Post by Demetria on Mar 30, 2008 21:01:19 GMT
Name: Demetria Andreadis.
Nicknames: Demi, Dem or even Ria are the only real nicknames she has; those who are allowed to use them are few and far between.
Race: Werewolf; Pureborn.
Occupation: Rogue; 'Entrepreneur'. Demetria doesn't really have a job and really, thanks to her years of wise investments - largely of other people's money - she doesn't need one.
Gender: Female.
Skin Colour: Caucasian; with a distinct Mediterranean colouring and a tan.
Age: 502, though she looks to be in her late twenties physically.
Clothing: Demetria dresses like she's got money to burn, largely because she has. Whether she is just lounging around her home in the Colony or out for a 'business lunch' she is smart and presentable and about as unassuming as you can possibly managed, able to blend into the background with her choice of clothing when she needs to be one of the crowd, but equally able to stand out and turn heads if that's what she needs or wants to do, she likes expensive fabrics like silk and cashmere and she's more than willing to pay for that sort of thing because she not only likes the feel of the fabric but the way it makes her feel when she's wearing it, there is a definite traditional theme to a lot of her choices when she is in the privacy of her home that hark back to her youth spent in Greece. Casual clothes usually include fitted jeans over boots, plain dark shirts and a small, tan leather jacket. For smarter occasions she has a range of fitted, tailored suits with pants, blouses, skirts and jackets in greys and blacks, outfits that would not look at all out of place in the law office of which she is a silent partner. Going one step further, Demetria owns a sizeable collection of dresses for those occasions where she really has to dress up and look her absolute best; while she is not above showing a little skin to get what she wants, she is much more likely to keep things under wraps for a little bit of tasteful mystique, rather than giving it all away straight form the off, the Grecian prefers to rely on her charisma to manoeuvre people where she wants them rather than being smutty about it. Finally, if Demetria is planning an actual job, breaking and entering and things along those lines she has an array of clothes suited to such a job, tight black pants, gloves, thick soled boots and a black leather jacket provide a decent, if stereotypical outfit for such an occasion.
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 128lbs
Tattoos: The Grecian wolf has a tattoo on the inside of each of her wrists, both words written in Greek; on her left wrist is the word "chari" meaning 'grace' and the right "pleroma", meaning 'fullness'. Both are very significant and personal to the werewolf, not only because they are in such intimate, venerable areas, but she has never shared the reasons behind either word, or even the translations.
'Grace' Tattoo.
'Fullness' Tattoo.
Piercings: Her ears, just the once through each lobe.
Jewellery: Demetria has expensive tastes and that is never more obvious than when she's wearing some of her more valuable pieces. Whether she bought or stole them somewhere or somehow, she sees them as hers and wears a variety of rings, necklaces and earring, diamonds are her favourite and her collection demonstrates as much.
Brown diamond necklace.
Diamond necklace and earring set.
Some of the rings Demetria owns.
Body Modifications: Apart from her tattoos Demetria has some significant scarring around her right ankle and Achilles heel and the small of her back from a particularly brutal fight in her past; apart from that she has been fairly lucky not to sustain anything much more serious than a few nicks and scrapes here and there.
Wolf Form
Demetria's wolf form.
Build: Built much like a wild, natural wolf -if much larger- Demetria's wolf form is actually rather unassuming, not particularly slender or overtly muscular, rather achieving a balance somewhere in the middle, making her easily over looked because of the similarities that can be drawn between her wolf form and that of a large wild wolf. One particular area she excels in though is agility and speed, with a great deal of her muscle mass in her fore and hind quarters, Demetria can turn easily and quickly should she need to, and utilise the balance and ability to jump impressive distances particularly well when in wolf form.
Height: 3'7"; she lacks the muscles necessary for bipedal movement, the most she can manage s rearing up on her hind legs briefly.
Weight: 275lbs
Hair: The pelt of Demetria's wolf form is more or less two tone, the fur over her back, the top of her tail and the outer sides of her legs, running down between her ears is all black, giving her a white muzzle, underside of her tail and the front of her chest while in wolf form. Mainly short in length, her tail is extremely thick and bushy, much like the 'mane' of fur coming around from between her ears, back down the nape of her neck and around the front which acts as a protective layer against all manner of attacks.
Eyes: Deep gold.
Defining Marks: There is some obvious scarring to her back right hind leg, around the ankle joint, though her fur mostly covers it, should anyone get close enough to inspect it there is a network of scar tissue there.
Pack
Pack: N/A.
Position: N/A.
Territory: N/A.
Hair
Length: Long, well past her shoulders, skimming the bottom of her shoulder blades with long layers cut into the thick lengths and very little feathering around her face.
Style: Demetria keeps it long and in very good condition, though mostly she wears it down, brushed and blow dried straight it actually holds a loose natural wave to it that, while not tight enough to be curly is also not loose enough to be totally straight. This more feral style is the way she tends to wear it if she is going out for an evening of what she calls fun. If she is pulling a complex job, more thievery than conning, she will usually wear her hair up in a ponytail or a bun.
Colour: Brown with natural highlights.
Facial Hair
Length: N/A.
Style: N/A.
Eyes
Colour: Green-Hazel.
Oddities: Like all of her kind, Demetria's eyes will wane the colour of her wolfen counterpart when she feels threatened, or angry. With her age comes a certain degree of control though, and she will sometimes initiate the change in hue herself to taunt or tease.
Personality: Demetria is, simply put, something of a bitch in the minds of most people that she meets and allows to see the 'real' her and not the respectable silent partner of a law practice that she uses as a front for her other business venture. When she walks into a room, she owns it, the walls, the floor, the furniture, the people; she thinks herself above almost everyone she meets and acts like it too, her superiority complex is fathoms deep and nothing is likely to change that about her, though how much of it is really just for show and how much of it is honest to god arrogance is anyone's bet. Beneath that there's anger; rage and bitterness and the source of most of her sarcasm just simmer beneath the surface and she punishes the world around her in a way for the hand she was dealt as a young wolf. Once incurred her wrath can be long and powerful, Demetria can hold a grudge for centuries and has done so in the past and in her baser moments can be petty and malicious in exacting revenge should she feel the need to pursue it. In that respect, as in many others she is extremely tenacious and even unyielding in her ideals and once she has chosen a course of action it is nigh on impossible to sway her from it without a very good reason. This stubbornness and the way she hides much of who and what she is comes largely from the fact that Demetria is a practically flawless liar, articulate and knowledgeable she is able to slip in and out of lies like a pro, mostly because that's just exactly what she is. Before she traded in her 'day job' for her comfortable and largely placid lifestyle, Demetria could con with the best of them and some of that persona lingers about her in a mischievous, if dangerous aura.
All that said, all the bravado aside, she has a clichéd vulnerable undercurrent, she protects herself with witticism and money and her powerful position, but she will always be in part, the fearful little Grecian girl, running from her enemies. Running from her brother and her own bad decisions; abandoning her birth pack the way she did eats at her to this day and that decision is one of few that she allows herself to second guess. Guilt riddles her daily, in showing clemency to her brother she condemned someone she cared deeply about to death and destroyed the home of her pack, her family. In ignoring the early warning signs she cost her parents their lives and in a fashion she punishes herself for those events, not allowing herself to form attachments to anyone, not affiliating herself with a pack, remaining alone where she can't seriously hurt anyone but herself. In the day to day she does her level best to bury all her negativity down where it can't be seen or abused, but anyone with even a little insight into the psyche can see that she walks around with a chip on her shoulder, a big one at that.
Despite her comfortable home, her job and law practice and the money she has managed to amass, she is much more street smart than most give her credit for and a lot more rough and tumble than she comes across at first. In a lot of ways she has become something of a thrill seeker, money and danger are the things she attempts to fill the gap in her with, neither really work but her biggest fear is growing close to someone and therefore putting them at risk, in her mind everyone she cares for ends up hurt or worse, dead. Demetria is untouchable, closed off from the world on her little pedestal where no one can reach her, she tires to fill the void that her family left in her life with money and objects and even with the thrill she gets from a con. Perhaps the biggest realisation she has come to though is that nothing she could buy or steal will ever do that job, but Demetria is too afraid to try anything else.
Weaknesses: As a werewolf, silver is obviously Demetria's main weakness; prolonged contact, and to a lesser degree proximity, sparks nausea and dizziness and can result in silver poisoning which would be fatal and minimal contact burns the flesh, this is obviously a major weakness. Arrogance could be considered a large weakness for the rogue, though most of the time she tempers it with her experience there definitely a small amount of ego in her actions, she knows she's good and doesn't mince words when it comes to her skills and triumphs. As seems to be common with her kind, perhaps because of the centuries upon centuries of memories, the strain on the mind, Demetria suffers what can easily be classed as night terrors. In her sleep she sees and hears her brother, feels him touching her skin, his breath on her hair, the scenarios change with time but it's always the same theme, death and blood and Demetria is always at the centre of it, helpless and powerless to stop him. Physically Demetria's lower back and right ankle are definitely sources of physical discomfort for the female wolf; she gets something not unlike cramps in both areas, her ankle can sometimes cease up in the mornings and she tries to sit up as straight as possible whenever she can to take the pressure of the bottom of her spine and the muscles down there.
Abilities: At her age Demetria obviously has control over her wolf on the three nights of the lunar cycle where she used to change involuntarily. In addition the she-wolf also enjoys the perquisites of lycanthropy; heightened auditory and olfactory senses, uncanny balance, endurance, speed and strength and the ability to leap large distances more or less effortlessly. Demetria has a rather impressive skill set apart from her lycanthropic abilities; she can pop locks and safes, avoid those troublesome little security systems if she has to with stealth and resourcefulness, she can lie, looking someone straight in the eyes without blinking and convince most unsuspecting members of society that she's a completely different person from 'Demetria Andreadis' as she presents herself, she can even fake and American accent nowadays and sound as though she grew up in California. She also has a pretty good head for numbers and a comprehensive knowledge of the law, if only in a 'know your enemy' capacity, and she has the capacity and guts to drive a very hard bargain if she needs to. Perhaps obviously she speaks fluent Greek and over her travels has picked up French, German, Italian and Latin.
Weapons: If her wit and sharp tongue count as a weapon then they should go here, alternatively, Demetria packs a GLOCK 36 pretty much wherever she goes, it's just plain common sense in Los Angeles, even for a werewolf in her opinion. In the past she achieved the status of Pack Fighter and as such she possesses an extremely competant knowledge of hand-to-hand combat and will not hesitate to utilise it if she has to.
GLOCK 36.
Prized Possessions: Given that only around three hundred of them were ever produced, Demetria considers her Bugatti Veyron one of her ultimate prized possessions, if only from a monetary position. In the same vein her jewellery, of which she has several irreplaceably expensive pieces, are usually housed in a safe in her home office. Naturally, like any good cat person, she adores her companion, Leonidas, or Leo for short, a purebred Abyssinian.
Bugatti Veyron.
Leonidas.
Home(s): Demetria lives in a sizeable, comfortable apartment in The Colony.
History: Demetria was the only child born to her parents, the Alphas of a sizeable pack in Greece. While by blood she was their only offspring, she had an older brother in Stathis, a rogue who had been adopted by her parents as a child when his parents had been killed by vampires in a scuffle on the pack's territory. Twenty years her senior when she was born, Demetria looked up to her adopted brother and they were always close, he fiercely protective of her and she prone to intense hero-worship of him. For her first century life was calm, Stathis was working towards becoming a fighter and Demetria took after him, they sparred together often, enjoying the training sessions as much as they worked hard through them in order to make their parents proud. Blood was important in the pack, the positions of Alpha and Beta often running through hereditary lines meaning that by rights one of the children of the leaders would take over in the future. There were rumblings though, muttered behind the scenes as they were that Stathis being adopted and not a true blood member of Andreadis clan had no rights to the position. At first it made him angry but determined to prove them wrong, he pushed himself ever harder to achieve the title 'fighter' and to prove to everyone that he was just as worthy as his younger sister.
It quickly became an obsession. Demetria was too engrossed in her studies to notice it at first, but she became the focus of Stathis' attention and of his hatred. When he looked at her he saw the acceptance that he would never have in the pack, everything that was unattainable to him and all he would never be. At some point that turned into a twisted kind of love, obsessive and secretive Stathis would watch his sister when he thought no one was looking, becoming increasingly bold as years went by, mistaking sisterly affection for something more he began to act of his impulses and fantasies. Time and time again she rebuffed her brother's advances; disgusted by the way he looked at her, the way his fingers would brush over her forearm at meals, or how she could hear his footsteps linger at her doorway at night. It was impossible to fathom what went on in Stathis' head but loyal as she was to him she could not bring herself to out his actions to their parents, instead she attempted to disguise them telling him his feelings would go away and that he should think of them as blood sister and brother instead of using the fact that he was adopted as reasoning or justification for his lust. Nothing more came of it until, nearing her second century; Demetria and another young wolf started what could only be described as a torrid, passionate relationship. Late one night, whilst waiting outside his sister's room, Stathis watched as she and Iason Nikolaidis stumbled into her bed chambers, all fervent kisses and embraces as the male lifted her onto the bed whilst her brother hid in the shadows and watched them.
Stathis was practically sick with jealousy. Not having Demetria for himself was one thing but watching as another male took her for his own was another. To add what he felt was insult to injury though, mere days after the night he witnessed Demetria and Iason in the female's chambers, his younger sister was granted the prize he had been pursuing ever since her had been able to control his wolf; Demetria was made a fully fledged fighter. At that point Stathis decided it was time to act, he'd had enough of sitting in the shadows and watching everything fall into place for his sister, she had respected and recognition, she was loved and he knew that she and Iason were being groomed to take over the pack one day. Again, he was being overlooked, ignored. Rejected. Something in him broke, below the surface as it was, something in him just snapped and everything changed in one night.
Demetria, having been celebrating her promotion with her fellow fighters, eventually craved some peace and decided to visit her parents to thank them personally and to spend the late evening with them before retiring to her own room. As she walked down the cloisters towards her parents' sanctuary though she began to grow increasingly uneasy; barely a heartbeat after the tingling of worry started up her spine she scented it, their blood on the air. Demetria broke into a run, bursting into the room to find an image before her that would be burned into her memory for the rest of her days. Olympia and Gerasimos Andreadis lay slumped on their bed, the white sheets soaked in their blood, a dagger lying on the floor and in the middle of it all, standing over them as if an artist observing his latest creations stood Stathis, his own clothes splashed and streaked with crimson, the murder weapon in his shaking hand. Demetria screamed for the rest of the pack, the fighters, anyone, tearing across the room towards her brother who backed away, staring at her. He began to talk, telling her how it was now their time to take on the positions of Alphas, that together they would lead the pack, how together they were strong than the Betas could ever hope to be, stronger than she and Iason would ever be. Demetria ignored all his words, she didn't even reply as she tore the dagger form his hand and turning it on him in a white hot rage. As she threatened his life, pinning him to the floor, holding the dagger to his throat he laughed. Just laughed at her and told her she would see that it would all be clear soon, in time. By then practically every member of the pack was behind her, watching with intense scrutiny as she pressed the tip of the weapon to her brother's throat.
It was Iason who stepped forwards, speaking his lover's name simply to gain her attention. Though she didn't look away form her bother Demetria's form relaxed somewhat as the weight of grief settled over her, washing out the anger that had burned through her just a heartbeat before. Casting the knife aside she rose, bare footed and blood stained and told Stathis that he could keep his wretched life but he was to leave the pack and never return. If she saw him again, if she caught even the slightest rumour that he was in the pack territory she would find him and kill him like the dog he had become. Before the entire pack, Stathis dragged himself to his feet, spitting out blood form the split lip his sister had given him, he stepped forwards and touched her face, smearing blood over her cheek whilst she stood staring at him, a growl from behind her signalling the fact that Iason was barely holding himself back from intervening. The older sibling leant in and whispered a few words in Demetria's ear before planting a kiss on her hair and ultimately pushing his way out of the room through the pack, growls following him as he stole into the night. There were a few moments of tense silence before Iason cleared the room, ushering pack members and fighters alike out of the Alphas rooms just in time to catch Demetria as her knees gave out.
They wrapped and burnt the bodies a day later; Demetria lit the funeral pyres herself and said a few words. For the time being the pack was given over tot he control of the Betas, in her grief the remaining members of the Andreadis family was too weak too lead, too young to take the reigns at that time, though it was the general consensus that as if had been for generations she would one day return to the status she had been born and raised to. As the days turned to weeks she eventually worked up the strength to enter her absent brother's room with the intention of clearing it out. Though she insisted she could handle it alone, she knew that Iason would not be far from her. Dressed in a cool dress on a stifling night in the summer, she entered the room that had been left untouched since its owner had been forced to leave. Lighting candles as she went Demetria found a shrine in his room. Drawings of her sleeping or bathing or simply reading quietly, poems he had written about her, locks of her hair that he must have taken when she was asleep somehow, all arranged around candles. With the blood pulsing against her eardrum she didn't even her him enter the room, only turning when she heard him hail her with his typical, 'Sister of mine,' from the window. Before she could stop him, Iason had run into the room, attempting to put himself between Demetria and Stathis.
History continues below...