Yeah, I know I'm a rebel. I'm not always given to
following the rules but, you know, I still know them.
Consider me one of them kids that constantly likes to test
her boundaries. I'll push ya, but I know just when to stop
and duck.
It don't matter when I was born... It wasn't that long ago
and, as far as vampires go, I still need my nappies changed
on a regular basis. Just the same, I'm learning fast
enough to please the ones that seem to count. Guess that's
good enough for me.
I never went to college...well, not till recently anyhow,
but during my mortal life... Let's just say I was
unprivleged. I got into my career by sheer natural talent
and a lot of luck. Fashion design. Yeah... you heard me
right... I was a fashion designer.
It didn't pay well, but it was something I knew that I
could do and something I could be proud of. Not bad for a
street kid, eh?
It was while I was in New Orleans, peddling my ass off
before the Mardi Gras started that I took a little break in
that creepy-yet-homey club, known as Midnight Garden. Mind
you, I'm not really much of a goth chick, but I can stand
NIN and, to be honest, I love the Cure... But I
digress...
Rook Vidauri
Well shoot... How the hell do you act when you know you
are sitting next to some world-famous lawyer, dressed to
the nines in his Armani suit?
Easy... You pretend you have no clue who he is.
So there I sat, talking with Rook Vidauri and, well, I must
have said something that changed his mind. He said I
reminded him a lot of himself, struggling my way up the
ladder. It was at some point during our conversation
that he decided not to make me his ghoul but, rather, to
make me his childe.
I'm gonna fight like hell to keep that stuffy old Ventrue
'alive' so to speak but, in the meantime, if he gets all
excited watchin me upset his elder pals, well...
Ventrue Neonate
Alright... So I guess you're wondering just what got into
my sire's head, to embrace me into the Ventrue clan,
right?
So how'd I get into this mess in the first place? Well
folks, that is a long, boring story... but what the hell.
I figure, if you've sat here this long, I guess you really
want to know.
My face got me some modeling jobs when I was in my late
teens and early 20's and, from there, I was able to go and
push some of my ideas past various other designers. I did
mostly freelance work... Drawing up my own designs, sewing
my own clothes and then modeling them for potential
buyers.
Anyhow, I waltz on in to the
bar and set myself down. It's a quiet night, not many
people there... I didn't pay much attention. I was just
glad to set the heavy portfolio down and get something cold
to drink. There was another person at the bar...Some
stuffy suited type, reading a newspaper and drinking wine.
He introduced himself to me...
To make a long story short, he introduced himself and asked
me what it would take to set up shop, here, in New Orleans.
I gave him a rough estimate and he asked me upstairs to
discuss it over a crableg dinner. I'll never turn down
Alaskan King Crab Legs and there was no way in hell that I
was going to turn down a shot at my own business.
Yeah, this stuffy guy had
a plan and, come to think of it, he had himself a pretty
good one, at that... Make yourself a ghoul that's a
fashion designer. This way, you have them set up shop and
not only do you have money coming in this way but you also
have custom tailored suits with some other fancy name
besides that cliché Armani one.
So here I am folks... Right now, I'm taking classes so
that I can become a lawyer, like "Daddy" (he hates it when
I call him that). The professors are old and dull but the
subjects interest me and, as I told Rook... I won't let him
down. He said to me, once, that some elders ceased to
feel, ceased to love and ceased to live but, if they were
lucky, they could live again through the eyes of their
childer...
I hear voyeurism is coming back in style.