Ok. This is set in the 19th centrey. A young Singer, 20 years old, meets a rival in a vampire who also performs in the Opera Poulaire. But hate can become love. And yes I love POTO.

Name: Margaret De Barbarac
Age: 20
Looks: Like Keira knightly but with blue eyes
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Margaret De Barbarac walked up the steps to the famous Opera house, known as the Opera Poulaire. All she had was her suit case and a bag. "Amazing!" she breathed it was night out, but she could still see the slender of it. Unfortuanlly she didn't notice the man coming down the steps.

((Seral, I also need a pic as well as a Bio, and if you want to have some of your other characters in this, its ok.))

The cerulean eyed young man, made his way down the steps with preternatural grace. Ah, this Opera House was his home; how he loved it.
Francis Le Dorme; his name was written in vermilion letters, on every street corner.
The black velvet frock coat seemed to gleam in the fading night. Twilight set Francis's hair alight, with silver, the jet tendrils drawn loosely at the base of his neck; tied with a silken ribbon.
A slender hand skimmed the smooth, stone surface on the banister, that curved its way down the steps, ah Paris in the late summer... With its vermilion, and violet skies... Ah, and the French singing ringing in ones ears... This was paradise, for the slender violinist.
A black, well worn violin case, was held in Francis's hand, as he moved, listlessly, down the steps, yet, as he neared the bottom, he collided head on with a young woman.

"Ah, curses child, where in the name of D'Lorve is your mind!" cerulean eyes flahed with anger, as he bent to retrieve the fallen violin case.

((Sure... But I already PMed you Francis's bio.))

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Those who find ugly meanings, in beautiful things, are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. -Oscar Wilde-

((I know, but I don't have a pic yet and its easieer to imagine him with one. I would post But I have to get to work. I will be home al day tomorrow though and this evening.))

((Okay, I'll search for a picture. *postpones posts*^^))

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Those who find ugly meanings, in beautiful things, are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. -Oscar Wilde-

[*hides behind curtain* Is there still space for another vampire-woman?]

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

((Yup, but I need a Bio.))

Margaret looked at man who bumped into her. "I am not a child Monsiour, I am a young woman. And my mind is wondering why you weren't watching where you were going." She snapped, and gathers her scattered clothing and put them back into her suit case. "Now if you'll escuse me I have a meeting ith the manager of this opera house concerning my new job."

Cerulean eyes flared, as Francis tossed his head back, stamping his foot in a childish petulance.
"Mon Deui! Have you no manners, madamouiselle!" the violinist trailed his long hands, almost lovingly, over the battered case, carrying his precious instrument.
How dare this woman blame him, for her own foolish mistakes! Ah, Francis le Dorme, was far too much of a celebrity in Paris, for that.
Gesturing violently, Francis glowered at the girl, his lip curled in disdain.

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Those who find ugly meanings, in beautiful things, are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. -Oscar Wilde-

Margaret glared at him. "I do have manners, Monsiour. As a De Barbarac, I must have manners. Thats more then I can say for you though. Know If you'll exuse moi. I belive I will be late meeting the manager about my new postion as leading singer in this fine establishment."

Francis rolled his eyes, his delicate face exquisite in his disgust. Who was this fool, to believe she could rival him? Ah, he would always be known for his violin playing, throughout Paris.
As he took a step back on the steps, a young, blonde haired man burst through the Opera House doors, splendid in dark green velvet, his frock coat not as shabby as Francis's.
With a charming smile, the young man linked his arm through Francis's own, azure eyes twinkling mischieviously, as he looked at Margaret.

"Mon Deui, Francis, cheri, who is this... your girlfriend?" with a ringing laugh, the blonde threw back his head, his delicate features thrown into relief by the moonlight.

Francis looked to the blonde, then back to Margaret, the look of irritation never fading from his cerulean eyes.

"No, Julien... Why don't you ask her yourself? I am sure she would love to brag about herself, some more..."

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Those who find ugly meanings, in beautiful things, are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. -Oscar Wilde-

"That is incredibly rude of you, Francis." She turned to the other man. "My name is Margaret De Barbarac. I am the new leading singer of the Opera Populaire." She said with a grin. "And you are?"

((Seral, would you mind being the manager of the opera house, i don't do multiple characters that well, it could be one of you many charries or just a guy you have sometimes appear, or maybe it could be Julian. Speaking of who, maybe he and Margaret could become friends which irriats Francis because he hates Margaret right now.))

Francis rolled his eyes, his arm linked through Julien's, more than aware of the blonde's tendancy to burst into hysterics.
By the look of Margaret, it was apparent that she had no idea of their dark secret, no idea that they lived in the night, dead for centuries. Ah, and she had no idea, that many inhabitants of the Opera House, also lived like them.
Julien gestured wildly, and made a sweeping bow to Margaret. Interesting.

"Name of Julien D'Lorve, madamiouselle... You seme to have had a run-in, with my friend?" Julien glanced to Francis, with a wicked grin.

Francis merely sniggered, and looked to his violin case, then to the Opera House behind him. Even through the heavy doors, the sounds of someone raging could be heard. A smirk curved his lips. Ah, Dorian never could keep his temper in check.
Turning on his heel, and dragging Julien with him, Francis pushed open the doors of the building. True enough, a dark haired man was pacing back and forth, gesturing despairingly, and yelling at a hazel eyed woman.

"Curses, Imogen! Sing the infernal soprano!" Dorian's vice rose, shrilly, above the din of the House.

Julien merely laughed, and looked over his shoulder, at Margaret.
"Coming to the Manager, ma cherie?"

A platimun haired young man, walked arm in arm with a blonde woman, shooting a wicked glance to Francis, and the others, before making his way outside.

"Manager's in his office, Francis," he called out, before vanishing into the night.

((I'll be the manager, but I'll have a think about Julien.))

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Those who find ugly meanings, in beautiful things, are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. -Oscar Wilde-

Margaret nodded and went to the office and walked in. She then genltly set her things down and curtsied before her new employer. "How do you do Monsiour. I am Margaret De Barbarac, the new leading singer you hired."

(I'll join! can I be a background singer? that knows about the vampires of the opra house? And that the only reason she's not gone to America is that the vampires don't want her to tell anyone that they are vampires?)

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(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

((Sur but also check with Seral cause all the Vamps are Seral's.))

(but my chracter isn't a vamp. she just knows their secret! and can u ask her? I'm a little busy!)

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(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

((OK, and if I do a song that is a duet I will post you cause I actually put the songs on.))