[Age] Immortal (Twenty-eight)

[D.O.B] 13th of October 

[Height] 6''0

[Hair] Brown

[Eyes] Blue

[Species] Incompletely- turned vampire

[Sire] Valentine Grimm

[Adoptive Sire] Carmilla Karenstein

[Residency] New York, New York

[Relationship] Single



       Formally, Christopher Adams, Taylor Connor remembers nothing of his life prior to 2014. He had suffered a bullet to the head that would have taken his life had he been human. In exchange for his life, the injury wiped clean Taylor's memory in an instant. Now he lives with Retrograde Amnesia, a condition most commonly caused by injury and characterized by a loss of memory-access or information that was learned. To this day he has a scar on his right temple, hidden by his hairline. Upon discovering a fake ID card amongst his belongings, he took on the new name Taylor Connor and quickly attempted to adapt. After some months it became clear that whoever he was prior to his injury was not the kind of person to leave behind traceable footprints. He had no bank account, no address and seemingly no friends. But he did have a single contact saved into the almost empty memory of a cellphone he had on his person. Contact: G. He tried calling the number, but nobody ever answered.

Over the years, Taylor has built something of a brand new life for himself. It hadn't been easy, of course, [...] He picked up as many low-wage jobs as he could juggle at one time 

These days, Taylor keeps mostly to himself. Although he does have a small circle of trusted friends now, he does not frequently remain in contact with them; this shows his tendency to behave like a recluse. As expected for his timid nature, when first meeting somebody Taylor is reserved, soft-spoken and a man of few words. Contrary to the idea that Taylor is selectively stoic, he wishes to be more outgoing and forthright but finds himself trapped within his own shyness (thus, he considers unapologetic talkers admirable and is often drawn to them). 






October 24

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  • dotdotdot

  • The corner of Siger's mouth hooked in a smirk, the man finding a sort of cruel delight in the way the blood rushed to the surface of the strangers face when the wolf had poked at his less than nominal swimming capabilities.  He let it go, though.

    For now.

    Sea-green eyes followed the motions; watching the other man peel off his wet shirt, wringing it out onto the earth instead of back into the ocean. Some part of him was annoyed, but all he merely quirked his brow, head lulling inquisitively to the side.  "Mm." He grunted.

    Lips parting to reveal a splash of white teeth, he laughed - a soft, jovial tune bubbling up unexpectedly from the depths of his chest. Wasn't expecting a swim.  Great excuse.  Then, glancing towards the cove, out towards the vast expanse of black water, the blanket of night boasting tens of billions of winking stars, he fell silent again.

    "It didn't just fall apart"--Siger did his best poor impression of Taylor's accent; amping up the tone of his voice a few octaves, mocking shock. "--I sank the bitch." There was a touch of pride in his baritone; the way he tilted his chin upwards ever so slightly.  But he shook his head, causing his wet black hair to fall back into his face.  Ignoring it, he pulled his shirt from around the back of his neck and offered it to the other male.

    It was a simple black button up shirt with short sleeves.  And - it was also dry.  Siger figured it was going to to waste keeping the sun from the nape of his neck - it wasn't like he'd burn.  He was maybe, also, partially aware that not everyone else in the world enjoyed being shirtless as much as he did. 

    Honestly, he stripped down at every opportunity. 

    Inked muscles in his arm bunch at the bicep when he draws back, scratching an itch gnawing at his lower ribs. "Yeah, well.  Don't. I only saved you because I was curious.  What are you?" Even though it was encroaching upon night, and steadily growing darker -- he seemed to glow.  Not literally, mind, but in an energetic sense, as though he was a stormcloud squatting over the sea, ready to shit lightning. 


    Here, in the cove, the sea whispered secrets all around them - kissing the land with gentle rushes of the tide.  Here, there was something.. more.  The air seemed to vibrate, the water seemed so clear, almost inviting.  And the wind sang around the rocks, a haunting, far off tune that disappeared over the sea.. 


  • Siger remained in the water, the small colorful fish zipping around him, as quick as lightning bolts - making sure to give him a wide berth.  Unfortunately, there wasn’t anywhere they could swim to escape - once swept into the cove, they were trapped. Cut off from the sea until the moon beckoned for the tide.

    A forest of kelp stretched across the bottom of the small body of water, partially visible from the surface, where some of the bigger fish kept too, eating and swimming and doing whatever fish kept themselves busy with in their spare time.

    A great place to hunt.  But lucky for Taylor, Zi wasn’t thinking about food at the moment.  Scenting the air, he was wondering what exactly he’d just pulled out of the ocean.  Beneath the waves, he’d seen those eyes - as red as blood. 

    This would be the second time he’d saved someone from drowning.  Although the other person had been a woman, and the sea intent on dragging her to a watery grave, so he figured he had a pretty good idea how a human should react to drowning.  Or.. nearly drowning. 

    Studying the male with sharp, pale green eyes he decided; So he’s not human.  Neither am I. Whatever. 

    Pressing his fist into the earth, Siger silently lifted himself out of the water; a hand raising to sweep his ink black hair out of his face.  The male was covered in tattoos -- nearly every inch, except his face. Even the sides of his head, the lengths of his fingers, and down his thighs, all on display due to a severe lack of clothing.  

    The face of Kali the Destroyer stared at Taylor once Siger raised to his full height of 6’3”, her tongue extended, a sharp toothed grin cutting across his abdomen.  

    He blinked down at the man, sensing panic stirring within him.  Then tilted his head, noting the way the other male relaxed as his hand sought something through his shirt. “Well,” He snorted. “You would have died, the way you gave into the sea like that.  What’s up with you land striders, anyway? Ever heard of swimmin’? Looked like a Jelly Fish flailin’ about down there. Shoulda’ seen the look on your face.”

    Siger chuckled, as if recalling said look. “No, I wasn’t on that ship.  I was in the water, genius.” Glancing around, he spotted his clothes lying in a heap by the edge of the water and stepped over to them, slipping into his boxers, then into a pair of worn jeans, ripped in the right knee.  He hooked the shirt around the back of his neck, much preferring to remain shirtless in spite of the bitter winter air.

  • The screams.

    Oh, they did something to Siger.  Stirring a primal mechanism from the deep.. 

    Even with his level of control - it was hard to resist.  Just a few short weeks ago, he might not have, he might have taken one of them.  Rationalized later that there was no way anyone could figure out there was a seamonster on the loose -- let alone a whole pack of them.

    But he did resist.  Remaining hidden in the darkness below, claws dug deep into the sandy ocean floor.. 

    Good thing, too.

    He caught a glimpse of the man struggling for the surface, caught in the high-pressure grip of the sinking yacht.  Dragged down, down, down…no matter how hard he fought against it.

    Siger snarled; bubbles hissing from his slitted reptilian nostrils to dance to the surface, right past Taylor..

    If the man was even conscious, he might count himself lucky -- or unlucky -- enough to catch sight of something massive moving in the black, shadowy depths.  It was dark grey like a storm cloud, covered with flashing armored scales, and though perhaps it was far more agile, it swam like a crocodile..

    And that massive thing was swimming right for Taylor, jaw opening wide as if to swallow him hole; sharp and deadly ivory teeth threatening to snap him in half..  

    And then there was a hand, stretching through the water to grab Taylor by the wrist.  With a firm grip, the hand -- which belonged to a man, by the way -- began to pull the other male away.  Away from the sinking yacht and it’s mighty grip, away from the survivors and the yet-to-arrive rescue party and all the other rich assholes.  Who else could afford a yacht? 

    Popping his head out of the water, Siger looked around the cove beneath the Waterfront manor -- guarded by huge, twisted rocks on either side.  The water here was still and calm, boasting a large population of colorful fish that were smart enough to stay out of the deeper water, away from larger, hungrier predators.  Not including Zi.

    Rather unceremoniously, Taylor is hefted from the salty water and dropped onto the foot of the dirt path leading up to Siger’s home.

  • From within a grand manor that clung to the side of a cliff, hanging precariously over the sea, Siger watched yet another ship sail towards the port - merely a silhouette against the flaming ball of gas we call a sun.  He pressed his forehead against glass - the inside of a transparent wall that allowed him to view the sea - pale green eyes fixed on the waters below as they danced with hues of red and orange and yellow, danced with glittering light and sea foam and salt-spray.. flicking up to the boat again, then down to the water.

    Grinning to himself, the male stepped away from the glass, deciding as Alpha, he had the right to sate his boredom any Gods damned way he pleased.

    Without telling anyone where he was going -- and knowing in the back of his mind that his second-in-command Aiali'i would follow him anyway -- he slipped away from the manor, picking his way down a path beneath that led down into a vast cove.  There, Siger stripped down, and slid into the water, disappearing beneath the waves without so much as a ripple.


    . . .


    Without warning, the boat jerked in the water as something heavy and large struck it from beneath, causing a few people aboard to lose their balance.  One unlucky bastard even slipped into the hot-tub, losing his drink in the process.  He was cursing up a storm when he surfaced, water spewing from his nose and mouth, bitching about the cost of his suit and phone while he angrily tried to sweep back his sopping mop of hair.

    No one paid him any mind, though.  Far too busy looking over the sides of the ship.. had they hit a dolphin? God forbid- a shark? 

    An older woman neared the edge of the ship, nervously clutching the ring on her finger.  Slowly, she looked over the edge.. and started screaming! 


    This time, something struck the ship with such force that it was lifted out of the water at least six feet before crashing back down into the waves, toppling tables and people alike.  And then again, rolling into the vessel like a rogue tidal wave - splitting the the ship in half with a thunderous crack, scattering it's occupants to the sea.

    The water stirred, parting as something massive moved in the deep, rocketing towards what remained of the boat.  Then, the sea gurgling with hunger, bubbling violently, either half of the boat began to disappear beneath the surface, dragged down by.. by what? It had been impossible to see much, a flash of scales that could have been sea foam, a shadow that could have been nothing..

  • The book remained motionless once Christopher made the decision to close it. The sorceress inside had few options when it came to getting out of that wretched book. She could rely on the young man she had spoken to, convince his boss to set her free, or seek out another poor bastard to do the job. All of these options relied on someone else. She had been on display in that museum for God knows how long. This was an opportunity for her and she did not intend on letting it go to waste.

    The ride to their destination was long and silent and her lack of senses made it impossible for the dark fairy to know where they were going. When she felt the car come to a stop the book shook. Unfortunately for her the book was immediately wrapped in black silk. She could hear bits and pieces of the conversation between Christopher and the bidder but it soon became impossible to follow. It was only when the young man spoke that she figured out what had happened. Christopher had changed his mind about giving the book away. It's magic, more specifically the malevolent creature inside had won him over. How delightful, she thought. His apology and offer to free her received a quick response from Maleficent. Her handwriting appeared on the pages yet again for him to read.

    "No apology necessary. You made the correct decision." By now Maleficent had started to wonder about what she was dealing with. The lack of gunshots led her to believe Christopher was inhuman.

    "Releasing me is simple. You need to wish me out of the book." That sounded far too easy but why would she lie about something as important as her freedom? The simple solution meant either one of two things. Either the people responsible for her imprisonment were imbeciles or Christopher was dealing with a monster no one in their right mind would release. The spell made it impossible for any individual with her blood to release her. The same was true for any creature under the influence of her magic like her pet raven, Diablo.

    "I assume you will want something in return?"

  • "I'm just givin' ye the stereotypes about my people," He quirks a brow at Taylor.  Obviously communication was going to be something of a challenge, considering Finn prefered to speak behind a curtain of wit and sarcasm. "no more, no less." A dark shoulder is lifted and dropped in a shrug that has him grimacing.  The whiskey could only numb his pain so much, apparently. 

    It does something to his self control though; grinning boyishly, he flicks the edge of the man's glass after he's poured more alcohol into it.  He didn't know if people like Taylor could even get drunk.. but apparently, he was going to find out.

    "Well, I can't lift as much as ye no doubt, weren't I enhanchin' my physical strength.." but he's much too exhaused to even think about showing off right now.  So he takes a large drink from his glass and swishes the whiskey around his mouth before swallowing it down. "surely ye feel somethin?" Finn's brow pinches doubtfully, could Taylor even feel such a change in his body, or would he have to try flexing his muscles?  The academic in him is curious.

    By the time Taylor is done with his story, the Irishman's glass is empty and his expression is as placid as a still pond. "Why?" he wonders, outloud. "what'd ye do to those guys to make 'em hate ye so much that they'd try and murder ye with vampire blood--which, I if I might-- is completely mental." Far be it for Finn to back away from a dare, even the unspoken kind.  He reaches out to grip the man's wrist, feeling for a pulse with the pad of his thumb.  


    "I need some air, let's go outside." he says after a minute.


  • He finds it a little funny that Taylor seems so worried about a little bit of whiskey on his counter when there was what probably looked like a murder scene upstairs in the hallway.  He figures he should probably work on a little spell to wash his blood away when he's feeling a little less buzzed and a lot less drained, both physically and spiritually.  Tonight's been a good wake up call, a reminder he can never be too careful.  And who knew what kind of friends this leechy lad had hanging around.

    Finn takes another drink from his glass, not reacting physically to burn. "Well, it's what the old kine shite claims.  'The druids were peceable wise men, scholars and wizards..'  n' they pranced about in white robes, casting spells wit' their wands and taking part in ritualistic orgies and bloody sacrifice of livestock.." he chuckles, taking another drink. "Well, I s'pose some of it's true, then.  But it's mostly kine shite."

    Lugh's massive balls, I'm sloshed.  The realization is a startling one.  It's been a while since he's been drunk of just one glass of anything.  Must have something to do with all the blood he's lost.

    "Fuck mate, I dunno'.  There's people out there doin' all sortsa weird shite.  Waterin' down the guest's drinks is white picket compared to suckin' their blood, eh?"

    He sniggers, refilling Taylor's glass without spilling a drop this time around, and topping off his own.  Then he shakes his bottle at the man, blue eyes peering past the neck of it at the other man's healed face.  He's tempted to lie, but decides against it. "Naaah," Finn waves his hand once in a dismissive gesture. "Bet ye could bench more than normal, though." smell sharper and see further, maybe even feel the earth's smothered presence depending on how much he's ingested.  He keeps this to himself, though.

    "Pardon my bluntness, but ye ain't a pure blooded vampire, are ye?"

  • { Seeing as you are back, I wanted to say welcome back. I hope you're doing alright and what not with life. That's all really. }

  • He looks around for something to dry his hands on and bind the wound on his wrist with afterwards.  Then he tips some whiskey into each of the glasses.  He very nearly hands one over to the man--but thinks twice about getting that close--and slides it across the counter to him instead, causing the whiskey within to slosh side to side, a bit spilling over the rim.

    "Not a big fan of literature, I take it." he's hardly surprised, if anything he's a bit relieved.  Pre-conceived notions are at best amusing and at worst another symbol of his religion's degradation.  Another reminder that he's the last of the last, and if he's not - the others are damn good at keeping themselves hidden from him and the whole of the world.  He shrugs, then flinches with regret and pain almost immediately.

    Taylor's next question has him pausing, mouth open to respond but the words shriveled on his tongue. "Errr.." his blue eyes rotate around the room before finally landing on Taylor, thoughtful. "No..? Well, kinda yeah? It's a bitch of a long story, and me head's poundin'." Finn picks up his own glass and starts drinking from it, and he tips his head back to drain it to the last drop.  Then, he pours himself another. "Although not for long if yer bottle aint watered down," he shakes it at the man, then slumps back against the counter as if all the strength has gone out of him.

    "Bleedin' grand, really." He'd heal, anyway.  He just needed a good rest and maybe an arm wrestling match with one of the numerous trees outfront.  "..ye don't feel like yer gonna' explode or nothin', now, do ye?" Finn asks, his eyebrows knitted together with concern.  There wasn't the slightest possibility of someone exploding after drinking his blood-- unless it had something to do with a totally unrelated but quality timed incident.  However, the feeling that one could take on the world and still have enough energy to fly to Jupiter and build a bridge back was almost universal, not that many have gotten the chance.  These are things he just knows.


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Taylor Connor is now friends with Anthony Vane and Carmilla Karnstein
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"As it turns out, making a mockery of Taylor’s non-existent swimming capabilities is a sure fire of…"
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Taylor Connor left a comment for Siger Waterfront
"As it turns out, making a mockery of Taylor’s non-existent swimming capabilities is a sure fire of…"
Dec 5, 2019
Taylor Connor left a comment for Siger Waterfront
"As it turns out, making a mockery of Taylor’s non-existent swimming capabilities is a sure fire of…"
Dec 5, 2019
Taylor Connor left a comment for Siger Waterfront
"As it turns out, making a mockery of Taylor’s non-existent swimming capabilities is a sure fire of…"
Dec 5, 2019
Taylor Connor left a comment for Siger Waterfront
"Fighting the urge to sink into oblivion, Taylor’s less humane biology flares up and jolts a rush of…"
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Taylor Connor left a comment for Siger Waterfront
"Fighting the
Fighting the urge to sink into oblivion, Taylor’s less humane biology flares up and…"
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Taylor Connor left a comment for Siger Waterfront
"The initial violent strike upon the boat rocks the vessel, causing Taylor to lift his head off his…"
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"Taylor never intended to leave the comfort of New York; he already strangely misses the hum of the…"
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Taylor Connor and Siger Waterfront are now friends
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Taylor Connor updated their profile
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