DESMOND, Raphael

[style= text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;]RAPHAEL AMBROSE DESMOND

This application is currently complete. My name is Coel and I'm 20 years old. I was awesome and read the rules, so I know that the secret phrase is peach snapple rocks.

NAME: Raphael Ambrose Desmond
AGE WHEN TURNED: 30
AGE: 480
GENDER: Male
BIRTHDAY: August 23rd, 1532
STATUS: Fledgling
PLAYBY: Ian Somerhalder

CREATOR: Jacques Desmarais
COVEN: Florida Coven

MOTHER: Amarante Desmond (deceased)
FATHER Phillip Desmond (desceased)
BROTHERS: Hugo Desmond (younger, deceased)
SISTERS:
EXTENDED FAMILY:
PETS:

Rafe is strikingly handsome in appearance. He's lean with well defined muscles stretched over a six foot, four frame. His hair is short and shaggy these days, and dark as a moonless night. Slightly hidden under hand-tussled hair, are his startlingly blue-grey eyes. Some days they shine nearly cerulean, other days they look like stormy skies over the very seas he used to sail. His dress is most often classy-casual, as he wants comfort and style.

Raphael loves his privacy. Those who come nosing around often find themselves in a world of hurt - or half way around the world with no idea how they got there, if they're of the human variety. He doesn't see himself as any better or worse than humans, because he was once a human himself. Rafe is a talented writer and often pours his pent up, sealed away emotions into his writings. Although he's garnered much fame as an author, he hates being disturbed, and thus lives as a hermit most of the time.

BIRTH PLACE: Paris, France, Europe
CHANGED: Classic Era of Piracy - 1560's

Once a proud Frenchman who sailed for the New World, to find treasure and glory, Raphael was changed into a vampire after only thirty years of life. The last five years of his human existence were spent as a pirate, raiding the waters of the Caribbean. At the age of thirty, he retired to an isle in the keys where he met a woman by the name of Calypso. Smitten, he swore himself to her and thus, his world revolved around her. But Calypso was a cruel and fickle woman, with a beautiful body and straying eyes. She soon found another who caught her fancy and she planned Rafe's murder with her new lover.

Blinded by his affections for the whore, he did not see the end coming until it was upon him. Calypso and her new toy lured Rafe out to the cliffs. There Calypso revoked her love of him and introduced him to her replacement for him. With a cold glint in her eye that matched the shine of the steel in her man's hand, she watched as he plunged the rapier through Raphael's back. The tip, coated in warm blood, shone eerily in the moon's rays. Falling to the ground, cold, broken and alone, Raphael died. But what he didn't know is that Jacques Desmarais, a fellow seafarer - and vampire - smelled the hot, steaming blood on the ocean breeze. Drawn by the scent, he drank to the last drops and then in a moment of pity, turned Raphael.

When Raphael finally came to, he had no idea that he'd been turned. It wasn't until the hunger finally struck and he ravaged the village, draining the isle of its stock of blood. Disgusted with himself and wishing for death - yet not quite able to bring himself to commit suicide - Rafe traveled to the New World. He became a pirate once again, and scoured the seas for the lying, cheating bitch who'd killed him. After a decade of searching, Raphael Desmond tore Calypso's heart from her chest and drank its last beat of blood. Still he was not healed, and so he turned to womanizing in an attempt to mend a shattered heart.

Now Raphael is a famed romance author, who is wealthy beyond imagining with fame and fans galore. Yet he hides away in his many houses dotting the Caribbeans and the Florida coast. His life is as empty has his eyes, and his voice is as cold as his heart. He has not taken a lover in over fifty years. Forcing himself to relive the past by writing his memoirs in the guise of novels. Little do his many fans know, Rafe is more than four and a half centuries old. He keeps to himself; always writing, always alone.