about—DOROTHEA ANAIS PETIT: UNCIVILISED. AGGRESSIVE. VOLATILE. UNRELIABLE. INHUMANE. UNCONTROLLABLE. ANIMALISTIC. UNSOCIALISED. UNLOVED.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: abuse, familial sexual abuse, miscarriages, death.
She prefers to be called Dot or Dottie: she came up with both of them herself as a child and decided that if she ever met another human, she’d tell them to call her that. Her father calls her by her full name, or Dorrie if he’s feeling particularly affectionate, and she’s quite adamant that no other living being should be allowed to call her either.
When she was just a babe, her father tore her away from her mother’s (Vivienne’s) arms and took her away to the French country side where he would raise her in seclusion from the rest of the world, and it would be where she would remain for most of the thousands of years she would be alive.
Her father would spend the years there abusing her—he is turned into a vampire when she is eight, and the abuse continues because he is cruel, because he likes to see that way that nurture can take away almost every element of nurture.
Her father turned her when she is twenty three and dying of toxic shock after losing another forced pregnancy—he finally turns her and calls her “his little vampire.” He doesn’t let the supernatural come between his regime, though: he lives his life beyond the small, dark concrete basement he keeps her in, whilst she spends her days there.
She lives there for thousands of years, counting down the days and playing with the only doll that is in there. She lives to wait for her father to come back and give her company, to remind her that her entire world revolves around him. He brings her blood and reminds her that the world is a cruel, nasty place.
Very, very recently (think, this month) her father never came back for her—she’d spent almost seven thousand years in the confines of her childhood home. He didn’t come back for her and she was slowly dying of starvation, so she broke out of the basement for the first time in her life and killed the first men that she laid eyes on, for their blood.
Note, she never attempted to escape before because this was the life and the world that she has known. To Dottie, her father was protecting her from the cruelty of everyone else—to her, this was how loving fathers raise their children.
She is feral, she is uncontrollable—she doesn’t understand how to deal with other creatures, and she doesn’t understand social boundaries or queues.
Tragically: she has been forced to be submissive and it is all she has ever known, and of course all the creatures at the castle are the dominants and the masters/mistresses, but she has a secret enjoyment of receiving pain—she’ll never tell, but it’s always at the back of her mind.
The problem with years of abuse is that she’s fearless, and it makes Dottie dangerous. She isn’t scared to be hurt, and she isn’t scared of dying: she welcomes it.
