picture~Name: Miroslav Olegavich Pushkin (In theory. That’s probably not actually his name. He has a very poor memory.)
Nickname(s): None. Expects to be addressed as Miroslav Olegavich by acquaintances, however. He’s rather adamant about it. It’s just common courtesy, in his mind.
Age: Older than even he remembers. He has some memories of Kievan Rus and the Mongolian invasion, however.
Date of Birth: sometime in December- he’s not sure of the date. He’d very much like to be, but oh well.
Gender: male, if a bit effeminate.
Sexuality: Rather uninterested in sex, though he does prefer men.
Ethnicity: Eastern European (specifically, Russian. He has a really thick accent as well to show for it.)
Race: vampire
Personality: Childlike, curious, inquisitive. Rather an innocent thing. Also rather off his rocker. But he has an awful temper, and will go off on a person in the blink of an eye without even feeling bad or thinking twice.
The thing is, he can present himself as very sane and mild-mannered, even likable. It has been speculated that he only plays at being insane for his own amusement, but then, wouldn't that be a sign of insanity...?
Likes: Playing his violin, smoking, kittens, Corbin, beauty, chocolate, being doted on, artists, creativity, being held, travel, snow.
Dislikes: Monks and monasteries, churches, vampire stereotypes, the fact that vampires aren’t really feared anymore, most people, ugly people, being mistaken for a woman.
Appearance:
(really, just his coloring- the picture gives a good idea as to his physical/facial structure and all)
Hair: pale, pale blonde, almost white.
Eyes: one green, one blue.
Skin: pale, with some scars.
Other notes: He’s short and rather effeminate in appearance, and is often mistaken as female. He gets absolutely furious when that happens.
Bio: Most of the beginning of Miroslav’s life is a total blur. He remembers being surrounded by Mongols at some point- remembers being dragged off and beaten by them. But that is that, as for his human life.
His “father” was a handsome sailor, but he can’t recall the circumstances under which they met. He didn’t stay with the man for long- rather a fiercely, stupidly independent being, he chose to live without his creator and experienced many a horror for it.
He was there when Catholicism came and ravaged Russia. He was there when St. Petersburg was built on the bones of those who slaved away for its sake. He saw the Romanovs rise, he saw them fall, and he fled the revolutions and Hitler’s horrors bestowed upon his Mother Russia and hid, frightened, for years.
He lives alone as ever he did, but now, he’s sick of it. A recent string of killings has caught his eye, as well as the perpetrator…
Other notes: He has a locket that appears to bear some significance to him, but he’s told no one what it is.
