G E N E R A L
>> N a m e : Satsuriku Fujiwara
>> A l i a s : Kiyoko, Satsuriku Tenshi, Kiyoko Tenshi
>> A g e : 874
>> D o B : October 4th, 1227.
>> R a c e : Vampire
>> S e x u a l i t y : He could claim bisexuality, were he ever in a romantic relationship with anyone, but usually he just says Asexual, as most vampires tend to be despite their seductive qualities once they reach 500 years of age.
Satsuriku was born the youngest of three sons in a prominent family. Sent to live away from the larger branch of the Fujiwara clan, he was the least likely to be successful out of all of his family members. He didn't expect much for himself, but was desperate to make something of his life, despite all of the things working against him. He studied hard, from childhood through adulthood. He became less and less social, though lessons in etiquette drilled into him since birth ensured that he was polite despite this.
He studied everything he could, from the arts, to eastern medicines and sciences, to rock formations, to anatomy, to fighting, to weapons crafting, to anything else he could think of. His studies took him around the world, where he met his first and only wife. At the behest of her family, and the urging of his mother, he married her, she being able to at least keep up in conversation with him. She died in childbirth only a year later, after his twentieth birthday, leaving him to raise their only daughter, Nikkou, alone. He sheltered her from the world, and its cruelties for as long as possible. But dark times had befallen him, and he was on the run, being chased by a coven of vampires, all wanting his skills for their own.
He went from village to village, hiding himself and Nikkou from them, running at night and sleeping by day to keep the vampires off his trail. But, as Nikkou reached the age of eight, tragedy struck once more. Rumors spread in his wake, death came the the places he stayed, the vampires hunting him killing those he had been in contact with for information. And the people feared. So, though they could not hurt him, he was influential, they would strike where he was vulnerable. They kidnapped Nikkou, and sacrificed her to ward away the evil that had followed him.
It was the shock of her death that made him stop fighting the vampires, allowing himself to be turned. But when he came to, he slaughtered any and all that crossed his path. The destruction he'd left in his wake not only destroyed six major cities, but left the imprint of vampiric and demonic legends among the European/Roman Catholic population. But it didn't stop his grief. So he tucked himself away, like he always had, and kept a reminder with him at all times. The dagger that had killed her. And when he gained his power, accumulated his wealth, and faded from normal humanity nearly completely, he completed the reminder of it all. A small statue carving on a stone alter in a gazebo in his gardens, one of her likeness. His Nikkou carved to the likeness of her death, forever stone, the dagger that killed her plunged into her stone chest.
For the first few months after he had been turned, he had returned to his home and family, starving himself in hopes of denying the change that had befallen him. It wasn't long before he grew too thirsty to control himself any longer. The blood thrall caused him to slaughter the entire village, including his family. Only one girl survived because he had snapped out of it as he began to approach her. He brought her to safety, leaving her with an older couple he knew could not have any children, before hiding away, at last seeking out others of his kind to see what he could do with himself.
At first, he was assigned as a tactician, maneuvering troops and covens across the world to take down entire power structures within other covens and clans until his had become the ruling one. The revenants that had recruited him praised him and bid he fight as captain and commander of entire armies. He fought, slaughtering thousands of vampires and humans alike. Vampiric wars were always bloody, their masters manipulating many of them from the shadows of obscurity for reasons none who fought ever really understood. He began to make friends slowly among the ranks of those he led in and out of battle. And he watched as they died one by one, their faces forever burned into his mind.
Eventually he left the ranks of the wars among vampires who, he surmised, would forever squabble. He swore himself against violence whenever possible. Every face he remembered that he couldn't save, had killed, or he had cared about was made a statue in his manor's garden. He spent a good three centuries after that within old crypts and temples, studying all he could about the world, people, vampires, their powers, and any information he could glean about their origins. Eventually, though, he had to go into hiding, for he could not simply fade into obscurity. He found a novel way to disguise himself at the turn of 1803. He donned the guise of a woman, put all of the proper rumors in place of himself, that he was barren, a widow, and for nearly a century or so, he became Kiyoko Tenshi.
Eventually, with the turning of the century, the grief he'd been holding in became more than he could bare. He went underground, literally. And hasn't surfaced for a hundred years.
I M P O R T A N T | F L A S H B A C K S :
The screams had begun to reach their fever pitch as one by one, everyone realized that death would befall them this night. The quiet, reclusive son of their Lord watched all of them, lined up in a row, with blood-red eyes. The fires burned their houses, but they could not move, save for quaking in their terror. And he took pity on no one. He lunged with a speed no man could ever possess, and killed the first three people in range within the blink of an eye, bathing the shower of blood he'd left in his wake.
The next few were not so lucky. The children were devoured, their hearts ripped from their bodies as they died, agony etched on their faces forever. The women were drained dry in a matter of a few short moments, their lifeless forms crumpling to the ground as he discarded them one after another, and the men, though they fought, and futilely so, were ripped asunder, becoming no longer recognizable as humans. Only when he reached the last person did he stop. A small girl, eyes wide, frightened beyond anything a child should know, made him pause as she looked directly at him.
"Anata wa sore ga hitsuy?na baai tenshi wa, anata ga watashi no chi o motsu koto ga dekimasu. Watashi wa anata o tasukeru tame ni nani o suru tsumorida. Angel, you can have my blood if you need it. I'll do anything to help you."
And those word penetrated his brain, as well as the tiny voice that spoke them, so like his Nikkou. And when he gave pause, and looked around, seeing the carnage, the village destroyed, and this one, lone little girl, he collapsed to his knees and wept, grief, despair, and self-hatred threatening to consume him. She patted his back, and, with trembling hands, pressed her tiny little dolly into his arms. It went unspoken, but he kept the doll with him, clutched as tightly as he dared in his hands, and she led him out of the village. He took her to a nearby one, carrying her through the night, though he didn't speak. When she'd fallen asleep in the care of an elderly couple, he left to find shelter for the evening.
Satsuriku looked at Robb. The bitterness in his tone sounded empty, but it was almost as obvious that he was hurt by whatever it was going through his mind. He crossed his arms. "Regardless of my motives, you are receiving the help you so desperately need. Your ancestors were deeply loyal to me, and I to them. Yes, this affects my decisions today regarding you, and yes, this was the driving force behind me bringing you out of harm's way and into my home. Get over it. You know nothing about your family, and nothing about what they did, how they lived, how they died, what their goals in life and in death; and you know nothing about what they meant to me, nor how that bond still echoes across the span of nearly three centuries."
He sighed. "I may be doing this because of your ancestors, but it means little. You are in need, you are under my care, and you will receive what you need. I'll accept nothing less. Your cooperation is required for therapy to work, though. You need to want to be fixed. The process is slow and often painful. But, with your family's strength in mind, I believe that you'll be able to re-learn what you once took for granted." He turned, and strode out the door, running into Ray.
Anger simmered and bubbled up to the surface as he recalled what the hybrid had stated earlier. He hadn't reacted then, but he was going to now. And it was a quite a spectacular reaction. Can I have a quiet word in your library? Because, you might not tolerate behaviour problems, I don't tolerate daemons of any kind. Those were the words. His eyes narrowed, flashing from black to deep, bloody red in his anger. But, as he realized exactly what had been said, he began to laugh. It wasn't a humorous laugh, but one filled with cold disdain.
"Disgusting fool. Prejudiced, blind, self-righteous imbecile. You won't tolerate demons? What do you think you are, then? Hmm? Human? Ha!" He tossed his head and sneered. "Vampires were made when a demonic spirit with a fondness for the taste of blood and the need for tactile sensation was sucked into a nearly-dead woman's body, essentially changing her into what we are. And werewolves? A demonic ritual powered by the full moon and a wolf got in the way, biting the sacrifice, mutating him until he was what you also are. Both are demonic in origin, and both are demonic in nature. What does that make you? A demon.
"You are an idiot. You attack those under my care without provocation, simply for the blood you sense in their veins, the very same kind which made you. You won't tolerate demons? You are one." His eyes widened in a sarcastically innocent expression, eyelashes fluttering. "Will you kill yourself?" His gaze narrowed once more, and his face twisted with something even blacker than anger.
"You will get out of my home this instant. I won't allow anything less. Your prejudices are not welcome, especially when they are so narrow-minded, they include yourself. Get out. Take the books with you. I hope dearly someone bashes you over the head with them. It might knock some sense into your worthless pile of mush you call a brain. Take your belongings," He went straight into Ray's room and gathered up everything, the drugs, the armor, the knives, and put them in one of the old trunks from his closet, slammed it shut with as much force as he could without breaking it, and shoved it into Ray's arms.
"And get off of my property. Don't come back until you have some control over yourself, since you won't learn it here." He bodily picked the man up, and walked down the stairs, opened his door, and threw him, with all the strength his vampiric nature had amassed in eight centuries, sending him flying beyond the boundaries of his property. Then, only slightly ignoring Olita and the new gentleman, he strode out the the north, south, east, and west corners of his property and placed the blood-infused kanji wards down.
They weren't to keep Ray out, but his intentions, his prejudices, and his drug-induced madness away from his property. Until those things were eradicated, Ray would be unable to enter the estate. With that finished, he allowed himself to walk slowly back to his house to calm down the anger boiling beneath his skin. Finally, upon coming within view of his home, he'd mastered himself, and his eyes had faded to their normal black. Within sight of Olita and her friend, he clasped his hands behind his back.
"Please excuse my behavior. I'm afraid I can offer no excuses for it, but it won't happen again." He looked to the male. "If you wish, you may stay here for a time. I wouldn't mind, and I'm sure Olita will need some company, since the one she's chosen to hang around will be undergoing therapy soon. Would either of you like something to eat or drink? I can put some tea on and make some cakes."
Satsuriku looked at the mirror almost incredulously. But, his eyes did not deceive. The creature in the mirror before him stood slightly taller than he did, wearing dainty little black heels decorated with blue ribbon roses, and wore the undergarments most females wore in this era. White stockings complimented her white bloomers, trimmed with eyelet lace, and the drawstrings were of blue ribbon. She wore a chemise of the same color, the eyelet at the neckline decorated with tiny blue ribbon roses. To top off all of that, she wore no petticoat. But, of course, Madame De La Red�couverte was only getting started.
An hour of long arguments and torturous garments forced upon him was how long it took before Satsuriku would agree to anything the Lady had picked for him to wear. And afterward came the revelation that a corset was necessary or he would be shunned horribly as a woman. The next nasty little surprise came in the form of Makeup-ry, which he wanted no part in. It was one thing to paint your face for battles, or elaborate styles and symbols for ceremonies, but for every day use and to appear feminine wasn't something he was eager to try. Then came the long and arduous task of styling his hair into the acceptable fashions for his hair length. He refused to wear a wig on top of that, though. It would just be unbearably stifling. Jewelry was added, and a few other womanly accessories, including a small, jeweled hand-bag, and the look, Madame De La Red�couverte declared, was complete.
By the time she was finished, though, Satsuriku found himself again staring at the mirror in shock. "Shinjite inaidesu..."he murmured to himself, marveling at the transformation. The woman staring back at him couldn't possibly be. But she was. She had beautiful porcelain skin, thin, but highly arched eyebrows, artfully painted dark pink lips, thick, long lashes, and faintly rosy cheeks. Her silky black hair was piled atop her head in cascading ringlet curls, pinned in place by a small, miniature black hat decorated with blue ribbon roses, falling black lace ruffles and silver ribbons. Her dress was styled in such a way that it covered everything in a severe, yet young fashion. A beautiful sapphire broach was pinned into the collar of her dressed, and hanging from it were three tiers of blue ruffled silk and black lace covering it.
The dress itself was the same blue silk as the jabot, and featured puffy sleeves, a sort of cat's-eyes shaped slit at the bust-line, through which a white, ruffle-lined 'shirt' peeked out. The skirts were the typical bell-shaped, ruffle-lined things most women wore, but a blue satin over-skirt drape sat atop it. The dainty shoes were no longer quite visible, but is he lifted the petticoats just so, he could see the roses at their pointed tips. His hands were covered in black lace gloves, and, he thought, the crowning touch was the clip-on earrings of silver-lined sapphire droplets that peeked from behind the curtain of black hair. Overall, he was quite satisfied, and asked Madame De La Red�couverte for some information about the makeup, places he could by the special corsets, and jewelry, and left with a considerably lighter purse.
It had been a grueling experience, but he was happy with the end result. Vampires from all around would underestimate him, especially when he'd perfected this womanly persona, and he wouldn't have to deal with the nonsensical fighting most seemed to want to get themselves into. Of course, there was now the matter of propriety to consider. He would have to walk around with an escort or chaperon, deal with suitors, and stay in the company of women (most of whom were raised to be rather brainless, he hated to say), and assume the role of a woman, for all intents and purposes. He could pass for sixteen at the youngest, he knew, but he would already be considered both covet-able and rather old. And if news got around that he was 'barren', he would have less to deal with...
He narrowed his black eyes in thought as he walked by himself back to his house, unlocking the wrought-iron gates and pushing past the overflowing flower gardens. He made plans to spread the word around, find an appropriate chaperon, and generally become a bit of a hermit as soon as possible. Maybe he should make a reputation for himself as a grieving widow? It would give him a reason to wear a lot of black and not leave the house while he prepared for the coming ordeal of crafting a female exterior to work behind. He paused as he closed the door behind him, locking it out of habit. He would have to come up with a name for his female self. Satsuriku, while a unisex name, was far too conspicuous among the other vampires. He tapped a finger to his lip.
Purity, Innocence, and Angelic-ness. Kiyoko Tenshi. And he could simply add a cutesy middle name to tack onto it if asked. Yes. Perfect. He let loose a full-throated chuckle, and made his way inside.
>> L i k e s : He enjoys fine things, lace, delicate silks, china, artwork. He loves modesty, as one sees it very little in the modern world, and he likes femininity. He surrounds himself with it, as a reminder of how civilized a vampire can and should be. He never wants to fall into a blood rage. Ever. That, and he just likes expensive things. He has an especially soft spot for young vampires having a hard time. He knew what it was like without a guide when the world had turned to the dark one that vampires knew at night. He loves to compose music, being skilled in many instruments, but excelling in the violin, viola, cello, piano, and harpsichord.
>> D i s l i k e s : He hates that people would sell their bodies for money, like whores or prostitutes. Whatever you want to call them. He hates them. He also doesn't like arrogance that isn't backed up by true skill and power. He cannot stand to be around prejudice, nor can he withstand the grating feel of being around stupidity. He is quick to notice flaws, should he see them, and, should he not like the person involved, he will be equally as quick to say so. He also despises mind-readers. He feels they are the mind's equivalent of a rapist.
>> H o b b i e s : He enjoys cross-dressing. Obviously. And he, surprisingly, enjoys cooking very much. He doesn't need the food, but he enjoys the smells, he finds it all very calming. He plays many instruments, such as the violin, piano, guitar, flute, cello, harpsichord, and as such, he likes to compose music, but he's never published it.
>> P e r s o n a l i t y : He is quiet, socializing with an almost awkward old-world grace and nuance, and he is extremely polite. He is old-fashioned in his speech, mannerisms, and is somewhat aloof from others. He doesn't have a superiority complex, he just doesn't deem most in his league. He is keenly observant, and doesn't like surprises, having had his share of the worst of them. He has a quick, intelligent mind, having had vast centuries to collect his knowledge. He often speaks from his own experiences, and almost always remains neutral, calm, and passive. He has little to no tolerance for prejudice, though, and those who spout off how much they hate 'insert whatever here' because that 'insert thing here' is 'insert unintelligent insult here', he will, quiet literally, throw them away from him for their offence. He is somewhat uptight, though he hides it well, and is very prudish. He likes modesty. He loves delicate things, and he hates their opposites.
>> F a t h e r : Kuroshi, 69, deceased.
>> M o t h e r : Shiroukiyo, 47, deceased.
>> S i b l i n g s : Ketsuzen, 22, deceased. Ainoshi, 21, deceased.
>> O f f s p r i n g : A daughter named Nikkou, 8, deceased.
P H Y S I C A L
>> H e i g h t : 5'3"
>> W e i g h t : 116 lbs
>> C l o t h i n g : Generally he cross dresses in Lolita. The colors are generally blue, black and white, in many different fabrics, though silk, linen, Egyptian cotton, satin, and velvet are personal favourites. Mary-Janes, platformed or not, are typical footwear, and he wears lace gloves to hide has man-hands.
>> A p p e a r a n c e : His hair is black, and, when left alone, goes down past his waist in light waves. He does style it, generally with curls, but occasionally, he does braid it. It's very silky to the touch, because he takes very good care of it. He has black eyes, which are rather narrow, but he uses makeup and even false lashes to make their appearance larger. And, of course, he has the perfect vampire porcelain skin, in that particular shade, too.
B A C K G R O U N D
>> B i r t h p l a c e : Okusangai mountain.
>> R e s i d e n c e : A manor within a forest. Away from people. But he visits towns every once in a while.
>> P e t (s) : None.
> A f f l i c t i o n (s) : Obviously, sensitivity to sunlight, though he has built up a tolerance, he still goes around with a parasol if needed.
>> A b i l i t i e s : Shadow Mastery. The ability to create elaborate illusions, including hide or 'create' things by detracting light or manipulating shadows.
>> O t h e r : Languages he knows are:
+ Japanese (Speaks mostly in Keiga)
+ Traditional Chinese