Before he even took his first breath, Lucien’s hand at life was dealt differently. He was conceived to a female anthropomorphic red fox and a charming (seemingly) human male. His father was keeping a secret hidden from his beloved mortal that would ultimately destroy nearly everything he had. As the woman’s gestation period grew closer to the end, problems started to arise with the unborn child; nothing anyone did seemed to help, and before long, it looked like both mother and child would be lost. In hopes of saving them, the man found he had but one real hope left - and that held the risk of revealing what had been kept for so many years. It was arranged with his fellow clan members that the woman was to be turned, thinking her body would be better able to support the vampire’s child, if she was one, herself. The plan was executed at night, obviously. Cliché aside, it would be easier to move without recognition beneath the cover of darkness. Having been the woman’s partner for some time, the male knew her schedule, and made his move during one of her trips back to the house from that of a friend’s. While it pained him to attack his lover, leaving her wounded and terrified, it was justified as a necessity. Unfortunately, the timing was far too delayed and the trauma of the event forced the woman to go into labor shortly after. The woman’s sister and friend discovered her, lying off to the side of the street, throat glistening with her own blood. It was these two who took the mother-to-be back home, where help could be given. While this sister was never given formal medical training, her hands were just as reliable as any doctor’s. A startling surprise came when it was found that the woman was carrying not one, but two children. They managed to safely deliver both babies - a boy and girl, silver duplicates of their mother. Sadly, the mother died from uncontrollable hemorrhaging. The father had watched the events unfold, hiding from their eyes. He never shown up to claim his children, taken with guilt and grief. The mother's sister offered to take one of newborns, so the boy was given to his aunt. Before passing, he had been given a name by his mother: Lucien Ambroise Devereux - named after his uncle, who had passed long before then. While the baby’s mother had been close to her brother, the sister was not. As for the baby girl, another relative decided to adopt her; the twins were then separated and would grow up with no knowledge of the other's existence.

Disgusted with such a name, the aunt found it fit to rename the child. Prière would be his new name, yet the irony would not become apparent until a few years later. Jacqueline, as she addressed herself, had selected the nickname, based on a fondness she had for a gentleman at the church; she figured it would be a way to win favor by showing devotion to the Lord. Young Prière didn’t care, only wanting what every child wished for: shelter, food and affection. In most ways he seemed normal, in spite of his odd situation before and during birth. Normal foods, entertainment, love to play, et cetera. But with age, things slowly started changing. Subtle things that went dismissed, more often than not. One thing that caught the most attention was the youth’s preoccupation with blood. This early on, he was not dependent on such, but it definitely caught his attention whenever present. It started with curiosity and innocence, but he wouldn’t soon forget. Jacqueline had accidentally cut her finger preparing dinner while he was helping in the kitchen. The scent seemed to be far more enticing than the sweetest cookies. Not knowing any different (and going on a natural, albeit mostly dormant, instinct), he reached over and snatched her hand. He was just approaching five years, yet possessed startling strength and coordination for his age. Never expecting such a behavior, the aunt had been stunned, unsure what to make of the situation. It gave him the opportunity to promptly bite down and start drawing in the blood from the wound. This not only appalled, but frightened the woman, who jerked back. Prière had left bite marks, proving it wasn’t a simple gesture, really. Not knowing what to do, she scolded the boy, ordered him out of the kitchen and into his room. A few more incidents followed every so often similar to the first, and with each one, he grew more drawn to the blood - and the reprimands more severe. By the time the boy was thirteen, Jacqueline’s only way of handling him was with violence, having grown to fear him. An argument had broken out between the two, resulting in her striking Prière, leaving a noticeable, deep bruise, granted it had been more of an accident, sparked by a flare of anger. By the next morning, it was gone - a very clear sign something wasn’t right with this young man. Still, any concerns were kept to herself and him. Aside from this hush-hush matter, the two seemed to lead very normal lives. As he got older, he started feeling more restless, but passed it off as merely stress from the conflict between Jacqueline and himself. To help keep busy and his mind off such a frustrating matter, the maturing fox started going through old family albums, documents and letters. Most of it was but mildly interesting, until he came across a photograph of a couple: a female anthropomorphic fox and charming human male. Folded on the same page of the album was a piece of paper, proclaiming his mother deceased, his father unknown and the aunt as his new guardian. It also listed his name, along with that of his parents; there was no mention of his twin.

He would have moved on, figuring it to be about another child if not for one thing. Beside the name “Lucien Ambroise Devereux” was something a little more familiar: Prière. This forced him to pause and think. His mother -- no Jacqueline’s last name was not Devereux, for one thing. But, was this even him? There was always the possibility of it being someone else. Thinking it best to just ask, the next time he had the chance, Prière… or was it Lucien, now? Brought the picture and paper to her attention and asked about it. It was passed off as none of his business, and that it was a private matter for the elders of the family - not some kid. The anger this simple question caused made his suspicions even worse. It was then that he truly stepped up to confront the woman. Why wasn’t he told about his father? Who was that woman in the picture? For that matter, what about the man? Their was an undeniable resemblance to both. Why was his name on that paper, but written as secondary? It was about him, wasn’t it? With each question he asked, he grew angrier, which only widened the gap between the two. While it didn’t come to blows, this time, Lucien left for the evening rather shaken. He decided to stay out for the night, finding a spot in the nearby woods. The time away would be good to think, so he thought. The young fox would sleep in the branches of a tree and return the next morning. There was no relieved greeting from his aunt, only silent stares. He would stay under her care until the age of sixteen. By this time, he had found a lovely human woman that captured his attention. She had been a life-long friend of his, and he trusted her with everything. Lucien explained the situation between Jacqueline and himself, and that he decided to start going by his birth-give name. A mistake that wouldn’t be realized until some time later.

Apolline Amherst was her name, and one he would never forget. Her family had taken it upon themselves to protect the town from the local demons, vampires and other “unholy threats”. Devereux was one of the names that continued to surface during their in extended investigation in uncovering the presumed local group of vampires. They had assumed a child had been born to the family, but could never track it down. At one point, it was figured to be merely an inaccurate rumor, and dismissed. But with this new information, promptly handed over by Apolline dearest, the Amherst family found this to be a perfect lead to find and destroy the clan in its entirety. Of course, she would never mention any of this to Lucien and even feign interest in him. Naïve, the fox believed she truly loved him. Another two years passed with him under the illusion of her devotion, while she was carefully taking notes and relaying them back to her slayer family. He would never be the wiser all along - she was perfect. She would never do him wrong. With her, and the prospect of having a life and family together, he figured now was the time to break away from his aunt. It took him many hours of work, but eventually he managed to find them a house in a picturesque area. Overjoyed to have finally moved on and start anew, all was well. He was happy, and while it was a charade to be in love with him, the young woman enjoyed their time together as well. They wanted very little, considering the things they did, have access too. More times passed, another two years; the Amhersts laid low about their plans, but toward the end of the fourth year, it was all about to come into the open.

With the call of his father’s lineage getting stronger and more dominant, more questions arose. His aunt left him with few answers which, in all honesty, just confused him more. He knew, by now, something was different between others and himself. Why did he even care for blood at all? How was it he rarely kept any injury for longer than twenty-four hours? And the sun. It bothered him more than it should have. So bright and it left him feeling sick to his stomach. Lucien started musing on such matters more and more until Apolline questioned him on it. Since he trusted her to the grave and back, he explained what had been plaguing his mind - every bit he could manage words for. Ever the loving and oh-so concerned, she listened and offered what little advice she could. The usual “I’m here for you,” and “Don’t bottle it up, “spiel. She would wait for him to go to bed, sleeping soundly, before making one of her final relays of information and return before the sun returned with strict orders. The next day went normally, until he returned home. Apolline greeted him as soon as he arrived at the door from errands. She was ecstatic, claiming to have found a way to answer all those questions - and to fix it all. Shocked but pleasantly so, he begged her to explain. She explained that a meeting had been arranged at her father’s house that evening. Lucien had met the man but only a few times, and hadn’t much of an impression save for what his beloved had said: nothing but flattering compliments, leading him to believe this was nothing more than a goodhearted attempt and helping a fellow man out. The hour of the meeting could not come soon enough for Lucien, who anxiously wondered what they knew that he didn’t. And how. But it didn’t matter! So long as he could be normal, and any children born to him live without the thousand-and-one questions he had. With the excuse of needing to assist her family, Apolline departed from their house an hour earlier. They would meet back up at her father’s. He, of course, did little more than bid her a temporary farewell and arrives at the assigned time. Along the way, he would stop only once to wonder if it was as simple as she made it seem. No, it was foolish paranoia to think otherwise!

When he entered the door to the Amherst’s home, he knew that gut feeling had been more accurate than he would have wished. It was the father, Claude who greeted him. So stern, so quiet. If this meeting had been to help him, shouldn’t he be smiling? Welcoming him with open arms? The two were soon joined by Apolline, herself. Uncertain, but not willing to believe something was truly wrong yet, he shut the door and followed them into another room. It was in a far hall, almost isolated from the rest of the house. Another warning sign gone ignored. Upon entering the room, a man to either side of the entrance seized Lucien. Stunned, he hadn’t the mind to anything more than thrash some and shout in confusion. Taken to center of the room, the fox was bound by the wrists, arms set apart in a rough crucifixion pose whilst ankles were fixed to the floor by their own binds. It left him little room to truly retaliate, should he attempt something. It was now that Claude explained what was suspected. That Lucien was the child of a vampire, and thus, one himself. A vile creature that stood as one of the greatest atrocities before God. The Seven Deadly Sins incarnate: Wrath and Gluttony for the violence associated with the desire and insatiable need for blood, Pride and Vanity for the arrogance of the undead’s immaculate beauty and realization of such, Lust for the sexual nature possessed by so many, and Envy and Sloth for the carelessness spawned from eternity and the jealousy developed from the inability to age alongside “God’s children”. Disgusted as such an accusation, he could only call his captors mad in shrieks. Having heard the argument plenty of times, the man only sighed and decided to prove his initial point: Lucien was the child of the Devereux line - a vampire, unholy. One of the men that had assisted and restraining him from the start was ordered to remove the young man’s shirt, which was done swiftly. A blade was chosen, one that looked to be ceremony-worthy, and drenched in holy water. From a distance, it made his skin crawl, but he rationalized it as little more than a seed of doubt and paranoia planted by the whack jobs rambling. So the water may not have been dangerous - but a sharp blade would be. Unable to truly defend himself, Claude was able to literally carve a holy symbol onto Lucien’s back. Needless to say, the knife burned as it inscribed the cross within flesh. In the past, even a deep wound would have started to repair itself. But no. It stayed open and bleeding, now - proving the man’s words to be true. The process was nothing short of agonizing as a cloth soaked in the blessed waters was taken and used to wipe away the blood shed, furthering burns. This would cause the first scarring he’d ever experienced - all the while, the woman he had loved (and thought loved him in return) watched from the sidelines, even as he begged her to help. That this was madness - help him down. She remained silent through most of the ordeal, reply only once. It would sever that final strand holding him together. He was little more than a job to her. A blasphemous leach that needed to be eradicated - like a plague or vermin. They would kill and use his body to enrage and draw the rest of the filth out from hiding, and destroy them one by one. The cross-shaped burn would send a message: Do not challenge the will of God.

The restraints had been designed for a bull‘s strength. With what information Apolline had given, Lucien was not at the point of being a true vampire and simpler devices could contain him. At the start of things, it had been true. But against such betrayal, fear and pain, it allowed what was once dormant to flare to life. All four of the chains were severed in moments, leaving him free to do and move as he pleased. Fangs became more prominent and those eyes that were once soft and compassionate were replaced by rage and hatred. He had harmed no one. They deceived, attacked and planned to kill him - then turn around and commit genocide based on fear under the name of the holy. And he was the blasphemous leach?! From then on, he decided that God was not some merciful deity, but a name to hide behind for any conceivable malicious act. One could only trust himself. Nothing will ever be given without consequence, so take all that you desire. Make it your own, or someone else will. The Amhersts were not prepared to deal with an actual vampire, having nothing more than the blessed blade and water, the broken bindings and their own muscle. It would not be quick or strong enough to keep him from immediate payback. The family was left in a gruesome scene reminiscent of a mauling from some wild beast. This was his first true taste of blood - a drug impossible to resist. The smell, sight, and taste of it - especially under the influence of panic and pain. There was no fear in him, now. It would be a far more terrible sentence to be a human - or any other mindlessly feeble species! He would make this epiphany a start of a new life entirely.

Contempt sat with mankind - animals would always be innocent, to him. From that point, he no longer aged. He required little more than blood to function properly. His physical strength was greater, trumped by only a newer awareness. His sense of smell had been decent before, but now it was phenomenal - and he could hear the hearts of those around. The enticing rhythm that promised a meal. What was more; he was no longer bound to one body. A night spent marveling at the wildlife led him to wonder. There had been lore of vampires altering their shapes to walk as animals. Could he? Indeed! And it would not only offer a feral body, but a furless one, as well - near human. Soon he would drift from that small town, revolted by the meaning it now held. Travels and existence elsewhere offered new experiences and knowledge. He gained the ability to bring that distinct, French accent to a minimum by listening to other’s speak. A flawless mask of virtually any emotion could be worn after many years of practice, but he generally favored that of sweet innocence. During one particular event, the fox found that dresses were comfortable, and held the potential to draw the eyes of many. Especially those cute little gothic outfits - oh the compliments he received while dressed in those! Rather than focus on finding those to ally with and form shaky (not to mention false bonds) he spent his time being loyal to one - himself. Slaves were captured here and there, but whenever his attention or care waned, they were disposed of - usually in a violent manner under the guise of “art”. There was just something about shimmering vermillion against the pureness of white.

Along his travels, Lucien met a snake-like creature named Vlad. It quickly became apparent that the two were destined to be rivals; both had an affinity for brutality and elegant beauty, yet viewed themselves as superior. While the fellow had managed to earn himself just a hint of respect, the two weren't exactly friends; arrogance ensured that they were constantly competing against one another in direct violence and "creativity with art." Eventually contact was lost - the fox and snake parted ways. There had even been a time where he joined with a woman named Baledona; her personality complimented his perfectly. During their time together, the two raised hell and even developed a bond. Yet history was to repeat itself, and she departed without warning, leaving him on his own. Confused and agitated from her sudden disappearance, he went back to a solitary existence save for the occasional disposable slave. After so long, he grew bored of the oddly repetitive lifestyle. Perhaps it was time to find more long-term toys and playthings?