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averylostsoul · 3 years

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name: avery weaver

nicknames: avee, weaver

age: twenty-nine

gender identity: cis-female.

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: demisexual

birthday: february 19, 1992

star sign: pisces

occupation: unemployed, past manager at animal shelter & assistant manager at nursey/flower shop

place of birth: peggy’s cove, nova scotia

height: 5′9″

+nurturing, personable, honest

-naive, insecure, anxious

tldr;

Avery was visiting Cornith Bay as a solo backpacker when she fell victim to a bite and run!! She has a very sweet and empathetic soul, so the idea of feeding is quite monstrous to her. She’s been wondering through the city on her good days, and hiding away in the country side on her bad days, leaving a tiny trail of victims of her own...She would love to get back home but she’s terrified of spending hours in a giant flying metal tube surrounded by hundreds of snack paks.

She’s been pretty distant and has tried not to talk to too many strangers but as time goes on, she’s more curious about finding the vampire who turned her. And also finding someone to help her control her cravings. Above all, she’s just terrified of hurting more people. Who would have thought her Eat Pray Love Mama Mia fantasy would turn out like this?

History (tw: blood, mild graphic violence)

Avery was usually the loudest person in the room, although surprisingly no always the most obnoxious. She had a way of attracting attention with her bright smile and overly positive personality. She was the loyal support group to many of her friends and often went out of her way to please those she cared about. She grew up in a small town in Nova Scotia; often the caretaker of her friends, plastering band-aids on scraped knees or mixing hangover concoctions. She always seemed to be surrounded by a bubble of cheerfulness and pure luck. Avery was a hard worker but there had to be something else in play. Every project, job, or measly goal she worked towards ended in happy success. Sometimes even her friends doubted the reality of it all. How can one person expel so much glee and succeed at everything they did? Avery chalked it up to the belief that if you put positivity into the universe, it gives it back.

Or the universe was just waiting to tip the scales back in its favor, and she was none the wiser.

Avery was an emotional child. She always felt too much. Ear shattering sobbing over a simple scraped knee or hyperactive wandering out of her mothers sight, leading to quite an ear tugging lecture. But, she was coddled, she was allowed to feel anything and everything. She was never shushed in a forbidding tone, always loved and quite frankly spoiled.

In Avery’s reality, her family was a fairytale but as with most tiny imaginative brains, she was missing the full picture. She was seven when she last saw her father, and didn’t quite understand why she, her mother, and her brother needed to move into a tiny studio apartment. Nothing but a dirty old mattress on the floor, taken off the street for the three of them. Of course she didn't complain, after all, now there was no way monsters could hide under her bed and she got to sleep next to her mother every night. Every meal was Easy Mac or Chef Boyardee and Avery thrived. It was only after a few years that she was old enough to notice the tension between her mother and brother. After all, it was her brother who watched her as their mother worked doubles and night shifts. He didn’t get to play with other children the way she did. Does the eldest of a single mother ever really get a childhood? Avery was always quick to step out of the way when the two began arguing. Oblivious to her role in their relationship, and far too much the golden child to dare get involved. So aloof to the ordeal, she didn’t quite understand why her brother left their home on his eighteenth birthday and she never heard from him again.

By the time she turned fourteen, her mother had a better financial footing and inherited a small animal rescue from her long time boss. The poor woman was a saint and 92 years old at the time of her passing. As somewhat of a surrogate grandmother for Avery, she taught her the fundamentals of empathy. Caring for the souls of those who could no longer care for themselves, and nursing animals back to a healthy and happy state. She had volunteered at the shelter for many years, but under her mother, began taking on greater responsibilities. By the time she was eighteen, she had become a manager and ran the shelter on a daily basis. She was saving for college, but not entirely sure what she would focus on. Veterinary school seemed the obvious choice, but she didn’t cope well with the tougher calls inside the shelter.

While her friends partied in university, Avery began feeling a bit left out but she had an attachment to her current routine that couldn’t be severed. Instead, frequent weekend gatherings were planned and she filled her free time with hobbies. One of which quickly became gardening which may have been slightly influenced by the owner of a quaint little nursery shop in town. She began working there part-time as a second income to save for her eventual attempt at university.

She was, however, quite stubborn financially and very wrapped into her routines. Why change a perfectly good thing? She wanted to save every last penny she made, refusing to take out loans or attend university until she had the entirety of tuition in her accounts. Someone a bit more perceptive could have guessed that in reality, Avery was simply very much afraid of change and discomfort.

As Avery grew older the pressures of a societal expectation of an appropriate timeline for a woman her age began weighing on her. Her friend’s graduations and careers, and even engagements began to make her feel menial. She was stagnant while everyone else moved forward. The sudden engagement of the aforementioned nursery owner and closure of their shop was the last push Avery needed. In quite a frantic fashion, she decided on a solo backpacking venture through Europe.

Corinth Bay was the second destination on her list, but she had a full week to spend lazily by the water. She never doubted her safety, at least not in that moment. Her naivety, the catalyst. She found the maze of cobblestone streets and sun setting behind olde world houses beautiful at dusk. So mesmerized she barely felt the hand around her waist and lips on her throat before the pain of tearing flesh seared throughout her nerves. Barely a scream before she laid on those cobblestones gasping for the smallest breath. Her vision blurred, fueled with fear of what would come next as whatever it was pressed against her lips, the metallic taste of blood coating her throat. Was it her own? Or someone else’s?

She didn’t dream, at least not that she could remember, but light fluttered through closed eyelids. Street lamps, warm windows. For a moment, she thought she was back home. Tucked under her covers as the sun peaked through sheer curtains. The cold, hard stone beneath her body tethered her back to reality. The slick, wet, sludge, slimy under her hands confirming the tingling on her throat was not a phantom pain. It was the sharp cramp in the pit of her stomach that sent her sitting up. It felt hollow, and suddenly the metal left on her tongue tasted like honey. Sweet and an aching craving only demanded more. She lapped at her fingers, covered by the crime, but it tasted sour and rotted. She knew immediately it was to be fresh.

Feral, like the strays her mother took in, she moved without thinking. It felt parasitic, the way her brain commanded her body to attain sustenance. The first soul she crossed, she’d never forget how her screams faded as life drained from her veins. It was only then that she could feign some form of control. The realization of her monstrous actions, and fear of that fleeting moment of happiness when the blood slid down her throat. She once was a girl who sobbed when her father killed so much as a simple fly, now she held the corpse of a woman in her arms. Resisting the urge to lick the blood from her skin.

A nightmare in its truest form. She escaped the inner city, towards the countryside, hiding away from the need to satisfy her craving. Avery learned quickly that she could not drink from animals. The sickness only exacerbated her need for human blood. She dared not to enter the sun, stories of myths and legends were cautionary. As the hollowness in her stomach grew, so did her madness. The further she tried to stay away, the easier it was for her to lose control. The slaughters she left in her wake haunted her dreams. An innocent turned into a monstrosity.

#it me #history

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corinthbayrpg · 3 years

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NAME. Avery Weaver AGE & BIRTH DATE. 29 & February 19th, 1992 GENDER & PRONOUNS. She/Her SPECIES. Vampire OCCUPATION. Unemployed FACE CLAIM. Davika Hoorne

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: blood, and violence ) Avery was usually the loudest person in the room, although surprisingly no always the most obnoxious. She had a way of attracting attention with her bright smile and overly positive personality. She was the loyal support group to many of her friends and often went out of her way to please those she cared about. She grew up in a small town in Nova Scotia; often the caretaker of her friends, plastering band-aids on scraped knees or mixing hangover concoctions. She always seemed to be surrounded by a bubble of cheerfulness and pure luck. Avery was a hard worker but there had to be something else in play. Every project, job, or measly goal she worked towards ended in happy success. Sometimes even her friends doubted the reality of it all. How can one person expel so much glee and succeed at everything they did? Avery chalked it up to the belief that if you put positivity into the universe, it gives it back.

Or the universe was just waiting to tip the scales back in its favor, and she was none the wiser.

PERSONALITY

+ nurturing, personable, honest - naïve, insecure, anxious

PLAYED BY KJ. EST. She/Her.

#kj

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