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Post by [INACTIVE] Saxa Vanguard on Jul 3, 2017 21:30:38 GMT
 Saxa Vanguard we do not bow to the whims of men in castles general info
personality Much like she was during her human existence, Saxa was adept at blending in. She could seamlessly adopt an alternative personality to fit into a crowd or to further her standing in the eyes of others. It is for this reason that Saxa finds herself making friends without realising, because she takes social cues and assesses boundaries from the body language and tone of others. She values listening to others, hearing their stories or just allowing them to vent - Saxa perpetually puts the needs of others before herself; something that, for a vampire, can be pretty darn stupid. Though for all of her optimistic and positive traits, Saxa is just as unpredictable and prone to anger as the next vampire. She's impulsive and spontaneous, valuing life experiences over trivial things such as safety or logic. It wouldn't take her long to consider doing something before actually doing it, because Saxa is all about fun. Which is why Saxa absolutely detests authority figures. She doesn't want to be tied down to one location or 'one rule for the many,' and the Volturi are a prime example. Of course Saxa has considered settling down in one location for a few years before having to move, but when she feels heartache and sadness, she really feels them - she doesn't want to have to go through losing loved ones. She sees being a vampire as a second chance, a second life where she can do whatever BIOGRAPHY Born in 1928 to farmers within the Cornish countryside, Saxa had a simple existence. She would tend to the animals by day, and look out of her small rickety window by night. Her mother and father were completely content with their lives, producing food for the nearby village and enjoying the tranquillity - while Saxa on the other hand grew to detest it. She was meant for more, much more - and she made a habit of letting her parents know as much. By the age of thirteen she had read every single book her father managed to trade for, which in the grand scheme of things, was not very much. While her mother had taken seamlessly to the role of housewife and mother, it was Saxa's father who couldn't stand the thought of his only daughter growing up feeling as though she was unfulfilled. So he encouraged her to read, encouraged her to write and think and imagine - he wanted her to go far, to venture to London and find work, a husband. So that was exactly what Saxa did. She helped on the farm in the mornings and travelled into the small town of Newquay to take classes in the evening. They were simple, consisting of mathematics, literature and some very minimal science - but it was more than enough to make her a contender in the eyes of London's employers. Of course there were men that sought to tear her down, to laugh at the simple girl who wished to better herself - and even though many of them showered her with adoration, gifts and promises of a comfortable life with a herd of children, Saxa never once wavered. At the age of sixteen, Saxa packed her meagre belongings, bid farewell to her parents, with a promise of writing every week, and boarded the train to London. It was an old and rusting mode of transport, but easily the quickest - though despite the constant fear of breaking down and being stranded in the middle of nowhere, it was the most exciting nine hours of her life. She read her favourite book four times in those hours, made lists of what she wanted to do on her first evening and then another list of what she wanted to accomplish in the next year. Yet no gentle soul that comes to London in search of betterment leaves the same way. Saxa took the first job that was offered to her as an administrator for a bank, and despite the sleazy advances of her manager and his cigar smoking, whiskey slugging friends, it wasn't milking cows or collecting eggs. Saxa was content, for possibly the first time in her life - so why would she have said no when the dashing Mr. Bishop asked her for a night cap? Mr Bishop was the head of the bank, always rushing around from one meeting to another - and in all honesty, Saxa had never spoken more than a few words to him. Yet he spoke of how many times he had glanced towards her, admired her high cheekbones and the way she nibbled on the end of her pen when she was deep in thought. He was the man that Saxa had read about, had dreamed of meeting - but if something seems too good to be true, then it usually is. "You're a what?" Saxa had shrieked the words, in the middle of a deserted street in the dead of night. Mr. Bishop was a vampire, and while Saxa had only heard tales of the night walkers that feasted on the blood of beautiful virgins, she had no doubts that Mr. Bishop was exactly what he said he was. Though she was not scared, of fearful for her life, but merely curious. So very, very curious. Of course one does not find themselves introduced to a vampire and expects life to carry on in the mundane way it had. Because it was only a month later that Saxa found herself impaled on the end of a knife, a would-be mugger that had been watching her on her walk home for four nights. She had to have had money, being a woman that worked - but it was misguided for a clueless thief to think of the impossible. What a poor fella, assuming that a beautiful young woman did not have a knight of darkness by her side. The thief had escaped with his life, only for Mr. Bishop's priority for the life of his love. Saxa was dying, almost an entire pint of blood already decorating the cobbled street - but just as the thief had underestimated his prey, so too did Mr. Bishop. A casualty of the era, the English believed in the existence of vampires. Many of them hung garlic above their doors, and watchmen in the middle of the night kept their eyes peeled for blood suckers. Mr. Bishop had been burned halfway through saving his true love, a torch igniting the tails of his jacket and engulfing him almost immediately. He didn't have time to talk Saxa through her change, or whisk her off to a safe place - she was merely left to watch him die, the flames of her own pain engulfing her completely. It was three days later that she awoke in a hospital, her mind clearer than it had ever been. But there was a single downside, one that she didn't even know she had, she had forgotten Mr. Bishop entirely - and perhaps it would have been for the best, but he had survived. | ooc info  ☆ NAME BENJI ☆ AGE TWENTY FOUR ☆ OTHER CHARACTERS n/a ☆ TIMEZONE gmt ☆ HOW DID YOU FIND US? CTTW ☆ ANY OTHER INFO? I AM DISGUSTINGLY OPTIMISTIC ☆ SECRET PHRASE GARDEN BURGER |
MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS & THQ
