Right. Here's my vampire. I hope he's somewhat entertaining, at least XD. I'm willing to change his powers/weaknesses if necessary, or expound further on the context behind his background vignettes, stuff. It is 3.16am and I am too sleepy to tweak my writing further. [hider=Matthew Stanford] [b]Name:[/b] Matthew Stanford [b]Gender/Pronouns:[/b] Male, he/him [b]Race/Species:[/b] Vampire, formerly human [b]Age (Real and apparent):[/b] literally [url=https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ReallySevenHundredYearsOld]Really 700 Years Old[/url], apparently early-mid 20s [b]Appearance:[/b] At 1.76m / 5ft 9in tall, Matthew was tall for the century he was born in, but now, of course, that's fairly average. With sharp cheekbones and somewhat hollow cheeks, built lean and wiry, he looks slightly too underfed to be properly handsome, but his indeterminate Eurasian features might be termed by some as 'exotic, maybe even pretty', others as 'immigrants oughta go back to where they came from', and still others as 'wait, where [i]are[/i] you from?' His slightly curling black hair reaches almost to his shoulders, and remains in the exact same style from night to night, no hair gel involved, swept/combed back enough to not get in his cloud-grey eyes and to appear charmingly windblown rather than untidy. Matthew carries himself with easy grace and a wry, relaxed smile; though the smile's real enough, his gaze is always watchful. His standard outfit is a black leather longcoat over a dark long-sleeved t-shirt, dark blue jeans, and sturdy, well-worn boots; the hand-and-a-half longsword at his hip is usually Obfuscated from notice. [b]Personality:[/b] Generally irreverent, laidback and snarky, sometimes playful and a touch dramatic, occasionally flirtatious, Matthew can seem like he doesn't take anything seriously, or that he's putting on an act of some kind, and the way his accent and tone slips and slides across at least two continents and multiple eras does not improve that impression any. The truth is, he does want to make friends and help people, and doesn't really do malice as a rule, drawing certain moral lines quite firmly, but a combination of being slightly tone-deaf (in more than one sense of the term) and having gone a bit insane over the centuries (also in more than one sense of the term 'insane') makes for someone who isn't exactly the most socially well-adjusted, and trying to adjust further has an effect akin to adding more colours to a paint pot that has already had a few too many colours stirred in. That said, he is surprisingly capable of introspection and self-discipline, and when shit gets real, he can turn quite deadly serious, settling into quiet patience or striking with swift efficiency as the situation requires, and not a single quip as he goes about it. Matthew seems more 'real' like this, sometimes, yet also possibly a little terrifying and, perhaps, less human. [b]Powers, Traits, and Abilities:[/b] Matthew has once described himself as a ghost inhabiting his own corpse, preserved and animated through blood magic and willpower, which is both technically accurate and a gross oversimplification. His flesh is cool and firm to the touch, his dead heart unbeating, his breath only for speaking with, unless he wills his blood to stir, temporarily generating heat and forcing his organs to imitate living behaviours. He must drink the blood of others to sustain his existence and fuel his supernatural abilities, preferably fresh human blood or that of other supernatural beings; bagged blood is nearly worthless, and while he can gain sustenance from animal blood, the quantities required make it impractical as a primary source when living in a city. The only kind of blood he cannot, or rather [i]will not[/i] drink, is the vitae of his own kind, for vampire blood can addict and enslave those who taste it to the will of the individual whose veins it spilled from; Matthew himself has no such thralls, and never intends to. Regeneration and recovery from injury, enhanced strength and speed, those are the most typical abilities of his kind, powered by the stolen life they consume. Wounds heal in moments and minutes if he has the blood to spare, and lie open and oozing if he does not. Matthew is old and his lineage is inclined towards the gifts of strength and speed; when he pushes himself, he is capable of short bursts of speed that can cross thirty to forty feet in a blur, and strength enough to break through a brick wall. Invisibility and heightened senses, concealing objects that should be in plain view, and the ability to meld with the soil in order to sleep hidden from the sun, these talents were much more difficult, but Matthew has made a hobby of exploring and pushing the boundaries of his supernatural capabilities, and so he is capable of all of these; alas, shapechanging and telepathy are beyond him as yet, along with other more esoteric powers. He does have a third natural aptitude for glamour that amplifies his personal magnetism and can even entrance victims into doing as he wishes, but he no longer exercises that talent unless he has urgent need. He fears the touch of sunlight and of fire, which leave grievous wounds that incur a great cost in both blood and time to heal, if they do not burn him to ash in moments with their intensity. He once feared the strength of his inner beast, which can drive him to a mindless frenzy when goaded by hunger, fear or rage, but he has achieved a mastery over its nature that allows him to restrain it so long as he has the will - and he has honed his willpower to an inhuman extent. He fears a wooden stake to the heart that will leave him not just paralysed but trapped in torpor, but he conceals his sleeping-places well and few are those he has met who can match him in a physical fight, especially with blades in hand. He does not fear holy symbols; heck, he carries an article of faith upon his very person. He most certainly does not fear garlic. Matthew has trained in firearms and played at picking locks and learned to drive, among the many skills he has dabbled in over his many, many years; he knows a little bit about almost anything, but he doesn't know all that much about, well, almost everything, with the exception of personal violence in general and swordsmanship in particular. That said, he has adapted to the modern era better than most vampires with half his centuries, passing easily enough as his apparent age with his knowledge of memes, gamer terms and how to buy things through the internet. His hobbies have shifted over the years, but currently they include meditation, tea ceremonies, reading self-indulgent fantasy, two different MMORPGs, and scrolling Tumblr. He wonders why it's called ski-ball, mostly remembers it only as 'that arcade ball-throwing game', and is only modestly capable at it; it's a safe bet to say he'll never be the last name on the scoring ranks, but that's about it. [b]Background:[/b] [hider=Excerpts from Meetings with a Vampire Prince] "I am told that you claim to be a Scholar of Untamed Hunger," the dapper little man said, hands folded neatly before him upon his solid mahogany desk. The lines of his deep grey suit and crisp white shirt were sharp and impeccable, his pale, stern face unremarkable, and all he needed to complete the appearance of a banker or bureaucrat was a pair of spectacles. Possibly gold-rimmed ones, Matthew mused, considering the tastefully expensive manner in which the office was furnished. "You either know what that means," he replied dryly, hands staying shoved into the pockets of his jeans, "or I shouldn't be explaining it to you." The man behind the desk tilted his head very slightly in either consideration or acknowledgement. There was a soft chuckle from the only other visible occupant of the office, relaxed in his seat upon one of the couches. When Matthew glanced sidelong at him, though, he said nothing, only waved him off with a ring-encrusted hand. When the grey-suited man spoke, his tone was as matter-of-fact as before. "I am Nathaniel Finch, Philosopher of the Sanguine Curse, Twilight Judge of the Dying Light, and Chancellor of the Chicago Academy." [i]If [b]you[/b] know what that means[/i] went unsaid, but Matthew fancied he heard it anyway. For that matter, he did actually know what most of that meant, and could extrapolate the rest. Urgh. Sometimes secret society shenanigans was fun, but right now it was tedious and also potentially dangerous, because all those fancy words meant that Finch outranked him massively on three separate fronts. In Matthew's experience, vampires who were that kind of overachiever were also prone to exercising that rank, usually to the detriment of those beneath them. "And Prince of the city," the guy lounging on the couch added with evident amusement. "Thank you, Asil," Finch said, a touch of dryness that proved he did possibly have a sense of humour too. Okay, make that four ways he was way out of Matthew's league, socio-politically speaking. Great. Whatever. "And?" Matthew said, wryly exasperated, like he wasn't talking to someone who could very well order his final death. Granted, he was reasonably confident that whether said order could be successfully carried out was a whole different question, but still. "If you're concerned about me stirring up trouble, I moved in two months ago, actually, and I very much intend to continue to keep a low profile, obey the laws, and not get in anyone's way. If you're wondering whether my Ordo credentials are legit, I will-" grudgingly "-submit to trials in order to prove my grasp of the Coils. I have no intention of getting involved in the game of thrones- sorry, the 'Danse Macabre' or whatever. I simply desire to establish amiable relations, by which I mean live and let live. Well, that and get to know the local Academy members, pursue further mastery of the Coils. Stuff." There was a long pause. "He's telling the truth, my usual caveats aside," Asil observed. "How refreshingly direct." Matthew turned to eye him consideringly. "Second Sight," he guessed. Asil smiled at him, one lazy tiger to another. "Very astute." "You certainly make an impression," Finch remarked, and it almost made Matthew's teeth grind, that he couldn't tell at all what Finch really meant behind that neutral tone of voice. He had to give the Prince props for not already ordering Matthew whipped for his temerity, though, so he supposed 'live and let live' really was on the table. "Which Academy did you study at, and why did you leave?" In lieu of a verbal reply to the first question, Matthew reached into one of his longcoat pockets, drew out a loop of beads with a pendant of woven thread, and held it out for inspection. "I left because I wanted to reunite with my family." Asil rose from his place on the couch to take a better look. Finch's sharp blue-grey gaze moved from the cross-and-dragon symbol upon the pendant to Matthew's person, and while his expression hadn't actually changed, the surprise was clear. "You have studied with the monks?" "Yes. Book, cover," Matthew said drily. Granted, if the elder monk who'd mentored him was here, he'd be receiving a gentle rebuke about his behaviour that he would feel chagrined about, but his mentor wasn't here. Finch inclined his head very slightly once more, this time in definite acknowledgement. "Scholar-" "Just Matthew." "Matthew. Have a seat, and let us talk." _______________________________________________ _______________________________________________ "When you told me you wished to take a break from our studies, I did not think you would choose such a... job," Finch said, pausing to savour the subtle floral fragrance wafting off the cup of tea he held. "I'm aware that you do not need the money, and of your policy regarding the enthrallment of mortals." "There's no need to enthrall them when they're already in the know," Matthew replied wryly, and sipped at his own cup. Unlike Finch, who hadn't touched a drop, he was going to have to regurgitate the lot later, but right now the smooth flavour rolling across his tongue was pretty worth it. "But I am hoping to expand my pool of voluntary donors." "That does not necessitate your employment with them." Matthew sighed, and set down his cup, taking a moment to dredge up honest words. "Because they do good work helping people, and I actually find it not only interesting but worthwhile. Because being involved provides me an additional anchor to humanity, provides me [i]perspective[/i]. Because they're [i]people[/i]. Don't you start again on how I'm wasting my time with inconsequentialities instead of focusing on the Great Work." Maybe it was unfair of him to say that - Finch hadn't 'started on it' again since that one time they'd had the knock-down-drag-out [s]argument[/s] discussion on everything from the common attitudes vampires held towards their prey to why exactly Matthew had ended up with the monks in the first place, a discussion that had run well into the day - but every time he visited the Academy he was reminded all over again of how he didn't fit in with the 'Kindred', and possibly he felt some kind of way about that. Finch gave him a cool look. Okay, it was unfair of him. "Sensei," he murmured, and dipped his head. "On the contrary," the other vampire said mildly, not-quite-accepting Matthew's not-quite-apology, "it gives me an idea, and one that might interest you. Furthermore, it is about time I gave you another study assignment. Follow the Dragon's Tail. But with a mortal whose life you save." Matthew had to admit Finch had a point, the insightful, manipulative sadist that he was. He was familiar with the concept of that particular learning exercise, to study change through observing the cause and effect of consequences that rippled outwards from a human's death, but his own stubborn clinging to certain morals actually met Finch's amorality at the junction of agreeing that practices like that were mostly pretty wasteful for something that could be studied in less reckless ways. And to examine the consequences of having saved someone would most certainly help Matthew expand and maintain that perspective on humanity that he wanted. It just wasn't comfortable, being [i]seen[/i] by someone, something something the mortifying ordeal of being known. "As long as you don't ask me to write an essay." "You may report your findings to me however you wish," Finch said serenely. "So long as you can satisfy me regarding the thoroughness of your study." "I am tempted to report my findings to you through interpretive dance," Matthew replied sarcastically, just because he could. "Or to offer to satisfy you thoroughly in a more pleasurable manner." Finch merely gave him another look, this one distinctly long-suffering. Matthew grinned, and took another sip of tea. [/hider] [/hider]