revolution | ᴀɴ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ discussion

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( nikolai abram tov ) · · ━ vampire × homme × three hundred one × single
{ duplicity } × × ━ the ability to make multiple copies of oneself as wholes

[ n ] ik's a dick, but firstly, he's a showman. He's been one from the minute he was born, and even after he died. He's a dick in charge, and the Romanian coven might just be a little more interesting with him there. Or, he likes to think as much. Never, even as a small boy, had he dreamed that he'd be where he was now. Never thought his life would end behind a pathetic brothel with a hand crammed down his pants and fangs in his neck. ( He'll tell anyone that asks that he honestly had only expected to be treated with some extra fun from the girl he'd literally left the establishment with. How was he supposed to know it was a hunting ground? ) The only luck he had on his side then was that the girl--woman, thing, creature, whatever the hell she was--thought he was kind of cute when he was in pain. Which meant she watched over him as he turned those three whole days, never moving.

From what Nik gathered, he was then a vampire. The real deal. He couldn't walk out into the sun or people would be seeing diamonds, but he didn't believe it. It was late at night when he stole away, and him being a dick and all, he made sure to take a few things with him. Namely, so expensive looking jewelry and a nice candelabra that he used to hit his would-be captor upside the head with enough to stun her. Satisfying, yes, but time consuming. Aside from being a dick--did I mention he was the friendly dick? The one everyone can't help but affectionately roll their eyes at--he was a con with a penchant for shiny things. Which was really the reason he was taking the jewelry and not using it to pay his way the fuck out of there. No, no, the candelabra would do.

The first place he stopped at was a village. Small and out of the way and perfect for hiding out in. But, his luck had run out, or was out momentarily. He stepped right into that sun and in less than a minute they were hailing him a witch. They were hauling him to be burned at the stake or whatever over thing they had in mind--part of him hoped it'd be the wheel. God, he wanted the wheel, he really wanted the wheel because he'd have more time to talk before they crushed his skull with the rock rather than spend all the bargaining time screaming his lungs out--and that's when he first felt it. Or, first noticed it. The feeling of unquenchable thirst and a need to attempt to quench it. Nik, being the dick that he was, was also a control freak. He liked to have his things in order, to know that he was in charge. So, of course, he was pissed when he woke up next to see that he'd not been so clean in his feeding--and by clean, he'd slaughtered everyone. Not exactly what you want to do your first day with supernatural strength and a hankering for blood.

But, that was years ago; many, many years. Since then, times have changed. And Nik has remained the same: a controlling, not right, selfish dick that people can't help but feel compelled to love. And that crazy little trick to split himself into six other versions of himself--all with unwanted personality adjustments; he'd take that ability to recall if he could, thanks--sure comes in handy when he feels like taking something that isn't his. He can chat up a target while another one of him rifles through their things. Simple, quick, effortless, and efficient. He's his own partner in crime. However, that isn't the most surprising thing: he's become a leader.

Yeah, a real dick in charge.

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say my name ; i wanna hear you call
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( duncan andrew hollister ) · vampire × homme × twenty-three × english

[ d ] uncan had his fair share of dreams before he was turned. He wanted to travel the world, see all the sights there were to see. He wanted to be one of those fellows who played their guitars in the subways and train stations and got paid handsomely for it. He really had wanted to go to Paris for the street music festival. While he supposes he could still do all of those, it wouldn't be the same. He's stopped aging, and the novelty of traveling the world will disappear with the passage of time. Nothing would be the same, and that's probably what he regrets most about being turned.

He's truly not a gloomy kid, but it's kind of hard not to be at this point. After all, his whole life is ahead of him. That probably sounds very odd considering most people would see this as a positive, but they miss the point: his whole life is ahead of him. His lifespan is different from that of his mother, of his father, of his kid brother. He'd be able to watch the kid born after grow old and die. What kind of life is that? Not the kind that he had expected, because he'd sort of thought that he'd the first to go. From a bad batch of shrooms at a music festival, would have been his first guess.

Being a dreamer was easy. London was, is a big city full of people with big dreams and little determination. Duncan happened to be one of those people with a slightly larger sense of determination. He was one of those people who were close to achieving his dream, until some wild party happened. And he was turned. When he woke up, he was alone. And hungry, so hungry. Or was it better to say thirsty? It doesn't really matter because he soon found himself wrapped up in something he wasn't prepared for. He began to fall into the circles of the nefarious and he very well would probably be one of the usual bloodthirsty vampires if someone hadn't stepped in and pointed him in the right direction.

That direction happened to be the English coven. It wasn't hard to find them, once he knew what he was looking for. And wasn't it perfect that he could walk out into the sun, with the weather of London being downright pissy most of the year. So, now he has to learn how to be this new self.

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no man is an island
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