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bloodvbonerpg · 6 years

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BASICS :

Name: Aurora “Rory” Wolfgang-Child Age: 25 Race: Vampire Occupation: Hunter Faceclaim: Eliza Taylor Sexuality: Demisexual Status: Taken

TRAITS :

+ : spirited, buoyant, approachable

- : temperamental, artless, impetuous

THE STORY :

Her people were cave dwellers, living their lives between crags, hunting game and fishing in rapids, hiding their tracks and their smell and retreating behind easily-defended entrances amongst dizzying labyrinths of stone. Even as a human, she’d rarely seen the sun, and so learned to appreciate it all the more, whenever she ventured outside with foraging parties. She grew up learning to move as a shadow, able to see in the dark, trained to sharpen her hearing to detect the smallest flutter in the leafage, to track the path of the tiniest dislodged pebble. She learned what plants were good to eat, and what plants were good for healing. Like most people in this new world, hers was a life of bare necessities, of skills learned from need, where smiles were fleeting and laughter almost entirely absent.

At least, that was true enough for most of her tribe, moving like ghosts, taciturn and solemn, but silence had never came easily to her, not as easily as laughter did – she delighted in the smallest things, almost hell-bent on enjoying herself, fabricating small adventures and begging stories out of her older siblings to keep herself entertained during the long days bleeding into night inside their caves.

She was young enough to have no memories of the plains, and that transient existence, fraught with danger that came from such exposed places, and while she knew, like everyone else, of the Upyr and vampires, she had never witnessed an attack upon her own. They were protected by the heights they inhabited, by the foul weather and treacherous paths – easier prey was to be had further down, and they’d reasoned it’d have been a dire need indeed to prompt those creatures to scale such forbidding mountains for so meagre a bounty.

They’ve found as much peace as could be found in the world, but it was not to last. Spring was often a more dangerous time in the mountains than the coldest winter, for the snow turned soft and treacherous and the most inane of movements would summon an avalanche to bury them all. The rivers, too, swelled dangerously, their cave turning damp and cold. Dry wood was not to be had anywhere, and fire was slow to catch, and was more trouble than it was worth, smoking too much and barely giving off any heat. They had to leave the relative safety of their sanctuary, lest they all sickened and died. It was better to run, and return on better days, for catastrophes such as this did not happen every year.

Having lived in the forest for so long, they knew how to be quiet, how to cover their tracks, and they were not planning to leave the mountain range completely at any rate, just go low enough to keep safe from the fury of nature. It had not occurred to them that if the weather had so avenged itself upon them as high as they were, that the plains had suffered from flooding as well, scattering the already scarce human population and the vampires hunting in those parts had felt compelled to turn their sights to higher ground.

Aurora was awake when the descended on their small party, staring at the stars, cold and damp and so miserable she could not sleep. She didn’t even realize what was happening at first, they moved so fast, she thought herself so exhausted that her vision had begun playing tricks on her. It kept her still for long enough to be almost unnoticed under the bundle of furs, it saved her from the brutality of the first wave, where killing was foremost in their minds. By the time she rolled out of her makeshift bed, she was convinced she was going to die. Such certainty did not dim her outrage, even if it was mainly born out of desperation.

She’d always been reckless, a daredevil who gave her older siblings no small amount of grief with her antics, with a complete lack of self-preservation, just as quick to anger as she was to laugh. She didn’t want to die, but if she had to, she preferred to go down fighting. Capricious by nature, ever in the grip of her emotions, Aurora let them rule her, as she always did, and right then she was trapped by a sense of surrealism at the scene around her – one could never truly fear creatures they’ve heard of only in stories, not from the very first. And a few seconds of insane courage was all it took for her to make her move.

It probably wouldn’t have worked if she’d been the target, but as still as she’d been, she must have seemed beneath their notice, so she grabbed a burning log from the fire and tossed it into the melee of blurring forms. She always did believe fortune favoured the brave, and her act of defiance proved fruitful. Not a killing blow, but one of them tripped over it anyway, and she gasped, elated and feeling avenged, even though they saw her then, even though she’d just brought death closer.

She was certainly prideful enough to meet her end with a snarl on her face, an expression that froze, and slackened as one of the vampires slowed down enough for her to see his face. She’d always assumed she could tell monsters apart, a childhood belief she never grew out of, but the sight that greeted her looked close enough to her own kind to give her pause. Not that struggling would have made much of a difference, but by the time she recovered, his teeth were already breaking skin, sucking the life out her.

She remembers the moment mechanically, the pain dulled by shock, how she only realized she’d burned her hand when she tried to push him away, and she remembers feeling thirsty, swallowing salt by the mouthful, making it worse with each gulp. The sickness, the kaleidoscope of nonsensical images, an impression of being moved, her indignation at the ingloriousness of death, at the blinding agony of it, wondering when it would end and failing to figure out the answer.

She remembers her vicious, ineffectual struggle only distantly, her desperate flailing and kicking, the realization that while most of her blows connected they seemed to hold no weight. She thought it a dubious honour to be told she’d been turned by the Blood King himself, might have even blurted it out loud in the first few moments of waking to find the world unbearably sharpened, so alarmingly loud she shied away at first (noise still meant death to her, it would keep on worrying her for months), and she half-heartedly swiped at those closest to her, surprised to find herself so steady on her feet. Other than a maddening thirst, her throat so raw she could barely make a sound, she felt surprisingly whole, quite a contrast from her most recent memories, but none of the small pains she had expected troubled her.

“This one’s got nerve,” someone had said and Rory narrowed her eyes at the words, unsettled to find herself the centre of attention. Her sister called her foolish once, during one of their worst fights. Foolish, and mule-headed and selfish because she had vanished for two days into a snowstorm and returned dragging the half frozen carcass of a stag on a makeshift sleigh. Bravery was seen more as a curse, a threat to those around her and to find someone who appreciated her flashy bravado was disconcerting.

“I’m thirsty,” her gaze settled on the single face she recognized, and her voice croaked with disuse, and she did not know why she’d even chosen to speak, or why she’d decided he was the one she should address. It took all the iron in her veins to not flinch at the way he smirked at her.

Although Aurora was most shocked to comprehend she continued on, it was even more shocking to realize she didn’t mind being a vampire at all. She’d been keen-sighted before, now she was one of the best scouts in the Blood Hunt. What she’d learned of stealth as a human couldn’t hold a candle to how silent she’d become now. And it was exhilarating to feel so strong and so fast, if only the hunger wouldn’t so easily drive her to distraction. It was hard to control herself, harder still when no one else encouraged it. She tried, though, and when she failed and killed, she tried again the next time.

When word of Sanctuary reached the Blood Court, she was amongst the first who wanted to go, the most disappointed when the king refused, and when it finally looked like he’d finally decided to join this settlement, she pleaded with her maker to take her with them. She wanted to know if there was any hope of humans and vampires coexisting peacefully, she dearly wished it would turn out to be more than a foolish dream.

CONNECTIONS :

Wolfgang Arcturus-Child : Part of her is terrified of her maker and uneasy in his presence. Vampires might not put much stock in bloodlines, but when one’s sire is the Blood King, the others’ scrutiny is a heavy burden to bear, especially to someone with her mercurial moods. She’s constantly torn between deference and defiance, between her desire to be loyal to him, and her inherent urge to rebel against authority. Her devotion is absolute, but grudgingly given, and she cannot say how much of it is genuine, and how much is a by-product of the bond formed on one’s turning. It is the first time she has had to face these doubts head on, for it is the first time she’s not in accord with him – she wants Sanctuary to thrive, she truly believes vampires can survive on the blood the humans donate, and it’s disheartening to know that given the chance, he would break the truce as soon as it suits him.

Ayanna Cadeyrn : Aurora likes her more than she probably ought, and she feels mildly guilty about that. She cannot help but admire the Sanctuary’s Keeper, and want to be near her, content to just talk about plans for the compound. She’s not entirely comfortable in her presence, though, and questions the wisdom of bringing the Upyr in on the truce. In her view, what Ayanna demands of them for the citizenship is nothing short of a slow, torturous death. It isn’t that she pities the creatures, she hated them as a human, and her animosity wasn’t quenched by her becoming a vampire. She’s worried about everyone else’s safety, though. She cannot help but judge the world through her own perspective, and she would never accept starving to death for the sake of peace, herself. The Upyr are doubtless planning something, and while it will be the humans who suffer the brunt of their uprising, she does not want to see her kind caught in the crossfire.

Reginmund Wolfgang-Child : She finds him somewhat distant, too placid and absent-minded to really put her at ease, but she’s endlessly curious about all the things he tinkers with, curious, like him, about how things work. She wants to learn to read and write, and while she’s too restless and boisterous by half to enjoy spending much time coped up with only books for company, he’s proven to be quite a restful presence on the few occasions she seeks out peace and quiet.

Ragar Wolfgang-Child : Training with him is the one thing that helps distract her from the hunger, from the constant sound of rushing blood and beating hearts. His unconcerned charm is a source of delight for her, and she finds him easiest to talk to out her new found family of undead hellions. Not terribly discerning by nature, she was quickly won over by his smooth talk, and readily believes much of what he tells her.

FC is NON-NEGOTIABLE

#eliza taylor fc #bvb: aurora wolfgangchild #bvb: takenf #bvb: takenv #r: vampire #c: aurora wolfgangchild #fc: eliza taylor

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