Autarkis. Drag king and bass player. A Rose with more thorns than petals. Enthusiast of horrors both known and unknown to kine. A bisexual menace, by reputation. In a relationship (but open, so please kindly conduct yourself with decorum). Collector of rare vinyls. She/they - he, only when on stage.
To whom my heart is pledged: @vvervvain ❤️ ((Vampire: The Masquerade RP blog, follows back from @moon-chanter, banner by https://vgen.co/cuiikoo))
This is a VTM RP blog for my OC, Xavier; I'll get all this info better organized in a carrd at some point.
Standard rules: 18+ (I am in my 30's and don't want to play dolls with kids); no purity politics, this is world of darkness, nobody is a saint here; please keep IC and OOC separate - just because characters may be romantically involved doesn't mean the writers will be
Follows back from @moon-chanter
This character's partner, also written by me, is at @vvervvain and the same rules apply to her.
Multifandom friendly, but non-WoD/CofD-compatible character interactions will be treated as speculative/non-canon.
nsfw tagged as both nsfw and nsfc (not safe for cain)
This blog is run as though it is the character running the blog. Narrative posts will be tagged as such.
Name: Xavier
Clan: Toreador
Generation: 9
Birthday: October 13, 1752, Embraced 1776 (24 years old at time of embrace); 272 years old currently.
Sire: Lady Mircalla d'Aubigny
Nature/Demeanor: Chivalrous, Bon-Vivant
Sect: Autarkis
Humanity: Has ebbed and flowed through the centuries, currently sits around 7.
Pronouns: She/they
Sex: It's complicated
Gender: Whatever makes the joke land. (Demi-woman)
Orientation: Bisexual
Height: 5'11''
MBTI: INTJ
Temperament: Melancholic
Likes: Fancy cigars and cigarillos, fancy coffee (even if it has to come back up), horses, horse dressage, travel, music, performing, being the center of attention in a room (as long as they're intending for it)
Dislikes: Being touched without permission, being the little spoon
Hobbies: HEMA (Historical European Martial Arts), poetry, rhythm games, horses (although horses don't like them anymore), equestrian dressage (although they can't participate anymore), tai chi, getting into pointless arguments on the internet, debating on whether modern performance art like drag is real art (it is), being a coffee snob, amateur handiness.
Backstory:
Xavier - a name they chose long after discarding their birth name, now lost to time save for a few people - was born in 1752, the destitute child of French peasants. She sang her siblings to sleep and buried most of them before reaching adolescence. Life was bleak. But the one she ended up with was worse.
Her voice caught the ear of Lady Mircalla d'Aubigny when she was still a girl. Her parents, desperate and starving, sold her without protest. From there began the long nightmare: caged, paraded, objectified, a songbird on display at Toreador salons, complimented as much for her looks as for her voice. Even now that nickname clings to her, and she still loathes being looked at.
Mircalla waited for her to mature before the Embrace, which was as traumatic as the years leading up to it. While she gave Xavier an education, she offered no freedom - keeping her leashed, feeding her scraps, and using her as currency, trading her to other vampires in exchange for boons and favours. Those nights still haunt her.
When the Revolution came, Xavier ran. Starving and in rags, she disappeared into the chaos and never looked back. She clawed her way through the centuries using sex and seduction to survive, dissociating from her trauma, never seeking out her sire again.
In the 20th century, they found power and purpose in drag bars and underground music scenes - goth, punk, metal - where she reclaimed the spotlight on her own terms. Onstage, she sings again, but now it's his voice, through her drag king persona, soaking in attention without being reduced to flesh. It is a freedom she never thought she'd taste.
But something's changed. She's stopped sleeping around for boons and favours and hasn't taken a steady lover in some years. She's grown cold, distant, even from her clan. Camarilla harpies whisper about it constantly.
Has something - or someone - finally touched the heart of the songbird?
I have at last gotten round to reading the much-vaunted works of Anne Rice, and I must confess that, for all the glorious disorder of my own existence I shall never contrive to be quite so catastrophic a creature as Lestat de Lioncourt. There is, I find, a curious comfort in that.
I also now understand why certain elders of the Camarilla were positively perspiring vitae by the bucket when these volumes were first published. The lady had the most alarming habit of being surprisingly correct.
I confess I am relieved to find you still among us, though the circumstances under which are far from what one might call fortunate.
My own sire met her Final Death not long ago, torn apart by a most conveniently placed pack of lupines. I was, in years past, wholly bound to her by the Blood. Her treatment of me was, to speak plainly, abhorrent. Yet I loved her. I despised her as well, and with equal fervour. Though I feel a certain relief at her absence - for at last, I am free of her tyranny - the matter is not so simple. The heart, even a dead one, seldom is content with simplicity.
I tell you this not to draw attention to mine own troubles, but that you may know that your own feelings require no justification from anyone. Your sire is dead. What that means to you belongs to your heart alone. There is no universally correct manner in which one ought to grieve or celebrate such a loss, nor any improper feeling that must be banished for the sake of appearances.
Should you require someone to merely sit quietly and listen whilst you unburden yourself, I remain at your disposal.
As for the situation involving yourself, your sister, and Elara... that is, I fear, a rather tangled mess.
Given Elara's Clan, I would urge a degree of caution before truly concluding that she loves you. We Toreador have acquired a deserved reputation for leaving fractured hearts in our wake. Even now, after all these decades, I find myself wrestling with passions that can become obsessive, despite maintaining standards of conduct that are quite exacting. This is not to say her affection is false - I doubt she would have gone so far were that the case. It may be entirely genuine. I merely advise you against wearing your heart on your sleeve, as the expression goes.
In any event, I am glad to see that you are safe and - reasonably - well.
Do you happen to possess an address - or as I am informed is now common, a post office box - to which Vanille might send a parcel of her home grown "herbal relaxation agents"?
i drew my oc xavier (clan toreador; they/she) as their drag king persona (he/him). did you know they do all their own vocals? they're quite proud of that. he can best be described as a sort of horror vaudeville show.
(they're probably singing a glam metal cover of this)
the best part of drag is that you can have your fangs out & everyone assumes it's just part of the costume! no masquerade breach here! :D
please ignore that i forgot to draw a strap for the bass and just assume they turned it into one of their belts.
Happy Pride! Don't let anyone dull your colours!
Patreon (Early access, WIPs, sketches) | Commissions (sale running for Pride Month!)
That is a discourse that has repeated throughout history.
I am certain you do have one, personally.
Keep yourself busy with mundane tasks. Take your time to think, and take refuge in your safe place for now. Please let me know if there is anything I may do to aid you.
