Post by Morgan on Feb 20, 2006 12:14:58 GMT -5
Name: Morgan D'Gestello
Place of Origin: England
Age: 104
Personality: Morgan is rare breed. Young in both years and, of course, appearance, though alot more mature than most vampires at the same age. She's a thinker, eying every older being to learn and adapt to the way of living which goes for a vampire. When that is said, she is very emotional. When she love, or hate, she does so whit a passion like no other.
Appearance: Morgan is stuck in the picture of a sixteen year-old, but still her body had developed rather well and has all the features of a woman. The eyes, a strange floating hazel, surrounded by long brownish lashes, the skin pale as snow. The hair; very long and darkish brown, yet not at all being close to black. It is always dancing around her body, reaching the end of her back. Further down; tall and slender, whit long legs. Moves whit a seldom graze.
As she usually stays in hot areas, the most usual outfit is a white summer dress.
img1.yoxio.com/img/235941.jpg
History:
Morgan was born in 1902, to the noble family D'Gestello, on a brigth summer day. Her father from France, he was the real Gestello and had married her mother which he met in England, where they settled rigth before the birth of their daughter. Morgan would be their oldest child, after her five others would follow. The mansion, Trottingale, was a wonderful place to grow up, whit all its wonderful green fields and the beach down below the east side. Of course, the children were raised to be kind and obedient, and Morgan was the most tender of all the Gestello children. Even in her early years, she got everything she asked for, though she didn't ask much.
Morgan grew to be sixteen, a very well-developed one.
Her parents had started giving hints about her getting married, but they soon shut their mouths. Either she would get terribly angry, or terribly sad. None of them could stand her tears. Or her rage for that sake.
She would rather take strolls or go riding in the fields. Or she would watch her little sisters and brothers, while painting a picture in the large garden.
Everything was well for the family, D'Gestello.
Until the winter of her sixteenth year, when a strong pneumonia spread across the country. It took her mother and three of her youngest siblings. It tore her apart, of course, but even more so whit their father. Just when the rest of the family needed him the most, he changed, rigth before their eyes. He grew cold and hateful, completely careless. He would blame them for everything, and they were beaten every week.
The workers of the mansion would leave, because the lord spent all his money on drink and poker down in the pub. Morgan were hurt, ashamed and angry. Though she could do nothing but take care of the mansion and the kids as well as she could. Now and then, her father would hold her close and cry at her shoulder, praying her to forgive him. Morgan never said a word. She just stood there, staring down at the floor. Her heart was empty, and that "it will be alright" of his she had stopped believing. Both Morgan and her father knew he was longing for his own death.
It was all hopeless.
Then one ninth, Morgan sat up in the living room. It was cold and dark, the mansion was empty. Her father had never been away for so long. The kids were fast asleep already, the clock must have been long, very long, past midnight. At last she fell asleep. The next marooning, her father still had not returned, and the little ones asked her where he was. She was just glad. But finally, next evening, the door opened and Morgan's hope that their father would never return went out into the cold ninth through it. He stood in the entrance. He was probably drunk, or had been, as he was pale as snow and murmured to himself. "Yes, I'll do it, she's in here somewhere." He sure was not speaking to his daughter. Morgan silently stepped before him, covered in a blanket. A fatal mistake. Her father grabbed her, and could easily hold her tight. She was so shocked she could not do anything but concentrate on getting enough air and stare before herself. He whispered in her ear, his soft breath sent shivers down every inch of her. "He will not hurt you, dear. I've found a proper man for you." That was when Morgan's sire entered her life. A tall man came in, took hold of her and ripped her away from her father, bent her backwards and sank his fangs into her throat. Morgan could feel her very life being sucked out of her. And at the verge of death, she accepted his blood whiteout any objection.
Oh, the irony. Instead of her father leaving them, she would leave. Along whit her sire and master, Richard, who teached her well. She soon discovered, Richard was not his true name, he hadn't wanted her to know. But the hateful man could not lie to such a innocent little virgin. He never managed to do that. His real name remained hidden deep whitin her heart, pondering on why he did not want her to know.
And at last, Morgan left him. Tired of him, tired of being dependent of a man she hated. For he was cold, he was evil, and sometimes, crazier than every being the girl had ever met.
Maybe he's still searching for her. Maybe he isn't.
She has hidden her traces well and it seems he will leave her alone at last.
Abilities:
- strong telepathy
- mind control
- extreme attraction
Place of Origin: England
Age: 104
Personality: Morgan is rare breed. Young in both years and, of course, appearance, though alot more mature than most vampires at the same age. She's a thinker, eying every older being to learn and adapt to the way of living which goes for a vampire. When that is said, she is very emotional. When she love, or hate, she does so whit a passion like no other.
Appearance: Morgan is stuck in the picture of a sixteen year-old, but still her body had developed rather well and has all the features of a woman. The eyes, a strange floating hazel, surrounded by long brownish lashes, the skin pale as snow. The hair; very long and darkish brown, yet not at all being close to black. It is always dancing around her body, reaching the end of her back. Further down; tall and slender, whit long legs. Moves whit a seldom graze.
As she usually stays in hot areas, the most usual outfit is a white summer dress.
img1.yoxio.com/img/235941.jpg
History:
Morgan was born in 1902, to the noble family D'Gestello, on a brigth summer day. Her father from France, he was the real Gestello and had married her mother which he met in England, where they settled rigth before the birth of their daughter. Morgan would be their oldest child, after her five others would follow. The mansion, Trottingale, was a wonderful place to grow up, whit all its wonderful green fields and the beach down below the east side. Of course, the children were raised to be kind and obedient, and Morgan was the most tender of all the Gestello children. Even in her early years, she got everything she asked for, though she didn't ask much.
Morgan grew to be sixteen, a very well-developed one.
Her parents had started giving hints about her getting married, but they soon shut their mouths. Either she would get terribly angry, or terribly sad. None of them could stand her tears. Or her rage for that sake.
She would rather take strolls or go riding in the fields. Or she would watch her little sisters and brothers, while painting a picture in the large garden.
Everything was well for the family, D'Gestello.
Until the winter of her sixteenth year, when a strong pneumonia spread across the country. It took her mother and three of her youngest siblings. It tore her apart, of course, but even more so whit their father. Just when the rest of the family needed him the most, he changed, rigth before their eyes. He grew cold and hateful, completely careless. He would blame them for everything, and they were beaten every week.
The workers of the mansion would leave, because the lord spent all his money on drink and poker down in the pub. Morgan were hurt, ashamed and angry. Though she could do nothing but take care of the mansion and the kids as well as she could. Now and then, her father would hold her close and cry at her shoulder, praying her to forgive him. Morgan never said a word. She just stood there, staring down at the floor. Her heart was empty, and that "it will be alright" of his she had stopped believing. Both Morgan and her father knew he was longing for his own death.
It was all hopeless.
Then one ninth, Morgan sat up in the living room. It was cold and dark, the mansion was empty. Her father had never been away for so long. The kids were fast asleep already, the clock must have been long, very long, past midnight. At last she fell asleep. The next marooning, her father still had not returned, and the little ones asked her where he was. She was just glad. But finally, next evening, the door opened and Morgan's hope that their father would never return went out into the cold ninth through it. He stood in the entrance. He was probably drunk, or had been, as he was pale as snow and murmured to himself. "Yes, I'll do it, she's in here somewhere." He sure was not speaking to his daughter. Morgan silently stepped before him, covered in a blanket. A fatal mistake. Her father grabbed her, and could easily hold her tight. She was so shocked she could not do anything but concentrate on getting enough air and stare before herself. He whispered in her ear, his soft breath sent shivers down every inch of her. "He will not hurt you, dear. I've found a proper man for you." That was when Morgan's sire entered her life. A tall man came in, took hold of her and ripped her away from her father, bent her backwards and sank his fangs into her throat. Morgan could feel her very life being sucked out of her. And at the verge of death, she accepted his blood whiteout any objection.
Oh, the irony. Instead of her father leaving them, she would leave. Along whit her sire and master, Richard, who teached her well. She soon discovered, Richard was not his true name, he hadn't wanted her to know. But the hateful man could not lie to such a innocent little virgin. He never managed to do that. His real name remained hidden deep whitin her heart, pondering on why he did not want her to know.
And at last, Morgan left him. Tired of him, tired of being dependent of a man she hated. For he was cold, he was evil, and sometimes, crazier than every being the girl had ever met.
Maybe he's still searching for her. Maybe he isn't.
She has hidden her traces well and it seems he will leave her alone at last.
Abilities:
- strong telepathy
- mind control
- extreme attraction
