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Name: “I was formerly called Genevieve [pronounced Jen-eh-v-yev] Claudine Rousseau before I changed my name. I am now simply Genesis.”
Appearance: “I hail originally from France So oui, I am French, just minus the arrogance. Okay maybe that as well sometimes, but at least I admit it. Anyway, I am fair skinned and my eyes are an aqua blue, for they may occasionally appear green. I also cannot remember what the natural color of my hair is. I believe it is brown, but I am not quite sure anymore. I haven't had it in its natural color for as long as wigs, and later, hair dyes have existed. So right at this moment, I am a blonde. But who knows, tomorrow I might be a red-head. I rather enjoy looking like a different person every day, but of course those who know me will know that every style I embellish on my skin is in fact me. Call me glamorous. I adore the big hair and poufy dresses, and shiny pearls, and feathery hats, and suffocating corsets. I don't breathe anyway, so the corsets do not matter especially. Ah, and might I also add, I am average height for a woman, or at least I believe it is; 5'7". But with my heels, I can be 5'10" or taller.”
Race: Vampire
Age: Appears about 24 but is 721 years old
Sexual Orientation: “Nonsexual… just kidding. Pansexual. I cherish all. But… I do prefer women.”
Personality: “Now, I have qualities you would not normally find in the same person. Call me a walking contradiction, but then again, aren't all vampires in some way? I am as quiet as a mouse most days, but I can talk your ear off and joke ceaselessly about everything imaginable. I am witty, and I bring comic relief when I know it is necessary, and believe me I will know. I am a paradox for I can still laugh and sing happily even though my history would express my doing otherwise, and I enjoy making fun of the cruelty this world evokes at random. I am lined with sarcasm and dark humor, because there is never a good enough reason to hate life despite how truly horrendous it could be. Hate the hand that deals the pain, hate the situation or hate the blows themselves, but never hate yourself. I am very good at gauging emotion, and I understand every faucet of it. I am compassionate, and I am forgiving even though life should have taught me not to be, but without forgiveness, there can be no peace. The only thing I would warn to beware of me is my wily charms, for if I must I will use them and manipulate you as swiftly and as easily as I blow kisses. And no matter how easy it is for me to share everything, be it every thought that crosses my mind, or every whim I wish to act upon, I keep my secrets, and I keep them well.”
History: “My life began in the early years of the twelve-hundreds, back when Philip the II ruled France, and war was a constant struggle between France and England. I was born a rich girl, which warranted in those days that I would be a noblewoman that was to be wed to a wealthy lord by my fifteenth birthday. On the very same day I was born, a husband had been chosen for me, a man by the name of Agustín Francisco Fidel Montañez; a young Spanish lord. About twelve years my senior, he would be twenty-seven the year I would turn fifteen, and the year he would finally claim me as his wife. I would first meet him when I became nine, and I hated him. Despite his stunning good looks, he was a cruel man, believing so diligently in the laws and customs Spanish men had in those days. Machismo is what it is called, and he emphasized it well. The more I got to know him, the more I wanted to slit my wrists and be freed from ever having to marry him. I would be forced to visit with him often with my mother, Iluviena, who adored him and believed he was quite charming. With each meeting, I grew more fearful, seeing the ill intent he had in his eyes that only I could see. He would watch me with more than a seemingly innocent smile; he would devour me with his stare, desiring me so potently with just his look that I would feel dirty. Even if I was only eleven, I knew he had the sick idea to one day make me his when no one was around.
Everything changed the day I met Anatole, a son of one of the servants. He was four years older than me, but so kind and affectionate, and full of a spirit that seemed so free and alive. I found myself attracted to him. I still remember his vibrant eyes that were the color of the sun, so golden and round, and his hair a copper brown that resembled the dirt after a summer rain, which smelled just as sweet. I fell in love with him, and knew he had fallen in love with me, but it was forbidden. An aristocrat young woman with the son of a servant could never wed. We never acted upon our love, but we confided every secret with one another, our fingers the only parts of our bodies entwining as one.
In the summer I turned fourteen, Agustin tried to rape me. I sat before my vanity, dressed only in undergarments when he had come in silently through my bedroom doors. The moment I had realized he was there, I quickly covered myself, but in seconds his weight was suffocating me. I screamed, but his hand clasped my mouth as his other hand slid up my skirt and tore at my stockings. Anatole suddenly came in, and pulled him from my body with such force, I felt Agustin’s knee drive into my stomach that it forced the air from my lungs. I watched unable to speak as they knocked down my vanity to the floor, a piece of broken wood knocking me unconscious. I awoke in my bed with my mother at my side, and I learned that Anatole would be sentenced to death. Agustin’s story claimed that Anatole had been the one who tried to rape me when he had stopped him. Plead as I might that he was innocent, no one believed me. Agustin claimed that my memory of the event was mistaken because I had been knocked unconscious, and could not possibly know how things had truly occurred. I was devastated, for I knew that the following morning Anatole would die.
That night, I snuck into the prison chambers, and found him. He had been beaten, and left bloodied and bruised, eyes bloodshot and nearly sealed shut. We ran away together, and I was no longer Genevieve; I had become Claudia, changing my first name to my middle to try and hide away from my family and especially from Agustin. Weeks turned into months, and Anatole and I remained hidden, but it was never easy. My family as well as Agustin’s men searched for us. After some time, we found a barn several kilometers away from town, and we remained safe for three months. But it would not last. We awoke one night to find our barn had been set aflame by Agustin and his men, who wanted to kill us both. In the time we had lived in our barn, we had built an underground pathway to escape should we ever be found. As we attempted to reach the entrance of that pathway, a rotted log fell from the ceiling and trapped Anatole underneath its weight. The flames ignited so closely to us as I tried to pull him free, but I was unable. Anatole pleaded that I escape before I too became trapped, and made me promise that I would always follow the light that led me to freedom, no matter what happened. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I kissed him farewell, and reached the underground tunnel just before the whole barn had collapsed. Agustin, believing I was dead along with Anatole, never dared tried to look for me again. I no longer needed to hide, but each day became more and more difficult to survive as my supply of money dwindled.
With the last of my money, I boarded a ship to London. It was there sometime after my sixteenth birthday that I had fallen into the easiest way for a girl such as me to find money as well as a home. Prostitution. I joined a brothel, and soon I became the most desired prostitute in the household. It was here that I acquired my second identity. Claudia was dead; I was now Pearl or Rouge. Pearl was the innocent and ignorant girl that could be easily controlled and dominated, and Rouge was the fierce girl that oozed with naughty desire and begged for pain. I could always tell which client wanted what girl when they asked for me. For those who wanted me to cry or obey, lying helplessly in my chambers, I was Pearl. And I was Rouge for the ones that wanted me to flirt and be dirty. But no matter what role I needed to play, it was always the same for me. I was mistreated and used, a pretty little doll for them to play with and have their fun. I no longer felt anything when a man’s weight suffocated me as they thrust all of their anger and frustrations and desires into me. I had become numb. I turned nineteen, and I had been with more men than I was sure there were mournful stars in the night sky. I only felt alive again when the sun would rise, but as it fell again at evening, I was nothing.
To this day, I am still not sure how I met him, for to me, all men were alike in those days, but I one night came across the man that would become my end. Cain. On an evening when snow had started to fall in mid December, I died. Death was a man with long brown hair tied back in a ribbon, penetrating green eyes, and intense brows. And I would remain with him for more than three centuries his slave, his lover, but most of all, his kindred spirit. Pearl and Rouge were dead. I was now Vyeva. To him, I was bound, and I believed I would be for all of eternity. His love for me was fierce and aggressive and deadly, so much that I sometimes felt as if my destiny was trapped in a maelstrom of bad luck and tyrannical men. I grew to love and to hate him. I learned how to deliver death because of him. Passion was our legacy. Despite saving me from a life of prostitution, disease, and eventually death, he had enslaved me to a fate at times much worse. Eventually, I forgot what the sun looked like as I never went out into it again, and with it, the promise I had with Anatole. Cain was all I saw, all I felt, and all I was.
Before a hunt one evening, I killed him. Anger had consumed me so completely that I felt as if I would burst into flames. I looked down at my palm to find flames surging from them, and then I knew I had found the light once again. I was freed, and this time for good. I realized later that the anger had not been my own but Cain’s, and I had come to realize that I had already had the ability to feel emotion from another for quite some time. It explained why I had remained by Cain’s side for so long instead of leaving years ago. Being with him for so long, I had lost my sense of identity. I changed my name again to Phoenix, completely forgetting who Vyeva was, but she had died along with Cain. I remained alone but content for fifty years until I met Claire, a sly vampire that was as beautiful as she was conniving. As a huntress, she was fierce and bold, more effective than any assassin in history. As a lover, she was gentle and affectionate, but electrified with a passion I had never known before. I lived and hunted with her for a time that ran from the mid eighteen hundreds to the late nineteenth century.
We parted ways when her sire returned to her, and I was alone once more. I no longer grew interested in another, feeling as though I were better off with no one for a time. Forgetting Phoenix, I sort of came back to my roots and became Genesis, a name that means birth and beginning, which is the name I am called today. After about three years from departing ways with my lovely Claire, I came across the Big Easy where a place of majesty and carnal pleasures reigned. The Enchanted Hunter. It is here that I now find myself after all of my many centuries. Funny that I once again find myself in something that can be considered more or less a brothel.”
Abilities: “I suppose it is only natural I grew to have this power; empathy, both my gift and my curse. It makes me capable of feeling the emotions of those around me, everyone, at any given time. And I do mean literally feel them. If someone is filled with sorrow or sadness, I feel a heavy weight in my chest and my eyes fill with tears. If someone is hurt or in physical pain, I will feel it in the same area of my own body. And if someone, I like this one, is in the throes of passion... well, let's just say I'd be lying on the floor within seconds in a daze and a flurry of breathlessness. The marvelous thing is that I can mute most emotions, but some, and they are usually the stronger ones, I can only lower to a slightly more comfortable volume. And I won't go absolutely bonkers if someone is angered or in a fit of rage. I will feel their rage, but I will not act upon it. I only feel it, but I have gained enough control not to allow myself to succumb to it and become its victim. I can never completely shut it off, and so when out hunting, I will feel the emotions of every being that I pass.
Also within me has been birthed a real flame. I hold the ability of pyrokinesis in my palms, almost quite literally. I like to consider I am a Phoenix in some way because of this. It would make sense given how many times I almost died when I was human. And then, I finally did die. And I was reborn again. Another interesting little fact is it works on my emotion; my emotion, not another's. It stems from anger or pain, but I no longer need to feel either for me to control it. I just look at something; concentrate for a moment, and poof! Fire. It also helps me travel, but I try not to use it very much. Things tend to burn.”
Likes: Adversity: it gives me the opportunity to overcome it, and dominate.
Dreams: There is such an allure with dreams, something beautiful and mysterious about them. They reveal so much and so little at the same time.
Pearls: I am a girl, and I was born a rich girl, I love them. They are so much prettier than diamonds.
Big Hair: Tasteful, of course. But full of curls and twirls and bows and combs and other pretty hair things.
Masquerade: Remember how I said I like looking like a different person every day? Well, I also like to disguise my true identity from time to time. Mystery is enticing.
Opera: I am such a big baby. I cry at the end of the saddest of opera’.
Sarcasm: I am as sarcastic as they come. Don't like it, sucks for you.
Human emotion: Raw, untamed... it is like a wildfire that intrigues me so.
Hair Dye: I've dyed my hair all sorts of different colors, I do not know what my natural tone is anymore. From red to blonde to black to white, I've had it all.
The Phoenix: I love the symbolism behind the bird, and many times now I have drawn a wonderful depiction of this creature.
Dislikes: Oppression: When I was alive, that was all there was. And for the first half of my vampiric life, I was still controlled and put down by a man, beaten and bloodied for a few centuries until I found out about my gift.
Cages: I hate feeling any sort of restraint, and this is one of the kinds I'd go absolutely mad in if I was not freed.
Pessimism: funny, I have the darkest sense of humor of anyone I know.
Sexism: I will not tolerate any of it, not even an innocent joke. It is not innocent if it strikes a nerve.
Chocolate: It is unpleasant to me, too sweet and messy. And dark chocolate is just dreadful.
December: I've always disliked this month greatly... I cannot really say why. Funny thing is I died in this month, but this has nothing to do with it.
Sunset: As strange as it is, I adore the sun. I feel an overwhelming sense of sadness when the sun goes down. How I miss it so.
Cockroaches: Is it so lame to say that I squeal upon the sight of them?
 Aeolith · Sat May 21, 2011 @ 11:17pm · 0 Comments |
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