To look at you, you might pass as human. Spend a day with you, and that ship sails. The fangs should give you away, but your very presence is hypnotic. You have an eerie allure, romance and sin at once, that degrades the sense of caution in whoever beholds you — whether you like it or not. But what becomes unsettlingly clear about you is the feeling of… more.

You have all the  strength of a human — and more. You have the senses of a human — and more. You live as long as a human — and more. This is both boon and curse, for the ability to be more is shackled to the need to have more. Blood is your burden. Experience has taught you that your relentless hunger for it can be quelled, but never satiated.

Experience is another thing you have more of. The hand of time cannot close around you and so you have gained unnatural knowledge and wisdom — arcane and mundane — across centuries of life. Now wherever you walk shivers from the passing of your aura, for you are time out of time. Exemption. Perhaps this is what defines you. For all your extraordinary abilities and enhanced capacities, you have no means of going unnoticed. You may hide your identity but you can do nothing to stop its impact. The victims of your infamous bite are the unliving proof. You are a dark Midas touch. You have escaped mortality, but not yourself.