Ages, he wandered Europe as a travelling poet, reciting in Latin many of the famous works of his youth, as well as some of his own creation. He also learned to play the lute, and earnt some money and food playing as a minstrel in the towns of Eastern Europe. He settled in Romania for a while, learning the language and finding a pleasant sanctuary among the many myths and vampiric legends which abounded in the area.
On nothing more than a whim, he headed for England in the late 1600's, and remained there during the rise of the Empire, comforted by the similarity to his own lost home culture. He spent much of his time with the poets of the next few ages, visiting opium dens and bars and partaking of all the vices expected of that ilk of being. He would occasionally sink from view when people became suspicious of his never-changing age, only to reappear a decade or so later under a new pseudonym.
He took the name "Fabian" in the early 20th century, and it was under that name that he was drafted to serve in the 1st and 2nd World Wars. The experiences of modern warfare changed him greatly, lowering his esteem for humanity as a whole. He was shocked by what they did to each other, the barbarity of the same people who could create such beautiful poetry, and became a conscientious objector. He was ridiculed for his choice, as were many who did the same, but he stuck by it, saving those he could from the ravages of war. It was here also, that he learnt to keep a complete mask on his feelings, knowing that compassion for man, no matter what nationality, was not the mentality required of a soldier.
After the war, he retired to a house in London, hiding from society in all forms save literature. He was not drawn out again until long after the wars were over, when the lure of new culture and new ideas to explore became too strong to resist. He now flits from place to place, rediscovering the world he once knew as a wanderer, but always he tries to keep himself removed from humans, lest they prove once more to him that they are without compassion and unworthy of it in return. He fears, should this happen, that he would become a monster, killing without remorse because he sees all of humanity as being unfit for such a feeling.

Family: Mother: Clavia Thalia Corvinus (deceased)
Father: Catallus Alexander Corvinus (deceased)
Older Sister: Catalina Alexandra Corvinus (a.k.a. Lady Thorn)
Younger Sister: Purpurea Rufilla Corvinus

[Isi Runasimi]

Sister to my main character, she is obsessed with revenge and violence, as well as being a completely prejudiced, arrogant git. Nice lady, huh?
Oh yeah, and she's a scooby.

Alias: Red

Real Name: Pupurea Rufilla Corvinus

Age: 2866

Gender: Female

Species: Vampire

Specialities: Swordsmanship, especially with her own sword that she carries at all times. She is a great adept at sword fighting, having been trained by the best tutor her rich, Roman parents could afford. She was also naturally skilled in this area, and loves to fight, perhaps a little too much. She is also a great hunter and tracker, possibly due to many years spent in the Black Forest of Germany, where the only sustenance she could obtain was that which she hunted and caught for herself. She is also an efficient killer, due to her lack of conscience and belief that her own kind is superior to all others, and that she is superior among her kind.
Also, if possible, aerokinesis- see History.
She has a great ability as a public speaker, able to (like so many evil people) get people to follow her, no matter what the cause and how many will get murdered horribly. Actually, her abilities are pretty substantial with all wordplay, but she never sees much use for rhetoric and the like, so her poetic skills go largely unnoticed. She is ambidextrous, and so can use her sword (or whatever other weapon she happens to pick up) in either hand, or use two, should the need arise. She is relatively strong for a female, though not excessively so, and her speed is formidable, though again not to such a point as to be spectacular.

Weakness: Terribly competitive, especially against her sister. Her arrogance causes her to submit challenges she cannot possibly win. She also is an incredibly sore loser, seeking any excuse other than herself for her loss. Her lack of conscience also means she can rarely see eye to eye with other species, thinking them nothing more than bugs which she may crush. Even vampires are often considered beneath her, especially those who, unlike her, were not born as vampires and were instead changed at some point in their lives. She thinks they are unclean and will have nothing to do with them. All of these mean she rarely has allies or friends, which is to her detriment in combat situations as she tends to go up against improbable odds. She also has a great and irrational fear of fire.

Physical Appearance: Despite her Roman ancestry, Red has strawberry-blonde hair and blue eyes, like her Scandinavian mother. She is 5'6" tall, though often appears taller due to high heels and large hair-styles. Her skin is smooth and flawlessly pale, her nose small and straight, her teeth are white and even and her face gives a general feeling of extreme prettiness... that is until you see her eyes. Though a clear and crystalline blue, something undefinable about them gives a scary glimpse of the hard and cold personality underneath. Often those who gaze into them become afraid very quickly, or transfixed with the inhumanity. She has relatively long legs and a shapely body, though more in an athletic way than a dieted way. Her hair is normally kept long, and naturally curly, but often held up in a clip or similar, so she can fight.

Personality: Borderline psychotic, and obsessive in the extreme. She always knows what she wants, and generally this involves disembowelling other people, though sometimes decapitating them is enough. She hates easily, and takes it to the extreme, especially where her sister, Lady Thorn, is concerned. She also detests anyone who doesn't agree with her ideas about life, and the way it should be lived. Since these ideas are both old-fashioned and incredibly vicious, this is almost everyone. She is seemingly incapable of the softer emotions, or has seemed so up until now. If she found another psychotic killer... who knows? Mostly, her entire life and mindset are focussed on and around fighting and death, and very little can draw her away.

History: Born to a family of wealthy Roman vampires who lived in their family lands on the hills outside the city, every comfort available was lavished upon her as a child. As the youngest of the three, she was often spoiled, especially by her mother, who saw the other two as "unworthy". She was a very pretty, if precocious, child and could easily twist others to do her will. It was soon obvious that she had inherited much more than her looks from her Norse-descended mother, and earned her name "Rufilla", the feminine in latin for "red", due to the great deal of blood she spilt. In those times, she was seen as a great asset to her family, in which many shared her views on the superiority of the vampire race. It was in this environment of indulgence and utter self-confidence that she spent most of the early centuries of her life. The only blot on the landscape, so to speak, was her sister, whom she could never best in combat, though she tried many times to do so.
When she was about five hundred, a tribe of werewolves was known to be encamped in the forests near her home. She was responsible for the slaughter of the entire tribe, save one, stopped only when her sister came and fought her off. It was after this that she vowed to never rest until she had beaten her sister.
As the Goths came and sacked Rome, she fled the burning villa, killing all who stood between her and freedom. She headed into the deep forests, hiding herself for days until she was certain the fires had past. From then until this day, she has a great fear of fire.
As the years past, she moved around Europe, honing her fighting skills by massacring those she saw as the enemies of her, now dead, family. She spent many years in the Black Forest in Germany, around 1200 AD, and it was here that she developed aerokinesis. She had been hunting the marginal areas of the forest, preying on any villager stupid enough to cross her path, when a group of hunters were called in to stop her. When they found her, it was close to dawn, and her sword was not beside her. She fought them, killing many, but the group was large and she was unable to fend them off. They locked her away in the church crypts, waiting for the next night to execute her before the village people. When the night came, they built a pyre upon which to burn her. Though in a weakened state, she fought again to free herself, killing the local priest who had tried to read her her last rights. The mob of villagers held her down and tied her to the stake, lighting the pyre, eager to see her burn. As the flames grew higher, she awoke a power that had been lying dormant in her genes, calling up aerokinesis and using it to prevent herself from burning to death. Great winds rose around her, and the clouds moved strangely as the air pressure grew and changed. The flames were fanned away from her by the growing tempest, towards the murderous villagers. As the winds raged to the point of a storm, the stake to which she was tied broke halfway down, allowing her to free herself and escape the flames. She found then that she had complete control over the air around her, using it to devestating effect, blowing away the debris from the executional pyre, and greatly damaging the houses near the square. The villagers fled, and she killed them in their hundreds, glutting herself on their blood. To this day, that area of Germany is uninhabited and barren.
After then, she stayed in Germany, though less the forests, until the 1800's, when she went to America for a while. She found it not much to her liking, so modern and unlike the time of her birth, she returned to Europe just before the first World War. There she remained until now, roaming the countrysides of the continent, always keeping her eyes open and ears pricked for news of her sister, if she did not die in the flames in Rome also.

Family:
Father: Catallus Alexander Corvinus- dead
Mother: Clavia Thalia Corvinus- dead
Elder Sister: Catalina Alexandra Corvinus (a.k.a. Lady Thorn)- alive
Elder Brother: Octavius Augustus Corvinus (a.k.a. Fabian)- alive