Name: Claire Marie Delacroix
Character Quote: "Shadows only make the light seem brighter when it comes."
Age: Chronologically 125, biologically 18
Sexuality: Asexual
Witch or Warlock: Witch
Schools: Right now, she doesn't even realize she's a witch, much less know any spells, but she will eventually focus on Necromancy, Conjuration, and Enchantment. Spells will include reanimating dead bodies and maybe even resurrecting them, demon summoning, curses, and blood magics.
Personality: For someone with no heartbeat, Claire is rather lively. She tends to wear flamboyant pink and purple dresses when out in public, and dreams of being a big-name fashion designer one day. When among the coven, she goes with black hooded robes to play herself up as a Ringwraith knockoff, complete with hammy, overblown ritual magics, but it's all a blatant acting job. She is obsessed with magic in all its forms, and can be found reading books on the Art at all hours of the day and night- not having to sleep helps. She really struggles with modern technology, though- she's never even heard a radio or actually seen an airplane before.
Bio: Well before any of the other Tanner witches and warlocks were born, the Coven was home to a gifted sorceress. Claire Delacroix seemed to be a natural when it came to the most unnatural parts of witchcraft, yet she was always kind and helpful, eager to lend a helping hand. But she was subject to seizures, and one night, her tongue crossed back into her throat, cutting off her air, and that was that.
The Coven held their funeral, burying her with a silken dress and rose petals in a far-off corner of the manor grounds, saying their honest words of sorrow. And then, she simply faded into memory, a tragic tale of what might have been, and soon, not even that. None alive even remembered her, save perhaps a half-mention in some dusty old book in the coven library.
Until last night. A squall of magical energy passed through the Coven's graveyard, reacting with long-dormant necromancies within her body and bringing her back from beyond. Now, she staggers disheveled towards the mansion's door, yet there's something missing. Unbeknownst to her, her memories, her very soul is somewhere else. But a voice in the back of her mind tells her she is still destined for greatness...
Character Quote: "Shadows only make the light seem brighter when it comes."
Age: Chronologically 125, biologically 18
Sexuality: Asexual
Witch or Warlock: Witch
Schools: Right now, she doesn't even realize she's a witch, much less know any spells, but she will eventually focus on Necromancy, Conjuration, and Enchantment. Spells will include reanimating dead bodies and maybe even resurrecting them, demon summoning, curses, and blood magics.
Personality: For someone with no heartbeat, Claire is rather lively. She tends to wear flamboyant pink and purple dresses when out in public, and dreams of being a big-name fashion designer one day. When among the coven, she goes with black hooded robes to play herself up as a Ringwraith knockoff, complete with hammy, overblown ritual magics, but it's all a blatant acting job. She is obsessed with magic in all its forms, and can be found reading books on the Art at all hours of the day and night- not having to sleep helps. She really struggles with modern technology, though- she's never even heard a radio or actually seen an airplane before.
Bio: Well before any of the other Tanner witches and warlocks were born, the Coven was home to a gifted sorceress. Claire Delacroix seemed to be a natural when it came to the most unnatural parts of witchcraft, yet she was always kind and helpful, eager to lend a helping hand. But she was subject to seizures, and one night, her tongue crossed back into her throat, cutting off her air, and that was that.
The Coven held their funeral, burying her with a silken dress and rose petals in a far-off corner of the manor grounds, saying their honest words of sorrow. And then, she simply faded into memory, a tragic tale of what might have been, and soon, not even that. None alive even remembered her, save perhaps a half-mention in some dusty old book in the coven library.
Until last night. A squall of magical energy passed through the Coven's graveyard, reacting with long-dormant necromancies within her body and bringing her back from beyond. Now, she staggers disheveled towards the mansion's door, yet there's something missing. Unbeknownst to her, her memories, her very soul is somewhere else. But a voice in the back of her mind tells her she is still destined for greatness...