Ophelia Caesarius
Character Bio
Name
Ophelia Caesarius
Player
Aysande
Vampire, Doll or Were-creature
Vampire
Age
around 1600
Claimed
None, but looking
Orientation
Whomever, whenever.
Hair
Brown
Eyes
brown
Height
5'5
Appearance
She has brown hair, straight and long past her shoulders. Her face is beautiful but bold, with her beautiful brown eyes, her full lips and her high cheekbones. She is not tall, and her build is proportional. She has nice curves to her, emphasized by a flat stomach and a narrow waist. Ophelia is not cut, but she is lean. She has long legs, with lithe muscles. She likes nice clothes, but when it comes to every day, she likes her jeans just as much as anyone else. She rarely ever gets out without a touch of makeup, though.
Personality
She is charming, self-confident, can be assertive whenever the situation requires it. She rarely second-guess herself, but that is because she is not an impulsive person. Having lived so long, she is a touch jaded. She doesn't lose patience easily, doesn't anger. Whatever should anger her is weighed by its importance and then either she just dismisses it and move on, or she takes steps. She won't shout or threaten. She just... take steps. Killing is not something she does lightly, and she values free will, so she doesn't abuse of her ability. She is friendly, easy to talk to, and readily share her life's experience with someone if she feels it can help.
Ability
- Primary: Memory Manipulation
- Secondary: Persuasion
Ons & Offs
Ophelia has little interest for sex unless it is driven by feelings and she hasn't been in love in a long time.
- Ons would include anything that is gentle and loving, though she enjoys a partner that is a bit more vigorous when it comes to intercourse.
- Off: anything overly dominant or submissive, she likes it vanilla. Pain, violence.
History
Ophelia lived with the man for four years after their marriage. Tall and handsome soon became quite tiresome and annoying. Even though she did her best to be a good wife, it seemed impossible for them to get along. At first there had been more and more frequent arguments, then she became pregnant and he was appeased. He was even happy when the child turned out to be a healthy son. Soon, though, the child’s noises and cries rattled his nerves enough and the arguments started all over again until… Silence. Ophelia had taken the decision not to argue again, not to speak to the man she was married to. The rift between them grew larger and larger and she knew that he had found other women to satisfy himself and it was a relief.
During a late stroll, because Octavius refused to sleep and would often fall asleep in her arms whenever she walked outside, she met with a man. He was everything her husband was not: he was blond, had beautiful bright blue eyes, a paler complexion. She knew he was a foreigner at the first look, and her instincts told her that she should go, she should leave and protect her child at all cost. Yet she stood there, paralyzed until he spoke to her with a soft, charming voice. He asked her for direction and his latin had an accent to it. As she walked him toward the market, baby in her arms, they spoke and she was fascinated by what he was telling her. He had walked here from far away and the story of his travels - which were hardly believable since he looked only a year or two older than herself - was fascinating.
The walks became a habit, and after three weeks, her husband accused her of having found someone else. It was fine for him to see other women, but his own women as his only. He became so angry with her even if she denied it, that he hit her hard, and she fell, hitting her head to the floor and became unconscious. When she woke, she was still exactly where she fell. Her head hurt, her cheek hurt and the baby was crying as loudly as he could. Determined to make sure that this would never happen again, she took the baby out of his cradle and walked out to her usual meeting ground with her handsome foreigner.
Of course, he caught sight of the painful bruise on her cheek, and he invited her to come with him. Whether she loved him or not, he would provide for her, but she could not bring the child. He couldn’t trust himself with a child. When she pried, trying to understand what he meant, the stranger told her that he could not tell her before she agreed to follow him, that after he told her, she would be bound to him and would have no choice but to follow. He promised that he would never hit her, and that they would walk around the known world, explore it together as she so wished. The decision was difficult, leaving her child behind was like leaving a part of herself. She knew that the son would be treated well by the father. Her little Octavius would become like his father. Not without tears, she left the child with a neighbor, packed a bag, stole all that she could sell for money and she left. Never again would her husband hit her.
Traveling was far more glamorous in her mind. They were travelling at night, sometimes followed by a rumor of strange killing, and it went on for almost a month until Ophelia put a stop to it and asked her savior what was wrong with him. He was a creature of the night. He needed blood to survive. His kind called themselves Nosferatu. They traveled by night because the sun would burn him to ashes. He never ate with her because he did not need to. When she asked why he had not bitten her, she saw pain in his eyes, but he refused to say why. When he finally said that it was because he cared too much about it, she had the odd feeling in the gut that he was giving her a white lie. He did care about her but there was something else.
That something else that she could not remember happened again a few nights later. Though this time, he pushed too far and almost killed her. Unwilling to lose his companion, he turned her into one of his kind. The awakening for Ophelia was a harsh one. The sounds, the smells and the thirst were all too much for her. With a sire so young - not much more than a century old himself - he could not help with her thirst. The next two centuries or so, Ophelia would rather not remember. She did not pay attention to the world around them, if not for the hunt and the quenching of the thirst.
She split from him after an awful argument where, in a fit of conscience, Ophelia refused to keep killing. She wanted to try to reduce the amount of blood she took before something happened. Ophelia spent the next three centuries in search for others like her. She roamed the nights alone even if she was missing her Sire something fierce. They were different, and their path had to take different directions. It was simple, logical, but her heart was longing for him, still.
Time is a healer, or so it is said, and Ophelia managed to stop thinking about her handsome blond foreigner. She managed to bring her thirst down to something that she deemed acceptable, feeding every week, rather than every night. It had taken time, and a lot of self-control, but she felt that she was in a good place. Living in Britain, she settled for a while learned to earn her keep as a servant, and then a seamstress. If anything, Ophelia proved to be a resourceful and adaptable woman. She moved every couple of years so that her youth did not betray her nature.
Loneliness caught up to her one night when she saw a woman assaulted by a pair of soldiers. She discarded the soliders, feeding on them, in a matter of seconds but she took pity on the unconscious woman on the ground. Not knowing that she was breaking a law, a vampire law, Ophelia transformed her into a vampire without asking for consent. Thinking that she would make herself a companion, Ophelia could not have been more wrong. The woman proved to be unstable, aggressive, and sometimes downright sadistic. Ophelia managed to keep her under control but the task took every minute of night time. More than once she thought of killing the sadistic woman who loved to toy with men before killing them. In a very violent argument that ended with something that seemed to be some kind of tradition among vampires - not that she had given it a shot herself - the fledgling tried to kill her sire. During her exploration of the known world, Ophelia had learned to defend herself. The centuries she had on her opponent helping, she managed to disable her and with a sharp blade between the bones of her broken neck, she prevented full healing long enough to disappear.
Using her power, she altered the woman’s memories, spending the better part of two hours erasing all memories of herself in the woman’s mind. When the sun passed below the horizon for a new night, Ophelia removed the knife, took her bags and disappeared. She spent centuries in a life that could be considered as insignificant by most. She was the strange woman living at the edge of town, the woman who grew no food but never came to the market, the woman who had had a cure for things that current medicine had no cure for. As the centuries passed, people grew more and more suspicious and when the witch hunts began, she was quickly one of the first target. She escaped being burned at the stake by breaking free and leaving everything behind.
She kept even further away from settlements from then on, to avoid the suspicious folks from dragging her to the stake again, or to have her head taken off her shoulders. She never heard of her fledgling again, but she found others like herself. Ophelia learned about the laws of their kind, about the life in a coven and her loneliness faded in the background. She looked for news of her blond foreigner, but while some admitted having met with them, the word was that he wanted nothing to do with his own kind. Was it because of her? Of how she had abandoned him when her conscience dictated that their way of life was wrong?
When rumors ran among the coven that there was a rogue on their territory that took men and women alike, right off the streets, to abuse them and torture them, Ophelia had a strange feeling of familiarity that gave her the chills. She volunteered to take care of the matter and she did. Tracking down the vampire that now called herself Madam Brianna proved to be easy for the Sire who had lived with her long enough to know her inside and out. The orders of the coven leader were simple. Kill the humans she had damaged, and either kill her or bring her under control. Ophelia was a merciful creatures. She could have killed Brianna countless times before and hadn’t.
She entered the premises and found that she had a helper, someone young who’s thirst could lead to commit such horrible act, but one look on his face while his Sire tortured a human girl told Ophelia all that she needed. Their eyes met and he almost warned Brianna but a slight shake of Ophelia’s head had him decide otherwise. The girl had to be killed. Brianna found herself in the familair position of a spineless doll with a bone embedded in her nape.
Ophelia offered the young man to teach him how to feed and to stay safe. She had no idea that the man with her was a telepath, that he could see in her mind that she was telling the truth. After another thorough scrubbing of Brianna’s memory where she pulled the thread of Aaron’s existence so that she would not hunt him down, she altered Brianna’s memory. She took the dying girl’s memory of pain and suffering through torture and put them into the vampire’s mind. Ophelia thought that if she could empathize with the role of a victim she would not be driven to take another through the torture. She was wrong.
She spent several years with Aaron, who proved to be a good student and a great companion, but eventually, the ghost of Brianna’s doings had them part. Throughout the years, she met with him, kept in touch with him and sometimes they would spent a few years in each other’s company; spend decades the same way mortals would spent years. She had affection for the younger vampire, but it had never been that strong feeling of love that she had once felt for her maker.
Becoming a thousand years old felt like a huge weight on Ophelia’s shoulders. She was growing wary and thought that perhaps doing one of those trips to the other side of the world would be good. She had to wait until women were actually allowed on board of ships before she made the trip. The sun was no longer her enemy even if she could not stand in it all day long. It was easier to hide what she was. Her feeding habits, keeping herself to the minimum, were also a challenge but a manageable one. She had developed a second power. Now, not only could she remove the memory of being fed upon from the mind of a person, but she could also persuade them that it was in their best interest not to scream, not to fight and just willingly give what she wanted.
Life in the new world proved to be challenging, but in a good way. She found a people far more accepting among the native. Not that they would agree with her vampiric nature, but at least they weren’t branding her a demon or a witch. She fell in love with one of the locals, and stayed among the people for a while. She fought on their side whenever the “white people” would come to fight them. She could easily pass for one of their own with her tan, her dark hair and eyes, and her sharp facial features.
She learned the language of the tribes, as she explored the territory that was a peaceful one. The French and the English allied themselves with the locals to fight one another in a war that started long ago in the old world. Ophelia remained, as usual, away from trouble unless her own village was attacked. Things slowly settled, the French settlement grew, then England took over, and the world started to change at a much faster pace. She had long lost touch with her friend Aaron, but sometimes she heard from others of her kind how things were for this coven or that coven and she hoped that she would live long enough to see him again.
Word of Brianna being killed brought her a strange mix of disappointment and joy. The woman was not right in the head to begin with, the transformation into vampire had not made it better. The joy came from the fact that Brianna would no longer inflict suffering onto others, but also because the rumor had it that her death had been at the end of Aaron and another of Brianna’s fledgeling. He was alive, and well.
It wasn’t before a few more years, when she met with William again, that she heard about the settlement in Alaska. William had been living with the coven in England at the same time she did. Around the same time that she had met Aaron, too. William invited her for a stay. It was a cold place, but it was comfortable and the people were all aware of vampires. She could be herself, and not be afraid to be burned or beheaded. There was a few surprise waiting for her there. She spoke the local tongue fairly well, for one. There was another species of non-human living there freely. Something she had heard in the tribe’s lore forever: shapeshifters. The third, but not the least: Aaron was there.
Now she lives in Alaska as its coven leader, and to write her trashy historical romance books. It is a bit of a soul-searching endeavor too, as she has begun to withdraw from society altogether, feeling like a void in her life that nothing seems to fill.