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16:16, 2nd May 2024 (GMT+0)

Seraphine


Seraphine


Full Name: Seraphine
Nickname/Alias: Sera
Age: 322
Age apparent: a dewy 22
Gender: female
Sexuality: depends on the moment
Occupation: Seraphine is the community liaison for the Bureau of Services for Blind Persons, the bureau providing diagnostic evaluations, vocational counseling, and training in skills of blindness at no cost. Organizing fundraisers and charity events, she also chairs the Michigan Commission for the Blind's Transition Services that helps students age 14 and over to successfully make the transition from high school to post-secondary education or employment. The Bureau provides diagnostic evaluations, vocational counseling, and training in skills of blindness at no cost. She also volunteers and donates regularly to the Braille and Talking Book Library
Languages: English, French, French Creole and some German
Species: Human Servant

THEN




Appearance



It is not the symmetrical beauty of her face that first draws the attention, nor the way that ebon waves frame the delicate line of her jaw. It is the liquid eyes, the color of melted chocolate that seem to attract it first. Clear and bright, they don't seem to track just right, focus just a shade or two of a second off focus. It is then you realize that they are sightless, the only vision gained is the mysteries within and beyond the veil in worlds that escape the mundane. Then you see the perfection of high cheekbones, piquant pointed chin and lush, kissable mouth in a heart shaped face. There is an innocence in that look, a odd sense that despite the harshness of her past, nothing can shake her belief that all will be well eventually.

From there you go to a slender body, encased in styles not really old but all woman, materials that cling to every curve and hint at the pleasures just underneath the expensive lines. In well known places, home and work and her Master's inner sanctum, Seraphine moves with a graceful purpose, arms free and swinging with a boundless energy. Out in the world, one hand grasps the white and red cane that seems to clear a path to a destination only she knows, expression open and friendly, that wide eyed wonder at sights only she can see, wonders that those who rely so much on one sense miss.

NOW




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Height: 5' and a tiny fraction of an inch
Weight: 115
Eye Color: brown
Hair color: black
Hair Style: loose waves past the shoulders
Complexion: mocha
Body shape: lithe but curved in all the right places
Clothing: floaty and feminine. Seraphine's style is all woman, no mistaking her for a man. Sheer materials and vintage lace, designers like Nataya and Sue Wong, she is a vision in silk and tulle, layered skirts that harken back to a bygone era. Even with jeans or skirts, tops hint at the curves beneath.
Character Model: Kerry Washington




Personality


At first meeting, Seraphine seems to look at the world with the simplistic awe of a child, seeing the infinite possibilities in the smallest of designs. But it is more than that. She is standing between worlds, the inner maze of self and knowledge her gifts give her to that shadowy place beyond the veil of a caulbearer. She seems fae, some comments and remarks with meaning that can help the listener if they would but heed the warning.

She greets all with a kind word and a sweet smile, that very inquisitive look giving those who interact with her the feeling that she is truly interesting in what they have to say, a friendly ear when needed and a shoulder to cry on should the demand arise. It is a rare moment when that face hardens into anger but when it does, it is the force of her belief that can fell all that stand against her. If she even suspects that those under her protection or care are in danger, she will risk all to protect them. This is doubly true for the man who holds her heart and she will protect him with her own life if necessary.



~~~~~~~~~~


Sexual Likes: Sex and sensuality, things that encompass all senses honed from years of compensating for the lack of vision, blood and teeth, bondage and torment
Sexual Dislikes:Rushing things unless the circumstances are titillating, bathroom play, the S&M of BDSM
Sexual Strengths: Bonded to a Master vampire, Seraphine can go for a very very very long time and deny release till it reaches critical levels. total submission to her master.
Sexual Weaknesses: Her Master's whims and fangs/blood. She can rarely deny his wishes and has no urge to.

Merits: Devoted to furthering the rights of those with disabilities, honest and trusting to the point of being a bit naive (which has lead to the ferocious safeguarding by her Master), trust in her own abilities and gifts.

Flaws: Devotion to her Master has made her blind in some ways to the way he runs business and other interests and she defends him just as vehemently as he protects her, expects others to extend the same courtesies as she does and is often shocked when she gets burned.




History


Born Seraphine Batailler on the island of Hispaniola in 1692, in the French colony Saint-Domingue, life didn't start in a soft bed with sheets of fine cloth, it was in the humid heat of the slave cabins that Sera gave her first screaming wail, a caulbearer. Her mother, Lucine was a house slave on the Haber de Venture Planatation, one of many that served the Viard family on the massive agricultural holding under the protection of the French king. While the parentage had been put down as Lucine and one of the bucks there working the fields in the slave log books kept by the overseer, her paler shade of mocha skin and fine features marked her as probable offspring of either the Viard head of household or one of the randy sons always wandering the fields and slave quarters looking for a bit of carnal fun. That didn't endear Lucine to Madame Viard and the girl soon found herself picking and sorting in the hot sun instead of mundane chores and sweeping in the much cooler main house. Still, the determined young woman was devoted to her little one and more often than not, Lucine had Seraphine tied to her chest while toiling side by side with the rest of the field hands. That small babe grew into a precocious toddler, often playing amongst the lines of plants while her mother worked or sitting with grandmere Manon in the slave cabins when the old woman had her time of rest from the duties of housekeeper for the stern lady of the plantation. Life was idyllic from a three year olds limited perspective, till one particularly hot spell when dozens of the slaves contracted the 'ague' as Manon called it. More like scarlet fever, it devastated production on the plantation and killed over half that fell victim to it. Lucine perished in the first wave and Seraphine clung to life through two long weeks. Only Manon's continual care brought the tiny girl back from the edge of worlds and when she finally awoke from that coma like sleep, pretty brown eyes saw nothing but darkness.

But children are fluid and they learn to adapt where adults often whither and like a flower, Seraphine found a way to blossom where she had been planted. More careful and always with Manon at her side, pathways were memorized, simple tasks like dressing and eating relearned with new constraints in place. Years passed and Seraphine was kept at the main house, helping Manon with remarkable skill and playing with the youngest children of the Viard family, her odd games and strange invisible playmates only drawing the occasional glance or two. Except for Grandmere Manon. The old slave had a growing suspicion about her granddaughter, one that crystallized at a chance remark the child made while shelling peas and listening in on adult conversation. Marie had lamented the possible sale of her and her family the coming spring, the oldest Viard son's interest driving his wife to push for their removal. It was then that Seraphine piped up, in a sing song voice telling Marie that the lady Celine would not be alive then so not to worry. Silence filled the space and grandmere hushed her granddaughter, letting the matter drop until that which was foretold came to fruition, Celine's death while riding the beach with her husband.

Grandmere Manon pulled the child out the very next day, into the depths of the jungle to the soft sands of the tropical beach where the lady had perished. Seraphine had spent the walk chattering till they reached the shore, sound of waves welcome since a swim was part of the outing as a rule. But there was no frolicking in the water, instead Manon sat the child in the sand, soft voice and words something Seraphine hand never forgotten. "Cher, little one you were born with the veil. I was there, knew you might be like old Manon able to see through it where the rest remain as ignorant as the man who sits at the head of the Viard table. But seein' scares some. You got to keep it inside, tell just Grandmere if need be. I don't want harm to come to you if the ignorant find it out. They gonna either ask for you to see for them or try to take the breath from you cause of fear. Some don't wanna know what life got in store. Some don't wanna know what lies out there that they can't see for themselves and if it ain't good they gonna blame the messenger."

It hadn't made sense at first, the purity of childhood making a reference of any ill will unfathomable to the young girl. But grandmere was family and you obeyed so Seraphine told no one of dreams and visions, feelings that seemed to expand around her at times with little warning, told no one but Manon. The old woman did what needed to be done, warned those in danger when it mattered, gave good news when it came and hid the evil in some hearts to keep the both of them safe. And Seraphine matured, the beauty promised since childhood blossoming till the girl became a stunning woman, a wild creature who was at home wandering the humid depths of the island and as companion to the now grown children of the Viard family. The youngest daughter had found a fast friendship when they were small and since her lack of sight made her basically useless out in the fields, Seraphine was ladies maid and confidante. Still, Manon lingered at the edges of her granddaughters world, keeping her from the male visitors lascivious eyes, gentry having no qualms about taking what the delicate girl had to offer by force where the slaves treated Seraphine with a wary respect. Her abilities had grown with adolescence to womanhood and few in the quarters didn't know of the little mulatto's second sight. To violate the girl meant possible to draw down evil on themselves.

Maybe it was evil that came to the island one dark, foggy night. Offshore, a ship ran aground on the sharp reef, tearing through the hull like paper and sending the three mast'er into the depths of the ocean, many perishing in that watery lady's arms. Cargo bounced on the waves, some washing ashore, even a few of the crew lay panting on the sand. That was the dream, death coming on swift feet and the slowly sinking ship disappearing into the depths of the Caribbean that brought Seraphine upright from a sound sleep. A call, a need unshakable drew the petite miss out of the safety of the cabin and down to the water's edge on a pathway so well trod she knew each turn and root. But this time her foot caught, sending her down with hands outstretched to stop the headlong fall, misgivings rising as realization dawned. Too late, it was too late and what lay under her palms was slowly cooling and slick, smelling of salt and sea with a touch of copper just underneath. Crying out, Seraphine pushed up and tried to go around what deep down she knew was a human form, cold as death laid claim. Again and again, she fell, touching broken, rough hewn wood and other corpses, smell of blood getting stronger and stronger till tears welled up as fear grew. Blind and alone, trapped in a nightmare and near panic as escape seemed to elude her.

Warm hands gripped shoulders bared by her muslin nightdress, softly accented French begged her to calm down, promised escape if she would just let him help. The touch electric, one certainty for the seer crouched on her knees in the wet sand, this one meant her no harm. A nod and those hands pulled her up and lead her away to where the water still pounded against the shore but only the scent of the ocean was carried by the breeze. A fatal meeting, coming to pass of perhaps what fate had in store for both. The stranger lead her back to the plantation, back to Manon and the cabin they shared with unerring accuracy. The brush of lips on Seraphine's forehead and he was gone after urging her back inside. That was the beginning

Klaus found haven in the daylight house among the caves along the shorelines, empty limestone tunnels that went deep enough to discourage exploration and high enough that threat of flooding was null. Blood was easy enough, slaves populated the whole expanse of Hispaniola and the majority browbeaten enough to be fairly weakminded. The shipwreck was soon forgotten, the waters and brigands who sailed them made it fairly unremarkable, assumption that they were yet another ship fallen victim to pirates a given.

The girl though, that vision in white from the first night on the beach, the image of her lingered after he went to ground, scent clinging to the lace at his cuffs till nothing occupied his mind save that delectable taste of her silky skin. After dark, night after night, fully fed and content, Klaus lingered close to those tiny slave quarters, catching glimpses of Seraphine through warped glass when the harridan of a relative relaxed her guard or shadowing the blind woman on a nightly excursions. Even not knowing her name, she captivated his senses, the way she moved, the peaceful expression that never seemed to fade. Klaus couldn’t let go, couldn’t seem to move forward, find another berth and move to richer waters.  It took no more than a day or two to force the right help and garner fresh clothing, pristine white and elegant brocade in the richest of materials and shades. A carriage to complete the image thanks to a local farrier with dim servants and Klaus had entrance to the Haber de Venture Plantation as visiting minor nobility, French flawless and manners impeccable. Rolling staff and family took little and the vampire was a fixture within a week of being driven in by the storm. The next glimpse of his little treasure across a table in the main house, the servants called to extra duty because of such a privileged guest. So close, a pile of vibrant blooms on the hall banquet as with those eyes fixed on a point only she could see, her nimble fingers put one after the other into a tall vase.

Sera had not forgotten that moment on the beach, the touch something nearly physical with the caress of the stranger’s hands and mouth in what had seemed at the time the most innocent of exchanges. Dreams, disjointed sometimes, others it was specific, that voice again, whispering in her ear, hands on the curves of her body. So real and Seraphine had a hard time focusing as if sensing the vampire close at hand.  At times it was nearly a physical sensation of eyes on her as she sat near the fire at night or when she managed to slip Manon’s watchful eyes to walk on the beach after the rest of the staff had slipped off to bed. It was a restlessness fueled by fantasy, image after image of what face might have been attached to the voice, what body to that gentle hand.

It was complete surprise that one night while others prepared dinner the self same voice drifted in from the terrace. Seraphine had stilled in surprise, but nothing prepared her for the sense of the man so close she could smell the soap on him, the cologne tickling her nose.  Claudine, the second daughter of the house had led him in, tone a mix of flirtation and irritation as she responded to that male voice that asked for the name of the pretty girl arranging flowers by the wide open door.
Seraphine . Klaus could not hide the smile. Of course, no ordinary name for this creature, no this one carrying the sobriquet of an angel and despite convention he introduced himself,  Christophe-Louis de Neufville, duc de Villeroy, a name remembered from some captured ship’s roster.  Capturing that free hand, lips brushed it.

Seraphine startled, both from the introduction and the touch of another knocked the vase over, sending water splashing onto the spotless tile floor. Claudine reacted with what smacked of jealous fury, snapping her fan closed and directing the ivory spine towards Sera’s knuckles.

 His hand appeared, blocking the blow with a crushing grip on the girls fingers, two words stilling both women, ‘Never again’. Voice cold, Klaus send Claudine to the dining room like a pet dog, turn of her head revealing the twin marks at the base of her throat that had been hidden by a high lace collar.  Once left alone, he turned Sera’s wrist over, letting his mouth linger on the fluttering beat of her heart just under the skin, inhale filling senses with her smell, some soap that was heavy with jasmine, sweet musk of the woman beneath and that added hit of fear. Like heaven.  Klaus shuddered as teeth slide along silken flesh but didn’t break the surface, urges rising that the man inside struggled to contain as eyes closed. How easy would it be, to take what he wanted from this singular soul, right here in the hallway with the family so fully under his sway they wouldn’t say a word. The impulse was there, drive to pull those heavy skirts up to delve underneath, find the sumptuous flesh  and capture it as surely as he had the Viard’s.

The second that mouth touched the tender skin of her wrist, Sera froze. Never had a male taken such liberties and it took her breath away. Horrified by her own reaction, she lay under Klaus’ grip like a frightened bird, pulse pounding as with a startled tremor pictures flooded her mind almost too fast to see them, images of limbs entwined, caramel of her own skin and the sun washed gold of a man’s hard body. The reaction was unbidden, innocent yet carnal as arousal surrounded them with the sweetest of tangs, her own desire betraying her in an instant. Sera tried to jerk free but only succeeded in sending the vase crashing to the floor as her knees gave way. This was dream made real, gift startling with the accuracy as the graze of that firm mouth on her skin brought a darkness up from within. Desire, lust, so many names but like in that vision she fell like a ripe plum into a devil’s embrace.

Klaus caught her on the way down, arms trapping the lush body, finding warmth and hair like silk tangled in his hands. This time his mouth found the pulse just below the ear, pressing lightly before hissing a promise against that fluttering beat,  Au calme tout-petit, tu es à moi. Hush little one you are mine. The longing only grew more intense as the gentle weight seemed to fit perfectly in his grip, petite and yet perfectly formed, curves in all the right places. Every iota of control summoned to allow his arms to relax and not pull Seraphine closer when nothing seemed right save laying her out on the marble floor and removing every scrap of fabric with a teasing slowness.  Klaus didn’t need to breathe but he found himself exhaling sharply as reluctantly he let her go.

Could you feel trapped when nothing seemed to motivate to leave what seemed like a home once seen through a mist and now found to be real? Seraphine hadn’t really expected him to catch her, but the moment those arms wrapped around her, the thought of escape seemed to evaporate like very moral instilled by her grandmere Manon. Christophe’s touch made skin enflame, body tightening down low, in places that had never heated so fast in her short life. Her head fell back as that mouth descended, as if instinct drove the woman, a knowing of what he was and what lay ahead. Living in darkness each sensation tripled, mouth warm on her neck, those whispered words making the once lax fingers  dig into the silken brocade of the jacket under which hard muscle flexed as inexorably the man pulled her closer.  Every inch of him seemed hewn from stone, no softness like the Viard men but the rock hard muscle of a life of harsh conditions and brutality. With the touch came a painful rain of shadowy pictures, the other side of the creature who held her, the ruthless killer who inhuman deeds couldn’t be hidden from one who’s sight expanded past the real world on either side of time. The end result, a terrified Seraphine scrambling backwards on hands and a skirt covered bottom, not realizing she’d found the vase in its disassembled state.   Sharpness on unprotected palms and a spill of crimson on the right side as the glass bit deep, making her cry out and halt her retreat.

Desire too thick to wade through turned to horror, making the delectable little woman even more attractive, pulse of the heart like thunder as she skittered away on the floor. Then the aroma of copper, sweetness of blood as it seeped from the cuts and Klaus was on her, eyes bleeding out till blue shone bright, pupil gone as blood lust rose to blanket sexual need. No effort needed to bring Seraphine’s slight form out of the glass and into his embrace once again, wrists gripped in one hand while the other yanked her firmly into him, pinning her savagely with no hope of fighting free. Releasing the uninjured hand, Klaus picked the first shard out of her flesh, sucking it clean and leaving lips reddened with blood. Three other pieces followed before he raised her palm up and finished the job with sensual laps of what many a female could attest to was a very talented tongue as he pulled her tighter with an arm around her.

The fingers at the small of her back moved upward, diving into the soft waves of ebon hair and yanking Seraphine’s head back, exposing the jugular till the throbbing vein drew taut and he could see every beat of her heart.  Klaus’ dark head dropped and he let fangs just lay there, fighting for composure while every fiber of his being screamed at him to rend fabric from those soft curves and sink into her in every way possible.

She’d held her hands up, palms outstretched to block though Seraphine couldn’t see the attack coming till her body was airborne, landing against Klaus so hard the breath was knocked from her. Dizziness as the tender grip turned relentless, pressing her closer and eliminating any hope of escape. The sting of the glass disappeared as Klaus removed them one at a time, then the air in her lungs froze as the sensation of him licking the cuts made the tremor in her body increase threefold.  Her gift lay open, juxtaposition of future and now, fear and intense longing tearing at her, shredding reason and sense and laying open salacious needs unknown and buried till this second.  Dread lay there but so did a rising a hunger, a want for Klaus to do what even now bombarded her inner eye with lascivious flashes of skin and sex.

Shuddering, the unthinkable happened, feeling overriding self-preservation as the last reserve of her own control fell away. Seraphine relaxed, tense muscles softened as the hand on his chest trying to push him away traveled up to plunge into the hair at Klaus’ nape. A whimper as lips parted, ‘No, please..’ Was it begging for mercy or a simple request to not take her like this.

It’s like the movement traveled from her to him, that shudder passing to shake his own body as the painful grip lessened, gentleness as Klaus released the injured hand to gather Seraphine closer.  Threatening posture fading, sensuality taking over as the clenched fingers in soft curls relaxed to let her neck unbend and allow for lips and fangs to drag over that silken expanse. ‘Mon cœur, ma vie, mon sang. Tu es à moi.’ The growl vibrated along her skin as Klaus finally chained the monster inside down, eyes fading back to a soft blue as humanity returned.  He stood, keeping her still till he could gently place her on her feet.  Combing that thick mass of hair back into some semblance of order, a flick of the wrist found a handkerchief being tied around the wounds on her palm then without warning he kissed her, quick exploration that begged for more then released her with a single entreaty.  “Come to the beach tonight.”

And she did, much to Manon's dismay. The old woman did her best to dissuade the girl but the child was determined, swearing it was more than just the power of the monster that held her under it's spell. Seraphine had heeded the god given gifts for a long time and never once had she questioned the veracity. This man, no matter what flavor was her future. So when dusk fell, Grandmere's pleading fell on deaf ears. Seraphine melted into the night, following a path well worn since her childhood.


 Klaus/Christophe waited, bare chested and immune to the chill off the water. Arms crossed, stance more suited to the deck of a ship he watched Seraphine approach, catching her before she stepped too far onto the sand. "Mine." In English this time, strong arms swept her up, carrying her to where the fine coverlets from the house lay spread out, gleaming white in the moonlight. He bestowed the first mark there, within yards of the surf and in the warm breezes of the Caribbean night and took her innocence as well. It was a moment that would never be forgotten, more than one barrier being torn asunder as Sera became a woman and a mark into being the servant of a man who knew no softness, no mercy for any save herself.

That was the hardest part of those first few weeks, coming to terms with what Klaus/Christophe was. Most amusing part had nothing to do with being a vampire, but the death and destruction wrought by his hand on land and at sea with his buccaneering ways. It haunted her dreams at times but after the second mark, somehow Christophe seemed to be there, in her nightmares, chasing away the shadows and filling the void with warmth and a passion that seemed to know no bounds. Manon tried in vain to stop her granddaughter from skipping down that trail into the darkness inside Seraphine's heart, tried to explain just what it was that Christophe was doing in the innocent reaches of that protean mind but Sera had no interest in being saved.

The third mark two weeks later shattered the last of the barriers between them, last of the little white lies as their pasts were peeled open to eachother's unblinking gaze. She knew the truth, every ugly detail and in Sera's heart of hearts there was no going back. Despite Christophe's past, the deeds that would make the devil flinch, Sera had lost her heart so when the final mark was given, her own taste of life's essence from the breast of her lover, unseeing eyes looked not to the small island that was fading into the horizon's endless line but to a future that seemed to have no end.

And an epic journey it was. Never off Hispaniola in her life, the first crash of waves over the prow of the three master under Christophe's control thrilled Seraphine to the depths of her soul. She couldn't see the waves but she could feel the spray, sense the roll of the ocean in every undulation of the large vessel. In and of itself, the trip to the new world was quiet, Christophe below decks when the sun was high, coming up after the sun set to guide the ship and let the little female guide with small hands under his larger on the wheel. The crew, heavily glamoured and his source of blood, kept a weather eye on the blind girl till the shores of new world appeared. Christophe had thought better of landing in English controlled waters and went further north, till he could work his way inland to the French colonies on the shores of the great lakes.

Seraphine adapted to travel well, marks allowing her some sense of where she was going but still needing the help of the sighted guides on the journey. So different compared to the tropics, she found the journey along water and through snowy storms a ceaseless wonder of new smells and experiences. Where her vampire led, she followed till on the upper peninsula of what would become the state of Michigan, Christophe found an ally in the most powerful vampire in the region, Marius. The pair amused the older male and with Christophe at his side, they began to form the area into their dream. Seraphine became as well known as the vampires, her abilities gaining a healthy respect from the locals and helping smooth over certain minds and details till things just went the way they needed them to. Seraphine played elegant hostess and wife in incarnation after incarnation of their lives, each changing as Christophe saw fit. Politics, which their future rested on time and again never interested her, but Seraphine found that helping those in the territories who needed assistance to be a calling that piqued her interest at first, then captured it. While her vampire master grew empires, she moved among those not in fine houses and wreathed in silk, adding the power of the masses to the support of the monied set. And through it all, Christophe watched over her, keeping his beloved safe from harm as she wandered the darker corners of their small world.

For centuries they lived like this and Seraphine found new causes with each decade, from freeing the slaves during the civil war to women's sufferage and the right to vote later on. And it kept going till the present. Here in Marquette her current passion is rights for disabled. From blindness to birth defects, she runs charity functions and fund raisers for mbank as well as the Manon Foundation, a non profit whose sole purpose is to send money to families in need who otherwise couldn't afford treatments and equipment for their specially abled children. All in all, she is a force to be reckoned with in the city's social circles and does it all without expecting a thing. After centuries she still has the purest of motives despite the dark desires and hungers that are a part of her after being tied to a vampire for over three hundred years. For the kiss, she is a devoted servant and perfect example for the straights as to how human the preternaturals can be. Lauded by most as a angel to deal with, Sera did her best to put the best foot forward for the kiss when needed.

The attacks came as no surprise though the omens and warnings had been vague, she had only known they faced danger and that alone was enough to send Christopher into hiding with her while the world ran red with their friends blood around them. Only recently has she pushed him to start helping the others, visions of things to come worse than what they had been accused of in the first place. So as a team the pair are working to help put things to right and if Christopher moves into power, then so be it.