Renata Volturi

[Jelly]

Written: 4/24/2010

DO YOU WANT TO HEAR ABOUT THE,
DEAL THAT I'M MAKING?



The stars will cry
The blackest tears tonight
And this is the moment that I live for

IS THAT YOU MISS DAISY? HIDING IN THE GRASS?,
I'VE COME TO PLUCK YOU RIGHT IN HALF

»» YOUR CBOX NAME: Jelly
»» HOW YOU FOUND US: Klada
»» OTHER CHARACTERS: Alyssa Lea McKnight, Eve Jasmine Wynn, Aron Henry Shane, Anthony Hunter Rantil, Sean Christian Daniels (paperclip), Lizabeth Marie Holt (paperclip)

»» CANON CHARACTER NAME: Renata Volturi (“Laraki”)
»» BOOK INTRODUCED: Breaking Dawn (it is assumed she was present in New Moon)
»» CHARACTER AGE: 23//985
»» SPECIES: Vampire
»» TYPE (VAMPIRES ONLY): Wild
»» GENDER: Female
»» FACE CLAIM: Sonam Kapoor
»» BUILD:

Standing about 5’9 and slim with subtle curves, she holds a natural grace that was only enhanced by the venom in her veins – yet she more often than not attempts to hide or downplay such features in herself, hiding within the dark robes and her simple station as Aro’s guard, even while she holds herself proudly for her rank in the Volturi. Her skin has a slightly darker tint to it than many vampires she has come across because of her Indian blood, but she is still much paler in comparison with humans from that region – almost ‘washed out.’

»» WOLF COLOR: N/A
»» HAIR COLOR: Dark brown/black that has an auburn tint to it in certain lighting.
»» EYE COLOR: Red.
»» FAMILY: Tamanna, mother, deceased; Bijan, father, deceased; Nitima, grandmother, deceased; Balaji, grandfather, deceased; Gerard, ‘owner’; deceased.

»» PERSONALITY:

Renata is often described as quiet, timid, uneasy, and perpetually on-edge about something or other. And she is; she’ll even admit it herself. However, that is not all there is to her, as the first impression is never all there is to a person. Yes, Renata is rather withdrawn, but in certain ways she is open to others as well. She is polite and has common courtesy, but she doesn’t often find talking to others and spending time with them as something she enjoys all that much. Only with those that she has spent long years and decades with will she exchange more than a few sentences with without an extremely important reason. Within the Volturi, she is almost the odd one out at times, for she has no overwhelming bloodlust, no heavy grudge against the world, no hatred or disgust for the human race. She feeds from them and feels no remorse for it, but otherwise leaves them to their lives. She only holds a deep loyalty to her fellow guard and the brothers that has flourished from over nine hundred years with them, and the will to continue living her own life. (Beh, I’m sure you can get a much better idea of her personality by reading her history… x3)

»» POWER:

Protective Shield. While her power may appear physical at first glance, the barrier she can create around herself and those close to her (as she chooses) is purely mental, protecting those within its range by causing them to change course. By pervading the mind of any possible attacker, she can alter their thoughts in such a way that turns them from their initial goal of harming either her or those others under her shield, sending them in another direction with no memory of why they were even going in first direction at all. She has found that while protecting her own self is simple to do it takes much more thought and focus to protect another, but the distance between she and whomever else she is protecting greatly affects to what extent her power is effective for them. This is why, whenever she follows Aro on any kind of possibly dangerous mission or outing, she seems almost to have her fingers ‘sewn’ into his robe – being able to touch him reducing the troubles of her power extremely. However, the effects are rather short-lived, as while her power can cause momentary confusion in the enemy, they can soon recover from it and attempt to approach her yet again. The force of her attacker’s willpower and determination puts a higher strain on her power, and the strength of her shield relies heavily on her thirst as it drains her stamina quickly if she has to use it continuously. To avoid the strain, she does not use her power very often, only when it is absolutely needed – however she also always keeps it ready should she need to use it.

»» RP SAMPLE:

Today was quiet, the halls were mostly empty. Her dark cloak swished lightly against her ankles as she moved, the only sound she made for her feet were silent against the stone ground. Her hood was lowered, fallen back over her shoulders and down her back as it did, her hair rippling over the clothe as she turned her head to one side to glance down another empty hallway that branched off the one she walked down. Her scarlet eyes glimmered in the light, darker than she would have normally liked them to be, but then again, their next meal was due quite soon, if she so remember correctly. Still, that didn’t banish the flaring discomfort in the back of her throat, especially now that the thought had crossed her mind. Giving her head the slightest shake to dispel that thought as well as attempting to dispel the nuisance of the burn that accompanied it, Renata continued down the hallway.

Passing a few of her fellow guard members with silent, small dips of her head in greeting as she moved onward, she found her feet leading her toward the living room of Rocca Nova. So, it seemed her thirst had more sway on her unconscious thoughts than she had given it credit for, leading her to the one room that they most often took their meals in. As she walked out into the open area of the room, her eyes flickered around the current occupants, taking in everyone who was there with different levels of polite indifference. There was a small group of temps gathered around one of the black leather sofas in the corner, speaking in quiet voices that everyone could hear. Even down the halls somewhat – for the stone only aided it in traveling farther. She paid them no mind. Not now, she was more focused on her thirst than anything else.

Aro was in for the day, and he had dismissed her of her guard duty as she would sometimes take up her post outside his door. No, not today. Today she was roaming the intricate hallways and rooms that had been her home for over nine hundred years. For a moment she debated heading out into Volterra, but cast that thought aside as easily as it had come. Perhaps after she had fed. Now where was Heidi? Her eyes traveled lightly around the room once more, searching for the huntress and their meals. But no, her eyes alighted instead upon a clock hung high on one wall, ticking away almost silently the seconds of eternity. No, Heidi had quite some time before she was due back, Renata was just allowing her hunger get the better of her. That wouldn’t do, she much find something to distract her. Then the eternity in and of itself that waiting for her meal would become would pass faster. Then she could soothe the burning in her throat and brighten her eyes and head out among the inhabitants of the city she had watched grow and change.

She crossed the room on still-silent feet, graceful with that easy skill of all vampires, not even making a sound as she crossed the drains that led to a deeper darkness of lower sewers. She had grown used to all of this, the darkness, the quiet, the emptiness that pervaded every hallway and room while many of the guards were sent on missions or wandered the city or even the rest of the country, wandering as they wanted to. As long as they did what they must, they had a good amount of free reign to go and do as they so wished. Of any of her companions, Renata was probably one of the few who stayed down here in Rocca Nova more often than not. She had no real use to the outside world anymore. She hadn’t had such a thing for all her years as a vampire, all her years among the Volturi. She lived her life as a vampire, and masquerading as a human after so long of not being one was something she didn’t quite like to deal with all that much. True, she enjoyed her outings among the humans when she took them, but she didn’t take them very often. She stuck to her own supernatural world, she stuck to trailing after Aro on the missions he wanted to take himself or the outings that could possibly be dangerous to the brother. She hung back from her fellow guard members and lived, really, only for that. It was her purpose after nine hundred years to protect Aro, and that was what she did. Her subtle, quiet friendships with the other guards much farther down on her priorities list – although that in and of itself was quite a short list.

Settling down lightly and silently on one of the many leather chairs lining the room, Renata tilted her head back slightly against it and let her dark eyes close for a brief moment. There was nothing really to take her attention away in the room at the moment, and now that she was here, and didn’t really want to leave – only to come back in not all that long at all to feed. But perhaps there would be something to distract her from her thirst between that time and now, something to occur while she waited. She could only wait, and just hope that something might. Then again, she could just sit here in the silence and the quiet until Heidi arrived.

»» HISTORY:

Throughout the years 1001-1027, Mahmud of Ghazni led raids on the lands of Northern India, his soldiers pillaging, stealing, kidnapping, raping and otherwise doing as they so wished. It was in one such small village that was all but destroyed that young girl to be known as Renata was born in the year 1025 AD – nine months after the raid to a young girl of only fifteen years of age. While her mother was not all that young in terms of marrying age for the time period, she had yet to marry, and the fatherless child was not welcome to either her or her fellow villages. And yet, despite this, she kept the baby girl, and continued to live in her parent’s house – unmarried for none would take her and the child – and raised her. This did not, however, mean the young girl that went through her early life only answering to the call of “Laraki,” or daughter (for she never was given a real name by her mother, and despite the Hindu views of her village, never had a Namkaran Samskar, or Naming Ceremony), had anything resembling an easy life. Because she was not only the daughter of an unmarried women, because she was also the daughter of some enemy soldier, both the villagers’ morals and anger fell upon her shoulders. Treated more as a servant girl for the family than as a child or grandchild, and looked down on by the rest of the villagers in a similar way, Laraki was put to work constantly, and given little reprieve from the criticism of the villagers.

Even her fellow children; as she and those close to her age grew, they picked up on and adopted the attitudes toward her that their parents showed, and Laraki was left alone, or scorned. For, as it has been proven time and time again, young children can be the cruelest of people in the world, even while they don’t understand it themselves. And so whenever the young girl was not working under her mother’s sharp reproach or the curt orders of her grandparents or whomever she was ‘lent’ out to for housework or fieldwork or whatever was needed, she retreated away from the rest of the inhabitants of the small village.

She found a hiding place, a small safe shelter, in the branches of a lone tree near one corner of her grandfather’s farmland (for their village was made up mostly of farmers such as him, wheat being their main product for trade with their neighboring villages). However, this refuge wasn’t a secret for very long, and from the first time she was found hiding there and ‘shirking her work’ until the time when she was far from the village she was born and raised in – roughly ages four to twelve – whenever she was discovered there, she was punished. Neither her mother nor her grandfather, for her grandmother hardly paid her any mind whatsoever even when it came to reprimanding her, were very careful with those punishments either.

That was how her early life went, working under her mother that resented her for ‘taking’ her life away and looked down on her – as the other villagers did – for who her father was and what he stood for, going through what her mother and grandfather saw fit to do to deal with her, as well as hiding on her own when she could, away from her family, the other villagers, and especially the other village children. But this short span of her life was soon over, for when she was around twelve years of age (not even she knows/knew for sure what her birth date was/is), everything she knew changed. This change came with the passing through of a trader from the lands to the west, a man who had been on his way along the routes between some of India’s larger cities and yet had decided to change his course somewhat and come through their small village. He was not the first nor the last traveler to ever pass through, yet he was the first from that part of the world that young Laraki had ever seen, and while she stood apart as her fellow villagers greeted him or tried to tempt him into buying some of their products (for it was harvesting time, and many had optimistic views that they might have surplus that year) she was drawn in by his dark hair and shocking blue eyes – for she had never seen that color in someone’s eyes before – especially as he was the only one among them with such an appearance, for the others were either of Chinese or other Asian descent or of rougher European lines than his, all much more experienced to the life of back and forth traveling along the much-used paths of trade that came to be known as the Silk Roads.

The traders, as he traveled in something like a small caravan, stayed the night near the village, and although she risked punishment, Laraki slipped out during the night to sneak over and see what made these men so different from all other traders that had come through – if there was something besides the way they looked. However, although she hid in the shadows of their small campsite as they sat around a small fire, she was only confused by the language they spoke. She had noticed that none of them spoke directly with any of the villagers, but had a guide with them that was Indian like her who translated, but she hadn’t listened before to them speaking, and she lost herself in their strange, foreign voices so much so that she didn’t even notice that she had been discovered. The same man that had first caught her own eye had come around behind her and grabbed the young girl by the arm, pulling her into the fire’s light and calling out something to his companions, a laugh escaping him as she struggled. She asked – almost begged – him to just let her go and not tell her mother or her grandfather, assured him that she wouldn’t spy on him or his fellow travelers anymore, explained to him that she had only been curious and wouldn’t do anything like it ever again. Unfortunately, the man didn’t understand the words quickly spoken in her native tongue anymore than she had understood the strange men speaking theirs. And so, the men took her back to the village, their guide and translator only now coming out along with them, however, before she could get an explanation out to him, her mother caught sight of her, along with most of the villagers who had been woken and left their homes because of the small ruckus the traders made.

Neither her mother nor her grandfather, who both came to the front of the group of villagers that had gathered, had much patience with Laraki and the men and there was little chance for the guide to dictate to the traders the full situation – among the raised voices as she was jerked away from the blue-eyed man by her mother. Resigned now to the punishment she was going to receive, she was now quiet and put up no fight as her mother pulled her away, paying little attention to the conversation going back and forth between her mother and grandparents, the guide, and the travelers. However, her attention was snapped back to the scene she was the cause of as the man’s voice cut her mother off, and the guide/translator told the Indian women just what he was proposing. He didn’t explain himself – or the guide didn’t see fit to explain it – but he wanted to know just how much it would cost to buy Laraki, to take her with the travelers as something of a servant girl.

This proposal startled Laraki’s mother, and yet, after a short conversation between she, her grandparents, and the guide who relayed the other side of the bargaining, it was settled. Despite a slight hesitation over the whole matter, despite the fact that although everyone in the village saw her as the daughter of an enemy soldier they still also knew that she was one of them, tied to them by her mother, despite the morality of selling someone, they did it. She didn’t pay attention to the price that was settled upon, she didn’t even look at her mother or grandparents, or any of the villagers, as soon as she heard the conversation turn to considering and debating. As shocked as she was that they were actually selling her, as silently terrified as she was at the idea of leaving the village she had grown up in to follow these strangers that would ‘own’ her, she didn’t speak up herself, she didn’t object. Ever since her pleading with the men to not bring her back to the village as they had, she had been silent – ever since she knew it was hopeless to avoid some kind of punishment, she had forced herself to do the one thing that would make sure it wasn’t worse than it would have to be, she stayed quiet.

And, to be perfectly honest with herself, a part of her actually found the prospect of being sold away from her home a positive thing. She was to be a servant girl, but wasn’t that was she was already? She was to be taken away from the village she had grown up in, but what did she have to tie her here anyways? Even without knowing just what circumstances she was being thrown into, that part of her saw it as an escape, a way out of the life she was living now – and because she couldn’t find her way out of this situation anyways, why not find that optimistic view to it, a kind of view she had been given very little reason to find in the life she now lived.

And so she was sold, and she left the next morning to travel with the small caravan-of-sorts as they finished the route they had been on and returned to their homes in the western lands, unsure of why exactly he had taken her with them. Along the way she learned bits and pieces of their language, yet the fact that she herself had gone quiet and withdrawn hardly helped with any kind of simple mastery over it – only what the guide repeated to her again and again in order to make sure she understood even if she wouldn’t speak it. When the traders finally returned to the land they had come from (taking another route back, almost as if they were avoiding her own village – as if she would have ever really considered going back) and left their guide and translator behind, they split up. She and the man that had bought her, returned to the village he was from, for that trading loop was the first and only one he himself would ever take.

Gerard, as she came to know the blue-eyed man was called, was neither a wealthy man nor a poor, neither a nobleman nor a serf – the two extremes of the village/castle lifestyle his people followed in Europe. His family was one of blacksmiths, earning them something of a higher rank in their society over the common farmers and workers, yet his uncle on his mother’s side had had a love for travel and trade that he had passed down to his nephew, and which he nurtured, giving him that one chance to travel with some of his acquaintances. She also found out over the years she spent working in the house he and his brothers (for there were two others, both older than him) shared beside their smithy, that the reason he had first taken up the offer to follow his uncle’s footprints was that, that he was the least likely to gain any kind of share in the business with his older brothers staking their claims – even as he settled down to work with them after the journey where he purchased her. The brothers garnered some respect in their small community, although it was little compared with that shown toward the lord who ruled over them, and even while she worked in their house, Laraki’s life was much simpler and much easier than the one she had had for the last twelve years.

As time went on, and she was forced to learn more and more of the language he spoke as she lived there (the rougher beginnings of today’s English), she became more of a student of his as well as a servant girl. He taught her the finer points of reading and writing and speaking the new language, and while spending some time in the small library he and his brothers had, she stumbled upon an Italian name that she took on as her own, replacing the Indian “daughter” for Renata, or rebirth – a testament to the new life she was living as she left those twelve years far behind her. While his brothers treated her as the purchased servant she was, the sharp lines of the relationship between the owner and the owned between the two of them blurred, simpler, easier.

She spent eleven years with Gerard and his brothers, eleven mostly uneventful years. There were commonplace things, the wax and wane of the farmers’ harvests around them, the occasional call for men to fight for the lord who ruled over their land – but he was a rather peaceful man, especially for the times they lived in, and there was no real danger posed for the blacksmith brothers when they were called away. Until, that is, five years into her stay with them (when she was seventeen), the oldest brother met his end in a rather unimportant scramble that had really meant nothing to either lord involved, and the inner workings of the smithy changed greatly, following the standard period of mourning that existed in that time. And yet Renata herself was mostly unaffected by the change. She still worked, she still cleaned and cooked and did whatever she was told to, but Gerard – really the only person she spoke to when not being ordered to do something – was given more responsibility in the small business, and with that began to grow more distant from her once again, with less time to spend teaching her the small things as he had done since trying to educate his ‘servant’ in the language she would be surrounded by for the rest of her life.

Those years were when the quiet, many might say introverted, girl realized just how much that little contact meant to her. Yes, to put it very simply, she was a seventeen year old girl – which has very much the same meaning wherever you look in time. Taking into account the way she had always looked to him as something of a savior from her younger life, at least with some part of her mind, along with the fact that he was only five years older than she was, and that he had always treated her as more than just a servant girl despite the fact that it had been him himself that had purchased her, it is really not surprising that Renata had fostered feelings for him somewhere within herself for quite some time. And yet she couldn’t resent him for spending more time with his work, in much the same way that she had never been able to really rebel against the treatment her mother or grandfather had given her. She had been taught the lesson early on that to resist only made her troubles worse, and that stuck with her throughout the rest of her life – even to the present day to some degree.

No, Renata only continued to simply be the servant girl of the bachelor household, for neither living brother ever married, and to watch the man that had granted her such an easier life get caught up in the work he had avoided in his own younger days. The rest of her years with Gerard and his brother passed this way, in that distant kind of relationship that not only showed itself in how she and Gerard interacted, but how he interacted with his older brother, and how that brother interacted with her, his rougher attitude falling away with the eldest brother’s death. Her days often passed in silence, silence and short orders or reminders of things she had to take care of.

Now, she was never truly privy to the thoughts of the man who purchased her. She never knew why he had made the brash suggestion, and she never knew why he treated her so well. But perhaps that in and of itself gave something away. While she had been seen almost as a servant girl to the family members that had raised her, she was only a servant girl to Gerard and his brothers, and yet he refused to allow even them to treat her with the same harshness as some treated their servants, if they had them. He spent his time teaching her not only the basics of the language she would have no choice but to speak and understand, but he taught her the full extent of reading and writing, patient with her even as the years passed, always finding some reason for their lessons to continue. Oh no, if Renata had been able to fully process his kindness as what it really was, she would have seen that the young man had only purchased her to free her from the life she had led, she would have seen that he had only wanted to give the young Indian beauty a chance to live a simpler, easier life – she would have seen that he had his own buried feelings for her.

But she never knew – and she never will. Simple love like that, unless purposefully brought to light by one party or another, slips only farther and farther into the backdrop. It doesn’t fade, per say, but it becomes commonplace between the two involved. It just became the way they treated each other, one reserved because of her status and the lessons of her younger life, and one completely oblivious to his own feelings, much less her’s, and too wrapped up in the business his older brother seemed ready to hand over to him at any time. Until her twenty third year, that was how Gerard and Renata and his brother lived. Until the end of her ‘life,’ Renata enjoyed a simplistic peace that made it extremely rare for her to even think back onto her previous situation, much less wish for a return to it.

The end of her mortal life and the beginning of her long immortal one came with the whim and lack of control of a nomadic newborn vampire. It was only a month or so after the makeshift birthday she and Gerard had decided upon for her own, when the ‘creature of the night’ stepped into her life. It was the beginning of Fall, close to harvest time, and there had been scattered, embellished tales of attacks from something that was human, but not. Animal attacks, skeptics wrote them off as, but that time period was one of superstitions and ghost stories and fairytales, and most whispered of indescribable beasts – both of animalistic appearances, and of human, for none could rid the rumor of that detail, no matter what they thought of it. With the trail this ‘creature’ seemed to be weaving across the countryside, it was only common sense that he would pass through her village – especially as the closer villages were struck. At least one death among them all, most likely more – attacks a matter of days apart, but sometimes the bodies took longer than that to find – bodies which were drained completely and utterly of blood – hunting parties sent out to track down the monster, none successful – some only becoming more prey for the beast.

It was the early hours of the morning, most of the village was asleep in the gray-cloaked chill, when Renata went out to the village well with a wooden bucket to be filled with water – and refilled later on throughout the day. The well was close to the smithy, the water needed to help with the heating and cooling processes of the work that went on, and so she was not all that far away when she heard the first scream. It was an eerie sound, almost unrecognizable as Gerard’s brother’s voice, but that fact that she could tell it came from their house behind the smithy gave it away to her. However, before she could have even reacted, the scream was cut off, leaving the morning air still and silent. She could have almost imagined it – almost being the keyword. For mere moments later, she saw what had been the cause of the scream, and what had silenced it.

He was suddenly there, in front of the house, she had hardly seen him circle around it from the back door, or if he had come out the front door, it was back on its hinge and shut tight far, far quicker than should have been possible. He didn’t take long in noticing her standing there either, he had probably known she was there before he had even been able to see her. His eyes flashed scarlet and his mouth twisted into a sick grin – his teeth and lips stained red as bright as his eyes – and she stumbled backwards as he made a move toward her. The bucket of water that she had carefully rested on the edge of the water was brushed by her arm and tipped, falling, soaking them both as she fell back against the stone encircling the well and as he stood before her – moving too fast. She didn’t even had time to scream as Gerard’s brother had, she didn’t even have time to really think about what was happening.

Vampire. The word had been whispered along with others as the tales swept around the nearby villages – but Renata had never truly believed this creature could have been one of them. Of course, seeing is believing, is it not?

Those thoughts had hardly had the chance to pass through her mind before his hands – ice cold – gripped her arms and she jerked away uselessly, stopping even before he leaned in and bit down over that spot on her neck where the blood pulsed closest to the surface with the sudden remembrance of what would have happened had it been her mother’s hold she had yanked against stopping her from even fighting back. She had been conditioned for twelve years (the young, formative years, some would claim) to put up with what the world dealt her with a bowed head, averted gaze, and simple wish that it wouldn’t be any worse. The next eleven years had soothed her battered self, had painted a gloss over her previous pain, but it couldn’t rewrite the lessons branded into her mind, into her instincts. And so Renata put up no fight whatsoever against the vampire as he set out to drain her of every last drop of her blood like he had so many others, like he had Gerard’s brother, and almost certainly Gerard himself as well.

She put up no fight, but that didn’t mean everyone else was passive. No, because someone else had heard the scream, someone else had bolted out of their early morning bed and out their front door just in time to see him go after her – quite a few someones, in fact. Even so, he probably wouldn’t have even thought about breaking off his meal (for he had already sunk his teeth into her and she could feel her life slipping away) had they not immediately assaulted him with stones – stone upon stone upon stone, to drive him away from the smithy’s poor servant girl, to distract him while someone with more skill and finesse in battle could gather themselves and appear. It worked in one respect, causing the vampire to momentarily release her and whirl around with a snarl, but that was what, in effect, ended the majority of their short, fragile little lives.

The moment Renata was released, she staggered, suddenly too weak to even hold her weightless self up without his talon-like grip on her arms. And as she fell back, she fell down – down over the small stone wall built up from the ground, down into the well. She didn’t even realize she had toppled over until she was at the bottom. The water was low for this time of year, only almost up to her shoulders as she slumped down in the round little prison she had gotten herself into. The water was cold, soaking her as she landed and splashed a good amount of it up and around her, but her neck and part of her chest stayed warm – where the blood from his bite on her neck bleeding across her. She made no effort to move, her head only lolled back against the stone to stare upwards at the gray cloaked circle that was a small window to the outside world. If she had listened, she would have heard more screams, for the vampire hadn’t been all that happy about losing part of his meal (apparently too lazy to follow her down the well to finish her off) and had decided to both take out his anger and further satisfy his thirst with all the nearby inhabitants of the village. However, Renata was not listening to anything really. She stared blankly up at that small gray circle in her sights until the blood loss and throbbing of her body from the impact of the fall, only partially lessened by the couple feet of water, threw that small circle into blackness.

Then the pain started. She didn’t know what it was, she didn’t even, honestly, know where she was or what had happened – not from the very moment when she was aware enough to notice the burning until when it was finished (three agonizing days later, although she herself had no sense of time as it went on). And even as she cracked open her eyes to the harsh light of the afternoon laying across them, she didn’t know where she was. She felt strange, new, strong, and as she sat up, bewildered by her location and just how different everything felt and looked. However, there was hardly any chance for her to find out. For as someone in the next room heard her shifting and stepped closer toward the door, babbling aloud – apparently to her – about how they were travelers who had come upon the deserted village and managed to somehow fish her, screaming and thrashing from the well, she was completely distracted by the scent that accompanied the man. Warm, thick, filled with the tang of iron, but oh so sweet, oh so tempting. One moment he was twisting the knob of the door and pushing it open, and the next he was pinned to the ground with her teeth at his neck, at that spot where the tantalizing blood was so close to the surface, the real reason so many vampires chose the neck as their target.

He was finished way too soon, drained, empty, pale and lifeless – and Renata continued to follow the rich scent of blood and the scorching thirst in her throat until she had finished off the small group of travelers. It was then and only then, when all tempting human beings were too far away for her sensitive nose to pick up and draw her onward, that she realized what she had done, what she had become. She didn’t know all that much about the folklore behind vampires, she had never really paid much attention. But it was obvious – what other strange, evil, creature drank the blood of others? She was just the same as that monster that attacked her, she was just the same as the beast that had killed Gerard and his brother and all the villagers in what had been her home for the last eleven years.

As she sat for hours upon hours on the ground beside the well in the ‘abandoned’ village after this realization hit her, as her conscience caught up with her newborn lust for blood (at least temporarily, at least while there was no ready, warm blood to go after), she found out that vampires didn’t need sleep, and she found out that her skin sparkled in the light, after watching with the kind of fascination of someone that has not only found something new and strange, but is also avoiding thinking about almost anything else, the way the marble of her skin fractured the sun light and reflected it back. That and the whole little fact of needing no food or drink but the ambrosial human blood. However, she was mostly satisfied for those first few days where she lingered around the town that that vampire had destroyed – and nabbing the occasional traveler that didn’t think it that dangerous to travel through the hauntingly empty town. There was a moral twinge each time she looked at the bodies – long after they were drained and her throat had settled itself into that constant itching burn that refused to be completely satiated, but it never interfered with her hunt, and after that first revelation of what she was, Renata only put it off as unavoidable. As unavoidable as her mother’s and grandfathers harsh punishments, as unavoidable as her fellow children’s harsh words, as unavoidable as the looks and treatment she had received outside of Gerard’s little sphere of influence. Unavoidable, just another pain she would have to deal with in her life.

However, it seems the Volturi – of which she (and most likely the newborn nomad that had changed her) obviously had no idea of – didn’t like it when entire villages were completely wiped off the map because of one little vampire’s bloodlust. Oh, it was alright when they did it, for they had justification. But a lone vampire, especially a newborn, was a risk and liability to their whole ‘secret’ existence from humanity. So, it was not at all surprising to anyone who knew the Volturi that they dispatched one of their guard off to the ‘ghost town’ to take care of whoever had turned it into so, to make sure that they never did it again, that they never jeopardized the secret again. What was surprising was that the guard they had sent didn’t seem to be able to complete his job. Days passed, then more days, then weeks, and there was no sign from him. So it was assumed that this newborn must either be incredibly strong or have a powerful extra little skill that some were gifted with when the venom burned their veins – to be able to defeat the skilled guard member of the Volturi – or that there was something else detaining the guard from returning or reporting back. Another was sent.

This guard brought back not only the first guard and Renata, but also the short report of the battle of wills that had taken place. At the first sign of the Volturi member, Renata had hidden, unsure just how to deal with the strange scent and the ominous black cloak. Unfortunately it hadn’t taken the guard all that long to find her, and confront her with his orders to kill her. Or rather, he didn’t actually confront her, but attempted to. He didn’t head toward her hiding place expecting to tell her anything, but unwilling to let him any closer – she stopped him. She wasn’t sure what had happened beside her strong willing him away, but one moment he was within a meter of her, and the next he was walking away at an angle. After a few long paces, he had paused, tilted his head thoughtfully, and glanced back at her hiding spot, his brow furrowing as he looked at her. Confused not – as she found out – because he realized her power, but because he truly didn’t know what to do with her, he didn’t know why he had been approaching her at all. But after a few long, tense, silent moments, it began to filter back into his mind, and his expression turned from confused to bewildered to frustrated. He then thought it fit to announce his intentions to her (perhaps thinking that reciting his orders aloud would ease his attempt), and he made a move for her again.

Renata, of course, did not know of the Volturi or of their law-keeping, or secret-keeping, and so she didn’t know why he was out here to kill her – but for some reason she cared very little about it. That passive, acceptant attitude she had taken toward all her punishments throughout her life had taken control again, either just because that was how she had been conditioned to deal with something like this, or a form of grief for Gerard numbing her to whatever might happen to her now, or perhaps some mixture of the two. But even while she knew this was just another card she would have to figure out how to deal with, it wasn’t as if she wanted to let him come closer. She hadn’t yet realized herself her power, much less the extent of it, but as she sat there in silence, flinching at his lunge for her, her mind rebelled against the idea of letting him anywhere near her again – and when her scarlet eyes flashed open again, he was walking away once more. Both parties were thoroughly stumped by then, but the guard seemed determined to complete his mission and finish her off as well as determined not to report anything even hinting at the possibility of failure, and Renata had nowhere to go, especially with the guard never giving her much more space than he had to.

The second guard understood the situation immediately, and – seeing her power in action and considering that it could be considered useful, and if not, she could be taken care of later – brought the idea to light of Renata following them and joining the Volturi and escaping the punishment she had been condemned to. She didn’t take too easily to the suggestion at first, but her eyes were nearly black, her throat burning with a ferocity she had yet to experience, her body weak from – as she found out later – using her power repeatedly over the course of the first guard’s extended mission to get rid of her. She was thirstier than she ever had been, and some sheer impulse that overrode her usual acceptance of her fate prompted her to agree. If she refused, she was going to die, and as much as she didn’t really seem to care all that much about that, she didn’t want to die. Every beating she had gone through had been brutal and ruthless, but she had never been in any danger for her life – not really until the morning she was bitten. And faced with that, she balked – and agreed.

She was not allowed anywhere near within the city limits – if she had been, she would have only truly condemned herself, for her eyes flashed ravenously even with the faint scent of human blood in the dank sewer entrance and passage that she was taken through. She was escorted through these sewers until she reached the stronghold of the Volturi that was sprawled beneath and within the city of Volterra, and although it only continued to wear down her already waning stamina, she kept on constant alert, ready to use the power she had that the second guard had just so happened to explain she had.

She didn’t even quite understand what it was, much less how it worked. All she knew was that the moment either of them happened to make a threatening gesture toward her or stepped too close to her, she flinched away, her mind automatically refusing to allow them to get any closer – and they didn’t. They were driven away, but not by any physical force, it was almost as if they had simply decided to change directions. However, she did not need to be able to know exactly how and why it worked as long as it did, for the time she had spent with the first stubborn, determined guard had quickly left her with unsettling thoughts about these Volturi. She had some type of ability that kept them from getting at her, and so was safe even here – or so she hoped.

Meeting Aro and the other brothers for the first time is an event in her life that Renata will never forget. Taking into account the usually faultless vampiric memory that simply stored everything about a scene somewhere in the dank and dusty corners where most thoughts don’t tread all that often, she could remember that moment as clear as the day it had happened even at the smallest whim to – and even among her years upon years of memories stored up, this one moment was more memorable than most. Then again, considering that it has shaped everything about her life thereafter – and to such a great extent that she is still with the Volturi today, after nine hundred and sixty two years among their ranks – only made it less surprising that this was so.

She remembered walking into that large ‘throne room,’ flanked on either side by the two guards that gave her the small bit space she was allowed only because they knew that if they attempted to get closer, she would react automatically and force them away, even if she had come this far with very little resistance and despite her hungry glances around the sewer passageways where human beings had wandered too close (fortunately there were none too close at the moment, for while the stale human scent was tempting, the smell of warm, pumping blood would have been irresistible – and Renata would have surely been sentenced to death right there and then despite the idea of the second guard that Aro would find her power interesting), she made no kind of trouble. One could describe her as almost listless, almost uncaring about her fate. True, she had avoided outright death by coming here on the guard’s suggestion, and true, her very power that he had described she must have seemed to be for self preservation and only protected her as her will absolutely refused the idea of dying – but as she walked with them, as she entered the large room and took in the sight of other vampires milling around, all glancing at her curiously, her own expression was blank. She seemed resigned to die if that so be it, even if that really wasn’t the case. She was going to protect herself until she couldn’t anymore – but it was an unconscious choice. To ask her, if she answered, she would only answer that she didn’t have anything to ‘live’ for. She had left her first life behind almost willingly, but this second shattering of her life was all that she was willing to take.

However, as the guard explained what had happened to the brothers, and elaborated on why he had brought her here instead of killing her, one of the brothers cut him off, stepping forward with an air of casual power. He claimed that he would rather hear the story from her, and the full story at that. At his approach, however, Renata automatically took a step back, and ended up against the closed doors that she hadn’t been all that far away from. He had raised an eyebrow, and her distrustful eyes had flicked to the first guard that had come after her. She was no fighter, never had had the chance to be one, and his false cheeriness and ease put her on edge, especially after having dealt with his subordinates. Seeming to understand, he clarified to her that he simply wanted to touch her hand – only that and her story would be told. Still wary, ready to thrust out her power should any of them approach her again as trapped as she now was, she lifted one hand to his, and the moment their skin brushed, his eyes closed, and that power of tactile telepathy that she had no idea about was put to full use. (Ironic that she had agreed to come here instead of putting up a fight and dying out there, only to think that they had brought her here only to make that easier. Ironic because that was part of the plan of the guard, should Aro not find her power interesting enough to keep around.)

She herself didn’t know what was going on as he went through every thought that had crossed her mind in the last twenty three years, but when he had gathered whatever information he wanted, his eyes opened and he released her hand, that easy courtesy coming over him again. He spoke, asked her by “Laraki” if she would consider joining their ranks. She would only be a temporary guard, but would move through the ranks if she proved herself, and they would help her through the newborn phase – a phrase she didn’t quite understand at first – and would help her figure out the full potential of her power. The first words out of her mouth since entering the sewer pathways were possibly some of the most forward and direct words she used for quite a few years after. A spark of resentment at him dragging up the first life she had left behind, she had raised her chin and told him simply, but sharply, “My name is Renata.”

However, she didn’t even consider turning down the offer – at least not for more than a second. Although Aro had seen everything that she had thought and knew that she was not the one at fault for the village genocide, Renata didn’t know that, and she could see quickly that if she didn’t agree and join them, they could very easily decide to punish her for that, instead of letting her off as they seemed to be planning to do. And so she agreed, and again, she was escorted through the domain of vampires that lay completely and utterly hidden beneath the human city of Volterra, given a small barren room and told that someone would come to her for her first ‘training’ session soon.

Throughout the years and decades that passed, Renata never really excelled with her training as a temp. Despite what she went through under the guards, she never took much to physical fighting. Whenever she was in any real danger besides a simple sparring match, her mind and her power reacted and protected her. So, not very long after she had joined the Volturi temp ranks, she was more stationed on actual ‘guard duty’ rather than running missions as others did. She learned how to control her shield more effectively and how to direct people in a certain direction instead of just away. She also – most importantly – learned how she could also shield others. Through many experiments and trials she went through, she strengthened this ability and learned the limits of it, and she found that Aro had an interest in her power different than those of the rest of the guard. Most were fighters, most powers among the vampires he had assembled at that point attacked, not defended. Although, who did the Volturi have to defend from? Still, especially after she seemed to master her power in the use of protecting others, Aro took her rank as a temp away, giving her the position of a personal guard of himself – and the other brothers. She was a cautionary last boundary in a battle of any kind, able to protect him from any kind of physical attack should someone get through the rest of the guards and temps, however unlikely that was.

Throughout this entire time, she never grew incredibly close to anyone in the guard. She was civil and even perhaps a bit kind – not overly so, but she was polite and quiet. She knew her companions and she spoke with them, but she never cultivated any strong friendships. In the early years, she was still wary of the vampires she worked with, and a part of her still mourned her human life she had left behind and Gerard, and besides she was a temp herself, the bottom rung of the ladder, looked down on, a nuisance. A weak temp that couldn’t really fight but on instinct and one that much more often hid behind her power than even trying – although that was usually a subconscious attempt at self-preservation more than anything. As time went on, and after Aro moved her up to the position of his guard, she grew more at ease with her fellow Volturi. She still stayed distant, yet as Aro’s personal guard, it could be argued that he was the one she was closest to, if only because she accompanied him on most journeys he made outside the stone walls of Volterra, which was a lot more time than she spent with any others in the guard. She knew them, but didn’t know them. She was the timid, quiet vampiress that replied if you spoke to her but otherwise went on about her own business.

After over nine hundred years, she has settled into her rhythm of sorts. Along with the duty of following Aro around as his personal guard, she deals with temps and other work within Volterra. She does not take part in battles but to protect the brothers, most often, and any missions that involve such things are not given to her. Because it would be a waste of time, it would be much more efficient to hand it off to, say, Felix or Demetri, the fighters. And she had to be ready at a moment’s notice should Aro decide to depart somewhere, ready to head out with him and keep that last resort shield at the ready should any kind of physical danger present itself. She has acquired a certain sense of pride as a member of the Volturi and in the dark cloak she wears, but, as with everything about her apparently, it is a quiet pride. She has no one to brag to, she simply goes on. After over nine hundred years of this life in and around Volterra, she plans on living it for many, many more years longer – secure in her post as she thinks she is and willing to continue with her simple rhythm.

The past is something to be left behind. Not forgotten, no, for then it only repeats itself as all historians will repeat themselves over and over. But the past is the past and can never be changed and only mourned over or longed for, so what is the use? And especially when one’s life stretches on for so long and their past memories fade like the once-colorful threads on a shirt worn far too many times. The twenty three years she spent as a human being are now only ghost-like memories that drift past her thoughts very rarely, images of a past so far behind that it is almost as if it happened to someone else and she is simply reviewing the poorly-saved documentary of it. However, there are pieces of it that a part of her clings to, memories that her unbeating heart will hold tight to in the darker places that her mind never wanders willingly any longer, as her eternity stretches on. And, as with everyone, her past has shaped her into what she is now. Ever since her young years, she has been the quiet, usually-submissive girl that everyone thought her to be at first glance, the girl she still is. Her eleven years with Gerard built her up stronger, only to be knocked down again by the vampire that turned her and destroyed her village. And all these years among the Volturi have given her a simple, continuous, stable life that she holds tight to. Renata is simply Renata in her own eyes, there is no need for a past to define her and no need to worry about the mostly certain future.