Here's another vampire for y'all!<br/><br/>~~~<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/4/4c/Nosferatu_Portrait.png)</div><strong>Character Name</strong>:<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Radojka Pervanic</span><br/><strong>Breed</strong>: Vampire<br/><strong>Role</strong>: Vampiric outsider, walking discovery-risk, and explorer of the vampiric condition.<br/><strong>Gender</strong>:Female<br/><strong>Age</strong>:20<br/><br/><strong>Description</strong>:<br/>Radojka is a short, scrawny, woman, withered by malnourishment and the stresses of living as a young girl in a warzone. That much, her history has done; everything else about her has been changed by her transmutation into a vampire.<br/><br/>It's pretty clear that something went wrong with it. It warped her bones, forcing her into a stooping, hunchbacked gait; it caused every hair on her body to fall out, leaving her only with smooth, drawn skin; it's even subtly changed the shape of her face, drawing her chin and ears to razor points, and hooking her nose. The monstrous transformation isn't horrifying enough to cause others to run screaming about monsters, most of the time - she covers the worst up with a high-lapelled coat, a headscarf, and dark glasses - but it certainly is alien, not from around these parts, and disturbs those around her. The combination of her warped features with her human mannerisms and fiery green eyes makes for a striking, if unsettling, combination.<br/><br/>She tends to mutter, and to keep her voice low - between her long, protruding fangs, and her mixed Balkan accent, attempts to speak too loudly invariably conjure images of 'ze count, ah ah ah ah! Vith all that that entails, ah ah ah ah! *disappears into a cloud of bats*' - doing so is likely to lead to discovery, and so she often tries to be unobtrusive, and discrete.<br/><br/><strong>Personality</strong>:<br/>Suffering from ongoing PTSD and isolated in a foreign country, it might might be expected that Radojka might be a wreck, a shell of a person. That's largely true, but not<em>entirely</em>true. To be sure, the experience of living illegally in a foreign country, growing up dodging ICE raids and the suspicion of what peers she could hold on to<em>has</em>made her a little reserved, a little cautious, paranoid, and bitter - but somewhere, underneath all that, there's a spark, a will to survive, to flourish in whatever way she can, that's kept her going on. She doesn't care what anyone else thinks, so long as she eventually defeats them, proves them wrong, humbles her old oppressors.<br/><br/>Not even first death has quenched this fire in her - if anything, it's only made her more driven, cleansed her of everything but her drive and resolve. Becoming a runaway was hardly a change from her earlier situation, and she sees her newfound 'changes' as a gift, the first step on her journey to revenge against an uncaring, hurtful world. This, married to her ferocious curiosity, is likely to cause some quite a stir in the SoCal nights.<br/><br/><strong>Bio:</strong><br/>A family of dissident Bosnian Serb intellectuals and political subversives, it was only a matter of time before the Pervanic family caught the attention of the cetniks, and suffered for it. There was only so much state criticism that the new<em>Narod</em>could take from such a family, and in the end, they could not flee the attention of these paramilitary groups.<br/><br/>The knock at the door came at three o'clock in the morning, as they expected it would. Imran Pervanic, Radojka's father was dragged out by men in balaclavas, as they expected he would be, as he had told them would happen - though they wailed and rent their clothes in anguish, they knew that they could not stop Imran's murderers. A single shot rang out - and then he was gone from their lives for good. But clearly, the killers had decided that they wanted more - wanted Imran's mother and daughters for themselves - and returned, banging on the doors and windows of their home. Drying her tears, the thirteen-year-old Radojka left her siblings and mother, and climbed to the top of the house, where she knew her father kept his service revolver.<br/><br/>The next few minutes are gone, wiped clean from her memory. She 'woke', covered in blood, shoulder dislocated by the revolver's recoil, barrel smoking. Her mother and sisters were safe, the men were gone, and all was fine. Sunk into the placid depths of shock, her mother bundled her up, and dragged her out of the house with nothing but a small suitcase of her belongings.<br/><br/>What was left of the Pervanic family fled across the Atlantic, to the United States, and there found their way to California. Certain aspects of Pervanic activities in the former Yugoslavia had made them, well, somewhat<em>wanted</em>by various national and international agencies and Tribunals, but the Golden State has ever been a home (if a dangerous and precarious one) to the dispossessed and wretched of the Earth, to the immigrant and persecuted of every stripe. She's lived there ever since she was fourteen with her mother and two sisters, trying to stay out of sight of cops and gang members. She's had no schooling, only odd jobs here and there with employers who didn't ask too many questions about their adolescent workers with no papers and a shaky grasp of English. Some American Dream! But it was all she had, and, for years, she managed to scrimp and save enough to get by without having to sell her body.<br/><br/>She can't remember the night that she was Turned. The same merciful part of her unconscious that protected her the night of her father's death clearly was watching over her then, and she has no idea what happened to her. She woke at dusk, body stiff, draped over a dumpster, battered and bloody. She hadn't been raped; save for a small cut at her throat, there were none of the indicators of recent drug-use, and her pockets hadn't been rifled through. In fact, the only mark of serious violence on her body was ... was, well, her broken neck.<br/><br/>The realisation that she was dead was not as shocking as it might have been. It was still pretty shocking - enough to cause her to run screaming through Franklin Canyon for half the night (after she'd wrenched her neck back into position), but for someone who's lived with death her whole life, and believed her imminent demise to be a few shelterless nights away, it was something she'd subconsciously been preparing herself for her whole life. She just hadn't thought she'd be around to see it.<br/><br/>She had a few ideas about what she was. Words like 'revenant', 'vampir', and 'vorkudlak' crept from the near-forgotten memories of her mother's tales into her waking mind, and her change in appetites - sated from rats and stray cats at first - all but confirmed it. She's tried to adapt, to forge a new life - she's looking to take up night classes, for instance - but her more pressing project is finding out more about her condition. Half-rememered scraps of her mother's tales - the dark folk-history of the Balkan mountains, and their dread<em>koldun</em>lords - have given her a purpose, if only a vague one. She knows that that the blood is the life, and that, if only she can unlock they key hidden in the blood of the unknowing cattle around her, she won't have to worry about cetniks - about gang members - about anyone else ever again.<br/><br/><strong>Details of Vampirism</strong>:<br/>Direct sunlight causes instant, severe burns across exposed skin - she can just about travel outside on a cloudy day, with a long coat, broad-brimmed hat, sunglasses and headscarf, but it still makes her feel ill, and woozy besides. Radojka also requires blood for sustenance; fresh human blood from the neck of an unsuspecting partner is best, but she can feed from animals and from the bloodbank in a pinch.<br/><br/>The Vampiric siring that made her what she is has also led to a number of strange and unusual abilities. She is extremely fast on her feet, her fingers have lengthened into raking claws, and her senses have refined to a near-otherworldly degree. She is not as strong as others of her kind, however, and the genetic twist inflicted on her by vampirism has twisted her features, form, and mind to some degree. She casts no reflection in mirrors, has a great deal of difficulty crossing running water or the threshold of a home, and is compelled to count small rice-like objects thrown in her path.<br/><br/><strong>Sexual preferences and off limits</strong>: I'm OK with pretty much anything but toilet play. Radojka is straight, and almost certainly a 'technical virgin'.