"There is nothing like an eternal rest. Being able to see the ages passes is a curse."


CURRICULUM

Name: Svetlana Dragorinoff, or Dragorinoff.
Sex: Female.
Age: looks in her early twenties, eyes tells a different story.
Race: Apparently human.
Height: 1.52m
Bust: Decent, fills up her tops and corsets.
Waist: thin.
Hips: Reasonably wide.
Butt: it swells nicely under her expensive silk dresses.
Eyes: Hazelnut most of the time... Unless...
Skin: Pale, close to a milky shade, but sometimes, have a healthy peachy shade to herself.
Limbs: long and thin, she is not a physical person one bit, and more of a scholar.
Attitude: generally friendly, but responds badly to overly familiar strangers.
Accessories: A black umbrella which expand the shadows around her. A delicate handfan.
Voice: Crystal clear, almost too sweet.
Sexuality: To be discovered in game.

Her father always told her to avoid magic and spells, that it was the instrument of the devils and demons. She didn't listen one bit. The delicate Svetlana ran over the old Russian Epire, in search of the knowledge she needed. She travelled to various countries, made bargains, ruined herself while buying fake grimoires to crooks, until she made the encounter which changed everything. She followed the lad of the woman who taught her everything, and "initiated" her in the dark arts. She was taught many things her family would consider an heresy.

She's been caught, locked in a cage for decades, unable to see the daylight, for a good reason. She was as revengeful as she was thankful. Until one day, loud noises surrounded the Imperial Palace, and men wearing red stars, pulled her out of her prison cell. She massacred them all, and ran away in the moonless night. The Bolchviks were after her, and she ran from a shelter to another. She then reached her last cache. Her Sire's stash.... She opened the grimoire... She searched, hours passing... There is was... The formula... She started to spell it out clearly, but before she could finish the spell properly, the door opened in a crash. Mosin-nagant pointed at her, they opened fire... It disturbed the spell... A flash of light... It burns, it hurts, but she was brought elsewhere... She lands into a dark wood... Where is she? Romanian Forests? Suomi's? German? No... Something is weird... Monsters, pointed ears, green and red skins... Where is she?

Traffic lights:

I usually write them down, but here, I'll simply go with the flow...

Just don't permakill her (she will come back), Don't torture her for nothing (nothing to graphic please), her womb is sterile (no pregnancies, unless magically helped, with a loooot of commitment), No kids, no furries, no bodily wastes, slavery is conditionned by important commitment, but she will rebel if she is ill treated after a while..