VANCE, lenore

Name: Lenore Vance

Age: 342 years

Gender: Female

Race: Vampire

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Occupation: Student // Fourth Year

House: Aldarus

Classes: Divination of the Stars, Literature & Storytelling, The Moon & Magic

Likes: She enjoys playing connect the dots with the stars, and the moon, the pale goddess, is her lovely lady who keeps her company on lonesome nights. She yearns for the chill of the winter air, the sound of wind between the bare branches of the trees, and the way the first snow shines. She finds comfort in the quiet that solitude grants her, and her favorite sound is the soft scratch of her pen against notebook paper, the only one she trusts with her inane musings.

Dislikes: Noisy, boisterous people incite great ire in her. She seethes at immaturity and distances herself from those who harbor harebrained schemes, coveting intellect. The sun is a loathsome, arrogant fool who she shields her face from, and she pulls her upper lip back in distaste at those who cannot match her wit. She avoids crowds like the plague, and she will sooner take the long way to class than fight her way through the overrun corridors that reek of petty gossip.

Strengths: Her mind is strong and her teeth are sharp. She possesses great intellect, speaks with a silver tongue that gives her a cold, magnetic charm that most can't help but find alluring. She can weave words out of spider's silk, in the most intricate of webs, and it's hard not to become entangled in her musings. Her intuition guides her. Her gut is rarely wrong. While most people think with their feelings, Lenore feels with her thoughts, navigating the world around her instinctively, as fluidly as water. Translating emotion into words is her forte. Her voice, as quiet as it is, enchants.

Weaknesses: While there is no question that she's a captivating young woman, her silence has garnered her a reputation for being unapproachable. She is a wallflower, rigidly pinned up, something to admire from afar, but never touch. On the outside, she presents a stoic demeanor, having hardened herself into stone. She doesn't realize that it is the cracks in one's armor that allow the light in, and thus her world has become bleak. She presents herself as aloof, rarely allowing herself to let on just how much she cares, and of course, there is also the matter of being a terrible critic.

Fears: Her own, turbulent emotions make her uneasy. She craves control so desperately that she subdues herself with iron restraint.

Secret: She has so many secrets that she, herself, might as well be a secret. She hides things in the depths of her eyes and the shadows of her heart, though the one she protects with the greatest ferocity is that of her true race. While she is an arrogant woman, she harbors deep shame and does not wish to be labeled that way.

Description: Lenore is a tall, slender woman with a willowy frame, standing at 5 feet, 9 inches. Her uniform falls over her thin shoulders like a hanger, and there is a soft gauntness to her face. The lilac shadows beneath her eyes never quite fade, giving her beauty a perpetual weariness. She is as pale as the moon, and as washed out as winter. Her features are sharp, and her posture is always poised, upright. She tucks in her shirts to pleated skirts that fall just above her knees, dressing in a reserved, old-fashioned manner. Her hair is as black as a raven's wings, and her eyes are a dark, icy blue that penetrates the soul, intense and ever so wise.

Power: Her ability is that of the mind. When making physical contact with another person, preferably holding their hand, Lenore is able to forge a psychic connection with them. It only lasts until she decides to break it, but in that moment, she is able to feel the other person's emotions, hear their thoughts as if they are hers. If she really wishes it, she can even share her own, though she seldom chooses to. Normally, she has control over whose thoughts she channels, but she tends to avoid crowded spaces, as something about the kinetic energy fogs her mind.

Belongings: Her most sacred possession is her fountain pen and leather bound notebook in which she pours the contents her heart into.

Personality: Lenore presents herself as a stoic ornament, always poised like a statue. She has a quiet demeanor, but nothing about her is soft, as if her very skin is chiseled from stone. She is refined, sophisticated, and possesses a strong sense of dignity. There is nothing she loathes more than being belittled or mocked, and she will not hesitate to avenge her fragile ego should the need arise. She takes great pride in all that she does, and she carries herself with a cultivated, elegant air of someone much older than she looks. Does she take herself too seriously? Perhaps. She struggles to find common ground with her peers, which has driven her to lead a solitary existence of self-inflicted isolation. She shields herself from the world with a biting tongue. Wherever she goes, she brings winter with her. Cold, harsh, still. It's easy to forget she's there because she always feels like she's drowning. She sinks out of sight, lets the water wash over her head until all the world is quiet and she can no longer hear them. That's the only time she can ever breathe. There are too many voices for her, too many people. She'll never admit how much they scare her, but she watches from afar with an envy that seeps deep into her bones. She covets things that she will never let herself have, whether it is out of fear or punishment. She grew to hate the sound of their laughter, too loud, like flowers in the springtime.

History: She is an anachronism, an ancient artifact left over from times long past. Lenore was born into the bloodline of the aristocrats and had a stern upbringing. Her mother was a callous woman and her father was a member of an elite, underground business that bottled and dispersed only the purest human blood. The first glimpses of the world she saw were in 1674. She was brought up in a grand mansion that many coveted, and her early life was filled with piano lessons that left her fingers numb and Sunday gatherings at the church. She was always out of place there, head bowed in mock prayer, fearful that every set of closed eyes would see right through her. Even with her family's status in the coven, it was necessary to merge with the changing world around them, lest they be burned at the stake or buried alive. After all, there is a reason that people often joke about vampires sleeping in coffins.

Tragedy struck early in her life when the year 1692 came and she found herself standing on the rickety docks of Salem, her wrists bound by ropes. A witch, they proclaimed. Lenore was a witch. She was accused by the envious husband of a woman named Jane, her dearest friend and confidant, who offered not a word of defense throughout the trial. "It's true," she whispered, if only to spare herself. "She lured me into the woods that night. She made me do it." They tied a bag of rocks to Lenore's bound hands and said that if she sank, they would know she was innocent.

When she crawled out of the river, dripping wet, Jane refused to open the door, and there was no one Lenore felt more betrayed by than her. When someone shouted that they had seen her alive, she was forced to flee the town, though not without first sinking her. She wandered for many years, taking on various lives, various roles, though she tired of it eventually, as it was too hard to watch those she became close to grow old. She once wed a man named Peter, though like a widow spider, she sucked him dry of blood when she could not stay any longer, if only because she couldn't bear the thought of anyone else sleeping in his arms. It took years to get the taste of his blood out of her mouth. She could not bring herself to change him into what she was. She saw no beauty in eternity, yearned for transience, yet it was a wish she was never granted. Lenore's latest place of dwelling is within the academy, deep in the mountains. She masquerades as a student and spends her time charting the night sky, doing her best to avoid any, as she calls them, entanglements.