Lazarus

[Trillian]

Lazarus

Exitus acta probat

The end justifies the means

 
Age [appearance]: 25
Age [actual]: A little over 2000
Gender: Male
Species: Vampire
 
Hair: Shoulder length, not styled in any particular way. He has a bed-hair look befitting rockstars and acts much like one. His long-fingered hand will run through his hair, separating long strands which are straight with a very light kink. He cares much about his hair and shampoos and conditions it regularly. His favourite shampoo/conditioner is scented with coconut.
 
Eyes: A light and piercing pale gray, though when he wears a blue shirt there seem to be blue flecks in them. He will stare intensely at whoever has caught his interest and isn't one to lower his gaze or pull it away when his stare is met or challenged. When challenged, his eyes often dance merrily with an amused light.
 
Frame: 6'4" and svelte.
 
Tattoos/Distinguishing Marks: No marks, scars or tattoos, but he's missing his left hand just above the wrist.
 
Usually seen wearing: Black boots with steel caps and silver buckles, pale blue jeans with worn knees, a button up shirt (usually white or a light colour, sometimes pinstriped), and his favourite black woollen jacket. It is beginning to look a little tattered now, and he will eventually replace it with another black jacket of some description.
 
Usually seen holding: A bottle of alcohol by the neck or a cigarette.
 
Body Language Common stance 1: Leaning; His shoulders against a wall or object, thumb hooked into the belt loops of his jeans, his hips thrust out slightly, one foot slightly forward, usually a smirk on his face as he watches whoever he wants to watch.
 
Common stance 2: Standing; Head tilted at an angle that drapes his hair away from his face in a curtain of blonde, hand/stump lightly on his hips or in/at his back pockets, hips to one side for all his weight is on one leg while the other is straight out or bent at the knee - a cowboy pose.
 
Common stance 3: Sitting; Sprawled over a chair, whether it is comfortable or not, relaxed and with an arm hooked over the back, knees apart and him eyeing off his next victim of lust.
 
Visual Habits: Smoking, drinking, running a hand through his hair, half-lidded eyes and chin up whenever he's flirting with someone (or being superior).
 
Residences: Currently out of the city.
 
Occupation: Layabout
 
Finances: He has no money, but always manages to get whatever he wants due to his lack of morals and ethics.
 
Likes: Attractive young men between the ages of 16-30 who either challenge or worship him. He'll tire of the latter sooner than the former.
 
Hates: Females. Especially those that hold some kind of power.
 
Quirks: Doesn't perform oral sex but loves to receive it - will only do such a thing in the name of love. Is generous with his touch but will not allow himself to be the recipient of any sexual position with his male partner - unless he comes across someone he either deeply respects or wins the struggle against him for the dominant position. Seeing as how he's rather physically strong, it doesn't happen often.
 
Mental Powers: None. He could be all-powerful but never took the time to learn anything. He can receive thoughts sent to him by other vampires/species, but that's all. He has a natural aged mental block that is very sturdy thanks to his resistance to mental abilities - however, any vampire older than 10 with a good grasp of mental powers could smash it.
 
Claims: His sire is Jesus Christ, and that he is the Biblical Lazarus.
 
Fledglings: Over his long existence, he has sired over 100 fledglings. Most of them have died or been destroyed, but not by him. His fledges who've recently been in the city are: Baxter Birchel, Aladdin Syed, Cicero (the third he'd ever fledged, way back in history), Win Arlington and Murphy Hilton.

[Trillian]

The blonde vampire was carrying a mortal teen tucked under his right arm as he walked up an alley looking for a spot to hide away the lifeless body of the young prostitute. His left hand rose and he took a drag from the cigarette that was slowly smoking between his fingers. His cool grey eyes narrowed when he spied the dumpster through the haze of smoke that he gently blew from his mouth.

Perfect.

He lifted the body higher on his hip and headed for the dumpster. He saw that the thing was padlocked. Who the fuck would padlock a dumpster? He flicked the cigarette away where it bounced off the opposite alley wall and landed atop a stack of old newspapers left out for collection, the embers spilling onto the papers and igniting them into a burst of crackling flame. The hungry licks of the fire consumed the dried papers quickly, and moved onto the rubbish bags beside it.

Lazarus barely seemed to notice. When the papers first ignited he gripped the padlock with his left hand and twisted it as he tugged, his immeasurable strength opening the thick metal lock like it was melting toffee, then he threw the lock over his shoulder where it landed into the blaze behind him against the opposite narrow wall of the alley. He opened one half of the dumpster lid where it clanged against the brick wall that it was against and peered inside. He blinked at the contents within. Blankets, a Walkman, a little box with such things as toothpaste, brushes, soaps, a pair of socks neatly folded up as well as a battered pack of cigarettes. It was this packet that gave him pause, as well as a stale dusty smell that declared the inhabitant of this dumpster was long gone.

He shrugged and was about to throw the boy inside the dumpster anyway when he finally noticed the fast heat of the fire warming the jacket against his back, and he turned to look at it... a smile curling his lips as the fire spilled across piles of garbage.

He shifted the body of the teen into both hands and then threw him like a log on top of where the fire had begun, the boy’s hair and clothes immediately caught and fed upon by the flames. He leant against the dumpster to watch his handiwork until he could hear the squall of sirens over the next few blocks. Somebody had obviously called the fire department from one of the buildings either side of the alley he was in.

Sighing, he jumped up and folded himself over the lip of the dumpster to reach in and grab the pack of cigarettes before sniffing them and then opening the packet to spy that he’d gained half a dozen more of the little sticks to add to his depleting collection. He removed them and threw the pack away as he walked to the mouth of the alley, taking out his current pack of cigarettes of which there were three and a disposable lighter inside, and added five of the newly discovered cigarettes to it, placing one between his lips and gripping the lighter deftly in one hand, he flicked the wheel and lit the cigarette.  It tasted a little stale, but overall pretty good.

He crossed the street to enter the park, bathed in the ethereal flickering glow of the strengthening blaze behind him, already leaping over the short brick wall and heading up the first grassy knoll as a fire engine pulled to a stop in front of the alley and a flurry of activity was left in his wake.

Grinning, he pocketed one of his hands into his woollen jacket pocket, the cigarette held in the other. As he walked, he smoked, feeling full and warm and fresh and dangerous.

He walked a path, passing a couple of mortal cattle that were drawn to the promise of seeing a fire being put out. Ordinary. When a woman in the couple gave him a lingering stare he turned to look at her a moment before sneering at her and sticking his tongue out in a classic child’s demonstration of ‘bleargh!’. She blinked and quickly looked away, clinging to her partner as they hurried along. Lazarus laughed at her.

Stupid bitch.

He found a little Japanese bridge over the city garden lake and decided it might be fun to walk up one of the railings. He jumped up onto it and quickly stepped up the arch to stand comfortably at the middle, which was relatively straight. From here he could just see a few orange flickers of the fire and a ghastly plume of black smoke that smelled bad even from here. He laughed his delight before taking another puff of the cigarette.

He’d left his mark tonight.