Post by Jisa on Nov 25, 2011 19:57:34 GMT -5
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Name: Katya Brookyn Deneires
Age: 18
Time: 96
Gender: Female
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Breed: Carmilla
Eye color: Brown
Hair color: Near black brown.
Skin color: On the paler side but slightly tanned.
Height: 5’7"
Weight: 133lbs
[li] Darkness
[/li][li] Cooler Weather
[/li][li] Staying Under the Radar
[/li][/ul]
[li] Excessive Sunlight
[/li][li] Sexism
[/li][li] Being Exposed
[/li][/ul]
Power: Illusions, Burning Illusions
Personality: Katya is quiet and keeps to herself very much. If anyone were to ever find out that she was what she is, she’d feel threatened and uncomfortable. Around strangers she’s polite though wary, and isn’t afraid to make her discomfort clear. With enemies she’s cold and threatening, and not afraid to stand up for herself. Katya is pretty brave and fearless when it is necessary. She panics in tight situations though, as her weakness- even when she knows she just has to breathe and think for her natural intelligence to kick in. Sometimes she can be a little dramatic, especially when she feels pressured and is around people she knows. However, in real dire situations she can show her bravery and will pretend to know what she’s doing if she’s in the presence of innocent, younger, naive people. She has a weak sense of loyalty and trust to anyone but herself, which makes her seem self-centered when she really isn’t. She hates the feeling of having things being up to herself.
Family: They perished a long time ago.
History: Katya was eighteen in the year of 1916 during World War One. Her world was fraught with worry over the whole thing, she lived in London as part of a wealthy family at that point. Her brother and father went away with the army, once the war had progressed to include England, and though she knew the danger, she stayed at home through the air raids to keep her mother company. The war progressed and the two got the occasional letter from Katya’s brother and her father.
One particularly mild day, she was going to get their rations during the day, a man grabbed her from an alleyway and covered her mouth. Katya was terrified and fought him, but he was unnaturally strong. He spoke in her mind, and it froze her. He let her go, a charming smile on his face. Katya, He said. Sweet little Katya. She shook and tears prickled at her eyes.
“What do you want?” She had demanded, her voice trembling.
He reached for her face and trailed a thumb along her jaw while she quivered, sick with fear. “No need for that,” He had spoken out loud, his voice a purr that turned her stomach. “It’ll only hurt a little.” Before he pressed his lips to her throat and bit down.
The acidic venom burned through her body, searing every vein and blood vessel until she was sure her blood was nothing more than ash.
“I’ll be back for you later, Katya, my dear."
The stranger left her in the dark of the abandoned alley, frozen in pain, feeling every nerve ending scorch.
Later that day she returned to her home, in tears- trying to explain everything to her mother. Katya’s mother comforted her, but didn’t truly believe her tale. It was the stress of the war. That was all.
Katya stayed with her mother for two years more, until the Spanish Influenza took her last relative from her. Even she believed that that fateful day four years ago had been a hallucination. Nothing had changed, except a slight sensitivity to the sun.
Lost, and grieving the certain death of her family, Katya sat in the ruined London streets, crying. She was completely alone, but others sat among the rubble too- alone for the same reasons.
A hand had gripped her shoulder lightly, comfortingly. Katya looked up to see a dreaded face, dark featured and handsome.
“I told you I’d come for you, dear Katya.”
She had grown weary, and had no fight left in her. So she went with him, and later learned his name was Adrian. He taught her about what she was, and how to deal with it. And as time went by, her vampirism strengthened and all other traits showed their faces. Katya battled with self-hatred and despite Adrian’s advances, never learned to love him. One day, she packed up and left, and hasn’t seen him since.
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(c) Stella
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