Cidrae
Smol and soft
Lucille Mondt
Name: Lucille Mondt
Born: 1905
Sired: 1922
Appears: 17
Place of Birth: Bordeaux, France
Clan: Camarilla
Sect: Toreador
Species: Vampire
Haven: A small ‘studio’ not far from Elysium - although to call it a ‘studio’ might be a stretch
Derangements:
Both arms badly burned, up to her elbows - causes her to be highly anxious if ever having to take off her gloves. Obsesses over her looks - takes her hours of painting her face to feel comfortable enough to leave home.
Appearance:
Lucille was always a pale girl, but through Embrace she’s turned even more so, although very little else about her appearance has changed - visible to bare eye at least. She appears even younger than her age back when she was still breathing, perhaps looking more like a fifteen-year-old with a boyish figure with very little hips and some childish roundness on her cheeks still left, despite her efforts to cover all this with her clothing.
Most of the days, Lucille dresses in different clothes each day, or at least tries to mix her old wardrobe in new ways, in a way that would get most looks on her. Attention is something she both hates and loves, it makes her anxious and so does lack of attention. Her style is slightly gothic - of course - with some 1920’s twist, and she loves big headpieces, dark colours and - ironically - crosses. Lucille’s own hair is fairly thin, and it falls down to the small of her back in grayish blonde colour, but it’s rarely left like that. All of her clothes are very covering, especially the top half, being careful to never remove her gloves that hide her badly burned and scarred arms. There’s hardly any flesh left in neither of her little- or ring fingers, and the rest are covered in deep scarring that reaches her elbows. She’s very conscious of her arms, and so rarely touches others either - if not for feeding, of course. That also makes her arms weaker, so if she had to wrestle anyone, she would most likely lose.
As for her face, Lucille might not look all that special, with the roundness around her cheeks and naturally pouty lips, but she does her best to improve her looks by makeup. Her eyes are slightly far from each other, coloured light brown and they look at others with what seems honest curiosity, like she would look at a new, interesting piece of art. Her nose is small, pointy, and there’s a hint of freckles still covering it, despite her not seeing very much sun lately - dressing as covered up as she does, in dark clothes, is very uncomfortable afterall.
Disciplines:
- Heightened Senses
- Aura Perception
- The Spirit’s Touch
- Alacrity
- Swiftness
- Awe
History:
Lucille grew up in Bordeaux, in southwestern France, a port city known for its wines. Although for her, it’s not the wines that she remembers from her childhood, it’s the busy streets and scent of the sea - scent of freedom. Her family was a happy one, even if her parents were often busy and took Lucille with them to work so she didn’t have to stay home alone. Her father was a sailor, and rarely home, but when he was it meant big celebrations for them all. From his travels he would always bring little trinkets and beautiful things that Lucille would stash in her room, in a small ‘treasure chest’ that she would keep in her afterlife too. Times when her father was at seas were tough, even if Lucille’s mother worked at a small gallery in the city. It became the little girl’s another home, as she often followed her mother there and helped around, listened to the critics and artists and often giving her honest - sometimes brutally honest - opinions on their pieces.
But she was loved, very much so, and grew up a loving young woman. Her love for art grew too, she even took up to paint herself, even if they weren’t masterpieces by any chance, just something that made her happy. Sometimes Lucille’s pieces were even hanged at the gallery - behind another name, of course, she was too shy to let anyone know of her hobby. One day, when she turned sixteen she begged her parents to let her join her father on his ship and travel to England. There would be so many opportunities, Lucille begged, she would have her own little gallery there, and perhaps one day she would hang there her own paintings too. It took some while before they agreed, and the day came when she would leave Bordeaux and France for good. The last time she saw her mother they hugged, she kissed Lucille’s face and told her to come back soon. Lucille said she would come back as a star, but her mother shook her head and smiled. No, to her, she was already one.
It’s not a long way by sea, from France to England, but they got unlucky. A group of criminals had heard of a shipment full of expensive fabrics travelling this way, and they took over the ship. Most of the crew they killed, some they threw over the edge and into the sea, but the only girl they kept. Who would know about it? Besides, a rape was nothing compared to robbing an entire ship and killing the crew. They took turns, that night, and the next morning they were in England, found a port where people wouldn’t find them before the ship would be clean of anything of worth - not including the little French girl that sat broken and with her hands tied to the mast. She had no strength to scream when they sat the ship on fire and left her there, but when the fire crept closer, Lucille felt the life still in her and started struggling. Even when the flames were already licking her arms she kept fighting on, and perhaps in the end it was the flames that did the work for her, burned the ropes around her wrists and let her free, but she was in excruciating pain once more. These burns would definitely kill her, were her last thoughts before passing out on the wet sand by the burning ship.
When she next woke up, she felt no pain and thought she had gone to heaven. A warm, soft bed, in a room that smelled nice. She had been bathed too, and her arms were covered with black silk gloves that were in contrast to the whiteness of the room and her skin. Beside her bed sat a man with a sad smile on her face, half of her face badly burned and scarred like her arms would be in future, and nodded at her.
“Good morning, childe.”
In the coming days and weeks Lucille would learn about her new life, she would face the need to feed, feel the new life in her body and both embrace it and hate it, with every inch of her being. What once had been her little quirks turned stronger when time went on, when months became years, years became decades and decades started closing to her first century. It took her years to learn to love this new her, like she had been reborn into the extreme version of Lucille Mondt, a little girl who worked at her mother’s gallery. This monster bathed in young girls’ blood to make her skin tighter - didn’t work, was a total waste of vitae in Lucille’s opinion - and dressed in outfits that would’ve made the past Lucille laughing in tears.
The first years since her embrace, she found out that her father had managed to survive the ship and kept travelling between England and France on another ship. At first she had been trying to find the men who had taken advantage of her on the ship, but eventually found it more important to write a letter to her family, the most difficult one in her life, telling them that she was alive, and well, but couldn’t come home. They replied and accepted that, but never understood, and she never told them, and never saw them again, because they would’ve seen the difference, and she didn’t want to risk hurting them by accident.
When time went on and Lucille’s family had passed, when each of the humans she had once known had passed, she realised that there was no one on earth except her sire that had met her alive. It gave her freedom to truly begin this new life, in a small studio nearby the safehaven of Elysium where she surrounded herself in weirdest of paintings. Some part of her had died when she had realised that she could never paint again, with her hands being as they were, and perhaps that pushed her further down her insanity. People who could create such things were gods in her eyes, and whenever she would get to feed on a true artist it would be a delight beyond anything else.
Some things I have thought out for her apartment. A clutter of everything really!
Notes:
- She takes liking to animals - all animals - especially birds and has huge cages filled with colourful budgies and other small parrots at her studio.
- Doesn’t carry weapons, but her lipstick and powder both contain poison that makes humans lethargic for a short while, hence making it easier for her to feed on them without struggle.
- She’s very much into other sorts of poison too, and might be interested in finding a way to make something that could be used in other vampires as well.
- Even grabbing her hands too tight might cause her pain enough to make it difficult for her to act.
- There’s a hint of French accent still in her speech, one she’s very proud of, even if she hasn’t been to France since she left it in her life.
- Even though she doesn’t really drink alcohol, she loves to go to the bars not just to hunt, but to dance. While dancing, she forgets about her worries, even if she might not be that great at it.
- She finds women more aesthetically pleasing, and has a soft spot for dark haired girls - they are much more likely to have her enraptured than anyone else.
I hope this is alright! Please let me know if there's -anything- I should change.
