turned around the late 1580s by his late husband, dimitri is what you expect a vampire recluse to be. old, tired and wanting to be left alone, he came to coalyard to be rid of vampire intrigue using a combination of influence and societal pressure; he may not be one of the oldest vampires around, but heās old enough to know what to do and how to get it. now, if he could just get some peace of mind.
the need to know.
published author of several romance books, including a historical romance set with several connections to publishing houses that heād helped build during the day. some of itās raunchy, some of itās classy. thereās a 14% chance youāve read something of his.
walks around town during the daylight in a heavy jacket, black umbrella and what some people in town call āgoth chic.ā
entry into vampire society was... hard at best, as he spent countless nights in a locked room to be fed, in accordance with the laws of the court. was seen as a pet, and turned into a political player by virtue of kindness.
was married to his sire for a century or so, but turned on him after finding something horrific in his study; he will never speak of what heās seen, but ledgers of the trial are somewhere in the vampiresā norwegian stronghold.
is fond of large dogs, and would pet a dog always; had a dog back in the day and kept its litter, which meant he had the line for a while, until he gave them suitable homes.
former leader of a small coven, who left to seek their own fortunes in the world; he gets letters from time to time, and a few souvenirs.
has stayed in coalyard for a year and a half, since heās had to deal with the house that heād bought and put in shutters, blinds and a suitable arrangement of flowers.
the definition of a wallflower; will sort of just shy away from you but is kind enough to offer you tea and cookies if you want them. thinkĀ āshy goth dadā because thatās just... him most of the time.
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āMoragās upbringing was as wild and rough as the moors on which she lived. They slept under the stars, eating wild animals, and always following the strange scent of human death. She, like all of her kind, was quiet, forlorn, emotionally shallow, and untouched by deep feelings. They were not a species of introspection, or longing. As a wolf pack hunts a deer across miles and miles of open plains, so too do banshee broods wander wide spaces, hunting the mysterious sense of death, wailing their pitiless warnings into the air like sirens.ā
FULL BIOĀ / SPECIES INFO
Hi everyone :) My nameās Sophie, I live in England, and Iām 25 years old! By week, Iām a school librarian, and by weekend, Iām a costumed tour guide at a thousand year old local castle.
Here are a few of my favourite things: Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul, Elementary, Russel T. Daviesā era of Doctor Who, The Crown, reading basically anything, cats, and vintage style (Iām very fond of the 1940ā²s, but the ā60ā²s are neat too!)
And hereās some information about my daughter, Morag. Itās very truncated, so do check out the full biography if you want more information!
WITH THE AIRLIE BANSHEES (1910-2020)
Morag never knew her parents, being born into the Airlie brood of banshees, who are notoriously fickle, always leaving and re-joining the brood. Most groups of banshees act like a family, living together for the entirety of their long lives, but the Airlie banshees have no such ties.
Morag lived the feral life of a banshee, ageing sporadically, as they do. She aged around twenty-five years in ten, and then promptly stopped. She will appear around twenty-five for the rest of her life. (Side note: Banshees age quickly, and then appear anywhere between twenty-five and eighty years old.) The Airlie brood live on the moors of Yorkshire, naturally gravitating towards isolated villages when death occurs. Like all of their kind, the brood followed the indefinable sense of death for miles, and stayed on the outskirts of villages, keening as they sensed the death approaching
All of this was just after the turn of the nineteenth century, when the north of England was still a slow, rural, place, as yet untouched by modernity. But, as the twentieth century trundled on, the industrial age began to creep up the country, infecting the wild, ancient, moors where the banshees lived. They became cut up with footpaths and even cafes, tourists wandered the heather-covered hills, and the banshees had to retreat. And the scent of death, once so strong in villages, now grew fainter. Humans were dying in anonymous, clinical, hospitals, in big cities, not at home in their beds.
IN AMERICAN, THEN COALYARD (2020-PRESENT)
Longing to find that scent of death again, Morag abandoned the brood to search for it. A half-feral, quiet, creature, she wandered the countryside alone. Eventually, she flew from England (banshees are able to fly unaided by magic, brooms, or wings) and she travelled to America. There, she found wide open spaces, the likes of which were shrinking in her home country, and her searching eventually led her to Coalyard, where she lingered.
The strange scents of the creatures there made her go against her naturally nomadic instincts, and she decided to stay, to investigate. Now, she lives on the outskirts of the town, feeding on small wild animals, drinking from streams, and sleeping rough, as she used to on the moors of Yorkshire.
PERSONALITY
Banshees speak the native human tongue of whatever country they grow up in, as humans do, but Morag learnt to speak from the other banshees in her brood, with their grab-bag of accents. So, as a result, her voice is a strange, raspy, one, a mixture of the clipped vowels ofĀ Received Pronunciation, the lilting sing-song cadence of the northern Irish, and the slow pace of a Yorkshire local.
Because she spent most of her long life around other banshees, Morag is not very socialised. She is quiet, not prone to deep emotions or friendliness, stares for too long, and is not used to holding conversations with creatures outside her own species.
She would never dream of living within the town boundary, and instead has made a nest-like home in the forest on the edge of the town, hoarding the bones of her meals, using rags sheās found as blankets. When she senses a nearby death, whether night or day, she approaches as close to town as she feels is right, and keens into the air. A bansheeās cry has been compared to a screeching owl, or a wailing fox. Itās a chilling, unnatural, sound, haunting to anyone who hears it.
ABILITIES
Banshees can sense death in the air, and are predisposed to follow it. They warn of an approaching death by wailing like sirens. In their native land of Ireland, these cries were recognised as omens of death, but now, they might be mistaken for some wild animal, especially in a place like Coalyard, where such an array of creatures reside.
They are also able to sense burial sites, terminal illnesses, and murderers, as an extension of their ability to sense the presence of death, though they do not keen at the sight of a burial ground, terminally ill person, or a murderer. Itās simply something theyāre aware of. They may warn with words, but not their chilling cry, of this awareness.
As mentioned previously, banshees are capable of wingless flight. They do not use this ability often, preferring to wander across the land by foot, and they mostly fly when moving from landmass to landmass. When flying, they are able to move high above the clouds, to avoid detection.
Finally, they live much longer than humans, with a bansheeās average lifespan being two centuries, give or take. Because of their nomadic lifestyles, they are a hardy species, able to withstand physical pain, and heal quickly from injuries, though they are able to be killed, and are weak when in contact with pure iron and salt.
