－ℛＯＳＥ ℬＬＯＯＤ－ [Lɪᴛᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ-1800·s Vᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ RP] ᴼᴾᴱᴺ

[Little Rebel]

Don't Underestimate The Allure of Darkness.
Even The Purest Hearts Are Drawn To It...

Images go to Rightful Owners
Form Created and Owned by Tiny Cat
Face Claim - Kate Mara

-Full Name;; Sophia Michelle Winslow
-Nickname;; Sophie
-Age;; 15 Years Old
-Gender;; Female
-Species;; Vampire
-Social Status;; Noble
-Nationality;; English
-Theme Song;; Toxic - Britney Spears
-Orientation;; Heterosexual

-Hair Color;; Reddish Brown
-Eye Color;; Stormy Blue
-Skin Tone;; Pale
-Build;; Tall, Slender
-Height;; 5'6"
-Weight;; 115lbs
-Distinctive Features;; Freckles
-Body Mods;; Pierced Ears
-Clothing Style;; Simple Elegance

-P. Traits;; Loyal, Energetic, Friendly, Cheeky
-N. Traits;; Stubborn, Lacks Restraint, Short Temper
-Likes;; Darkness, Competition, Being Right, Animals
-Dislikes;; Failure, Being Wrong, Hurting People
-Talents;; Piano, Singing, Dancing
-Strengths;; Incredibly Fast and Strong
Weaknesses;; Too Rash and Impulsive
-Dreams;; To Fall in Love
-Fears;; Death

P e r s o n a l i t y
Sophie is the girl that everyone can't help but adore and indulge. She always has been, ever since she was born into the Winslow clan. She is an energetic young woman who is always raring to go. She is charmingly cheeky, intelligent, and one of the most loyal people you'll ever meet. She would never betray a friend's trust. She adores her older brother, Eldin, more than anything else in the world. Few people dislike Sophia because she literally makes it nearly impossible too hate her. She is honest, friendly, reliable, and protective. She is incredibly inventive and can often be spending her free time plotting revenge on whatever guy has hurt one of her boy crazy friends. That isn't, of course, to say Sophie isn't boy crazy. She might be a vampire, but she is still a teenager. She is just a bit more... reserved... about it than her friends. Truth be told, she is a hopeless romantic. She simply can't help it!

H i s t o r y
The beginning of Sophia's life was nothing out of the ordinary. She was born into the influential and powerful Winslow Clan, a family that stretches from England to France, along with a few other places. She was born in London, England on May 14th to Lillian and Grayson Winslow. Lillian was a beautiful young woman with red hair and blue eyes; she was born into the Winslow Clan. When she married Grayson, he took her last name to appease Lily's parents and to carry on the Winslow name. As far as Sophie knows, she has always been the second born. Her only other sibling is Eldin Winslow, her older brother. What no one ever told her was that Eldin is actually her cousin, adopted by her mother when her aunt couldn't care for the child. Life with Eldin was always fun. He never treated her like as pesky little sister when she insisted on tagging along with him and his friends. He was attentive and indulgent; everything a bit brother should be. And she loved him more than anything. When she was twelve, she came across a bedraggled puppy one day and fell in love with it. Eldin warned her that their mother wouldn't allow her to keep it but when she begged and pleaded on the pup's behalf, he helped her hide it. She managed to keep it hidden for awhile until the pup grew into a massive, German Shepherd like dog that nearly gave Lillian a heart attack when she found him drinking out of the toilet. Only Eldin speaking on Sophie's behalf convinced Lily to let them keep the mutt. Sophie named him Helsing.

The biggest change in her life though... that came when Sophie was fifteen. It was only a few days ago, in fact. Sophie had always been a physically weak and sickly girl. Often as a child, she had been forced to be bedridden due to a multitude of ailments. The Doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with her. Sophie was out walking Helsing one day when she passed out in an alley. She could have died; really, any number of things could have happened to a defenseless, unconscious girl in the streets of London. Helsing's barking did bring help... but it was help of a different kind. A vampire. The Vampire, Elizabeth Neville, took pity on the girl and changed her into a vampire. Since that was only three days ago... Sophie still isn't quite sure how she feels about this and isn't doing very good at restraining herself from harming innocents.

[.:Moon Shadows:.]

{And so it begins. I hope you guys enjoy the post. I shall ad my evil character soon
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Rowena Mary Greyfell
roe - vampire - 426 years - relationship; n/a - siblings; Aden Greyfell - allies; WIP - enemies; WIP - location; Greyfell estate - tagged; OPEN.
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Rowena was quietly sitting alone in the silence of the sunset, out on the balcony that over looked the Greyfell estates garden. She had always greatly enjoyed the sunset and sunrise, as they heralded the time in which her kind became active on the streets, hunting in secrecy and fulfilling their blood lust. But more than that, she loved to remember what sunlight felt like on mortal skin, if only for a moment before she shunned away at the thought. Today was a day not unlike any other evening. As the eldest daughter of the Greyfell line she was afforded certain freedoms, and she took others. Her spiteful hatred of her father meanif. She was drawn away from the control that fathers were meant to have over their daughters. Had her father remained human, rowena would have slaughtered him long ago. And she was not above thing such thought now. The blood of a vampire, or what little there was was as black as night and would drive one to insanity should one drop be consumed. But rowena some times thought she would rather insanity than have to live under her father's rule. Not that she did. To her, Aden was head of the household. Her dearest brother whom she respected above all else. It was her duty, after all, to respect and protect her kin. As far as she was concerned, her father no longer fell into that category. So, on the fine evening she sat outside the music room, she pondered her love of the setting sun. As usual, she was impeccably dressed, but this was just her casual wear. Yet never the less she looked more elegant and refi end than some noble ladies could ever hope to be. Her deep crimson skirt shimmered slightly with the silken overlay in the light, brushing the ground over the pale cream underskirts. The black leather corseted bodice of the dress served only to refine her already thin waist, shaping her chips and chest enough to make any gentleman forget himself and stop and stare. The leather was sewn with black threads in filigree patterns and hugged a cream coloured blouse, which was high collared and made of some of the finest chiffon silk money could buy. It's bpuffed sleeves billowed and shifted in the breeze, pressing the cool fabringpc against her even colder skin. It was collected in a cuff at her wrists, that was embroidered with filigree pattering a in black thread and ribbon. Setting off the blouse was the cabochon brooch at her throat. Set in the centre was a blood red ruby, the colour so deep it was almost black. The stone had belonged to her mother and rowena had had it set into a brooch, which she hardly ever was seen without. Circling the red stone were tiny seed pearls, all set in gold and fastened at her collar. The balcony that overlooked the estate grounds was her favourite place. Here, a set of chairs and a small table rested. Today, the table held on its surface a pot of ink and a quilled pen. Rowena was one for keeping with tradition and still used the feathered quills, but was not impartial to the new pens being used. The ink pot was open, the liquid inside silky black in colour. It rested on sheets of lined music parchment, which had yet to be written on, so we're kept from blowing in the wind by the pot of ink. A music stand rested on the opposite left side of Rowena's chair. The young woman turned to write delicate bites on the pieces of parchment of the stand, her long fingers and sharpened nails gripping the quill delicately as she wrote, forming a complicated array of music notes. On Rowena's skirt rested her violin, the burnished mahogany wood flashing in the sunlight as it shifted on her legs as she wrote. Gingerly Rowena placed the quill back into the ink, lifting the violin to her chin and grabbing the bow from the table. As bow met strings a sad flurry of music notes began to echo across the grounds, the mournful and hunting melody giving clear indication as to why Rowena was known as the Black Nightingale. Her music was astonishing and classical, and she was sought after as a singer by high end events all year round. She would stop periodically to write on the parchment before continuing to play. The notes were sweetness to her ears, as way of her expressing emotions. Slowly and surely the piece turned from sad to angry, her fingers flying across the bridge of her instrument, the bow moving at blurring speed. This was a speed no man could play at, so rowena often reserved her most difficult pieces for herself alone, when she didn't feel the need to sing. She came to an abrupt stop, her eyes which had been closed through her playing flashing open. Her delicate hands had become clenched and tight. Angry. Sinister like clawed hands. She breathed in deeply. Trying to regain her composure, placing the violin down on the table, along with the bow before rising to her feet, moving to the edge of the balcony. Her hands resting lightly on her stomach as she looked out towards the setting sun. She was hungry. That she knew. It had been almost a week since she had fed properly, for fear of being caught. Usually she lured unsuspecting kitchen boys and help from her gala events when she performed. Thoes who had nothing to expect from life. Those were the victims she chose. It was never good to drain or feed from a London aristocrat. That was too noticable, no matter how good their blood tasted. Sighing in frustration she moved to pack up her violin, gathering her music together before setting the instrument down into the velvet lined case, heading inside and shutting the door to the balcony behind her. She placed the instrument down on the shelf before neatly filing away the completed composition, moving through the room quietly and leaving. She walked with an air of confidence, but also an air of lethality. Much like her bother she was well known by both man and vampire alike, and any vampire knew that despite how warm she seemed, she was anything but. Rowena reserved no room in her heart for feeling and emotion except towards Aden and her own ambitions. She sighed, reaching behind her and pulling out the pins at the back of her hair, letting her dark brown ringlets fall down to her waist, before she twisted them up neatly again to frame her face, leaving a few stray curls to brush her cheeks. The fair hair constrasted against her porcelain white skin, her pink lips pursing as she thought to herself. She craved to hunt, but the city was amok with the rouge vampire out. And to make matters workes some of her informants in the city streets were beginning to disappear, something that Rowena did not take lightly. Her network extended across the city and beyond and she wasn't about to have some vampire disobey the laws and regulations and ruin everything and out them all in danger once again. She thought of her brother for a moment, pausing half way down the stairs. She and Aden had always been close, but since their....situation they had been almost inseparable. Rowena knew that her brother struggled sometimes with his greed and lust for blood, but so did she in her own way. Right now though, Rowena craved for her brother to come home so that they could talk and so that she might be able to hunt, though with a supposed murderer running around. The streets would be bare and she would have to take someone sleeping on the streets, which was never very filling.

Elijah Zachariah Wytherin
n/a - human/roseblod - 20 years - relationship; n/a - siblings; n/a - allies; WIP - enemies; WIP - location; post office - tagged; OPEN.
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Elijah was just finishing up his work, supervising the apprentice tailor in his shop. My he young man was making quite an name for himself in London with his tailoring and he scrutinised every suit made in his ship to make sure it was nothing less than perfect. Granted this apprentice was not making a suit for anyone of vital importance, but never the less he kept an eagle like watch over the boy. As anyone would suspect from one who owned a successful tailoring business, he was dressed imprecisely, his dark grey suit tailored to perfection with clean crisp lines and remarkable precision sewing. He watched the apprentice with a critical eye, his jade green irises flashing in the lights of the shop. This suit was for a young apprentice lawyer who needed a suit for a major court case. Elijah owed his mentor, a valuable client a favour, so this was the least he could do. As he supervised the black suit being made he paced back and forth a little as he watched the final stitches fall I to place. The young boy turned his head to look up at Elijah as the man examined the work, running his fingers over the seams and checking the sewing. Perfect. He smiled slightly before looking down to the boy who quickly looked away respectfully.
"Alright Timothy. You're done for the day once you have packed up this suit and had it wrapped for the client. It will have you deliver it to him tonight at eight o'clock sharp. And then make sure you get yourself home to your mother" Elijah explained to him firmly, the boy nodding and moving off to do the bidding of his employer. Elijah watched him move off before making his way past the bolts of fabric and the fitting rooms to the front of their shop. They were closed for the day but the lights still ran, illuminating the handsome looking mahogany filled interior, complete with ornate gold and red carpet. Elijah had spared no expense in opening this shop in londons most prestigious end but then again the young man had money to spare. Moving to the front of the shop he turned the key into the door lock. Upon hearing the satisfying click that assured him it was indeed locked, he closed the curtains and drew shut the front windows. The young man gathered his things from heis desk,passing Timothy on his way out, the parcel containing the suit neatly wrapped and under the apprentices arm. Elijah watched him go before pulling on his suit jacket and heading out after him, locking the back of the shop before making his way out on the Main Street, a collection of letters in hand. They were sealed with red wax,each baring the mark of a wyvern, a mythical creature. At least some of them were. For the select few letters marked with that seal, Elijah was a hunter corresponding to other jobs and issues that needed to be dealt with. As he made his way down to the post office he nodded his head respectfully to a ground of young women, flashing his devilishly charming smile before continuing on, hearing their hushed whispered behind him, even above all the London noise. His letters were of great importance as he moved abut the streets. He wanted to know if any of his correspondence of employers could aid him in finding help in solving the case f the mystery murderer. Elijah knew it was no murderer, or at least he had his suspicions. Elaborate killer? It was possible but very unlikely. sighing, he searched his mind for anything that he could have seen int he last that may have been of used to him. All of his other cases involved killers that we're sophisticated and delicate. He had never before faced the possibility if such a brazen adversary. As he pondered his predicament he wondered about the aristocracy. He was a new member of the elite, his 'hunting' setting him up well in the world. He had wondered about the possibility that some aristocrats were more than they seemed, but he would be made to go up against them without evidence that was irrefutable. And Elijah was no fool. If they were more than human and suspected that he was onto him, well then he might of sighed his deaths warrant. If there was one thing he knew. Those in power would do anything to keep it. He paused before crossing across the Main Street to the post office, moving up the steps swiftly and inside. He moved to post his letters quickly before moving off again, pausing on one of the many post office benches inside the establishment to coz died his options into increasing his studies of the murderer's case.

[Benathorn]

－ＡＩＤＥＮ ＧＲＥＹＦＥＬＬ－

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||Greyfell Vampire||Age- 428 Years||Romantic Interests- N/A||Gender- Male||||Tags- Rowena||

The dimly lit study was dark and enveloped in thick cool shadows that claimed almost everything it touched, save for the small flicker of a dying flame that still burned within a charred glass lamp which sat neatly upon its master's cluttered desk. Within the dim light was a silhouette of a lean and young figure, clad in simple fine clothing that one may wear when comfortable in their abode, with a dark charcoal coat draped over the owner's solid frame to contrast his pure white long sleeved shirt underneath. Aiden remained seated with one arm propped carefully atop the sturdy furniture's surface while his hand snaked through long bangs and the other scribbled upon parchment paper with concentrated ease. His dark brown eyes nearly appeared a striking ebony against the drifting shadows as they focused on the written words he was placing, words addressed in reply to a letter received prior that day. A message which came from none other than their master, Lucius Malcolm, an esteemed Elder of their kind and the very man who not only mentored Aiden, but was also the one who personally saw to their transformation centuries ago.

Such a message was expected due to the recent 'crime spree' as the mortals called it. However it did nothing to lesson the unease of the man as he wrote to his mentor with carefully constructed words, albeit with some restrain on his part. The Elder One had written only but a few short sentences that sounded polite enough, yet held their absoluteness behind each letter and mark. Lord Malcolm was to come here within a nights time with little room to negotiate on the matter. A trait he despised in the older individual since it gave him absolutely no opportunity to refuse without doing so outright. 'Mind games is what this is...' Aiden thought bitterly to himself, 'he's always daring me to reject his offers just to see my reaction, but to come here without little warning? Word must be spreading about the recent activity here and unsettling the other Elders...'' The half year of corpses and missing person's reports had become the talk of the town within London's city walls. Nearly overnight the mood of this place had changed from bustling activity to hushed fear and deserted streets once the sun set across a blood stained sky. It was almost reminiscent of the old days, and Aiden would be lying to himself if he did not admit that he enjoyed this new foreboding atmosphere that struck fear and respect into his prey once more.

Yet such dark thoughts were quelled for the moment as he sealed his letter with blood red wax and the family insignia, before placing it carefully upon a stack of other nearby parchments which were addressed to various aristocrats and new businesses waiting to be delivered. With a heavy sigh the eldest of the Greyfell siblings slunk back into his chair as another ache ravaged his mind and clawed at his insides. He had forgotten once more that it had nearly been eight days now since he last consumed a full meal. A few of his staff had offered their blood as sustenance to their master to help stave off the intensity of his growing hunger, but during his last restrained feeding he had nearly bled the man dry due to his increasing blood lust. Though Aiden found some amusement in this mystery hunter that pillaged his stock with such audacity, he did not enjoy how both he and his siblings were forced to go for so long between meals since it was far too dangerous to hunt these days with so many mortals on high alert. It was beginning to become a headache, and the Greyfell lord was only amused for so long before his tolerance ran out.

Taking a few more moments to control himself, Aiden slowly got to his feet with the bundle of letters in hand. The sharp echoing sounds of his sister's violin sounding in the distance brought him to the present, as he handed off his bundle to a nearby young butler that gave a submissive bow as he passed by. "Take those to the post for me Joseph. I need the staff to start preparing for Lord Malcolm's arrival." Aiden spoke with a smooth casual tone as the other male gave a swift nod before speaking, "Of course my lord... but don't you require feeding lord Greyfell? You have not had anything since yesterday and I am always willing to serve you if needed." Aiden stopped momentarily as he was walking out of his study. The offer was always of good intention from his staff and had its alluring temptations, but if he fed on the man now it would probably only fuel his desire for a full and filling meal that would no doubt result in the other's death, "Not tonight, Joseph. I wouldn't be as restrained and gentle as usual, and feeding like this is only making things worse... I'll get a good meal soon, though.That I promise." Aiden gave an almost wicked grin to the other as he caught what he meant, the other male adverting his gaze almost shyly before bowing once more and retreating back to his duties. He would have very much liked to have feasted, but both he and his sister were beginning to turn ravenous form their fasting and few meals which were far and few between. Perhaps Rowena could sustain herself enough on the common prey she attracted upon the streets or at her performances, but Aiden desired much more finer tastes like always...

Allowing himself a brief moment to recall the longing sweet tang of rich blood before it teasingly escaped his mind once more, the man exited his study as he headed for the main hall where his sibling's music had abruptly stopped. He would have to inform her of the message he had received from the Elder One and of the inevitable fact that their father would no doubt be dutifully following in his wake as well. A reaction that would be more than entertaining to see since his dear sister despised the man so, but they also needed to discuss the strain these murders were having on most of their kind and themselves. No doubt they weren't the only ones going hungry, perhaps a party should be thrown soon to invite both prey and friends alike to ease tensions for the Elder One's visit? After all, it had been nearly a century since last they threw such an occasion that was a feast for the senses. No doubt every lord and lady would join purely for the sake of seeing the renowned Greyfell siblings, while also offering them a chance to openly invite mortals that may hold key information that would put an end to this hunter that dared trespass upon his hunting grounds...

{Currently holding off posting as Catherine since we have uneven numbers. For now just focusing on Aiden in the meantime~

[.:Moon Shadows:.]

Rowena Mary Greyfell
roe - vampire - 426 years - relationship; n/a - siblings; Aden Greyfell - allies; WIP - enemies; WIP - location; Greyfell estate - tagged; Aiden.
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With the advantage of both her musically tunned ears and her now heightened vampire senses, Rowena could hear her brother moving about in his study. She rarely entered that place, with its darkness and it's the scent of blood. She knew of her brother’s business with the butler, but said nothing about it. To each his own. But she admitted to herself that more than once she had contemplated drinking from her own ladies maid, who was the meekest little thing that anyone could find, and the effect informant from the lower town for Rowena. Yet she had been, so far and grudgingly eating those who slept on the street and those who would not by missed by others. However she had not always been like that. No always so cautious. In fact she had been in trouble in her earlier days of being turned that she refused to drink from anyone but those of noble birth or standing, and it had always been young men, eradicating almost those who could stand as potential suitors for her. That had caused her father one hell of a headache.

Those days were long gone now though. Her reprimanding, had ben firm and fast when they had finally realised what had happened. Since then her feedings on such mortal blood had been few and far between. But they had, on occasion occurred. In her own defence, Rowena couldn’t help attacking o protect her innocence and purity from a testosterone filed human man who had been partying way too hard. She smirked at the thought of that. The good thing was about Rowena…she never left a body. There was never any evidence to support or link her back to anything, or, if she was feeling particularly diabolical, she would set up the scene to frame those who had displeased her.

Turning her head at the sound of her brother’s footsteps she paused, her hand resting lightly on the polished wood of the table in the main hall, pausing to listen to his steps. Light thuds, barely audible, non-existent to human ears. She spun her head towards the door, noticing him as he finally brushed passed the door and entered. Slowly and with cat like grace she turned to face hi, moving from one side of the hall to the other, her delicate shoes clipping lightly across the polished floor before she came to stand a little ways off from her brother. She bowed her head slightly, dipping at the waist in a small curtsy. Apart from where it was common sense in the community, Rowena only ever showed such respect to her brother. Rising from her position she straightened her skirt. Her grey blue eyes shimmered and glowed slightly, shifting like angry water, trapped inside glassy orbs.

”Brother. You seem distracted today. Pray tell,” Rowen said. Her voice was soft and dangerous, and no one would ever know anything about her from her voice. She gave nothing away and had one of the best poke faces any man could muster. There was no way to tell what she was thinking. And her way of peaking as old and beautiful, very medieval. It was one of her defining features, something that was hauntingly beautiful about her. Brushing back a dark ringlet from her eyes to behind her ear she continued to speak, ”I suspect it is something important, considering the rate at which you had the butler scurry of with your letters,” she continued. Rowena was clearly agitated, but today she was even more so. Her lack of feeding was beginning to play on her mind this late in the afternoon. Her blood lust as becoming insatiable. And to make matters worse, she had a gala event to perform at later that evening, in honour of a new hospital wing opening. She would be in a room filled with those whose blood she raved and would be able to do nothing about it. Her fingers twitched noticeably on her leather bodice, pointed and claw like nails itching to grasp warm flesh and feed. Nothing would give her more pleasure. That and to find the fool who was beginning to disrupt her underground network or spies and informants. Her water like eyes seemed to roar and shift around like an angry current, seeking to sweep way any living thing in their.

[Little Rebel]

Sophia M. Winslow
the Loveable Newborn.

-Full Name;; Sophia Michelle Winslow
-Nickname;; Sophie
-Age;; 15 Yrs Old
-Species;; Newborn Vampire
-Mood;; Hungry/Distraught
-Location;; Post Office
-Tagged;; Elijah Wytherin
-Word Count;; 1264 Words

The girl stood stock still, barely discernible in the gathering dusk. She watched the people, her stormy blue eyes narrowing with consternation. People; they were all people, no matter what Lady Neville had told her. To think of these human beings as food... well, it was alarming to say the least. Keeping to the London Alley, she paced in short, rapid strides as she fretted about what to do. She was hungry; starving really. It was as if someone had decided to stick a white hot branding iron down her throat. Swallowing didn't help; if anything it only made the burning sensation worsen. And having people mill around, so close she could easily reach out and touch them with her long, slender fingers... it was downright excruciating. She dug her teeth into her lower lip, then winced. Right, she had fangs now. They were retractable, like a cat's claws, but tended to spring forth in the most unfortunate of situations. Like yesterday. She had dozed off during her Math Tutor's lesson and Mrs. Barley had not been pleased. She had slapped her ruler down on tge desky o hard, Sophie was sure her ears would be ringing for a month. She had flashed out of her seat so fast, she had nearly given the older woman a heart attack. Then her fangs had snapped down and she had had to feign needing to use the restroom to avoid being caught with her pointy new canines. Running her tongue lightly over them now, she marvelled at how smooth and pointy they were. It was empowering to think she had these two weapons no one knew about; if only she could tell Eldin when he returned tonight.

Eldin, her older brother, had been away for three weeks at one of their other estates with their father. She missed him dreadfully, even if her was overbearingly overprotective. What would he say if she told him about her new abilities? According to Lady Neville, her "Sire", she would be faster and stronger than any mere mortal could hope to be. And she had the.minor ability to compel humans. Add to that the deadly set of fangs currently digging into her lower lip, and the supernatural healing abilities that Vampires possessed, and she was pretty much indestructible. Of course, when she had said as much to Lady Neville, she had scoffed and said nothing was unkillable... but Sophie couldn't imagine any creature strong enough to kill a Vampire so she thought herself pretty safe... if she didn't starve first, that was. The burning in her throat seemed to double and she winced, willing her fangs back in her mouth. Now was not the time. Taking a tentative sniff, she began to search for a target. Lady Neville had sternly ordered her to pick someone that no one would miss. A peasant, a homeless person, someone without many attachments that would notice them missing. Clearly, she wasn't going to find a proper meal here. These people all looked posh and polished; and she knew almost all of them, if not personally than through her family or a mutual friend. They were mostly Nobles; people she would see in her father's ballroom. Sniffing again, she caught an almost heavenly scent that reminded her of roses and chocolate. Her mouth watered at the aroma. She knew it wasn't actually chocolate; it was blood. Vampires couldn't stomach human food, especially newborns. She had tried a day after her transformation less than a week ago. It had felt like acid in her stomach and she had dry heaved until her body naturally expelled the substance itself. No matter how hungry she got, she was soooooo not doing a repeat. Stepping out of the shadows, she slid into the crowd with the ease of a dancer.

No one gave her a second glance. In her elegant but simple rosy pink abd white dress, her hair styled in graceful curls and piled atop her head in an intricate knot that had taken her maid hours to accomplish, she fit right in with nobility. After all, that was what she was. She had been born to the Duke and Duchess of Ashburn, and as such was known far and wide as Lady Sophia Winslow. For now, she was titleless, but the gossipmongers expected her to find a wealthy and titled husband by the end of this season. Personally, she had no interest in marriage. But a part of her did dream of finding true love. Eldin had scoffed at this sentiment stating what everybody knew; love and marriage rarely had anything to do with each other. Marriage was little more than a business contract... but Sophia couldn't help but wish she could find her one, perfect match... after she tracked down the human with the delicious smelling blood. Weaving through the crowd faster now, she tracked the scent a quarter mile down the road until she came to the post office. The smell of the Rose-and-Chocolate scented Blood seemed to wreath around her like an intoxicating breeze and her fangs strained almost painfully to be released. Schooling her features, she walked up the stairs and entered the Post Office. The man behind the counter snapped to attention when the young, well-dressed lady entered. Naturally, he knew her.

Lady Winslow, what a pleasant surprise! Are you here to pick up Lord Eldin's Pacmage? He asked, bowing before her. Her nose twitched as she slid her gaze over him. He was a plump but jolly man with a balding head and cheerful brown eyes that made one think of grandfathers or Santa Claus... albeit with less hair. That single twitch of her nose told her he was not the blood source she was following. Still, she smiled with practiced ease and inclined her head.

But of course, Mister Bartlett. Eldin hasn't returned yet and I fear he'll be dreadfully tired when he does so I thought I'd help out. She says with a guileless smile. The man grinned, completely charmed by her as most people were, and babbled something about being right back before he rushed to fetch her the package. Relieved to have him out of hair, she turned to survey the other occupants. There weren't many people in the post office; a harried looking woman tried to wrangle in her two young children while a posh looking man in a suit-her husband?-stood waiting impatiently by the door. A young woman wearing a floral print dress was dropping off her mail. Annnnnnd... there. She saw him then, near a few benches that lined one of the post office's walls. He stood with his back to her in a posh, dark gray suit that had been tailored to perfection. He had dark bronze hair that had been slicked back and tanned skin, and though he wasn't facing her she knew he had a handsome, chiseled face with dark eyes that could make a girl faint, they were so amazing. She knew him the way she knew Mr. Bartlett. He was a passing acquaintance. She knew him because he tailored her brother's suits and on occasion, she happened to be with Eldin when he was picking up a new suit.

She sniffed the air and dismay racked her. The tantalizing smell was coming from him. She should turn and leave before she did something horridly rude... like bite him. But her mouth had a mind of its own and without her permission, her mouth opened to say in a cheerful voice, Why, Mr. Wytherin! What a pleasant surprise.

[.:Moon Shadows:.]

Elijah Zachariah Wytherin
human/roseblood - 20 years - relationship; n/a - siblings; n/a - allies; WIP - enemies; WIP - location; post office - tagged; Lady Winslow.
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upon hearing his name the young man looked up from where he had been sorting through the letters he had just been about to send off. His head turned around, hearing the voice of a young woman. He recognised it of course, as he recognised the voice of all of his clients and their close associates or family. He smiled dashingly as he turned to face her, looking the young woman over once or twice before he finally responded, dipping his head politely.
"Lady Winslow. I trust you are well," he said charmingly, his dark coloured eyes flashing in the light of the shop. His voice was deeps and rich, like liquid and velvet chocolate pouring off his tounge as he spoke. In his voice was a high air of sophistication like many of londons elite but he also carried the accent of the lower part of town, though it was only faint. His dark eyes glimmered as the spoke, taking a few steps towards her but he also kept a respectful distance from her. He knew that he was in no place, despite his rank in high society to approach a lady like her in public without prior and appropriate meetings.

He knew this young woman only be title and by the fact that he tailored her brothers clothing from time to time. Other than that he had never really considered her properly. He took the time now to do so in the relative calm of the post office's warm interior. She was in no way unattractive like some young girls her age. He guessed her to be around fourteen or fifteen. Her hair was straight, a deep shade of dark cocoa brown, streaked lighter with varying shades. Her skin was lightly tanned, like she had been sitting in the warm summer sun for a long while. What captured him most was her eyes. Large and round, set evenly in on her oval shaped face. They were outlined with dark lashes, which set off their blue colour. It was rare to see such a blue shade of eye with such dark hair as Lady Winslow had. Those eyes were very captivating. He sensed something else about her too. Almost something otherworldly. It was a sense Elijah had felt before but he decided not to think on it at the current moment. She was dressed neatly. He deduced by the looks of her that she may have come from her schooling lessons earlier in the day. He deduced a lot of things about her from how she stood and spoke. Like the way she held agitation in her voice, despite having greeted him so brightly.

[Little Rebel]

Sophia M. Winslow
the Loveable Newborn.

-Full Name;; Sophia Michelle Winslow
-Nickname;; Sophie
-Age;; 15 Yrs Old
-Species;; Newborn Vampire
-Mood;; Hesitant
-Location;; Post Office
-Tagged;; Elijah Wytherin
-Word Count;; 455 Words

She had forgotten what a lovely voice his was. Deep and smooth; like molten chocolate. The kind of voice that could make a girl swoon. Her own was higher in pitch with an almost musical quality to it... like Wind Chimes in a light, Summer's Breeze. She extended one hand for him to take; ignoring societies idiotic rules about what was proper. Really, she might not be the most experienced person in the world but she knew enough to know the simple act of shaking one's hand was innocent enough. I've never been better; and you? I trust you are equally well, Mr. Wytherin? She asked expectantly, arching one delicate eyebrow. She had lacy, rose and white gloves on to combat the chill of her skin. Too many had asked her about if she was feeling well because her skin was abnormally cold and while she was sure Elijah Wytherin had no inkling of the danger he was in, she didn't want to take chances. The rotund Post Office Worker returned then, a small parcel clasped between ruddy fingers. He crossed to them, giving Mr. Wytherin an appraising look before turning his indulgent smile back on the girl.

Here you go, Lady Winslow. I hope you have a pleasant evening... do you need a carriage to take you home? He darted a glance towards the man beside her, clearly wondering what a noble woman like she was doing with some New Money from the American Colonies. She smiled placidly at him and waved him off.

Thank you for the offer, Mr. Bartlett... but my dear friend, Mr, Wytherin, will be escorting me home. She said. The man's eyes bugged in horror, and he began sputtering almost incoherently about propriety and other such nonsense. She fixed him with a stern look, even as her voice remained quietly pleasant.

Mr. Wytherin is a perfectly acceptable escort. Now, you have a job to do so if you would please be so kind, we must be going now. An almost glazed look appeared on the man's face. Vampire mind control at her finest. She hadn't even meant to do it, but still didn't have full control over her new abilities. Turning almost robotically, he walked away towards his desk and she turned back to Elijah.

That was a bit presumptuous of me, was it not? Would you be so kind as to escort me home, Mr. Wytherin? I can get there myself if necessary, but such a beautiful night should be enjoyed with friends, don't you think? She asked smoothly, another guileless smile curving her pretty mouth. She almost desperately wanted him to say no. If he did, she could find another victim. Someone she didn't like or know.

[.:Moon Shadows:.]

Elijah Zachariah Wytherin
human/roseblood - 20 years - relationship; n/a - siblings; n/a - allies; WIP - enemies; WIP - location; post office - tagged; Lady Winslow.
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"I have been fortunate for good health," Elijah told her, taking her gloved hand in his politely, but, in a gentle manly manner he bowed at the waist and lightly kissed the top of it. He had taken not of the glove and found it slightly peculiar considering it was still a little warm out tonight and not the time of year for wearing gloves out unless one was riding or attending a formal gathering. Sophia was obviously doing neither. He took note of her voice, warm and twinkling but he noticed something different about since the last time he saw her. It had changed. Seemed different in a colder way, despite the youthfulness and joy to it. He also seemed to notice her dismissal of the post keeper and noted it with curiosity. He had not expected for her to suggest him taking her home, but was not about to protest to the idea. She seemed interesting and he would be a fool not to inquire a little more about her.

"With all that's going on lately, it would not be wise to let you wander the streets home alone at this time," Elijah told her simply, flashing his charming smile. It would be rude after all to let her wander home alone and he had nothing to do this evening. Besides, she was very intriguing to him, and he wanted to know more about this relatively quiet beauty. He placed his letters up on the counter, leaving their payment place an extra silver coin with them before straightening himself up a little and offering her his arm, "shall we my lady?"

[Benathorn]

－ＡＩＤＥＮ ＧＲＥＹＦＥＬＬ－

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||Greyfell Vampire||Age- 428 Years||Romantic Interests- N/A||Gender- Male||Tags- Rowena||

Aiden had been focusing on his busy thoughts of the Elder One's arrival before a subtle, yet familiar, sound caught the man's fleeting attention as he entered the main hallway. There, almost instantly and as if on cue, stood his sibling Rowena in all her beauty and predatory grace before she swept lightly across the way to only stop just before him with blue eyes alight. Aiden's gaze merely followed with subtle softness to his usually concealed features that was only ever reserved to those closest to him, before returning her respected greeting with a small nod of his own. However, when his sister spoke of his distracted persona the man simply flashed her a devilish grin before his dark eyes narrowed in a teasing manner, "Distracted dear sister? Whatever makes you say that." Aiden gave a small yet sharp scoff as he beckoned the young female to follow while he continued to speak, "My butler is simply doing his duty and delivering the usual letters to the post. Nothing odd about that, is there?" Aiden continued to tease, drawing out the pleasure of knowing something that his little sister did not. It was the same back so long ago when they had been mortal children. Of how the boy back then would tease his siblings about a surprise he had gotten just for them, but made sure to have them work for it till they pouted or sulked innocently to their eldest brother who teased them so unfairly but with a loving heart.

However, such an old memory was fleeting and unwanted as Aiden dashed it away while he continued to draw out his prolonged conversation with Rowena till they reached a private lounge just out hearing reach from most of their staff. He made sure to pick someplace where he could tell his sister just who was coming out of harms way, the young woman had an intense hate for their father after all, one that Aiden shared of course, but in a much more healthier manner-- his fears and hate resided more with lord Malcolm. Carefully he closed the doors before walking over to a leather sofa that he slumped into a bit suddenly, a sign that he was growing exhausted without a healthy consumption of blood to sustain them, but one he quickly rectified as he got comfortable by spreading his arms to rest on either side in a lounging and carefree manner and placing one leg to cross casually over the other. "Come now, Rowena. Don't look at me like that. I'm not one of those nobles you need to act so polite to after all." Aiden glanced up from his lax position as he looked over to the slender woman who carefully hid her emotions behind a hardened facade she had perfected over the years, a skill each of them had to maintain on a constant basis.

However, Aiden could feel her emotions almost threatening to flare just beneath pale skin and forced calmed eyes. He motioned for her to sit with a small wave as he threw her another charming smile, "Oh, but before I forget I did receive a letter from Lord Lucius Malcolm. It appears he's visiting the estate. Tomorrow night..." Aiden spoke as if it were a normal thing even though he had already time to process such important information prior. He flashed her a calming and unreadable glance that held a hint of mischief behind dark brown eyes before he revealed the other bit of info he was sure she'd enjoy, "That, and you know father will most likely be following in his wake. Do try not to make a scene like last time dear sister. Though I enjoy you two's heated conversations to the fullest and support your founded hate one-hundred percent, it would be a headache for me to have to break the both of you up in front of Lord Malcolm of all people."

Aiden had said that last part with no hint of malice or reprimand as he allowed a moment for his sibling to process the information. It was no small thing to have one of the Elders visit a vampire's home, so of course there was unmentioned stress about that he did not allow to surface from his own unease and weary mind. The man simply sat there with an all too calm demeanor as he examined Rowena's reaction to his previous statement, taking in the rare occasion of being at ease around someone so familiar to him while he waited to address another important matter that needed to be sorely discussed. A matter that was of their increasing hunger that threatens to overflow dangerously these days, and of the prospect as to exactly why Lord Malcolm and their father were paying them a visit so suddenly, one they already knew the answer to...

[.:Moon Shadows:.]

Rowena Mary Greyfell
roe - vampire - 426 years - relationship; n/a - siblings; Aden Greyfell - allies; WIP - enemies; WIP - location; Greyfell estate - tagged; OPEN.
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Rowena listened to his greeting, her mind half in the conversation and half listening to the chiming bells of in the distance announcing the last church service for the day. Her expression did not change as Aiden began to tease. She remained calm and soft footed as she moved with him, by his side, her red skirt billowing around her legs in almost Crimson waves as she walked. The dark haired woman noticed the softened gaze and smiled internally. It was a gaze reserved, quite frankly, only for her brother and her in their small meetings like this. Sure he was soft towards their siblings too, but Rowena felt this gaze was different. After all, the role of the protective big brother was something that Aiden did best. And it was one of his many endearing qualities. As her brother spoke, Rowena took a moment to listen to his voice. It had deepened since his change, and was cold towards most. It was a comforting voice to her though. Something about her brother made her feel very at ease. Maybe because it was of his teasing nature or the fact that they had grown up so closely together, with only two years between them. She did not know but relished the time she spent with him and the comfort he brought in such turbulent times. Finding her voice, she replied to his jests, keeping calm, "I suppose there is not. But thy words of jest hurt me poorly sir. Or at least they would had thee have a heart to wound," the young woman replied as she followed after him, her hands clasped together lightly on her belly, the ruby cabochon pendent glimmering at her throat under the lights they passed. She had learnt over the years that the best way to compete with her brothers jesting was to speak in riddles or use her medieval tongue, as her former life's protocol had demanded.

Reaching the lounge, the young woman sighed, stopping to stand where she was as her brother shut the door behind them both. And she waited a little longer to make sure no nosy servant had followed, before she moved to pull the heavy curtains across on each window, until the room was dark. It was almost methodical as she moved about the room, extinguishing the natural light of the setting sun by drawing shut the fabric across the windows before lighting a lamp and fading it, so the minimal light it produced cast dramatic and angular shadows across the darkened room when it found an object in its path. The young woman then took her place diagonally across from her brother as he motioned for her to sit, studiously avoiding the arm chair towards the back of the room, which is where their father would have been sitting had he been present. Rowena sat poised, like a snake, ready to strike out, her eyes still flashing back and forth throughout the room and she watched her brother slump into the chair. The proximity he had taken to sit away from her made her certain that he had come to talk about the one man she loathed with a passion. She also took in his slumped position. He was weakening from the lack of decent food, she could tell but then again, she found herself trembling from hunger in recent days and knew that her time to feed decently had to be soon. "Forgive me Aiden. But then again, you are not noble to me," the woman told him, a slight glint of playfulness and humour working its way into her voice as she spoke. It was only after this statement that Rowena visibly relaxed into her chair. Her rigid body slumped back into the cool wood and leather cushioning of the chair, her long and lean arms moving to rest on the arms of the chair, supporting their weakened stature, but not before she had used her fingers to remove the leather bodice from her slim waist, leaving her in just her high waisted red skirt and creamy silk blouse, which she unbuttoned, revealing her hollow collar bone and pale skin, the brooch of their mothers having been pinned now to the fabric of her blouse. Finally the young woman reached behind her head, removing the pins from her hair and letting the tight ringlets fall across her cold skin and down her back in cascades and she leaned her head back into the chair, eyes closed and visibly exhausted from maintaining her polite and graceful persona without having fed in a long while.

She murmured her response to the announcement of the elder's coming. That was of no concern to her as she seemed completely out of it, relaxed beyond all measure for the moment. Aiden might have gotten away with it had he not mentioned their father. At that the females eyes flung open and her whole body tensed, the sharp claw like nails on her hands digging into the leather chair as she hauled herself up slightly into a sitting position again, her pupils almost cat like in fury and her eyes seeming to flash black with rage. "if I could do so without going mad I would have drained the man who claims to be our father of his blood long ago," she hissed it at her brother and standing from the chair in an action so quick and fluid it was almost impossible to comprehend. Her curls swung around her face dramatically as she clenched her hands into tight fists, her fangs baring. Usually she was careful not to let anyone see emotion from her, but anger was the one thing she allowed her brother and especially her father to see. Aiden never saw the half of it and her father, she thought, was lucky to be alive considering some of the evil thoughts that had crossed her mind when she thought of him. Rowena would gladly go mad just so she could sink her Ivory white fangs deep into his neck. She emitted almost a snarl like growl, her fangs bared as she breathed in deeply, trying to collect herself, body shaking with a mixture of rage and exhaustion. She was in no frame of mind to even contemplate her father. "and as for Lord Malcolm...put that old and prying shell of a vampire near my chambers and I will not be responsible for his broken neck should I find him staring at me like a piece of fresh meat," Rowena finished in a hiss, turning to her brother before moving back towards her chair, not realising that she has almost crossed the entirety of the lounge in her rage. But now that her adrenaline had died down she found she could not even make it back to her arm chair and so instead settled for the end of the lounge on which her brother was draped, resting her elbows on her knees,head down and curls falling over her face, every muscle in her body quivering.

"I cannot continue to be like this Aiden. Nor can you afford to. Look at us," she said softly. It was that dangerous kind of whisper, "and my presence has been requested at a hospital benefit tonight. I cannot stand in a room full of such prized flesh without some sort of support brother. Not tonight. And not in this state," she finished. She turned her head, her blue eyes gazing out from behind her hair, looking to Aiden for his response. Her eyes only betrayed one thing. Hunger, that primal kind. She would go mad could she not feed of something substantial this night, and she wouldn't care getting in trouble with Lord Malcolm if it meant she didn't feel like she was going to collapse into exhaustion when she woke every morning.