── first name keiran surname song
── he adopted the name after moving to new york city following the second world war, originally known as kyungmin
── vampire unaffiliated with the coven
── cismale with he/him pronouns
── pansexual panromantic
── he has not physically aged past twenty-four, but his real age is around eighty-nine
── he is a fairly new vampire, turned sometime in 1959
── stands at a height of five foot ten (177 cm) with a lithe, slender build
── ebony black hair falls in light waves around the frame of his face and his eyes are a deep brown, though they shine with an inhuman light in the dark
── he was born in namhae, korea on the ninth of april, 1935 beneath foreign occupation
── the closing of the second world war was quickly followed by the korean war, and with it came the deaths of his family in the midst of the conflict
── he was nineteen when he left his home country and set his eyes upon the states as a means of escape
── however, he only found a different kind of unrest
── while struggling to find his footing in late 1950's new york city, he was turned by a fledgling vampire unable to control their own bloodlust
── following this, he was in and out of several small covens in an attempt to seek out some form of community and a control over his own desire for blood, but he could find no sense of belonging with any of them
── this plunged keiran into a decades-long period of isolation where he drifted without aim on the outskirts of society, moving slowly from the east coast to the west coast and feeding solely on animal blood until a particularly aggressive attempt to mug him ended with his first taste of human blood
── now in sitka bay, he views the location as a site for easy prey, isolated enough that, perhaps, news of missing people will not be of note for very long
── at this point in his extended life, keiran has become quite disillusioned with the world as a whole
── he's an aloof and distant sort of figure, feeling as though he's some kind of floating spectre in his own life moving somewhere in between living and only a beating heart short of wholly dead
── he is haunted by memories of both things he wants to forget and things he clings onto like a lifeline, grappling for just a shred of humanity
── his nihilistic perspective is born from a hatred of what he has become, an abhorrence for the one that turned him, and an inward longing for some sense of community; nonetheless, he is convinced that there is no good company to be had for someone like him
── in the face of others, he is immediately cold, keeping everyone at arm's-length (and even further)
── this is mostly a form of defense; if he does not let anyone close, then he does not have to confront the fact that he is not human and never will be again
── it's also to hide the fact that he is particularly inept at speaking to those he does not know and borders on being quite shy
── this makes him exceedingly quiet, slinking about rather than making himself known to anyone directly (unless, of course, he's planning to drain them of their blood)
── as one can imagine, he relies on agility to capture prey rather than charisma
── though he has met other vampires in the past, he is in possession of this strange complex whenever he moves from place to place that he is the only one within a thousand-mile radius; due to this, the knowledge of other vampires in the area always comes as a jarring shock
── he avoids people because of a guilty conscience, but avoids other vampires because he is afraid of them
── he has to find some kind of pleasure in something, and he likes the outdoors; a draw to sitka bay was the beauty and seclusion of the area, as he likes to look at mountains and such
── he has a deep appreciation for art museums and good music
── honestly, anything that can anchor him to what it felt like being a human holds a profound fondness within him
── all in all, he's miserable, but touching some grass can save him
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