Court Lord
God, he was beautiful. Handsome and gorgeous seemed to fall short. He was perfect and he knew it. He had short, glossy black hair that flopped carelessly over his brow. His face was sincere and incredibly handsome, if not beautiful. She couldn’t tell if he didn’t mean a word he said. He was tall, a good six foot three. His build added to that feeling. He had broad shoulders and narrow hips and in between was solid muscle, not bulging muscle, but enough to be fit. His turtleneck sweater emphasised that. He wore black, a sharp contrast to his pale skin, but his black suit ensemble only seemed to add to his beauty, making him seem exotic and dangerous. Women and men would flock around him. His voice, when he did speak, was a very pleasant tenor tone, but held a quality to it, almost like silk. No human could ever have a voice like that. It went with the ethereal looks and powers.
At nine hundred and sixty-one years of age, Quin is amongst the ‘old ones’. Most of that time has been spent in the Court of Lords and in solitude, though he isn’t about to tell anyone where. He is well known amongst the Overlords to disappear for decades on end. Amongst the other vampires, he is a legend, a fairy story that vampires tell their children; ‘be good or else the Devil, Quin himself, will come for you!’ He is renowned as the Devil for being the only vampire that has no qualms about killing his own kind and has been attributed as being behind some of the more…artistic…and macabre deaths of hunters throughout the centuries. Nothing is known about him before he became the scourge of the undead. All the vampires know is that he’s there and he’s ruthless as they come. He was sired by the vampire Edward Andrews and the two have been at war whenever they are near each other. You’d think one of them would have one after nine hundred or so years of fighting, but then, that’s a vampire for you.
"I’ve been called a lot of things, many are true, but I hardly ever lie."