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Kate Laurence
Topic Started: Jun 10 2010, 11:28 PM (15 Views)
Kate Laurence

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katealicelaurence
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♦♦ name. I currently go by Kate Laurence.
♦♦ nicknames. I have no time for nicknames.
♦♦ age. 14. But not really.
♦♦ gender. Female.
♦♦ vampire/human. Vampire.
♦♦ birth date. October 17.
♦♦ birth place. London, England.

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♦♦ mother. Gloria, deceased.
♦♦ father. Francis, deceased.
♦♦ brothers. Peter, deceased.
♦♦ sisters. none.
♦♦ others. December, might-as-well-be sister.

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♦♦ eyes. Blue.
♦♦ hair. Brown.
♦♦ skin tone. Pale.
♦♦ body type. Very small, frail.
♦♦ piercings. None.
♦♦ tattoos. None.
♦♦ other. Freckles.
♦♦ playby. Alexis Bledel.

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likes.
♦♦ . America
♦♦ . My Sister, D
♦♦ . Coming up with a new name.
♦♦ . Murder.
♦♦ . Kittens
♦♦ . Being treated like an adult
♦♦ . Reading
♦♦ . Shakespeare
♦♦ . Sunsets
♦♦ . Watching people

dislikes.
♦♦ . The Government
♦♦ . Human Leaders
♦♦ . Humans
♦♦ . The Sunlight Protection Force
♦♦ . My appearance
♦♦ . Covering up murders
♦♦ . Hunger
♦♦ . Vampire Movies
♦♦ . Wearing disguises
♦♦ . Being treated like a child

wants.
♦♦ . To appear older
♦♦ . To destroy the Sunlight Protection Force
♦♦ . To make a statement by killing someone important
♦♦ . To earn a degree in everything
♦♦ . To be able to go in the sun for longer periods of time

fears.
♦♦ . Time
♦♦ . Failing
♦♦ . Losing companionship
♦♦ . Humans looking older, so I look younger
♦♦ . Death.

habits.
♦♦ . Keeping a hit list of humans I dislike
♦♦ . Crossing people off this hit list
♦♦ . Attempting to look older
♦♦ . Stalking about
♦♦ . Pretending to be lost
♦♦ . Pretending to be hurt
♦♦ . Shoplifting
♦♦ . Thinking about the past

strengths.
♦♦ . Luring prey
♦♦ . Recruiting vampires against humans
♦♦ . Young appearance
♦♦ . Faking innocence

weaknesses.
♦♦ . Young appearance
♦♦ . Memories
♦♦ . Friendship
♦♦ . Books

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When I was born is nothing important. I am no significant historical figure. I was not one of Jack the Ripper’s whores, nor was I ever burned at a stake or sent to Madam Guillotine. I was simply an unhappy girl who had no particular reason to be unhappy.

It was a long time ago, long before any of you who may be reading this were even thought of. Long before your great-grandfather was drunkenly conceived.

I lived in London, my family was noble. This was back when that was a very, very big deal. Back when The United States was a handful of colonies.

I was angry at my parents. It’s been so long that I don’t quite remember why. I believe it had something to do with an argument my brother and I had. They had taken his side, as per usual. I stormed out of the house, I ran, and I didn’t look back. It seems silly now, to take such drastic measures over something like that. It was a grand crisis at the time, truly it was. I never wanted to see them again.

I don’t know who attacked me. All I know is that I cried and cursed my parents in the park, taking my frustrations out by kicking at the blades of grass and tugging the ribbons out of my hair. Soon my face was in the grass, my feet knocked out from under me.

After that I remember everything going black and the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. I woke to find the sun barely rising, and the grass coated with blood. I never saw who it was. I walked home.

I was greeted with shrieks from my mother and a bit of fussing for a moment until my fangs were discovered. More shrieks.

Overwhelmed, I ran again, only to find that the sun was eating away at my skin after about a half hour. I hid. I don’t remember where. I just wanted the day to be over, and for my parents to stop with their screaming. I wasn’t sure why the fangs were there, but there had to be a more rational way to approach the situation.

Unfortunately when night fell and I returned home once again, I was chased out by my father and several servants. My family wanted nothing to do with me. Heartbroken, I ran again.

I ran until I was in a place where no one knew me. A kind family gave me clothes and a place to sleep after I sobbed through an explanation of why I was there and why I looked like I did, the blood on my clothes. Their food did nothing to nourish me, however, and I found myself growing more and more hungry. It had been a week or so before I killed their son and drank his blood. It was then that I realized what exactly had happened to me.

I was angry about the attack. Angry at my parents for making me run away, angry at my brother for starting the fight that lead to all this. I was simply angry at everyone. As the years passed my body remained the same and I continued to be treated as a child. No one took me seriously.

So I killed them all. I moved from town to town, killing, eating, being run out of town. After a few decades I began to accept my fate, and learned to feed from my prey without killing them. It was quite the hassle, really, covering up the murders and being run out of town.

Not that I don’t still kill people. But believe me, they all deserve it. I resorted to seduction or sympathy to get unsuspecting humans close enough to be a snack.

While moving around Europe, I met a French girl, also a vampire. Her story of being turned much more horrific than my own. We agreed to travel together for a while, and soon grew fond of each other, and a while turned into years upon years. We still travel together, changing our names every few decades. She’s the closest thing to family I have. She now goes by the name of December.

We traveled for ages and after seeing most of Europe we made our way over to America, where we still reside, though December doesn’t like it as much as France. It’s much easier to hide out here and change identities every so often, though.

After a while I could not rely on seduction as a means to get my pray, as it’s become strange and illegal for older men to be interested in girls who appear to be fourteen. This is perhaps the most frustrating part of my immortality. December was turned when she was seventeen, and does not look as young, making things far easier for her.

For now we reside in New York, where we work with fellow vampires to take down the Sunlight Protection Force, and make sure that our kind does not become extinct because of the human’s need to kill things that they don’t understand.

We could be a great, invaluable asset to the human race, but it seems they do not desire our wisdom. They simply want us dead.

They are messing with the wrong supernatural beings.


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