Roxanne Hemithanes lived during the early 1600's in France. Then, she was Mignon Peovion, wife of a well-to-do French architect named Cedric Peovion. Cedric was "one of the lucky Bourgeoisie" as he was one of the architects involved in the last stages of finishing Louis' Royal Palace, Versailles. Cedric, older than Mignon by twenty years, lacked the social grace, monetary status, and contacts that were so substantial to heightening one's social status. Mignon, not only educated, but beautiful as well, was depended upon to make the necessary social contacts vital to advancing his career. Admittedly, Mignon would have much more success at it than Cedric would. Angry with the status her husband seemed content to give her, Mignon sought subtle revenge at court, her witty reparte and verbal sparring soon bringing her into the Kings own entourage. Intrigued at her forthrightness, and her seeming inability to fawn and faint over him, Louis' imagination was not only intrigued, his libido was showing considerable interest as well. Mignon Peovion suddenly found her bracket in society expanding, and with her came her husband on the proverbial coattails.

At the same time, a newcomer had arrived in France. Vladimir-Josef of the Family Rachmanov had come to Versaille's amid a nightbound ship and carried on tides of intense speculation and curiousity. Not only a Russian noble, from an extremely wealthy Family, he was also know in certain circles as Vladimir Hemithanes.

Drawn by the beauty of the French Kings palace, the elder Hemithane spent many nights absorbed in the excellence of it. And when the Hemithane had found himself becoming obsessed, as many do, with the sheer perfection of it's architectural beauty, his attention shifted at whimsy, and latched onto the golden woman attached to the Kings entourage.

Like the wind, his obsession shifted and grew into a raging storm. Recognizing not only the uncommon beauty, he enjoyed the little socialite, and watched her maneuver men and woman alike into her corner. A true Hemithane, he thought immediately. A rose almost in full bloom, but not yet. And, Hemithanes are, after all, known for their exceptional tastes, Vladimir prided himself on it. He enthusiastically congratulated himself on making her his ghoul, wanting to ensure that her beauty stood the test of time, but continually frustrated himself by refusing to touch her, not wanting to mar such beauty in any way.

Mignon found it amusing, how his passions pulled him from one end of the spectrum to the next. And when she began to experience such rushes of passion herself from seeing a perfect sunrise to the smallest sliver of moonlight through her bedroom window, from hearing the delicate sorrow of a birds morning song, watching a single raindrop break itself apart against an unforgiving stone, did she truly began to understand what it was to be a Hemithane, even as a ghoul.

As a ghoul, and a sort of unrecognized ward of Rachmanov, Mignon found herself the center of attention within France's influential society. Her Bourgeoisie roots were gone, as if they never existed, and poor Cedric was ignored as if he were a secret to be forgotten. Mignon had become "all the rage". Overcome with the delicacies of intrigues, betrayals, and social connections, Mignon threw herself into such a fray, building her social status, increasing the wealth of connections, political, social, and otherwise. Even as a ghoul, the Hemithane blood sang it's decadent song clearly.

Her first obsession, a life-consuming event in any Hemithane's existence, came after two years of being a ghoul to Vladimir. The Russian noble, having become exhausted of the golden atrophy of France, had returned to the lush beauty of his native Russia. Not even Mignon's electric presence could keep the Hemithane occupied for long. A whimsy trait, one prevalent in her clan, she would soon learn.

He was a young and handsome doctor named Pierre de la Vie. Returning home from the market, she tripped on a loose cobblestone and twisted her ankle. The good doctor, having been attending the fish stalls, treated her and left her leg smelling of fish scales. It mattered not. The moment Pierre had uttered a word, Mignon found herself unwillingly entranced, not with his words, but the sound and timbre of his voice, every syllable made her twinge with pleasure. She became fixated, trapped, her passions overwhelming her so quickly that she spanned from attraction to obsession in a matter of minutes. The Hemithane blood had spiked her system and made her a prisoner in her own mind, body, and heart. And she couldn't have been more thrilled. The pleasure she received from the simple sensation of obsession was enough to keep her going for weeks.

She learned just how dangerous her own blood could become to her when her obsession with the doctor moved her to help the Bourgeoisie in their uprising. She cared not for the people, the Bourgeoisie themselves. Pierre's passion was her own, and she was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Because of her efforts, the Bourgeoisie were given an edge in the battle. But Pierre de la Vie was killed in the ongoing scuffle.

Mignon fell into a deep period of mourning, as the passion she'd drawn from Pierre had been ripped away, so had her own fervor for anything beautiful. For a Hemithane, it was the equivalent of Final Death. Mignon sought out her human husband, her desperation for anything, any passion, and fervor moving her to new heights. But Cedric turned her away. He never realized that he'd given her exactly what she wanted until it was too late. The rage that welled up in Mignon's body renewed her passion, this time with a fury that rivaled Satan's own Mistress. Cedric's limbs were found two days later, scattered across the spacious home they shared. Mignon had already fled to Russian, to the only man who truly knew her, and what was happening to her.

She fed from Vladimir's passion, encouraged to find her own again. By Spring, she had regained the vivacity that could fell most men. And Vladimir had made a decision. He was going to take Mignon as his childe. But, as much as he desired her as a childe of his blood, the thought of disturbing such perfection with the bite of his razor-sharp canines revolted him, even as he rationally knew the bites would heal. Vladimir was not a Hemithane known for his rationality in cases where beauty was concerned. But, there was no other choice. An exchange of blood was required. Both Vladimir and Mignon agonized over the twin holes long after they had healed and left her with perfect alabaster skin.

Pierre and her depression forgotten, Mignon Peovion changed her name to Regine Lemaire, and set out to pursue the one pleasure that mattered to her - passion. Regine found herself in Paris after hearing news of the coming of Napolean. The hunger for not only society, but contacts, swelled within the Hemithane again. Influencing the man could gain her more status in the world, and the young necromancer wanted nothing else. Gaining a title and the wealth of the late Cedric Peovion, Regine moved amongst the elite.

Their first meeting was nothing more than a lengthened glance across the crowded streets. Napoleon rode his powerful steed into the city, surrounded by a garrison of soldiers, and Regine stood within the crowd, her gaze fixed to his own. His demanding of her presence came not even an entire week later, and Regine knew that he was her's to mold. Employing her skills of intrigue, she presented the brilliantly strategic man with a challenge. If he proved to her that he cold take Russia, then he could have her, in any way he desired. For all of Napoleon's strategic smarts, he had little else to offer. Regine, even though she was an entirely sexual being, the idea of laying with him revolted even her. Instead, she moved herself to see the beauty in his mind rather than body, and found an entirely new passion to distract her from his lesser attributes. Using him as a sounding bored to test her non-sexual charms, Regine employed poisoned laced words and promises. He was resistant. Regine thought to give up, as her attention was again shifting from Napoleon to a new Italian noble entering into Paris. But a frantic message from Vladimir gave her pause. Her love for her Sire, and his own unsurpassed passion for his homeland, drove her to douse Napolean with her lures yet again. And this time, she hooked him. Russia was safe, and Vladimir back to fawning over it. Regine always thought him so beautiful when fawning over his beloved land. By the time the French Industrial Era began, Regine Lemaire had money, power, contracts, and a very proud Sire and Clan.

Nearing the 1880's, Regine Lemaire again reinvented herself as Oriane Delarouche, influential businesswoman, and social trendsetter. She was again in Paris, the owner of an exotic chocolate business when it fell to the German's. The fast - paced intensity of war and battle captured her. The rough Germans titillated her every sense. Befriending them was not only satisfying to her extensive, and ever present passion, it also afforded her future connections. She came into contact with one of the Generals, a man named Girard Heisenberg. He was also known as Girard Therion, son to Alexander Therion of the Therion Warriors. Unlike her previous relationships, if you could call them that, she and Girard were feeding from each other rather than her simply feeding from his warring nature. Oriane had finally found someone with as much vigor as she, even though his stemmed from love of war, and hers from love of beauty, and pure feeling. The French were quick to anger over her commerce and association with the Germans. The unrest triggered her survival instincts, causing her to flee from France to Austria-Hungary. From Girard's contacts, she was announced into the presence of Lord Franz Ferdinand of the Hapsberg Dynasty.

Oriane faked her own death, but not before handing her business and assets over to one of her ghouls to run. She then styled her Ilsa Jaeger, and reclaimed the chocolate business, assets, and her social circle of contacts. As lover to Franz Ferdinand, Ilsa found herself in a position of power once again. And, once again, Ilsa found herself consumed with her obsession for Franz Ferdinand. Her jealousy can be a powerful tool, as was proven when Franz refused to leave his wife for Ilsa. She silently attacked him by hiring men to rile the nationalists. The resulting death of Franz came as a very little shock to Ilsa. She was sad to see her lover go, but revenge is sweeter than passion.

Returning to Paris, under the new identity of Nicole de Mornay, she organized a decadent underground movement of club scenes, fetish havens, and pleasure palaces that stretched to the edge of the America's. This is a crowning achievement for her, and her Clan. The next years Nicole spent in lazy decadence as pleasure after sensation after passion rolled through her, until she was nearly comatose with it.

So, when in 1940 the Germans invaded again, despite her neglect of her businesses in favor of more hedonistic pleasures, Nicole was not overly affected as her German Therion lover, Girard, still garnered protection for her. He kept her safe, and in money, and introduced her commerce to the Therion Clan. Nicole found some of her most pleasurably blinding experiences with the Therion Clan. When word came to Girard of the coming invasions, he warned Nicole. Despite her affection for Girard, she left Paris and went to America.

Inventing herself once again as Roxanne Hemithanes, she opened a number of nightclubs, the most exclusive of which is "Poseurs". Her social network is legendary, as are her skills. Roxanne's taste, no less eccentric than her clans, leads her to feed from only exceptionally beautiful individuals. She is hardly ever seen without her entourage of humans and ghouls, and she lives in a suite designed for hosting parties, which she does often.

A creature of surpassing beauty and charm, Roxanne lives for the pleasure that life can bring her. She glides easily amongst the humans she see's as beautiful, and at times, has even passed herself off as human to other Kinder after a very healthy feeding. Her senses of pleasure are enhanced immeasurably, and she see's situations in a hundred different ways.