Constance exudes an aura of intensity that can leave most feeling a little off balance in her presence. She’s an average height, but holds her posture in a way that makes her seem more imposing. In contrast, her skin is a smooth cocoa shade that almost glows with a subtle golden glitter. She is the sort of woman that draws the eye when she enters a room. Long limbs, supple curves, she is no stranger to attracting desire and envy.

What’s interesting about Constance is that while her overall presence seems to intimate others while approaching her, it’s her face that sparks their curiosity. You feel that she’ll tear you to shreds, yet you want to talk to her because when she looks your way you feel invited into some sort of scandalous secret, and only you and her are in on it.

Her style and presence may be sharp and poised, but Constance has a surprisingly innocent visage. There is a beauty mark just below her mouth, nearly on her chin, and another just beneath the corner of of her right eye. Full brows frame eyes that are large and round with irises so dark they are often described as bottomless. Most of her features are voluminous and soft, and attract those in a way that draws them in like hypnosis.

Constance has no tattoos and only a simple pair of lobe piercings. Nothing more than a beautiful woman to look at, perhaps specifically tailored to shine brighter around those of higher standing.

Once upon a time, Constance Lavore was alive. Though whatever life she lived she cannot recall but in mere fragments. She was a beautiful young woman, no doubt, as when she looked in the mirror she recognized herself as though confronted with a ghost. There had been a ring, yes, a golden band and a heavy sparkling gem that spoke of wealth only Kings could possess. Yet she felt no happiness in the accessory, only fear, only pain. And so, so much hatred.

She was a noble lady from a forgotten court, engaged to an over-ambitious ruler with a cruel heart. He had not treated her kindly, he couldn’t have or else she would not have awakened anew feeling as ruined as she was. His sneer echoed in her memories, as did the laughter of other unknowns who had no right to handle her. Constance was aware that she had lost so much that her heart could no longer ache. Her memory was a reflection of fire, and screams, faceless people she might have loved once but were lost to this history she couldn’t give better details.

What she understood was that she was given as a plea for peace, and she was taken instead as a trophy while peace was met with devastation. She’d spent her life as the vessel for all their suffering even beyond their graves, until one day she arrived at Death’s door herself. Whenever she looked into mirrors she could see the dirt and tear-stained face of her other self, whispering a prayer through her gritted teeth. A chance– to reward all her suffering– she just wanted a chance to give men the anguish they’d given to her.

Constance awakened in a barren desert with a lust for ruin and an awful hunger that burned through her core. For years she haunted cities between the Middle East and Russia, a vengeful spirit that feasted on blood. Yet she was a monster that was adored for her beauty. She was so loved and adored that her partners fell apart in heartache, dying and crumbling to dust. Only then did her spirit appears to settle– satisfied.

“Oh, but there is so much more you are capable of, my dear.”

She was discovered by a Robin, a woman dressed in red that seemed to understand the vengeance that comprised Constance’s soul. In her, Constance found a mentor and a mother, a safe place to pay her loyalties and theirs became a relationship that stretched centuries. The Robin knew a great deal about where to apply a vengeful blade. She taught Constance everything that she knew and introduced her to a family of sisters all sharing in the same pain and heartbreak. The Robin nurtured them, dearly, and promised them a home where they could exploit the wretched desires of the mundane.

They settled in Greensbrooke, where rumors took flight in whispers– so many conflicting stories surrounding a stockpile of bodies that evolved into a legend even the mundane conspired to understand. The Robin made herself known in the depths of the underground for those that didn’t want to get their hands dirty, offering her precious birds to reap the souls of those deserving.

Evil? Or a blessing. Well… for most it seemed that she had heard their prayers. Constance Lavore, once a broken girl, had become a blessing of vengeance.

(Note— the date October 31, 1104 is when Constance awakened as a Burber. She is actually much older than that but her historic origins are unknown to her at this time.)