Fionn

When the legions came, they brought good things. Or so Fionn heard from his mother. She never looked at him the same since the bald men came to their home. He was some kind of 'demon', cursed with delusions not fit for a young lady. He always insisted he wasn't a lady. His mother would grimace, but the men would laugh and say things he didn't understand. 'Yes, yes, young one, you are a girl for a little while longer.'

His mother got worse, stuffing him into small rooms when people came to see them. She would make excuses for his absence. After a while, they stopped asking. She would coo at him later, assuring him that she would save him from 'devil'. Then more metal-coated men came and his mother ceased her kindness. She simply muttered to herself all day and night about how much time she had left before 'they' strung her up too. She burned much of their belongings, the little dolls they left for the ones in the woods. It was like he wasn't even there. So he snuck out.

Most of the village was burnt like the cinders in the hearth. Metal men walked everywhere, sneered at him like something vile stuck to their shoes. But there was a boy among them, playing with a younger girl who looked so much like him. The two shared dark eyes and golden hair. They didn't know much of his tongue, but they still found ways to play, away from the metal men. They spent many days together. He loved his golden boy who smiled at him. They took care of his little sister together. They ate together. They ran from the guards together.

A few years pass and his golden boy is leaving with some of the metal men. He has to say goodbye. Through teary eyes, he wishes his golden boy farewell in his tongue, but it's not enough. He doesn't know how to say 'goodbye' in the boy's language. A kiss on the cheek. Something his mother used to do with him long ago. Warmth blooms in his chest. A blade kisses his throat. He was on the ground. His golden boy was so incensed, gilded hair caught in the light of the sun and casting him aflame. He spoke words he did not understand as he cut him. The slicing continued for a moment longer before it stopped. He looked up at his golden boy, he looked stunned. The knife fell from the boy's hand, muttering to himself, so much like his mother did. A hand was placed over his breast and the knife returned.

He spent so long in darkness and pain before he saw light again. He hoped he was dead, maybe the bald men were right and he was with 'god'. He sighed, relieved to be at peace. Pain. He was alive. Eyes flutter open. A pale woman, almost too perfect to look at, was shushing him.

O_{ld setting - Has many archaic silver piercings. Yes, silver. Vampires in Fionn's world have few weaknesses and exist in extremely small numbers. They act as more of an inevitable shadow on humanity, a force of nature not to be defied. Hair is generally kept long. He sticks to loose blouses and closely tailored trousers. He is rarely seen among humans for social reasons, having a great distaste for their company. However, he does maintain a "business" wherein he is able to draw in meals.}
M_{odern setting - As stated above, he still has numerous piercings. He subscribes heavily to a modern "alt look", favoring minimalist style and monochrome pallets. Hair is now kept shorter. He favors and easily blends in with the goth and punk communities where he often finds easy, even willing, sources of blood. He frequents a goth industrial club, often lounging in the shadows, waiting for prey with a sharp-toothed smile.}