A young woman, found staked within a coffin. She's now free, but to what end.
- Eyes
- Light blue, the color of the ocean.
- Hair
- Long, but tied back off into a ponytail. Blue in color.
- Skin Tone/Pigmentation
- Pale white.
- Height
- 5'11
- Weight
- 155
Syril Verilmoor, The Queen Who Never was, long may she reign. Syril was a young woman during the birth of Interitus, and she was doomed never to grow. Her father, a strange and simple man who could not accept what was beyond his own personal sight. What he saw, was a demon forming, an ancient and unholy vow that had to be broken before it could be forged, and he did what he felt was right.
It happened in the middle of the night. Syril was seventeen at the time, staring into the lovely stained glass mirror that hung from the wall beside her bed, a gift from her late mother. And as she stared, the glass as blank as ever, a clean slate in which her reflection would never appear, that she began to weep. A sorrowful sound, the wailing of one doomed never to age again. It was then the door slammed open, the thundering of footsteps filling the woeful air, as before young Syril even had time to turn, a stake carved from star-metal itself, was engraved upon her chest.
Her father, and would be killer, however; had done his research, and did it well. He knew just the point to strike, to avoid killing her outright, to commit the most grave of sins. Instead, he simply set her to slumber. To slumber, forever. Until the world moved on, and a cure was found. And thus, Syril Verilmoor, the queen of vampires, lady of the night, was set to never be.
It happened in the middle of the night. Syril was seventeen at the time, staring into the lovely stained glass mirror that hung from the wall beside her bed, a gift from her late mother. And as she stared, the glass as blank as ever, a clean slate in which her reflection would never appear, that she began to weep. A sorrowful sound, the wailing of one doomed never to age again. It was then the door slammed open, the thundering of footsteps filling the woeful air, as before young Syril even had time to turn, a stake carved from star-metal itself, was engraved upon her chest.
Her father, and would be killer, however; had done his research, and did it well. He knew just the point to strike, to avoid killing her outright, to commit the most grave of sins. Instead, he simply set her to slumber. To slumber, forever. Until the world moved on, and a cure was found. And thus, Syril Verilmoor, the queen of vampires, lady of the night, was set to never be.
Appearance
Mentality
Personality
Motivation
She wishes to be free. Free of her father, of her obligations. Of all those holding her back.
Social