Theophania Day

Jalista — Offline

Theophania Day
Vampire – Reaper

Need to Know

- She/Her/Hers
- 244 (Aug 16)
- 5'2"
- Dark Brown Hair
- Dark Brown Eyes (N/A Eyes)
- Owner of Sweet Tooth bakery in North Portland
- Lives in North Portland


  • - Pale from over two centuries out of the sun
  • - Smooth mouth and eyes that seldom suffer the pull of a smile
  • - Always smiles closed-mouth
  • - Big presence in a tiny package
  • - Enjoys staying up to date on trends
  • - Usually behind by a decade or two on said trends
  • - Overly fond of scarves and large sweaters

About Me

Ability Description

The benefit of mentors meant Theophania had very dependable persuasion early in her extended life, but in recent decades money did a better job than her voice ever would, so she has fallen out of practice.


Independent || Willful || Dishonest || Condescending || Industrious || Enthusiastic || Generous


Let them eat cake!

Theophania was born in 1776 to minor French aristocracy. She was followed quickly by her brother, who was named the heir, leaving her to do as she pleased while her mother doted on her. Her life was easy, and she was well-schooled; they were minor enough that she didn’t need to worry about politics (her brother did that). They were not minor enough to escape the notice of revolutionists.

A distant cousin, words brief and ink blotched, entreated her father to come quickly to their Louisiana estate, where they would be safe from the French Revolution.

Reap what you sow!

There were no guillotines in America, that was true, but it was a tender new country, and unholy creatures thrived on the chaos. Little did Theophania’s family know, their cousins were among the unholy. They did not attend church, and did not take husbands or wives, and their forks and spoons were steel rather than silver.

Only years later, a grown woman refusing to marry, did Theophania learn why her cousins were so odd, when they offered to bring her into their fold. She accepted—oh, to live forever and have sway over others—and was reborn in the private cemetery.

Her new vampirism was supposed to be a gift. Theophania and her cousins traveled across the Americas, leaving behind widows and widowers and orphans as she learned how to control her newfound power. The years stretched long, and her brother sent word that her father had passed and her mother was soon to follow.

She had missed her parents growing old, and her brother marrying. She had nieces and nephews she knew nothing about.

Her cousins had warned her that she could never return home after her turning, but she had thought it a fair price for immortality. She was wrong. She raged against her gift-turned-curse so violently her cousins hastily washed their hands of her with only parting cautions against revealing her secret.

She returned home.

She didn't stay. Exclamations over how she hadn't aged a day brought to mind the consequences her cousins had mentioned. They'd carried no weight until she had her mother's delicate hand cradled between her own. Her years away hadn't been so numerous that she couldn't brush her youthful looks off as a blessing, but that wouldn't last. She said goodbye, again, and settled in a distant city, far from the temptation of visiting.

She tended her brother's children’s children from afar, as a doting but mysterious aunt. Generations passed, until she was an eccentric spinster aunt under a hundred different names, beloved for the heaps of cash and expensive gifts she sent every birthday. Her cousins never re-established contact or reclaimed their estate. Eventually, there were no more great-great-great-great-great-great nieces and nephews for her to dote on. Her line had petered out, save for her, eternally youthful.

She could scarcely stomach sitting still. Over the centuries, she made a fortune in real estate, and antiques, and books rendered with exquisite historical accuracy. She dabbled in everything and anything; except cooking. Her shiny new frigidaire remained an empty novelty.

She lived alone longer than she ever had with companionship. Even making money became pointless, after a while, with no one and nothing new to spend it on. Inaccurate history textbooks took over her kitchen counters. Self-help books spread across the living room. Cheap erotica and trendy sci-fi filled every nook of her bedroom.

One book, with a bright yellow cover and worn pages describing the joys of baking, held a spot of honour on her bedside table for over two decades.

Theophania had a sourdough starter that was eighty fucking years old.

Theophania was going to open the best bakery Portland had ever seen.


Face Claim: Amra Cerkezovic

Theophania owns and bakes for the Sweet Tooth, a bakery which caters to hipsters and college students by being open late at night rather than early in the morning. She retrofitted the bottom floor of an old brick building into a sprawling bakery, and renovated the top into her new apartment. Alt Icons (thanks Jas!)