Post by Deleted on May 19, 2013 22:15:15 GMT -4
Play by: Jessica GreenKorina Vasja Kattalakis
NICKNAME(S): Kori, Rina
AGE: approximately 600 years
APPEARANCE AGE: sixteen
DATE OF BIRTH: 9 January ~1482
DATE OF CHANGE: 1 June 1498
BIRTHPLACE: Lyncestis, Macedonia
HOMETOWN: Lyncestis, Macedonia
CURRENT RESIDENCE: Las Vegas
SPECIES: Vampire
DIET: Whatever’s convenient.
MAIN ANIMAL: n/a
AFFILIATION: rogue
OCCUPATION: head chef in a Japanese restaurant
HEIGHT: four foot, eight inches
WEIGHT: about a hundred pounds
HAIR: waist-length, dusky brown and black
EYES: washed-out blue
SCARS/MARKS: none
PERSONAL STYLE: Light eye makeup in comparison to some, with a layer of black around two thirds of her eye, with another line of pastel color around it, winging out on the top. Her clothes are mostly light colors with dark accents. She rarely wears red, not being particularly fond of the color of blood. Whatever she wears she’s got to be able to run in it, so no tight clothes, rarely high heels, and nothing too short or too long.
SPECIES APPEARANCE: n/a
ABILITY: Throwing her voice. It was just a talent when she was human, but now anyone she wishes to hear her voice will hear it in their ear or booming from empty space. She hasn’t had the opportunity to test its reaches yet.
MAGI ABILITY: n/a
LIKES:
[*] Passion – She admires anyone who does what they do out of fascination, adoration, or any other strong emotion. Apathy is to be pitied and feared.
[*] Picking up New Talents – Just for the hell of it. Besides, what’s wrong with a vampire who has won four cooking competitions to date?
[*] Westerns – Dry heat, chivalry and weaponry. Nothing better
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DISLIKES:
STRENGTHS:
WEAKNESSES:
HABITS/QUIRKS: Twirling objects through and around her fingers. Engraving her initials on random objects that may or may not belong to her.
FEARS: Being made vulnerable again, reliant on others’ help, which often isn’t swift to come.
SECRETS: She doesn’t know if she ought to be relieved that she saved Demon from Artemesia, frightened she chose the wrong parent over the other, or ashamed that she killed the woman who helped save her life.
GOALS: To have a goal at all.
FATHER: Natural father long dead, adoptive father Demon Kattalakis alive
MOTHER: Natural mother dead, adoptive mother dead
SIBLINGS: Natural siblings dead
OTHER FAMILY: Demon—adoptive father, alive
OTHER IMPORTANT PEOPLE: ..
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OVERALL PERSONALITY: Korina likes to understand things, whether they be auto mechanics, underlying personality factors in psychology, or why light reacts as both a particle and a wave. She thinks the worst thing in life is to no longer take interest in one’s own surroundings or one’s own self: apathy. Despite her love of being subtle—half the time just to tease or irk people—she also ‘calls it like she sees it.’ When a human friend had cancer, she told him his ass was grass and that she’d greatly appreciated their time together. But if the dying friend had a family heirloom she admired, perhaps a ring, she would ask for the necklace and only barely consent to take the ring.
Korina also has a mischievous streak, and will gladly utilize it for or against you if she so chooses, hiding live mice in the walls of her enemies and frozen desserts in the freezers of her (food-eating) friends. Despite her self-doubt, reminiscing habits, and logical mindset, Korina also has the tendency to be rather impetuous, but only in the most harmless of ways. She’s impetuous because it suits her, because it amuses her and often others, and to convince others she’s not worth worrying for or about, and thus she is rarely thought about any longer than she feels she needs to be.
Korina also has a mischievous streak, and will gladly utilize it for or against you if she so chooses, hiding live mice in the walls of her enemies and frozen desserts in the freezers of her (food-eating) friends. Despite her self-doubt, reminiscing habits, and logical mindset, Korina also has the tendency to be rather impetuous, but only in the most harmless of ways. She’s impetuous because it suits her, because it amuses her and often others, and to convince others she’s not worth worrying for or about, and thus she is rarely thought about any longer than she feels she needs to be.
HISTORY:
Born in Macedonia in a time centuries before steel became widespread, to a family of well-known potters, Korina took little notice of life outside her house and town, instead preferring the spin of a wheel and wet clay sliding between her hands. She can still remember the smell, one of the precious few memories she has that haven’t been tainted by her vampiric nature. She remembers she had a mother, a father, two younger brothers. She knows they made pottery for a living, and where she lived. She doesn’t remember the years, as the common people rarely needed to know them, and who cared anyway? She would have paid better attention to everything if she’d known it wouldn’t last for long.
She was of the marrying age. A young man had just come and gone after talking to her father about taking her as a wife. She sat outside and painted in the last light of the day while they spoke in undertones inside. When he left he gave her a smile and a wink.
Then she started to hear screams, see smoke. She hardly remembers, but before she was even aware of the shift there were soldiers running pell-mell through the town, the market, the shops, the houses. Including hers. They tore her town apart on their way to bigger prey, then once all the buildings were gone settled in to tear through hearts and bodies as well.
The one who found her house and bashed through the scorched door was the unfortunate sort of soldier who enjoyed using his power and strength to the misfortune of others. Korina and her mother hid in cupboards while her father and brothers tried to convince him to leave.
But no, they were recruiters. They burned the town so their prisoners would have no homes to return to. Then they took whatever they thought they might need or want.
Her younger brothers were too young to be of much use. The soldier killed them in almost an afterthought. But her father was still relatively young; he would make a strong soldier. So the knight bound him wrist and ankle, knocked him unconscious and tossed him out in the street for the wagons to pick up when they got around to it.
Her mother let out a tiny sob when she heard her husband’s vehement arguments break off with a bloody thump. The soldier found her and Korina huddled in the cabinet, clutching each other.
Well, here was something he could use. And he used them both before throwing them onto a pile of other huddled prisoners. The men to one side, the viable women and girls, some as young as thirteen, to another.
They made the prisoners walk for a week, using and pushing and shoving and bruising them at will. Korina and her mother managed to stay together until her mother was used too much, got sick and died. They left her barely breathing on the side of the road they had forged. Korina never saw her father.
She was just being dragged away, face dead, too tired to scream or struggle anymore, for another using when the man who was hauling her by her hair into the trees abruptly disappeared. His body and head reappeared separately, dropped by two gorgeous creatures she knew she had never seen before. She fell to one knee, then the other, but was caught by the woman before she could collapse fully into the sand.
And then came darkness, several days of pain, and lightness, awakening her to a new kind of hurting. Korina had been raised accustomed to hunger, but this was something different, something much more commanding.
It was decades before she was able to force the hunger to accept her as the master.
Korina stayed with her new parents—Artemesia and Demon—for close to three centuries, following them without question because she had nowhere else to go. She shied from Demon initially, for months, simply because he was a man. But he never so much as looked at her until he was certain doing so wouldn’t frighten her, and his patience in earning her trust earned it forever. Soon he and his wife were the only two people in her world. Others came and went, but they were always constant.
Until her new mother began to change. She became violent, cruel, impossible to please. It took years for the viciousness to accumulate into a person entirely unrecognizable, but by then neither she nor Demon wanted anything to do with her. But how do you tell a woman you’ve spent centuries with that you don’t want to spend even another month with her? You don’t.
In the end they didn’t have to. Artemesia went into one of her rages, raking her nails down the walls of their house, tearing down doors and throwing furniture. Then she wrapped her hands around Demon’s head and tried to throw that too, whether or not his body was still attached.
Artemesia may have been the one to first beg to save Korina’s life, but Demon was the one who had proved it was still worth living, if people as patient as he existed and were still willing to help each other.
So Korina stepped forward. Artemesia wasn’t watching her daughter, she knew she wasn’t a threat, she never had been. Until she tore her mother’s screaming head off to save the father she loved from the woman she had learned to fear.
Korina stepped back from her mother’s body, mouth open, hands palm-up as though trying to hold something together that had been broken long ago. She took several more steps back, looked into her father’s face, whispered “I’m sorry” and fled.
Demon followed her of course. But Korina had no desire to be caught. She had killed her father’s wife. How was she any better than the soldier who had killed her father’s children? Korina ran until she hit the ocean, dove in and didn’t stop until she found in island no one else had found before.
She spent the next two years there.
Finally she returned to the continent, England, certain her father would have left already, having explored it so thoroughly with the two women in his life he’d just lost. She was right, he was gone, and she spent the next hundred years there.
She spent the nineteen-hundreds in the Americas, both South and North. She learned or taught herself everything she could find. She made human friends because she avoided her own as a rule. Occasionally she accidentally met other people, who weren’t humans and weren’t vampires, and she always ran from them.
She often wished she had died human. But she preferred this life to what the remnants of the other would have been.
Finally she moved to Las Vegas, a city of vice, anonymity, spontaneity, and thousands of lives lived past the end of daylight. She opened a restaurant because cooking was one of her many accumulated talents, settled down, and began another of the dozens of lives she had lived since she abandoned from guilt the best one of all.
Born in Macedonia in a time centuries before steel became widespread, to a family of well-known potters, Korina took little notice of life outside her house and town, instead preferring the spin of a wheel and wet clay sliding between her hands. She can still remember the smell, one of the precious few memories she has that haven’t been tainted by her vampiric nature. She remembers she had a mother, a father, two younger brothers. She knows they made pottery for a living, and where she lived. She doesn’t remember the years, as the common people rarely needed to know them, and who cared anyway? She would have paid better attention to everything if she’d known it wouldn’t last for long.
She was of the marrying age. A young man had just come and gone after talking to her father about taking her as a wife. She sat outside and painted in the last light of the day while they spoke in undertones inside. When he left he gave her a smile and a wink.
Then she started to hear screams, see smoke. She hardly remembers, but before she was even aware of the shift there were soldiers running pell-mell through the town, the market, the shops, the houses. Including hers. They tore her town apart on their way to bigger prey, then once all the buildings were gone settled in to tear through hearts and bodies as well.
The one who found her house and bashed through the scorched door was the unfortunate sort of soldier who enjoyed using his power and strength to the misfortune of others. Korina and her mother hid in cupboards while her father and brothers tried to convince him to leave.
But no, they were recruiters. They burned the town so their prisoners would have no homes to return to. Then they took whatever they thought they might need or want.
Her younger brothers were too young to be of much use. The soldier killed them in almost an afterthought. But her father was still relatively young; he would make a strong soldier. So the knight bound him wrist and ankle, knocked him unconscious and tossed him out in the street for the wagons to pick up when they got around to it.
Her mother let out a tiny sob when she heard her husband’s vehement arguments break off with a bloody thump. The soldier found her and Korina huddled in the cabinet, clutching each other.
Well, here was something he could use. And he used them both before throwing them onto a pile of other huddled prisoners. The men to one side, the viable women and girls, some as young as thirteen, to another.
They made the prisoners walk for a week, using and pushing and shoving and bruising them at will. Korina and her mother managed to stay together until her mother was used too much, got sick and died. They left her barely breathing on the side of the road they had forged. Korina never saw her father.
She was just being dragged away, face dead, too tired to scream or struggle anymore, for another using when the man who was hauling her by her hair into the trees abruptly disappeared. His body and head reappeared separately, dropped by two gorgeous creatures she knew she had never seen before. She fell to one knee, then the other, but was caught by the woman before she could collapse fully into the sand.
And then came darkness, several days of pain, and lightness, awakening her to a new kind of hurting. Korina had been raised accustomed to hunger, but this was something different, something much more commanding.
It was decades before she was able to force the hunger to accept her as the master.
Korina stayed with her new parents—Artemesia and Demon—for close to three centuries, following them without question because she had nowhere else to go. She shied from Demon initially, for months, simply because he was a man. But he never so much as looked at her until he was certain doing so wouldn’t frighten her, and his patience in earning her trust earned it forever. Soon he and his wife were the only two people in her world. Others came and went, but they were always constant.
Until her new mother began to change. She became violent, cruel, impossible to please. It took years for the viciousness to accumulate into a person entirely unrecognizable, but by then neither she nor Demon wanted anything to do with her. But how do you tell a woman you’ve spent centuries with that you don’t want to spend even another month with her? You don’t.
In the end they didn’t have to. Artemesia went into one of her rages, raking her nails down the walls of their house, tearing down doors and throwing furniture. Then she wrapped her hands around Demon’s head and tried to throw that too, whether or not his body was still attached.
Artemesia may have been the one to first beg to save Korina’s life, but Demon was the one who had proved it was still worth living, if people as patient as he existed and were still willing to help each other.
So Korina stepped forward. Artemesia wasn’t watching her daughter, she knew she wasn’t a threat, she never had been. Until she tore her mother’s screaming head off to save the father she loved from the woman she had learned to fear.
Korina stepped back from her mother’s body, mouth open, hands palm-up as though trying to hold something together that had been broken long ago. She took several more steps back, looked into her father’s face, whispered “I’m sorry” and fled.
Demon followed her of course. But Korina had no desire to be caught. She had killed her father’s wife. How was she any better than the soldier who had killed her father’s children? Korina ran until she hit the ocean, dove in and didn’t stop until she found in island no one else had found before.
She spent the next two years there.
Finally she returned to the continent, England, certain her father would have left already, having explored it so thoroughly with the two women in his life he’d just lost. She was right, he was gone, and she spent the next hundred years there.
She spent the nineteen-hundreds in the Americas, both South and North. She learned or taught herself everything she could find. She made human friends because she avoided her own as a rule. Occasionally she accidentally met other people, who weren’t humans and weren’t vampires, and she always ran from them.
She often wished she had died human. But she preferred this life to what the remnants of the other would have been.
Finally she moved to Las Vegas, a city of vice, anonymity, spontaneity, and thousands of lives lived past the end of daylight. She opened a restaurant because cooking was one of her many accumulated talents, settled down, and began another of the dozens of lives she had lived since she abandoned from guilt the best one of all.
ALIAS: Ivy
TIMEZONE: Eastern
CONTACT: OM
WHERE DID YOU FIND US?: Old Site
TIMEZONE: Eastern
CONTACT: OM
WHERE DID YOU FIND US?: Old Site
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