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|Caston Kane; Camarilla, Toreador|
|Topic Started: Tuesday, 31. July 2012, 15:50 (133 Views)|
|Caston Kane||Tuesday, 31. July 2012, 15:50 Post #1|
False Face Must Hide What The False Heart Doth Know
Player Handle: Caston Kane
Name: Caston Evan Kane
Age: 99 (Born November 8th, 1914; Embraced March 12th, 1938)
Place of birth: Brooklyn, New York City, United States of America
Age of embrace: 24
Disciplines: Auspex, Celerity, Presence
Caston stands at 5'10, with a swimmer's build. The newest fashions are always part of his wardrobe, though he does prefer to wear darker colors. His confident demeanor, flirtatious nature, and chic outfits allow him to blend in with nearly any social situation, whether it's a late night study group at a university library, a seedy downtown bar, a gothic nightclub, a museum of art, or a diner. He's a fan of dark denim and buttondown shirts, he never wears shorts of any kind, and prefers leather dress shoes over modern looking sneakers. His sense of style has evolved throughout the decades (for instance, his studded collar, black nail polish, and eye shadow completed his anti-establishment ensembles in the 1980s), but what has never changed is how he styles his hair; clean cut and sensible - a look that echoed back to the time of his embrace.
Caston's skin is as pale as any Kindred's. He has chestnut brown hair and his eyes are brown with a tinge of red in the center that's hard to notice unless one gets very, very close.
Located above The Citadel, Caston's nightclub, on the top floor. His loft apartment space is decorated with his own art and is often where the most exclusive after parties in London happen. A perfect space for socialization, and with retractable black-out blinds for the windows, the perfect place to be after dawn...
Overview: Caston Evan Kane was born in Brooklyn, New York in November of 1914, to a poor family. His father worked at the newspaper printery and his mother was a seamstress. During his teenage years following the stock market crash and the start of the Great Depression, his father lost his job and Caston took to digging graves for $5.00 a day after school to help support his family while his parents looked for work and waited for food in the breadlines. He eventually graduated high school and dreamed of going to New York University to study literature and become a scholar, but his family could never afford it; so he continued his job as a grave digger while sneaking into the university halls in the afternoons and sitting in on the classes -- all he wanted to do was learn all that he could so that he could make a better life for himself and his family.
One evening in March of 1938, President Franklin D. Roosevelt was giving a speech in front of the backdrop of the Brooklyn Bridge, and Caston, now 24 years old, was one of the excited faces in the crowd. His family even let him stay out and miss supper just so he could see FDR with his own eyes. Thanks to the New Deal, Caston's family started working again, and he was very close to obtaining a scholarship so he could finally get the education he so desperately wanted. While there, he met a young woman who identified herself as D'Anna, and told him she could take him behind the platform to meet the president and shake his hand; a prospect Caston found quite alluring. He followed her away from the crowd, toward the bridge and farther and farther away from people... Little did he know that night would change him forever. The mysterious woman bit him and fed from him, much to his horror, and as the blood was draining out of him and the life dwindling from his eyes, she took pity on him and at the last moment, Embraced him.
Over the next year or so, D'Anna mentored Caston every night on the ways of the Kindred: how to hunt, how to hone his senses and skills, and how to keep his activities hidden from mortal sight. His Toreador nature kept him close to his own humanity, and he tried very hard to hold on to as much of his actual "self" as he could. He robbed his victims after he drank from them and kept the money to support his family -- as far as they knew, he had a mysterious new job that required him to work overnight, every night, and he never visited them during the day.
Another year later, his facade was becoming more and more difficult to maintain and he eventually knew that his family, his friends, everyone he knew, would start to notice his agelessness. Eventually, in 1941, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and the United States entered into World War II. The war gave Caston the perfect way out -- he told his family he was leaving to join the U.S. army to fight overseas, and after making his final goodbyes, left Brooklyn and headed west. A letter mocked up to appear to be from the government was sent to the Kane family household informing them that Caston had "died in the line of duty abroad". Part of him pained silently, for as his family was grieving for him, he was quietly grieving for them; after all, he could never see them again. It was better that way.
The 40's away from home were anything but boring. During World War II, the Germans were using secret bases in France to "experiment" with humanity, and by sheer accident, discovered the existence of vampires. A classified Nazi operation had hoped to use Kindred blood to augment the abilities of their own soldiers, in a bold attempt to create a true "master race" in every sense. The Camarilla, through the Prince of Montreal, dispatched Caston to Europe to perform reconissance on site, and, if possible, put an end to the experiments. Not only did he stop the Germans, he slaughtered every last one of them, at unbelievable speeds (thanks to Celerity), until the walls of the base were wet with blood. He was so horrified, so appalled by what he saw in that place, that he doused the laboratories in gasoline and burned the entire facility to the ground. His actions also had an unintended but fortuitous effect - by sheer accident, he enabled the Allied Powers to enter the city and, without the Nazi base as an obstacle, they were able to liberate that area of France from German control and come one step closer to defeating Adolph Hitler at the end of the war.
He spent the next four decades wandering North America: Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, Cleveland, Toronto, Los Angeles -- his nomadic ways allowing him to establish himself in a new area, move up the social ladder, and when he gained all that he wished to gain, he would disappear as if he'd never been there at all. He thrived in the 1960's, mingling with influential pioneers in music and visual art, and producing works of his own under a variety of pseudonyms, earning himself a decent profit for his trouble. Up until the 80's - when he adopted his punk rock phase - it was his main source of income. A sad moment in the early 1990's came when he returned to New York and was able to see his elderly older sister before she died. When she saw him, she thought he was an angel, and nights later he attended her wake. Quietly, he hoped, in death, that she found the Heaven where she belonged.
The 2000's proved interesting - Caston was visited by a former lover, whom happened to be the Ventrue Primogen of Washington, D.C., while he was staying in Los Angeles. He had betrayed him in the late 1970's at the request of a Toreador elder, stealing confidential and potentially damaging information from him and killing his human staff. When the two met in California in 2010, they battled one another for an entire evening, one never quite delivering a death blow to the other. The fight ended as the sun was about to rise, and visit destruction on both of them - so both fled, each in his own direction.
Caston eventually left the United States for the first time since the second world war; a new country, a new city, a new start. An old, close friend of his, the Toreador Primogen of London, contacted him and informed him that political forces were moving against her, and that she would soon need to keep her clanmates at bay to keep her position. Her email pleaded with Caston to relocate to England and help her retain her seat on the Primogen council.
He agreed to help his old friend... but the outcome wouldn't be what he expected.
The story of his Embrace:
He couldn't put down the newspaper. Over and over again, he read the front page story, his heart racing with excitement. It was March 12th, which meant the day he'd waited weeks for had arrived. His eyes scanned the article again, although at this point, he had almost memorized all 271 words of it.
Caston Kane was about to see, with his own eyes, the President of the United States.
He got up from the living room chair and took another look at his appearance in the hallway mirror, making sure that he had picked every strand of fuzz and lint off of his suit jacket. To him, this was one of the most important days of his life, second only to his Confirmation when he was 12 years old at St. James' Cathedral over on Chapel St., and even his very Roman Catholic mother agreed with that assessment. The "Great Depression", as some people took to calling it, was starting to end, in large part thanks to President Franklin Delano Roosevelt and the New Deal. His father had lost his job at the factory several years earlier, and wasn't able to find work until recently. In order to take a job, Caston worked most of his teenage years after school, and regularly up to now, as a grave digger at the cemetary. Now that his father had found work again, Caston was elated at the prospect that he would no longer have to dig graves for a living -- and maybe, he could soon afford to go to college and get the education he wanted so badly. FDR was to thank for almost all of this, and to the Kane family, the president was practically a saint.
"Mom! Are you sure this looks alright?" Caston called to his mother, adjusting the tie he was wearing around his neck in the mirror. He still had a few hours before the evening speech, so he wanted to head down to the Five and Dime shop and waste some time with his friends, but he also wanted to look his very best: especially since he was going to see the president speak later on that night. Maybe, if he got close enough, he would even get to meet him!
"Caston Evan Kane, now you calm yourself down," his mother said, walking in from the kitchen. "You and every other man in New York will be wearing your Sunday best on a Saturday night, and I am sure that they are asking their own mothers and their wives the very same question. You will be fine tonight, dear, I promise you."
"But it's FDR, Ma, FDR!" Caston exclaimed. "I mean, what would Grandpa say if he were here to see me meet the president? He'd want to make sure my tie was straight too!"
His mother smiled. "You don't know for certain if you'll meet him tonight, son, but I know that your grandfather is so very proud of you, and he is smiling at you up in heaven," she said, with a bittersweet twinkle in her eye. "Oh, if he were only here to see his namesake meet the president. He would be so happy for you."
Caston was only three years old when his grandfather died in 1918 during the [First] World War. He was in the army, and Caston didn't remember much of him at all, though there was a photograph that was taken of his grandfather holding him as an infant that he kept in a small picture frame on the table next to his bed. His grandfather's name was Howard Caston Albert Kane, and ever since he was a boy, the 24 year old young man was always told that since he was given his Grandpa's middle name that he had a lot to live up to. His friends often made fun of his name, but to him, it was almost sacred; a cherished piece of the man he wished he knew, who died way too soon.
Caston shook these sad thoughts away, put his suit jacket on, and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. "Aright Ma, I'm meeting Jimmy and Ralph down at the Five and Dime and then I'm walking right over to the speech," he said, with a smile that seemed permanently etched on his face. "I love you, Ma, I'll see you soon!"
"Just one moment, dear, I need a photograph! We can put this on the mantle, and I'm sure your father would love to see how handsome you looked today when we can get it developed! Stand over there and look this way!" His mother said eagerly, and before the 24 year old knew it, his mother had snapped the photo, the flash of the camera bulb making Caston blink a few times after it was taken. "Oh, there, you look so handsome! Have a wonderful time, dear." She hurried over to the family typewriter to make a label to attach to the picture with his name and the date on it so she could show it around to all of her friends:
C. E. Kane
Mar. 12, 1938
"I can't wait to show that Mrs. Welch this photograph! I bet her son isn't going to see a presidential speech!"
He grinned at her and shook his head. "Thanks, Mom." He said. "Goodbye."
Riding a bicycle to the Five and Dime was difficult in a suit jacket and tie. The sun was high in the afternoon sky and by the time Caston got to the shop, he was already wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. He leaned his bike against the side of the building and was grateful to step inside the shop's cool interior, where he spotted his two friends sitting at the counter. "Hiya Ralph! Hiya Jimmy!" He said, greeting them as he took a seat next to them. The owner came over to take his order. "I'll have a malt, please. Vanilla?" He said, and the owner gave him a nod.
"Lookin' mighty spiffy there, Cassie," Ralph said in his heavy Bronx accent. "Where ya goin' tonight? Got yourself a date?" Ralph laughed and Caston punched him lightly on the shoulder.
"Cut it out, will ya? I don't make fun of your name!" he said, as Ralph conceded, giggling. "Didn't you hear, fellas? President Roosevelt is coming to town! It's all over the papers! I'm going to see him tonight!"
"You know, my Pa says that he's a labor-appeasing, Supreme Court packing Bolshevik," Jimmy said. "But I don't know what he means by all that, 'cause I think it's swell you're going! Wish I was coming along, but Suzie Morton said that she wanted me to go with her to walk her dog in the park tonight! Just the two of us!"
Ralph gave Jimmy a nudge with his elbow. "Is that so? Alone, huh? A humina-humina-humina!" He laughed, making a comedic 'kissy' face.
Caston put ten cents on the counter when his malt arrived and took a sip. "Don't listen to him, Jimmy. He's just jealous 'cause he doesn't got a girl of his own. I think Suzie is a swell girl, really I do." Taking another sip, the young man thought for a moment. He did think Suzie was swell, ever since they were all in school together. She was the prettiest girl in New York; he even liked her once, too, and wanted to take her out on a date until Johnny Bruno got to her first. But lately, he started to have strange feelings... for Jimmy. That's why he was always making fun of Ralph and always coming to Jimmy's defense when Ralph would try his antics out. There was something about him that he really liked: he was tall, had blonde hair that Caston always wanted to touch, and green eyes that looked like fancy emeralds. Of course, he would never, ever say so, because guys weren't supposed to think that way about other guys. He wanted to pray about it, but he was even afraid of telling God about it, even though he knew the big guy upstairs probably knew already. Jimmy wouldn't want to be his friend anymore if he knew, and he'd probably tell his parents, and they'd tell the priest, and... couldn't a fella go to jail for something like that?
He pushed those thoughts out of his mind and just smiled and drank his malt, pretending like nothing was going on in his head, even if Jimmy mentioning that he had a date with Suzie made him sad, and jealous: jealous of Suzie for taking Jimmy, and jealous of Jimmy for taking Suzie.
"You alright, Cassie? You look like you just got rained on." Ralph said.
"I'm just fine, and don't call me Cassie, you blockhead!" He replied, forcing a grin and a laugh.
There were so many people at the speech, it was hard to move. Everyone was crowded together, and Caston felt the occasional shove against his body as the audience all tried to get as close to the bandstand as they could to hear the president speak. Caston wasn't anywhere near the front. In fact, he was closer to the back of the crowd, which disappointed him. He really wanted the chance to shake his hand...
Night had fallen, the stars dotted the sky, and the cool spring evening air had started to settle in. The spotlights that illuminated the stage and the podium where FDR stood and was speaking were surely warming the folks who were lucky enough to get that close, but unfortunately for Caston, he had no such luck. He buttoned his suit jacket as much as he could as he felt a slight shiver make its way through his body.
Then, something came over him. The strangest sensation he'd ever felt. It was like something invisible and silent was calling him away... he turned and apart from the crowd, standing by a streetlamp, was a beautiful woman. She had strawberry hair and skin as pale and beautiful as the midnight moon. She stood in a dress more fit for an evening dinner with a handsome gentleman, rather than the chilly streets of New York. She looked like she was-- no, she definitely was staring right at him, her gaze locked on Caston. He couldn't help but stare back, almost captivated. Her presence, even against the crowd of people and the president himself, was overwhelming... intoxicating.
He didn't know why he did it, but he left the crowd and walked toward her, as though something unseen was reeling him in like a fish. The whole while, her eyes did not leave his, like she was staring right through him.
"Hello, young man," she said. "Aren't you the handsome one. My, you look positively dashing in that suit."
Caston's heart was beating like a drum inside of his chest, his skin felt strangely warm. "Th-thank you," he replied. "I.. erm,.. I'm here for th--"
"For the speech," she nodded in confirmation, cutting him off. "I see that. Let me introduce myself, my name is D'Anna Hadrian, and I'm the president's personal secretary."
His eyes widened. "Wow! Well, gee! It's an honor to meet you!" he said eagerly. "My name is Caston." He would have extended a hand, but they were shoved deep in his pockets, as the air seemed to get colder and colder with each passing minute.
"Caston, what an unusual name..." D'Anna said, curiosity dripping from her voice.
"It was my grandfather's name. He died in the Great War." He said.
"Ah, yes, then you would be his namesake, then? What an honor: Carrying on a tradition like that. It's almost as if, perhaps, even though he died, part of him still lives on..." She said, her voice seductively emphasizing that last bit. Caston wasn't sure why she did that. "Tell you what, Caston. You're such a handsome young man, and while all of the other men here are turning their attention elsewhere, you were gentleman enough to greet me and make me feel welcome. I feel as though I should do something for you, in return: How about you follow me, and I can take you behind all of the hoopla here, and you can meet the president personally. It's the least I can do to reward your manners, and besides, I can't get over just how... beautiful you are..."
Caston almost jumped for joy! He grinned. "Oh wow!! Thank you, ma'am! I'd be happy to come along! Jeez Louise! Thank you so much!!"
D'Anna licked her lips, and Caston didn't notice. "Oh, it will be my pleasure," she said, turning to walk down the sidewalk. "My pleasure, indeed."
She suggested they take the long way, to get around the police roadblocks set up for the presidential car route. D'Anna was very inquisitive about Caston: she asked him about his life, his interests, and his tastes in music and film. Odd questions for a stranger to pose, the young man thought. She constantly referred to how beautiful he was, and he found it strange that a woman would refer to a man as beautiful. When she walked, it was as if she glided effortlessly, and she spoke in such a casual manner, it was all so unlike how the women in Brooklyn acted. There was something very different about her.
They had walked for about 30 minutes, and had arrived closer to the Brooklyn Bridge. Most of this neighborhood was empty tonight; all the businesses closed because of the event and most, if not all, of the neighborhood's residents attending the speech. It was dark, and felt grimy. The air was heavy. They walked down an alleyway for a few moments until they reached a dead end. D'Anna turned around and faced Caston, her eyes wide, her angelic pose a little more menacing.
"You don't really work for the president, do you?"
"I'm afraid not, dear boy."
He wanted to run, he wanted to flee, but again came that sensation. It made her seem... intensified. He was drawn to her, and yet he feared her, all at the same time. He couldn't run away if he'd tried. He stood frozen as she advanced, step by step, toward him, her eyes striking terror in his heart, like a cold icicle was starting to form inside of him. Her icy touch gently met his face, tilting his head to the side. He couldn't speak -- something seemed like it was stopping him from saying anything. All he managed was a whimper. He didn't know what was going on, and his body felt frozen and incapable of reaction.
Then, two sharp teeth punctured his skin, piercing through his neck as her lips met his flesh. She was biting him, and although it hurt tremendously at first -- to the point where he wanted to let out the loudest, most blood curdling scream his lungs could wail -- a moment later, that pain melted away, and it felt pleasurable.... so pleasurable that it was intimate. His arm reached up and his hand cupped the back of her neck, pulling her closer against him. His eyes closed and short breaths escaped from his partially opened lips as the feeling she was giving him bordered on sexual sensuality. It felt as though she was drinking his blood, like she was lapping up every drop of it that she could, but he didn't even care. He just didn't want this feeling to stop...
He started to get dizzy, and his hands and feet and limbs started to get cold and numb... he was losing blood... but the tingling sensation that was giving him only enhanced the ecstasy of the moment he was sharing with D'Anna... As he started to lose his balance, he wrapped his arms around her...... embracing her tightly.......... holding on..............
It had been five nights since D'Anna Embraced him. He was still becoming used to his new body, his new abilities, his new senses, his new thoughts and emotions, his new perspective. Caston sat on his bed at his family's house. He told them he started a new job that required him to work nights and sleep throughout the day. They didn't ask too many questions, though his mother suggested he was starting to look a little pale and that perhaps he should try to get some more sun.
That evening, when he awoke as his family was getting ready for bed, his mother gleefully handed him the photograph she took of him earlier that week -- of him in his suit, just before he left the house. After having come in from another night of D'Anna teaching him how to hunt and feed properly, he sat on his bed, his eyes closely examining the picture in his pale white hands. He stared into the eyes that looked back at him: his eyes. This was the last picture taken of him "alive". This was the last remnant of his old life. He stood up and took a small picture frame out of the drawer of his bedside table, and carefully placed the photo inside.
Sealing it tightly, he displayed it next to the photo of him and his grandfather, taken when he was an infant. Alongside each other, the captions read:
Howard C. A. Kane,
July 8, 1918, with Grandson
C. E. Kane
Mar. 12, 1938
"I'm sorry, Grandpa. I'm sorry..." Caston said softly.
Notes: Caston loves books and literature, and decades of self education has given him an intellect as sharp as an Ivy League scholar. His Toreador nature compels him toward art, and he has a special affection for the theater and film. He is also indulgent and generally self-serving, and will step on, or dig the graves of, anyone who crosses him on his way up the social ladder. A wearer of the sleekest and most chic fashions - though with somewhat of a classic twist - Caston conducts himself in a refined manner, and even if he were to cut the throat of an enemy, he'd do it in the most classy way possible. He will shamelessly use his Toreador beauty to lure both women and men to his bed and to his bite. Fun fact: He once shared a dance with Marilyn Monroe in 1962.
As a lover of and creator of art, of course, he has his favorites: He enjoys trance, goth, punk, rock, and most music pardon for country (which he despises), and Muse is his favorite band. His favorite song, however, is one from the era when he was sired: "Swingin' on a Star" by Bing Crosby, because while current trends are fantastic, Caston still has a soft spot for the music from the time when he was human. His top films include Casablanca, the Rocky Horror Picture Show (which, when he saw it in 1975, described it as "awesome"), and the much more recent movie, Avatar.
Caston has two "siblings": others who were embraced by his sire - Olivia Devereaux, whom he gets along with, who pulls the strings of cocaine dealers and gang members in New Orleans, Louisiana, and Vincent Monticello, who he does not get along with, due to the former's indifference toward compassion of any kind and his near insatiable bloodlust.
Caston's Current Playlist:
1. Soft Cell - Tainted Love
2. Portishead - Only You
3. Massive Attack - Angel
4. Moloko - Fun For Me
5. RuPaul - Jealous of my Boogie
6. Muse - I Belong To You (Mon Coeur S'ouvre a ta Voix)
7. Annie Lennox - Sweet Dreams
8. Chopin - Nocturne
9. Scissor Sisters - Any Which Way
10. Supreme Beings of Leisure - Never The Same
IC Image Portrayal: Xavier Samuel
(EDIT: Changed from an art gallery to an antiques gallery in the Haven section, after checking out some photos of Portobello Road, and updated with Caston's current playlist.)
Edited by Caston Kane, Monday, 26. November 2012, 04:45.
"Stealing drugs? Girl, where do you think we are? This ain't Compton!" - Caston Kane to Sloane Carraway
|Mael||Tuesday, 31. July 2012, 18:33 Post #2|
Jesus you put a lot of effort into this - great and I love that you reside on Portobello Road.
Now get posting an open thread and I am sure one or two will come to join you
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