#ftvintro

i. stats.

full name … jahmir malachi burke

species … human

age … twenty-seven

date of birth … october 13th

place of birth … lafleur, louisiana

gender / pronouns … cis-man he/him

orientation … pansexual

family ... ivan burke (older brother), grace burke (older sister)

ii. personality.

zodiac sign … libra

negative traits … complacent, fickle, destructive, impulsive, irresponsible, pugnacious, foolish

neutral traits ... absentminded, boyish, casual, chummy, freewheeling, noncomittal, unambitious

positive traits …  confident, charismatic, adventurous, compassionate, idealistic, resourceful, sociable, fair

temperament ... sanguine

mbti / enneagram ... esfp (the entertainer) / type 7 (the enthusiast)

character inspirations ... john b (outer banks), troy bolton (high school musical), marty mcfly (back to the future), christopher turk (scrubs)

pinterest.

iv. about.

Like an unwanted shadow beneath the late Louisiana afternoon sun, trouble trails behind Jahmir's every step. It's easy to do so with his mom away most of the day at work, taking on multiple jobs to care for her three children. His eldest brother, who's 7 or 8 years older than him on any given day, likens himself to a parental figure of sorts by a certain age, but it's difficult for him to view his brother as an authority figure— even if he'd been right and well intentioned. While his brother and sister throw themselves into their studies, Jahmir spends his time roaming the streets of Lousiana He cuts class, falls in with the wrong crowd— and is slated for a purposeless future.

Where they were from, you either excelled in sports or academics, or you didn't excel at all. Jahmir winds up decent in football, but his inability to stay out of trouble prevents him from pursuing it past a high school level. There'd be no college with grades like his, and Jahmir feels some sense of relief in no longer having to pretend to be concerned with academics. Two successful Burkes would have to be enough. Three kids with good heads on their shoulders from any upbringing were practically unheard of.

When his sister is turned because of him, Jahmir blames himself more than anyone ever could. For she would never have been out if not for following him. He wished his brother didn't blame him as much as he did— that he would fully recognize how the guilt gnaws away at him each and every day. But how could he, when he'd been rightfully unable to escape the very reputation he crafted for himself? This is what finally propels Jahmir into change. And so, he finds himself a trainee emt job, eventually saving up for a place of his own. It made it easier for him to fulfill his side of the bargain regarding Ivan's plans. Jahmir also blames himself for shifting the course of his brother's life. He could've led a normal life as a doctor, but his sister being turned into a vampire results in his descent into mad science.

FILE.

full name: samael

age: 500 years old

gender / pronouns: agender, he/him

orientation: bisexual

occupation: bounty hunter, ximena's lap dog

family: n/a

faceclaim: alperen duymaz

inspiration: geralt of rivia (the witcher), zuko (avatar the last airbender), shrek (shrek)

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BIOGRAPHY.

You were once a being of glory, an archangel dubbed the "angel of death." You were the being sent to enact divine judgement and take human souls to their next destination. You were content with your job--- a loyal servant who never questioned your role in life. You could've spent your whole existence enacting your job and taking souls, but the afterlife had other plans for you.

Your demise came swiftly--- too swiftly for you to even predict. The death of an angel was rare, and it was enough to rattle those around you. It wasn't long before accusations began to fly, and your name seemed to be on everyone's list as the suspect. You had never gotten along with this particular angel, that much was certain, but you hadn't been the one to commit the crime. Still, your reputation as the angel of death and your relationship to the deceased caused the decision to be made for you, and you got your wings torn off and kicked out of heaven.

Your descent to the underworld came with mixed reactions. Some were excited to have a fallen angel in their midst, believing it helped strengthen their numbers against heaven. Others looked at you with suspicion, not quite trusting someone who had served high up not too long ago. You didn't care about any of their feelings towards you--- you just wanted to be left alone. And for many years, you got your wish. You just skulked around hell, eyes daring anyone to challenge an alleged angel killer, and resided yourself to a life of exile.

That is, until you were yanked from your exile and into the world of the living. Your eyes met that of a young witch's, and before you knew it, you were tied to her as a life source. You were forced to be in a world you didn't want to exist in, one that held memories that you'd rather erase, and tied to a woman you don't particularly enjoy being around. You wondered if it was divine punishment for allegedly killing one of your own, or a prank done by some of the demons who looked down upon a fallen angel. Either way, you're forced to make the most out of your existence until the witch grows bored of you and severs your bond.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

THE BETRAYER: This is the demon who actually killed the angel that got Samael kicked out of heaven. They had their eyes on him for a long time, and they longed to dig their claws into him and have them under his thumb. They befriended him after his arrival to hell and became his one companion, possessively keeping him to themself. They would've followed him to earth after he got bound to Ximena and are jealous that he's tied to someone other than them. I'm picturing a toxic friendship (maybe friends-with-benefits) that may turn into enemies if he ever finds out they caused his demise.

THE SHADOW: This is someone who will not get the hint that Samael wants to be left alone. They constantly badger him with questions about his life as a demon, and won't let him leave without telling a story about his experience in hell. He sees them as an annoying sibling he never asked for, and can't wait until they find another target and abandon him.

THE GHOST: This is a human who saw Samael when he was still an angel. I'm thinking they were on death's door and he came to collect their soul, but he got summoned back to heaven because it wasn't their time to pass away or some occurrence happened that interfered with his task (such as them getting turned into a vampire or some other creature). He'd seem like a familiar face to them, with the memory just out of reach, and he'd do his best to avoid them so they don't remember the truth.

FILE.

full name: ivan theodore burke

age: thirty five

gender / pronouns: cis man, he/him

orientation: bisexual

affiliation: n/a

occupation: surgeon at lafleaur hospital, independent researcher

family: grant burke (father, MIA), rhea burke (mother, alive), jahmir burke (younger brother, alive), grace burke (younger sister, technically alive?)

faceclaim: jacob anderson

inspiration: victor frankenstein (frankenstein), henry jekyll (dr. jekyll and mr. hyde), temperance brennan (bones)

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BIOGRAPHY.

Your story isn’t one of ease. You weren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth and the world’s riches at your fingertips. No, you were born to a mother whose lover ran out on her when the reality of raising three small children became too much. You were the oldest of the trio and the only one who remembers life as a two-parent household. You had watched as your mother pushed your father to love you and your siblings, only for him to withdraw at any smile or touch from you or your siblings’ hands. You had sensed the feeling of responsibility even then— had been the one to hold your siblings back whenever your father had shown nothing but the feeling of dread at the thought of his life never being his own again. And as your father packed his bags and left in the middle of the night, you were the only one watching as the door quietly closed shut and his car drifted out into the darkness.

The rest of your childhood was lonely as your mother picked up multiple jobs to try and support you and your siblings. You played the role of pseudo-father to your younger siblings, helping them get to and from school as your mother rested in between shifts. You felt that weight on your shoulders, and that knowledge that you were the one who was expected to help take care of everyone propelled you to push yourself in school. You spent countless all-nighters studying for tests, doing extra credit work, and ensuring everyone else kept up with their own studies as well. You told yourself you needed to help the family get to a secure place— that you owed it to your mother to take care of her in a way your father couldn’t— and you ended up accomplishing that goal.

You were naturally smart, and the intense way you studied helped you graduate at the top of your class. You ended up getting a scholarship to a state school, and after achieving high marks there as well, you went on to study at medical school. Years of internships and residency at Lafleaur Hospital helped you become a successful surgeon, and you were finally able to take care of your family like you longed to do since you were a child. Half of your earnings went to your mother and your siblings, and you felt like you could rest for the first time in your life. That is— until the day you failed to protect your sister from the harsh reality of the world.

You didn’t know how it happened exactly, but you came home to a frantic sight. Your sister had been attacked by some creature and had begun acting strangely. She tried to attack you and your brother, had muttered about being thirsty and the smell of blood, and you had no choice but to keep her tucked in a room until she settled down. You thought she contracted some sort of rabies virus, but after looking into the symptoms more, a more unreasonable explanation began to take shape— she had been turned into a vampire.

You helped her as you always had by bringing her blood from the hospital to help momentarily cure her thirst, but you knew it wasn’t a permanent solution. She needed to be cured, needed to go back to her old self, and you knew you were the only one with the mind and resources to do it. You ended up becoming an independent researcher whose goal was to cure vampirism. You studied vampires’ flesh and blood in an attempt to understand the workings of this condition, all to help your sister and those who need it. You don’t care how many vampires you have to injure and dissect to get to the bottom of this illness— you’ll study everyone until you can turn your sister back to normal and find a semblance of peace once more.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

THE TEST SUBJECTS: Ivan obviously needs vampire flesh, blood and other body parts to research for his cure, so this wc is for those vampires that have willingly (or unwillingly) taken part in his studies. He has his brother act as a lure to draw him vampires (for he doesn’t trust him to do much else), and helps himself to whatever he needs to further his studies. There could be compensation at play, or a promise to share the cure once it’s complete— anything to help him get what he needs.

THE SABOTEUR: Ivan wishes to cure vampirism and turn people back to humans, but there are obviously vampires who are against that concept. This vampire, in particular, wants to ensure that Ivan never accomplishes his goal. They have snuck into his makeshift lab (which I imagine resides near a graveyard), and destroyed some of his samples more than once. They’re essentially enemies, and Ivan wants nothing more than to get rid of them so they won’t hinder his work again.

THE SUSPICIOUS: While Ivan looks for a cure, he continues to sneak out blood for his sister in the meantime. This person works at the hospital and is growing suspicious of Ivan. They may not know he’s slipping blood bags away from the hospital, but they know he’s up to something and want to get to the bottom of it.

FILE.

full name: wren kang

age: twenty five

gender / pronouns: cis man, he/him

orientation: bisexual

affiliation: vampire slayer in training

occupation: nurse at lafleaur hospital

family: ji-hoo kang (father, alive), rebecca kang (mother, deceased), vincent kang (older brother, deceased), jasper kang (older brother, presumed deceased)

faceclaim: hudson williams

inspiration: ponyboy curtis (the outsiders), peeta mellark (hunger games), will byers (stranger things)

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BIOGRAPHY.

Your family life could be divided into two distinct parts: before and after your mother's death. When your mother was still alive, you lived a blissful existence. Your father was a lawyer and an influential figure in the community, and your mother took care of her three sons. You were the youngest child in your family-- the one who preferred to read or tuck yourself in your mother's side rather than play around with the other kids your age. You were a shy thing, almost too soft for the world you were born in, and though your mother said your heart was your strength, that proved to be difficult to believe as time went on.

Unbeknownst to you at the time, your father was secretly a hunter when not working. He kept the secret from your family, but the secret came to life the day your mother perished. It was a revenge ploy: your father killed a vampire's companion, so they took your mother as a form of punishment. The knowledge that your father's actions caused harm to his family caused him to spiral, and it wasn't long before he abandoned his job and dedicated his time to training his sons to destroy the vampires and other supernatural beings once and for all.

You were never a fighter, not even in your youth. Your hands shook the moment a weapon was placed in them. Your body froze the moment your father pushed you to practice fighting moves with your brothers. You cried the moment a punch was thrown, even when you were just watching from the sidelines. You weren't meant for the life of a slayer, and your brothers saw that all too clearly. They tried their best to keep you out of the business, to tuck you away from your father's zeal, and you were grateful for them. You spent their training sessions reading about medicine instead, longing to be a healer more than someone who harms for a living.

Your brothers' dynamic worked until they went missing on a routine mission. Your father's mental state grew worse at the knowledge that two more family members were gone because of supernatural beings, and he set his sights on you as his last living heir. You had no one to protect you from his fervor, and you were forced into the mold of a hunter despite your reservations. You trained under his guidance for months, longing for the day your brothers would return and relieve you of your duties. They never did, and you were instead forced to take the lives of those considered undead or non-human.

It was ironic how your father deemed you a success and let you go hunting on your own, only for you to crumble at the first sign of violence. You cornered a vampire on the outskirts of Lafleaur and were set to kill it, but something within you held back and stopped your hand. You just watched the vampire and saw a humanness staring back at you, and it was enough to make you falter and drop your weapon. You watched as the beast ran away, and guilt (and a mixture of awe) wrapped itself around you at the knowledge of what you've done.

Now, there's even more of a hesitancy in your step as you trail behind your father and any other hunters you come across. You know you'd be looked at as a traitor if they knew you intentionally failed to kill one of their targets, and that knowledge shakes you every time you look at your father or go on a mission. You still long for the day when you can leave this life of bloodshed and violence behind, but as the days drag on, you begin to wonder if that's even possible anymore. Little hunter, are you the deer or the wolf?

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

THE HAUNTING: The vampire (or other supernatural creatures--- im flexible tbh) that Wren let escape. They have haunted his dreams since that day--- his mind thinking about why he didn't kill them and why they didn't kill him in return. He finds himself longing to see them again, unsure if it's the desire to finish what he failed to do the first time or just to gaze upon their features once more. One could call his feelings a crush that's meant to blossom into more, but he wouldn't dare acknowledge that out loud. After all, he was raised to despise vampires, not long for their hand. (This is definitely designed to be an enemies to lovers, forbidden love connection!)

THE VAMPIRE WHO KILLED HIS MOTHER: This is the one who started his father's descent into hysteria. Wren is said to look just like his mother, so they more than likely would be able to put two and two together upon seeing the new hunter. Whether they brag about their kill or feel bad for taking away someone's mother is UTP.

THE SUSPECT: This is a hunter who doesn't believe that Wren is truly doing his job of hunting the supernaturals. They're suspicious of his claims that his missions are successful (as they should be, because they're definitely not) and are determined to expose him as a liar and see what's holding him back from completing his duties.

APPEARANCE DETAILS

HAIR... short, dark brown, sometimes shaved

EYES... light blue, almost grey

BUILD...wide frame and softly muscular, more bulk than cut

HEIGHT... 5'11"

CADENCE... originally born in ireland but his accent has been americanized with time, leaning slightly southern. at times he will still use irish sayings or slang.

NOTABLE MARKS... a military tattoo on his chest over his right pec, smaller scattered body scars.

USUAL COUNTENANCE... lazily dressed and styled, very causal in presentation, generally sporting a shit-eating grin or a faux sympathy meant to mock.

BIOGRAPHY

Peter was born in Galway in the year of the 1890 in the slums of the city center, a poor tenement that contained a hundred families living in one home. It was the dawn of the world wars, Ireland just barely beginning to rise again from the famine but still so underdeveloped and poor under the reign of Britain. From birth he slept in one room alongside his parents and siblings, three brothers, two older and one younger, and his one sister, Elise, who was born last, with her birth taking their mothers life and leaving the family without the warmth of parental care. To his father’s credit, he tried, but they needed money to survive and at the time he was the only one old enough to work. So he worked, leaving the baby in the arms of the four young boys. Elise didn’t survive past infancy, the Big Snow of 1910 having much to do with it, all from no fault of their own, but all being boys under the age of twenty, they carried the burden on their own shoulders. Slowly with age Peter and his youngest brother took well to the streets, pickpockets and trouble makers, having nothing worth being home for. The summers were hard, the winters were harder, and all the boys began to work at the age of twelve if they could find it. Backbreaking agricultural jobs were the easiest to receive, the pay devastatingly low for work that was incredibly difficult and physically demanding. In a cruel and desolate time, all they had to rely on was each other.

He was twenty-four when World War I began, the spread vicious and violent. Ireland wasn’t directly affected, not right away, but young men were urged to enlist on behalf of the crown. With the hope of escaping poverty, all four of them enlisted together. They didn’t realize until later, the lines of battle set and trained, that the Irish were there for the front lines, destined for nothing more but to be cannon fodder. His youngest brother was killed on the first day of battle. It was a wash of blood and metal, the sounds of firing shots and the yells of soldiers, days and days starving and shivering, a lack of sleep and care, full body shakes by the third sunrise. The oldest died soon after, and the last day before they retreated, his last standing brother lost his leg and was left disabled for life. Yet Peter was able to walk away, for all his injuries none were debilitating, he recovered relatively quickly in a way none of his brothers ever would. He was no coward, he had fought hard and insistently, his brothers falling one by one and in the moment he was determined that he would die the same earnest death, and still he hadn’t. He survived, and with it came the unbearable weight of regret and survivors remorse, his life proof that there was more he could’ve done, the horizon of relief they all wanted so desperately taken away in only a few days. He returned home empty handed, his remaining sibling held up in permanent care and his father old and failing. He had nothing left, so he did what everyone does when they’re impossibly buried in failure and loss; he drank.

He would continue drinking for years, left homeless and aimless, staggering through the streets to the locals' disgusted sort of empathy. After a year of desolation and drowning his sorrows he needed to escape, to get away from the misery and the squalor, a decision to attempt to leave the past behind, the land of opportunity alight on the horizon; he leaves for America. He travels ruinously through the same port as all immigrants in his time, Ellis Island into New York City. The country was not what it was made out to be, on the verge of the collapse of the Great Depression and riddled with nationalism, his identity as an Irishman was scorned. It was a brutal adjustment, the fight for employment and housing, a cold cadaver in a community of people who are experiencing this level of poverty for the first time while he was raised into it, a fresh body versus the one already rotting. He was close to normalcy, on the very verge of something liveable when he stalked home from a bar one evening, hidden under the cover of darkness, the rare vehicle passing by and the distant clamor of other drunks when he was taken. It happened quickly, he thinks even if he were sober it would have felt just as instantaneous. He was surrounded by bodies, in the center of a large field while the faces talked of things he was unfamiliar with, it wasn’t until later he learned what was happening; take a life, replace it with a new one. He was a punishment, the scream unable to even break his throat when the sharpness tore into him, everything dark. 

He awoke the next night, crawling out of the dirt with a strength he had never known, a burning in his throat that was unrecognizable. Someone stood near him on the pile of Earth, covered in the same grime as himself. His name was Jack, and he was his maker. For the first time in his life, he felt he truly had a purpose. There was a war in the city between the followers of the Vampire Bible and the new traditionalists, the ones seeking peace in the shadows. He knew instinctively that he was on the wrong side, but the word of his maker and the taste of blood in his mouth trained him like a Doberman, brainwashed in gluttony and praise, no choice but to follow every command from his mouth. He wasn’t his only progeny, one of dozens in fact, all living together in a sick coven, vying for death and sacrifice. He was only allowed this purpose for a short time before the final battle broke out, cannon fodder once again, and his maker was slaughtered along with many of his blood siblings, and once more, he escaped unscathed. The guilt and self hatred of his human failures boiling back up just the same, the pain of surviving, of failing. He could no longer stay in New York, he hadn’t wanted to anyways, the treatment he received was bad enough before he was turned into the monster he had now become. It wasn’t safe, and it wasn’t practical.

He found himself in Boston for a time, the vampire population far more tame and quiet, and the Irish population far larger in itself. Nightwalking was easy for him, hardly an adjustment with the lifestyle he had carried before but it took no time at all to miss the sun. He could have built a life there, but he found himself surrounded by more of the same things he had tried to escape in the first place; too familiar, too suffocating. He went south during the latter half of Prohibition, living in Tennessee he found that opportunity he had been seeking, the ability to do what he’s always done; break the law and get his hands on booze. Though alcohol no longer did anything for him, he knows how the craving feels, the draw it has, and how desperate a man can become. He started bootlegging whiskey under a pseudonym, the same name as his deceased maker; Jack Daniels. Success was immediate and unending, a booming reign of cash making its way to his hands and a never ending supply of alcoholics no one would miss if he drank too deeply. This was where the fortune was found, and where ideas began to come into fruition. The next step was power, his relationship with the Authority rocky since his turning, the actions and demands of his maker reflecting on him, but money talks. He became a donor to the Authority, a big one at that, large donations earning him their better favor.

Prohibition ends but the success does not, a good reputation among the southern drinkers and a healing one with the greater Authority. Time passed, the fortune grew, his relationship with the Authority only got better, a dabble in politics and a touch of manipulation that they so admired. He expanded into Louisiana with a cruel touch, the inching years making his alias’ mortal age grow more and more. So, he killed him. A story of cracking his foot against a safe and dying of gangrene to the toe, a story he found humorous and the humans believed to be true. Pathetic and sad how they’ll fall for anything. With the death of good ol’ Jack, so died the fortune, or at least that’s how the story goes. 

A hundred years of seeking success and finally he realized he had been right all along, the boy who picked pockets and failed at being a hero, there’s only one way to have it all; through blood and greed. Rich and wise and vicious, a hand is extended from his new friends, a territory to call his own. Though his methods are unorthodox, they’re incredibly effective, and he made a new home as the vampire Sheriff of Lefleur county, a little nothing town that’s only the beginning of his conquests. His secrets are safe, as are his motives aided by that dark, sadistic persona that keeps the victims at bay. At least for now.

BASICS.

full name: francis john o'driscoll

nickname: frankie or frank

hometown: county meath, ireland

nationality: irish-american

ethnicity: white (irish)

sexuality: some of my fave characters are gay ghosts so i thought i had to do my bit

gender: cis man

pronouns: he/him

age: roughly 33 / 136

birthday: he's not certain and the records were lost or destroyed. he says it's june 1st because he was definitely born in the summer

PERSONALITY.

positive traits: versatile , charming & astute

neutral traits: thrill-seeking, impish & loquacious

negative traits: restless, deceitful & self-indulgent

aesthetics:  the  lingering  smell  of  gunsmoke  ,  a  crooked  grin  that  occasionally  doesn't  meet  the  eyes  if  people  look  closely  ,  a  carefully  concealed  unsolved  murder  cork  notice  board  littered  with  red  string  that  leads  to  dead  ends  &  reflectively  crossing  yourself  in  tense  situations  without  reflecting  on  if  you  mean  it

BIO.

cw: death and brief mentions of old timey crime and poverty but i swear this very brief summary isn't going to be that dark

the rare times frank mentions his childhood he talks about being the ring leader in make believe games with the other village children and the lush wide open space. the hunger, cramped living conditions and minimal resources linger in the back of his mind but he rarely dwells on the hardships. that was a long time ago so it doesn't impact his (after)life anymore or so he claims

his parents did what most people at the turn of the century desperate for a better life did ; they bundled up their seven children and boarded a ship heading to america in the spring of 1901. luckily, the entire o'driscoll family survived the voyage but that's where their luck ended. when they got to chicago the streets weren't paved with gold. all that happened was that thomas o'driscoll swapped his job as a farm labourer for a job operating equipment in a meatpacking factory and the family's damp crowded house was an apartment in the city

as the oldest child it was frankie's responsibility to get a job to help support the family. he became a newsboy and 11 year old frankie excelled at selling papers. he was daring, charming and still had an artful dodger lovable scamp quality that made middle class passers-by eager to giver the poor boy money. but his newsboy wage wasn't enough to sustain the family on. he also committed petty theft and pickpocketing

frankie was an amazing pickpoccket. he adored causing a distraction before slipping a victim's purse or wallet into his pockets. but one day he tried to commit a theft he sometimes regrets and sometimes looks back on with fondness. he tried to pull his usual tricks on a man who saw through him straight away because he was no stranger to cons. the man saw potential in the audacious scrawny kid and offered him a job running messages for him. frankie was suspicious but he wasn't going to turn down good money

it turned out the man frankie tried to pickpocket was involved in one of chicago's organised crime syndicates. running messages escalated into helping with burglaries for blackmail material and that was only in the first couple of years of working for him

the syndicate frankie stumbled into nurtured him in a strange unethical way. they paid him decently (not well but surprisingly decently) and they taught him the tricks of the trade. it just so happened to be a violent and seedy trade

as he aged the jobs he was tasked to carry out had more stakes. he became more involved in the extortion, racketeering and smuggling. he was never the muscle. he was called when a situation required a calm driver or someone with the ability to charm information out of people

with the turn of a new decade came a new business opportunity. frankie's boss saw prohibition as a chance to expand his stronghold into other states by transporting imported alcohol across borders. frankie was sent down to louisiana to assist with and carry out the rum-running

he's long forgotten what he did on most of may 23rd 1923, he didn't know the day would end up being signifiant. it was supposed to be another routine run. the hand-off was going well. his was in the middle of sliding money from the contact into his pocket when he heard a gun shot. he didn't have time to react before he felt two bullets pierce into his chest. his biggest regret is not turning to look at the perpetrator after his spirt separated from his body. he theorises that his soul might be trapped on earth because he watched himself bleed out instead of finding out how killed him

frankie was shot just outside of lafleur and soon discovered that he had free range to walk into town. for the first couple of months of his afterlife all he could do was observe and it was agony. being disconnected from the people around him was monotonous. eventually, he discovered that his ghost abilities were connected to his emotions and when his grief lessened he gained full control of his abilities and was able to become corporeal

frankie used his ability to be seen to become integrated with lafleur. he got a job at a now long shut bar and started a new life. for over a century he's been cycling through various friends and jobs. he's connected to lafleur now to the point that whenever he teleports out of town a force inevitably pulls him back.

CONNECTIONS.

friends-he's affable, loves talking to people and has a surface level charm. there are bound to be a long list of people he has pleasant but not very deep relationships with

enemies-he's an ex-con with his smarmy moments. he can rub people up the wrong way

late night companions-he doesn't sleep and late nights can be lonely. this would be someone he's formed a bond with because he's nocturnal

former co-workers-he's worked at a wide range of lafleur's finest or seediest establishments over the years to stop himself from getting bored. if your muse has been around lafleur for decades maybe they've worked with him

poker buddies-this is a silly one but he's a former career criminal who has eternity to kill. his hobbies do include card games and gambling

𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙴 𝙰𝚂 𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙰𝚂 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 [ .. ] .ᐟ

full name: kozen de vos. nickname: ko, or z. gender: cis man. pronouns: he&him. orientation: bisexual, biromantic. age: 27. date of birth: december 1st, 1981. zodiac: sagittarius. occupation: hunter, thief & hacker. species: human.

faceclaim: josh heuston. height: 6′ 0. hair: black. eyes: green. spoken languages: english. piercings: ears. tattoos: one behind his ear. other distinguishing  features: a collection of old scars hidden under clothes, each with a story, a small faded tattoo of a snake eating its own tail.

positive traits: quick thinking, flirtatious, street smart, bold, witty. negative traits: impetuous, facetious, obstinate, self destructive, restless. moral alignment: chaotic good. mbti: estp.

mother: tba (deceased). father: tba (deceased). siblings: tba (brother). children: none.

you were born into a life that never allowed for much innocence. moving through louisiana, mississippi, and texas with parents who had specialized in the art of disappearing before anyone could ask too many questions. you learned early on that a name was only as permanent as the person wearing it and that every town had a different version of yourself waiting to be created. your parents were known throughout the southern criminal underbelly because they were good at what they did. they could convince anyone of anything, steal anything their hands fell upon. you and your brother grew up surrounded by that world. lessons to pick locks came before algebra. how to recognize when a person was hiding something because your entire childhood was spent watching people do exactly that. crime was the family trade, passed down like shitty inheritance.

by your teenage years, you and your brother had become a reflection of the people who raised you, making a living through theft, hacking, carefully planned cons that relied on your charm and intelligence. you weren't interested in hurting people, or stealing from those who had nothing, but the world had always been divided into those who had power and those who knew how to take it. this was your way of living. the bad guys were your family's rivals, and the brave ones who stood in your family's way. that belief was tested the night everything you knew about the world changed. the job was supposed to be simple. a wealthy target to con. instead, you and your brother found yourselves standing in the aftermath of a mistake your parents had made. the person they had crossed wasn't a powerful businessman, or anyone belonging to the human world you understood, but a vampire.

hunting began as a way to find the one responsible for what happened to your parents, but even after you did, it became something harder to walk away from. every case brought more questions than answers, and each creature you encountered left you on the fence about whether everything supernatural was inherently evil. while your brother saw a world full of threats waiting to strike, you saw something far more complicated. you weren't naive enough to believe every monster had a heart underneath the cruelty, but you also couldn't convince yourself that every creature deserved death simply because of what they were.

you and your brother continued taking jobs, and hunting whatever crossed your path, sometimes for money, and sometimes because after living that way for so long, normal life felt more unfamiliar than any supernatural ever could. you became good at walking the line between hunter and criminal. you both had mastered the line between the right thing and doing whatever was necessary to make it to tomorrow. and then, just like your parents, another wrong move shifted the board.

⁰¹. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒

birth name ⸻ aspara amatayakul . nickname ⸻ kore, introduced as to everyone, ara, close friends . species ⸻ merfolk siren . dob ⸻ october 1st . zodiac ⸻ libra . age ⸻ thirty-three, seventy-five . gender ⸻ cis woman . pronouns ⸻ she/her . sexuality ⸻ demisexual . relationship status ⸻ single . family ⸻ a surviving sibling (wc tba), younger sister deceased , a colony from the gulf of thailand . occupation ⸻ currently unemployed, former opera singer .

⁰². 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

height ⸻ 5'5" . hair color ⸻ black . eye color ⸻ a dark, murky blue . build ⸻ lithe and athletic.

⁰³. 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐄

postive traits ⸻ independent + amorous + extroverted . negative traits ⸻ beguiling + spiteful + selfish . alignment ⸻ true neutral . temperment ⸻ choleric - sanguine. virtues ⸻ chasity / charity / temperance / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice . sins ⸻ lust / greed / gluttony / sloth / pride / envy / wrath .

⁰⁴. 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐏,

in her late twenties, kore convinced her surviving sibling to become land dwelling. a violent inner divide within her colony and its neighboring one sprung forth, claiming the life of her younger sister in its height. although the event left her shaken and erratic, she also saw this as her only opportunity to escape the overarching claw of her mother's control. to land kore took herself and her sibling, looking to create a life separate of the pod's worsening turmoil. kore traveled with their sibling for a handful of years, attempting to figure out proper life in the world of mortals ( and come to find out, more ). kore took to it well, finding herself enjoying attention and intrigue she brought with allure. in fact, she found the interaction and social aspect to be exhilarating and once she realized she could make a career off her voice later in life ... she did despite all the warning signs. a respectable career took off for her overseas under a fellow merfolk entertainment proprietor on land; a marketed woman with a haunting voice and face you'd die for. and die many ended up doing in small throes, victims of the lullaby of old legend. those who did not succumb were obsessed with kore, that haunting image in their hallucinations, and it became threatening to her. the backlash of a mermaid's song was never quite talked about enough and how dangerous it could be to have multiple affected persons. it quickly became dangerous. once again, kore was forced to flee, abetted by her sibling, and thus she landed in lafleur.

⁰⁵. 𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒,

⸻ THE SONG, kore never exactly felt guilt over those affected by her voice. in fact she at first couldn't help but to find it a bit amusing how quickly most succumbed. this, never spoke aloud, but true. her actions aren't intentional, she just struggles to find herself fully involved. it is her nature, she enjoys her singing and her voice. however, since her departure from the stage kore has not sang again. perhaps this is her guilt manifesting or a quiet fear in threatening her safety again. she hasn't admitted this either.

⸻ LAFLEUR, the last place she had ever wanted to end up, however she is making the most of it ... kind of. compared to bigger cities ad coastlines with stretching blue seas, lafleur is a speck on the map. kore's favorite thing has been the state's rich atmosphere and festivals outside of the town. at almost three years, she has finally began to settle and accept that she's safest here.

⸻ THE REVELATION, the revelation of vampires has kore intrigued by the reasoning behind it. however, she doesn't necessarily think its a bad choice. predators are known of in the grass in form of snakes, in the tundra as wolves, in the forests as bears ... the neighborhood vampire should be known. while she doesn't believe all vampires, or any supernatural, to be dangerous in personality or intent ... she knows herself and her apathy towards mortals. in turn, she knows how mortals are scared of anything stronger than them. she takes a neutral stance and keeps herself even quieter now regarding her own.

⁰⁶. 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒,