Rosemary Duncan
About
Gender: AFAB woman
Species: Vampire
Language(s) spoken: English
Sexuality: Sapphic Bisexual
Physical traits
Hair: Red
Eyes: Hazel
Height: 5'2"
Faceclaim: Helene Hammer
Background
CONTENT WARNINGS:
grooming, violence, gore, sexual abuse
About
Date of Birth: September 4th, 1844.
Birthplace: Fort Collins, CO
Personality/Attitude: Quiet and observant. Easily read as a naive and doe eyed young woman, a stranger might assume she was just a weird homeschooled overly religious type. However, due to her age and the violent and hedonistic society she was raised in, she doesn’t live up to that impression for long. She has very little regard for mortals, or anyone really and can be cruel when she gets the chance.
Skills/Talents: Piano, embroidery, both English and Western riding styles, cooking, animal care. She had a long time to be trained into a very nice frontier housewife.
Favourites/Likes: Romance novels, horses, women, peach cobbler.
Most Hated/Dislikes: Dogs, strangers, crowded rooms, muddy shoes on a clean floor.
Goals/Ambitions: She hasn’t had time to sort much of those out yet, she just wants to settle into a life without Vincent and explore what it means to be independent.
Fears: Loud masculine figures, dogs.
Philosophy of Life: Keep your head down and take care of yourself because no one else will.
Attitude Toward Death: It’s terrifying and she’ll do anything to escape it.
Religion/Beliefs: Originally Evangelical Christian but she is not nearly as interested as she used to be.
Attitude towards sex: Everyone is going to expect it from her so she may as well let it happen/use it as a tool to her advantage.
Place/Type of Residence: Two homes, one a small tudor in Connecticut, and the other a ranch house outside of Butte Montana, both inherited from her late husband.
Family Members:
Father:Vincent Duncan
Husband: Richard Marten (Deceased)
Physical Traits
Height: 5’2”
Weight: 115 lbs
Body type: Lanky, hourglass shaped
Hair: Red, very long, wavy
Body Hair: smooth
Eyes: Hazel
Faceclaim: Helene Hammer
Typical Clothing: Modest, but openly expensive. Mostly pastel and neutral tones. Honestly straight out of a country chic pinterest board.
Background
Rose doesn’t remember much of her early childhood, as much as she used to strain to recall her mother’s face or her father’s voice. There isn’t much there at all, but she knows she had a family before Vincent. She remembers blood, the cloying scent of it and the sounds of screams, and then a man, covered in red scooping her up onto the back of a horse and riding with her away from the trail and to her new home. Though he never told her in as many words, she knew he’d killed them all. The whole wagon party, probably. He described seeing her clinging to her human mother’s skirts while their family shopped, said she’d looked just like a china doll, except for the dust that caked everything and everyone on the trail. And he’d decided right then that he had to have her- that she deserved eternal life.
The young girl loved her father, of course. He’d saved her from a life of toil, a mortal life, and she was grateful, even when he was stern or controlling. She was his little doll and he insured that she stayed pure and perfect and lovely as she grew. She never questioned the way he looked at or talked about her.
She took her vows to join the blessed ranks of God’s chosen once she was of a suitable age and was finally welcomed to the parties and other gatherings her father had spoken so fondly of through her youth, though she tired of them quickly. It wasn’t as fun to be a woman in such a strict patriarchy- the men were loud and rude and no one had anything interesting to say. She retreated to the gardens or libraries of whatever home they were in to get some time alone and found that she loved absorbing all of the information about the outside world that she found. She even began to steal some of the more interesting books- no one suspected that sweet little angel of anything and so she got away with it for decades.
Eventually Rose decided that it would be best for her to get away from her father and marriage to Richard seemed like the best route. Of course Vincent approved, the man was well bred and well spoken and most important, filthy rich. Vincent wanted a new doll anyway, this one had grown boring and though the thought had occurred to him, he wasn’t monstrous enough to keep her for his own wife.
It was very quickly clear, however, that this new man was a monster behind closed doors. He was a sadist and when he tired of playing with her himself he passed her around to his friends to enjoy. The torture was intense and lasted for decades. Just when Rosie thought she would break completely, something else snapped. The two were alone in the parlor. He hit her for some perceived slight and instead of cowering, she hit back. Again and again she bashed at him with her fists and clawed through skin. They fought and somehow she won.
Rose disposed of her husband’s body and tried to cover up her crime but no one bought it. Her coven’s court saw the case and ruled her guilty of the murder. She was sentenced to death and that would have been the end of it if not for the help of a stranger. An elder from another clan, one of the original and most respected vampires, in fact. She noticed the young woman in chains and laughed and tormented the pitiful creature for a while. And then, the elderly vampire surprised everyone by announcing her protection over the youngling. Rosie was hers and to be pardoned for the crime. Furious but unable to argue with someone so well respected, the elders allowed the pardon and Rosie was free to go. The condition was, when her patron made a request Rosie was bound to serve without hesitation or risk a fate worse than death.