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deadcfnight · 4 years

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Did you see that? I could have sworn that I just spotted [ SUMMER BISHIL ] ducking into the shadows. Oh, it was just [ BRIAR PAUZIÉ ]. They’ve always been kind of odd. You know, I’ve heard rumors that they are actually a [ VAMPYRE ] and work as a [ NIGHTCRAWLER and DOCTOR ]. I don’t know if that’s actually true, but I do know that they are PROVOCATIVE & MAGNETIC, which is nice, but they also are INFLAMMATORY & HEDONISTIC when you piss them off.

BIRTH NAME. Fabrizia da Firenze USED NAME/S. Briar Pauzié, Bri AGE. internally: 625 — visually: 30s GENDER. Female, she/her SPECIES. Vampyre SEXUALITY. Anything’s worth trying once RELIGION. Atheist BIRTHPLACE. Florence, Italy HEIGHT. 5'5" PHYSIQUE. Slender but well toned, endowed with strength and grace LANGUAGE(S). Italian, Latin, English, Russian, French, German. CURRENT OCCUPATION. Doctor (& Clan’s Nightcrawler) MBTI. ESTJ-T / ESTJ-A, “The Executive” ENNEAGRAM. 98% Type 8: “The Challenger” — sees themselves as strong and powerful and seeks to stand up for what they believe in. 95% Type 6: “The Skeptic” — preoccupied with security, seeking safety, and liking to be prepared for problems JUNG. ESTJ VIRTUES. Quick-witted, provocative, proud, ambitious, cunning, magnetic, eloquent VICES. Inflammatory, hedonistic, cocky, pernicious, mercurial, wrathful, begrudging MORAL ALIGNMENT. Chaotic Neutral, day-to-day. Neutral Evil, under pressure TEMPERAMENT. Choleric

QUICK FACTS & HEADCANONS ❦ Dominates the night shift schedule at the hospital, much to everyone’s awe and relief.

❦ After participating in various Renaissance celebrations, throwing herself into international city nightlife, and an extensive 1920s partying stint, she doesn’t find any appeal in introducing foreign upper and downer substances into her system. Drinking is not a comfort habit she ever developed, having died before she was able to develop a fondness or crutch on such things.

❦ Similarly, she doesn’t find much enjoyment in music. Classical, she associates with her horrendous excuse of an uncle. Pop and bass heavy numbers are too stimulating. Atmospheric nature sounds or the hum of overlapping conversations soothes her best. The only genre exception, if one could call it that, would be bard compositions or medieval instrumentals, since she has positive memories of her time in England.

❦ Is indifferent towards the supernatural elements of the world. She tolerates each equally, though is most wary of fire wielding witches and young vampyres. The level of volatility she has encountered with the two manifestations left an unforgettably unfavourable impression upon her memory — she possesses no interest in re-hashing old wounds nor maturely turning the other cheek. In her mind, both are best avoided altogether lest irreversible mistakes be made.

❦ Has a tendency to use very dated phrases or insults that don’t always age well or translate into the zeitgeist’s vernacular.

❦ Irate at all times, simmering beneath the surface, but has grown so adapted to the perpetual persistence of the feeling she appears entirely placid at face value. A few lifetimes of trial and error and discipline has equipped her with the knowledge that it serves no one to betray the tumultuous nature of her inner workings through body language or unnecessarily drawing attention to herself. She’s well-aware nothing about her situation (past and present) can be changed by letting any impulsive immature desires run rampant. Only the sharpness of her tongue provides the occasional preview of her bitter and wrathful edges, to those paying close enough attention, exclusively reserved for the informal company (AKA the presence of any supernatural being).

❦ Whilst entirely professional in her workplace, she has her moments of despair if triggered by a sensitive circumstance. Usually it revolves around encountering children burdened with a terminal illness or catastrophic injury that cannot be helped, despite all modern medicine’s best efforts. When an innocent can’t be saved. Neglectful guardians/foster figures evidently just invested in the money aspect of fostering and not their child’s health are no better. To avoid unpacking her own personal baggage around such issues and the self-reflection required to adequately process her emotions into any other form but frustration, she has falls into an episode of madness. It’s almost as if she reverts to her 14th century deathbed’s self except empowered by mobility, wherein she’s nothing but mercurial, broody, and intolerant until the haze wears off and she resumes her regular routine. Usually she can anticipate the bad news/encounter before the flare begins and she can identity precisely when it is time to carefully isolate and distance herself from others.

❦ Is unaffected by the sight and scent of blood, proudly so. Additionally, she’s quite the purist when it comes to the blood she will consume, preferring to only engage with the healthiest or privileged of sources — usually someone rich, upper class, who can afford to lose a little energy now and then. Outside her practice, when it comes to feeding, alongside an aftercare dose of glamour, she still likes to politely siphon blood with the butterfly needles (a stash kept on her at all times). Doing so leaves minimal trace, rather than causing a puncture with her own teeth — it’s a chosen boundary, believing it separates her from ever stooping to savage animalistic urgency.

FULL BIOGRAPHY

Known by a multitude of names over her 625 years of “life”, once upon a time, Briar was known as Fabrizia. Born in the late 14th century Florence during the Italian renaissance, it was a time eventually celebrated for the many of the scientific, artistic and cultural advancements. However, in its early stages, there were more obstacles than rewards faced by lower class citizens. Both her parents were struggling artists, additionally her father taking on a job as a textile worker after she was born in order to keep their family afloat.

Fabrizia spent most of her childhood years in the shared studio of her parents. She was always naturally curious, growing up to mimicking their artistic gestures on canvas scraps. As stubborn as she was creative, often Fabrizia would stay up late into the night alongside their candlelit figures, awaiting the moment exhaustion finally caused their hands to tremble and officially announce bedtime. She was an adored daughter, inspiring both her mother and father to keep working hard despite the lack of immediate payoff. One day, they hoped to earn enough that slaving away all day would no longer be necessary. In the meantime, idyllic family life was put on hold.

When Fabrizia entered adolescence, she began to show signs of sickness. Modern medicine would have been able to identify it was unnaturally high exposure to the toxic fumes and particles let off by the compounds in her parents’ cheap yet vivid paints - no match against her weak constitution. Soon, her presence became too disruptive in the studio. The volume of her coughs, fidgeting, and whining of feverish discomfort made her a nuisance to paint alongside.

When it was gently yet adamantly advised she spend time outside with the neighbourhood children, Fabrizia threw the first of what would become a chain of tantrums. Her father, more stern and stronger than mother, took matters into his own hands and contacted his brother across the city - Fabrizia’s uncle, Lorenzo - a struggling composer at the time. The task of babysitting her was reluctantly taken on, but due to his craft being less sensitive than the focus of her parents’ skillset (plus the handsome sum put on offer each session despite her family’s poverty) made it an offer hard to refuse.

Lorenzo’s efforts of keeping her hidden inside to avoid local ridicule over her ill state did nothing to assist in the speed at which further symptoms manifested. Her parents knew they couldn’t yet afford to get her the treatment she needed, and neglected to address her increasing list of health problems in the hopes that she would grow out of them. An art sale was just around the corner that promised connections could be made that would be enough to sustain them for many years to come. Assuming she could hold on a little longer, trusting Lorenzo’ abilities as her primary guardian, they turned away from their daughter’s mysterious ailment to focus on their work.

Fabrizia’s teen years only ushered in further health deterioration, until her uncle - highly religious, adhering strictly to the belief that ‘God has a plan for everyone’ - could finally take no more and brought her to a strange decrepit church on the outskirts of town. Deeming her possessed by something unholy, she spent several months under the care of nun-like figures who laced anything that graced her lips with pernicious doses of arsenic; every ounce of water, broth, and handmade medicinal syrups.

Fabrizia returned home sicker, but in too frail a state to do much of anything. Bittersweetly, in the time she was absent, her parents had indeed successfully earned enough money to be able to further address her needs and swiftly admitted her to a hospital. They didn’t know it would be the last time they would see any real life in their daughter’s eyes. Words like “lunacy” and “hysteria” haunted the air around Fabrizia as much as the unfamiliar and identical series of masked faces. It was impossible to keep track of the time that passed there. Experiments which led to pain and numbness saturated her days, which turned to weeks, maybe months…

Fabrizia was returned to her family’s home, in an indefinite catatonic state until the one (un)fateful day her uncle paid a visit, bringing with him a “special” priest. She could only follow the mysterious man with her eyes, barely registering it as peculiar when he dipped out of sight by her neck. Her vitals had been checked countlessly over the years. However, it wasn’t the press of fingers that awaited her this time - but fangs.

Fabrizia died in 1425, re-emerging from the earth in a frenzy of confusion, lithe movement, and ability she had not experienced in years. Only the face of the so-called priest remained nearby, explaining to her what had happened and what was expected of her henceforth. The impulse to hurt him felt suddenly stifled by a confounding sense of loyalty. Instead, she channeled her energy into the unfortunate strangers passing nearby. Once her hunger was curbed, a good time later, she demanded to see her uncle - the cause of this shift. Cloaked by a new moon, she located her uncle at his Florence home. At first sight, he called her reanimation miraculous. She called him dead.

For a long while Fabrizia begged to be destroyed by her maker, tried to step into the sun, tried to break any law she knew of - but every time, an inner subconscious and unbreakable instinct to survive forbade her from proceeding beyond an irreversible point. Fabrizia felt only rage and resentment for her fate, her instinct to consume blood not aligned with her disinterest to continue walking upon earth. She developed the habit of starving herself until forced to feed in a blind frenzy - after each encounter, “waking” to behold the damage she had caused and realising she was no better than the selfish and cruel man who had sentenced her to this fate. In an effort to protect hurting any more innocents and curve her bloodlust, she began working at the Ospedale degli Innocenti where she bided her time taking care of abandoned and orphaned children, developing discipline. It was easier to resist and protect weaker bodies - less appealing in their malnourished state. Only their abusers received harm, if she could track them down in the span of a single evening.

Decades of service later, she finally plucked up the courage to seek out her family, only to learn that too long had past - time no longer meant what it used to - and not only had her lower class parents progressed in the world well enough to become aristocrats, but they had died 30 years earlier. Only distant family members remained, none of them recognising her with anything but fear and distrust.

In honour of the discovery, Fabrizia processed her mourning by changing her name to her mother’s - Beatrisia. Soon after, Beatrisia went on to explore the lively culture of England’s Renaissance. There she learned skills of metal smithing, carpentry, and ceramics. She found satisfaction in tasks which were long but with purpose, helping time not feel like the monotonous imprisonment it had become.

From England, she followed word of the witch hunts causing unrest in Sweden and Finland. What began as a morbid curiosity to witness the stupidity of mob mentality humans soon progressed into a deal of sorts. Beatrisia would locate convicted witches in small untraceable towns and ask if she could feed on and turn them, the following night letting them have revenge on those who wrongly outed them. Beatrisia found the bond created in the process of creating a progeny bewildering and nauseating, but - for better and worse - the newborns’ irresponsibility made them easy targets, insatiable desires for blood foolishly leading them away from the safe cover of their small countryside towns to city limits that quickly captured and killed them for good.

The loss of the vivid connection hurt, at first. But Beatrisia learned to dull the sensation, as she did with most feelings. Through the maker-fledgling connection, Beatrisia had a taste of the agony that occurred and refused to subject herself to the seemingly easy escape route. After enduring the pain of her human life, she would never again suffer in order to die - it would be on her own terms, and it would be done well.

The agreement to turn supposed criminals into vampyres served both Beatrisia’s disdain for witch-hunting and allowed enigmatic human women, wrongly deemed witches, to get revenge. However, upon one significant instance, there was no error in the town’s uproar. An authentic witch named Sigrid was on the verge of having her freedom literally burned at the stake. Sigrid ruled over the fire element; a wild and beautiful woman that clearly needed no saviour. Yet, Beatrisia was still inclined to give her the same offer - immortality and vampiric ability for the sake of revenge. Sigrid was unlike the others, she was powerful, cunning and accomplished. It was as if she’d seen Beatrisia coming. Sigrid introduced a new deal; what if she henceforth travelled with Beatrisia as her self-nominated blood bag, making herself useful. In exchange, she would help Beatrisia find legitimate witches, and truly free them.

Over time, the lines of their arrangement blurred - first through infatuation, then love. Beatrisia eventually refused to feed on Sigrid any longer, desiring a different sort of intimacy. The two swiftly became lovers, intertwined and unstoppable for several years until the bond was abruptly severed after an explosive argument when Sigrid’s freedom plans included mercilessly killing village children descendant from hunters and Beatrisia’s death wish were brought to light. Irreconcilable differences which saw Sigrid erupting into infuriated flames which Beatrisia could not halt, nor desired to prevent. Her first experience with romantic love was one furiously stripped away from her, watched turn from flesh and bone to ash. But Beatrisia learned to dull what being heartbroken felt like, as she did with all other feelings. Loneliness always suited her best.

Seeking distance from any companionship for the forceable future, Beatrisia changed her name to Katya and retreated to less hospitable conditions - Russia. Eventually she met a shy diamond jeweller named Jeremie; an expert at working with jewels, but unfamiliar to noble metals. He hired Katya as one of his subcontractors to metal work, during which time she learned how to work with and identify authentic versus counterfeit jewels. It grew to be a highly esteemed position, with commissions sought out from Russian Imperial court's jeweler. After Jeremie’s death, his old age not dawning on Katya until it was too late, the chief court jeweller’s disdain for having to collaborate roared its ugly head and cast Katya out to find work elsewhere.

Katya changed her name to Briar, letting the old version of her die alongside her cherished mentor. She stayed in St. Petersburg long enough to idly apprentice under a goldsmith within a jewellery store in a basement shop. There, she caught wind of the Russian nobility's Francophilia, associating France with luxury goods.

Always on the brink of an identity crisis, Katya used status elevation as an excuse to visit Paris to get an ear for the dialect amidst earning better wages. This pursuit of knowledge developed into making a hobby of further travelling and studying the languages of neighbouring European countries. She had all the time in the world.

With the rise of 1900s political issues, Briar hid in Swiss mountains for the illusion of peace. Getting involved with humans’ affairs had burned her before, after all. However, whilst keeping a low profile there she encountered a nomadic group of local vampires, hungrily anticipating a bloody aftermath would solve the world tensions. Much to Briar’s charging, it re-ignited her stubborn urge to protect the innocent or injured inhabitants of the world around her. Already believing her tolerance well-formed and stable, to truly test her limits, she signed up to be trained as a nurse. It was a vocation which led to a placement at the frontlines of WW1, no amount of infection or blood causing her to tremble. It gave her purpose, value, and - most importantly - distraction. Thus, after the war’s conclusion, she pursued becoming certified as a doctor.

Briar flew to America in the 1920s, indulgently partying and pleasure seeking like there was no tomorrow wherever she could as she bounced between borders until WW2 occurred and she leant her services once more. Keeping her senses immersed in the cacophony of iron and injury kept her focus off of the magnetic tug of The Yearning, until war passed and yearning was all she had left to listen to. She tried to ignore the feeling, fiercely independent before it occurred to her that the very place she was resisting may hold the pivotal answer she desperately sought - what if she could harness the power that seemingly teemed there and finally find a way to destroy herself, once and for all? Stranger things had happened in her “life”, after all.

Briar made her grand entry upon the territory of Roldche River in the 1980s, remaining untethered and impartially observant for a while before assimilating the the society developed there, earning a job with her medical credentials. The simultaneous task of protecting the region by dark proved useful in keeping aware of the activity that teemed amongst the town - no new face slipped past her. For each new arrival, she secretly wondered if they would be the one to help her sever her so far unshakable tie to earth.

#about.#some ✨bonus facts ✨for the helluvit.

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