Andrew Mordekai
Lieu: Sur la rue jusqu'au fève précoce
Interagir avec: Katie 
Andrew s'est emparé de son caillou, tenant la porte ouverte pour qu'ils s'en aillent, en s'assurant de la fermer avant qu'ils ne partent. Faraday était plutôt autre-centrique, comme il semblait, mais il ne voulait toujours pas prendre une chance à un homme en colère allant porte à porte. En mettant ses mains dans les poches de son manteau, il sourit à Katie. "Pas de problème, mon amour, c'est pour ça que je suis là. Merci pour le toast." Il a hurlé à son commentaire sur le travail, "Oh oui..." Andy a mis ses doigts dans son temple, "Je sens... beaucoup de vieux grincheux et racistes." La sorcière a dit dans le ton mystérieux d'un diseur de fortune, puis s'est un peu moquée de sa propre blague... même s'il savait que c'était probablement vrai.
Les trottoirs ont été nettoyés de façon décente, mais toujours liquéfiés de la neige mouillée. Ne voulant pas qu'aucun d'eux ne glisse, Andy a pensé que c'était mieux de travailler un peu de magie. Rien d'étonnant ou d'évident, juste assez pour se débarrasser du danger. Il prit calmement ses mains dans ses poches et les rassembla, comme s'il allait les respirer. Un court cantrip chuchotait les cercles sur ses paumes pour fleurir doucement en orange et s'endormir sous sa peau. Comme ses mains se séparaient, l'air autour des deux s'échauffait, jusqu'à ce que ce fût comme une journée de printemps confortable dans leur voisinage immédiat. Toute glace persistante fondrait inoffensivement.
"Je ne voulais pas de slips... qui devraient s'en occuper. J'espère que ça ne vous dérange pas." Andrew a déclaré, moins à la recherche de l'approbation et plus d'information. Il s'est rendu compte qu'il n'avait pas vraiment travaillé la magie devant Katie depuis sa récente entrée, et il espérait que cela ferait paraître moins...scary. Dangereux. Qu'il pourrait être utilisé pour des choses simples et utiles. Bien sûr, il pouvait aussi tirer d'anciennes horreurs des fosses de l'enfer, mais ce n'était pas trop commun.
Après quelques minutes de marche, ils arrivaient sur le Bean précoce, bien que ce fût encore quelques bonnes intersections loin.

Liam Woodsworth
Lieu: Retour à Churchill, dans le parking -> 5B
Interagir avec: Un avis d'expulsion vraiment médiocre 
Les magasins avaient été en enfer pour passer à travers la tempête qui faisait rage, et Liam a eu un sacré moment pour obtenir n'importe quoi. Il gérait un sac d'essentiels, de pain, de conserves, etc., et a décidé qu'il ferait mieux de le ramener à la maison avant n'importe quoi. En plus, il travaillait le quart de soirée à la boutique aujourd'hui, à sa grande consternation. Une douche à éclaboussures qui lui ferait regretter de jamais tenter l'hygiène était dans l'ordre.
Le marché n'était pas très loin de son appartement, et la marche n'était pas trop mal. Le pauvre garçon a failli glissé et a cassé sa fragile petite tête de monstre quelques fois, mais c'était l'hiver. Dix fois. Il s'est passé des conneries. Tout au long du chemin, il passa les gens en hâte à l'intérieur, loin du froid.
"et c'était une vampire! Et j'ai dit : "Vampires? A ma fête? C'est une blague!"
"...je jure qu'elle était vraiment bizarre, mec! De longues griffes, des yeux bizarres, comme s'ils voulaient mon âme! J'ai des égratignures sur le dos."
"Pas d'amour, tu ne peux pas aller jouer avec la fille d'à côté. C'est une de ces choses féeriques..."
Oui. Pourquoi la seule chose qu'il a obtenu de son côté vampire doit être des sens accrus? Il pouvait entendre tout ça de l'autre côté de la rue, s'il se concentrait. C'est bête, les idiots. Ils finiraient par se façonner, ou la progression de la société avait de mauvaises nouvelles pour eux...
Liam arrondit un coin et s'arrête. Il y avait un camion qui bougeait, des hommes qui déplaçaient la merde de quelqu'un. Est-ce qu'il avait un nouveau voisin? Il a regardé autour de son immeuble et...
"Attendez, c'est quoi ce bordel?" C'était 5 putain de B! Qui est-ce qui s'est cogné dans son paillasson? Comment ont-ils eu les clés?! Il a fallu une seconde à l'aube sur lui, mais le Dhampire s'est souvenu avec un gémissement que le propriétaire avait essayé de l'expulser en raison de ses... habits. Il n'avait pas vraiment été capable à cause de Liam payer le loyer à temps. Il s'est senti profondément au fond que c'était la façon de M. Fuckwit de le pousser discrètement dehors. "Ouais, on va juste voir à propos de ce sir Go-Fuck-Youlf." Il a brouillé, il s'est emparé de ses courses.
C'est alors qu'il a repéré une petite blonde en tenue d'hiver, en criant des ordres aux déménageurs. Il a évité les hommes bruissants portant Dieu sait quoi se tenir devant elle. "Excusez-moi, mademoiselle... êtes-vous, euh... emménagez-vous dans mon appartement? Celui pour lequel j'ai l'accord de loyer et de payer le loyer?" Il a interrogé, souriant légèrement, "Je ne vais pas t'arrêter, mais j'aurais nettoyé si j'avais su que j'avais de la compagnie. Extended... compagnie."
Liam Woodsworth
Dhampire
Basic Information
| Name |
Elliot Liam Woodsworth
He prefers the informality of Liam
| Date of Birth |
October 19, 1992
| Gender |
Male 
| Sexuality |
Homosexual
| Occupation |
Liam works as an IT assistant at a local tech shop, mixes music as a hobby, and volunteers at a blood bank for his less savory needs. Yes, the last one is morally dubious, but he’s not going to be around long enough to actually care, now will he? On the music note, he tends to whip up tracks with heavy bass and high tempos, as he finds them euphoric...almost as euphoric as the recreational drugs that may eventually overtake his work ethic. 
| In-Depth Appearance |
”That poor boy...darling, do you eat?
”Damn my boy, have you seen a doctor? Pale as a ghost, ya are.”
Sickly. Liam is sickly. He is tall, gaunt, pale...and he isn’t even fucking sick most of the time. He blames it on his lineage, daddy was an awfully stereotypical bloodsucker. Maybe it’s the rapidly degenerating body? Maybe it’s his refusal to indulge his hemo-cravings until absolutely necessary? He doesn’t care, really. Liam’s got places to be, stunts to do, and a short life to live. This is apparent in his messy medium-long brown hair, disheveled fashion of band shirts and loose ripped denim, and a general air of “I really don’t give a fuck, come not give a fuck with me”. His brown eyes speak of a troubled past and a carefree future, of resignation and of the triumphant freedom in that revelation. Liam’s voice is soft, enticing, as though it itself realized the throat it was bound to was horribly unfitting and made a show to be better. To be a selling point.
When you’re a local pariah, ya have to have something going for ya, right?




Who Am I?
| Personality |
♦ Morbid ♦ Relaxed ♦ Indulgent ♦ Welcoming ♦

There is a comfort in knowing death is coming.
You become prepared. You enjoy every moment, every pain, every sensation that smolders on the neurons. Liam has accepted this, and he relishes it. It’s relaxing, and he exudes this calm repose around him. Those that aren’t aware of his supernatural bastard status are always laid back around him, if not worried by his random pains and sickly pallor. Those that are...well, he’s not obnoxious enough to warrant a lynch mob yet. But who knows what’ll come in the future... sure would save him pill money.
Pill money that could go towards more fun pills! Since he knows his time is short, Liam takes every chance he gets to explore the unsavory and wonderful of the world. Drugs, alcohol with dubious origins and long names, ancient rituals that cause really weird spirit trips, (he had to give a “favor” to a Witch for that one but damn was it worth it. Ever see ancient cosmic deities play limbo with a meteor belt? Liam has.), are all things he has and is willing to try. Dangerous stunts are also kinda fun, when the crippling pains aren’t hitting hard. There are no limits to what he’ll try. Of course it’s dangerous, sometimes deadly. Sometimes it’s kind of like daring Death to make its move.
Sadly, this applies to people too. He blazes through relationships and sex like it’s nothing but a carnal transaction. Maybe one day he’ll find someone that quences his cravings. Likely? Liam doesn’t think so.
But in all respects, Liam wants friends. He doesn’t want to be alone. He wants stories passed around about him after he moves on from Edgetoun. Stories about that crazy ass pale kid that did a somersault off a building after three lines of coke and a tab of acid, lived, and then ran a 500. Okay...that’s excessive and he’d probably be dead after the first part of that, but...the point is there. As such, he doesn’t want to hurt people either. The option to get that street shit from dealers was a tempting one, but that blood could come from anyone. Anything. Through...less than fun means. At least at the blood donor center, that was willingly given. No violence or pain, even if it’s stealing...he tries to take what’s in abundance, none of the important rare shit. He doesn’t deserve that.
In the end, when you have a very short time to experience life, you shouldn’t waste that life on brooding and sorrow. Get out there, live...no matter what everyone says. No matter if you’re the monster they say you are.

| Likes & Dislikes |
✔Electronic music No words. No hidden meanings. Just raw emotion. It’s delightfully primal.
✔Adrenaline rushes Ya know when you’re on a coaster and your balls just go right up in your stomach? Yeah. That’s what I like.
✔New things So much to do, so much to see, so much to- Alright, I’ll stop. Sorry.
✔Fall England’s nice in the fall. Cloudy, damp...it’s comforting.
✔A good adventure graphic novel The art, man! Plus, less words, faster reading, meaning more awesome shit for me.
✔Jaffa cakes Tiny. Portable. Orangey. They are my one true love.
✔So many drugs. Specifically acid and coke, and any eldritch shit he can get. Oh the places you will go…
✘Staying home As much as I’d like it to, my mix board doesn’t usually talk to me. Usually.
✘Those who waste what they have Almost everyone has so much left to live. So much to give to society. Why the fuck would you throw that away?
✘Sulky folks Aw, cheer up mate. Wanna grab ice cream? Fucking love ice cream.
✘Violence Come on. Talk your shit out. You start busting heads, I’ll split you the fuck up. Got it?
✘Salad. Or anything vaguely green. It's crispy fucking water. That's gross.
✘Sunny weather. Fuck you, dad.
✘Dependency. I'm a strong, independent abomination. Well...less strong, more independent. Ya get me, yeah?

| History |
The fall brought with it cool air, warm homes, a time for families to come together…
And produce an awful bastardization of life.
Liam came into the world a screamer. Like he already knew, day one out of the womb, that he was already on his way out. He got all of his screaming out then.
Born to a middle class mother and a bloodsucking poppa that bolted the minute he knew one of his dark little swimmers hit home. Yeah, typical daddy issues, blah blah...Liam never really cared much past passive aggressive comments and normal annoyances. His mother Trisha lived with her parents then, the three of them taking care of this sad, ill child. It was rough, and they never really understood what he was. The father had the eventual courtesy, about five years in, to inform poor Trisha about what exactly she’d brought into the world. She didn’t believe the fucker, of course.
Until Liam really started liking raw meat.
Not the meat itself, but the leftover blood in the package. Terrified, confused, and just feeling awful all around, she had to reorganize her life and her idea of parenting to fit this child. She packed up and they moved to the countryside.
And so began the “Don’t Bite” motto of life. Liam learned not to hurt folks to stop his own pain, to enjoy what he had...like a mother that didn’t try and kill him with a stake. She cared more to give her son what he needed...blood. Her blood. Just enough to keep him sated. Liam learned respect, caring, and restraint, qualities sometimes not found in his full-blooded kin.
There was a rough spot in secondary school when Liam learned that he wasn’t going to live a long, happy life. The pain was a sign. The slightly quick growth, another. And once he ran into a couple vampires that were flying under the radar, they made him understand how low he was. That he was a mistake. Suddenly, parties became enticing, every new drink and drug an experience worth dying for. Trisha had to go through hoops to keep doctors from drawing his blood, let alone run any drug tests on him. Their relationship was strained around then, and once Liam graduated he left for London to cool down and mature.
Fast-forward, and Liam’s working a menial job to make ends meet in Edgetoun. IT work fit him, since he spent a large portion of his teens messing with electronic instruments and computers his few friends had. Plus, lots of people needed help with their newfangled gadgets and gizmos, and he was happy to help and talk to them. Recently, he’s back in touch with his mother and patching things up...while not telling her about all the crazy shit he does for fun. No need to worry her.
But how can she not be worried when her pariah of a son is on the ass end of a bloody race war?

| Family |
Trisha Woodsworth | Mother : A kind, gentle woman, with a fair bit of paranoia. You get that when your kid’s kind of on the chopping block.
| Strengths |
Incredibly open-minded
 Curious
 Protective


| Weaknesses |
 No real restraint
Locked to his path, sees no other future; “Blinders” on
Lacks any sort of commitment

The Other
| Theme Song |
 Marry The Night – Lady Gaga
”I'm gonna marry the night
I won't give up on my life
I'm a warrior queen
Live passionately tonight”

| House Number |
Churchill Gardens 5B
| Extra Information |
Liam has a lizard named Squeaks. That fucker knows shit.