Race: Changeling - currently Vampire
Sex: Female
Real Name: UNKNOWN
Nick Name: Kimmie
Birth Date & Location: UNKNOWN
Position: Student
Group Affiliation: Currently: Group of Fashion
DESCRIPTION:
Because Kimmie is a changeling she is able to gradually change her appearance to adapt her needs and situation. Currently she has adopted the physical appearance of a vampire; she appears to be around 21 years old, 5'5" in height and 130 lbs.
BACKGROUND:
Kimmie's beginnings were not rooted in physicality, nor even in mysticism. She received her existence through months of absolute will…
Past History ~ Professor Kimberly Stockholm
Kimmie's existence is linked to that of a lonely woman called Kimberly Stockholm, a professor of philosophy at LACC (Los Angeles City College): 42 years old, single, a virgin, and very plain. You couldn't have called her ugly when she was alive, but you wouldn't have given her a second glance, either. You would never have heard her name mentioned had you not been a student in her class, nor would you have cared to know her beyond the need to figure out how she graded. (She graded on a curve, by the way.)
Professor Stockholm had mastered philosophy, literature, and computer sciences to the degree of gaining the unchallenged respect of her colleagues-on paper. But in "real life," her shyness and burgeoning insecurity kept her from forming relationships with the other professors. She never ate lunch in the faculty lounge. She ate alone in the parking lot in her cream-coloured Station Wagon. Her daily sack lunch consisted invariably of a bologna sandwich, a Sprite, and an apple. To make things worse, Stockholm had decided in recent years that she was a lesbian, so finding love in this life was a slim chance in Hell. Being non-sexy and quietly gay, not even the nightclubs would have her. Books and the Internet were all that fettered her to sanity.
She found something of a mild-mannered solace in the philosophy web pages she'd visit-the academic chat rooms, and the porn message boards too. In 1992 she met a small online community of Techno Pagans, one of whom was a computer sciences teacher from Sunnydale. Most of their conversations dealt with differing points of view, numerology, and eventually a grander subject: quantum physics and the concept that you cannot observe anything without affecting its physical nature.
"I'm not sure I believe that's entirely true," Stockholm typed to JENNY_BABE."
"Careful what you dismiss," came the reply. "I'd hate for you to give life something to prove."
One semester, Professor Stockholm was given the opportunity to teach night classes. She accepted gratefully, hoping the shadowy campus would add colour to her ashen features, any colour, even black. But the florescent lights only worsened her complexion. She hated talking under them, and she sometimes stuttered through her lectures. The college staff seemed comfortable with her move from the daytime routine. The likes of Stockholm-tenure or not-were best kept in the back of their minds, begging to be forgotten.
Stockholm's teaching style suffered. It became rote. Her words poured to her students on a stream of monotony, and the pool of sluggish faces seemed to melt away as thirty pens frantically scribbled lecture notes. It was like the students were no longer on her plane of existence, there, but not. She couldn't blame them for their lack of interest. God, Stockholm wasn't even listening to herself anymore. As she spoke of Greeks and Motorcycle Maintenance, her attention often wandered to that one empty seat in the back corner of the class: the seat with the wobbly legs that existed beside the heater and the peeling map of the Middle East. No one ever sat in this seat. Affectionately, the students called it "the Forbidden Zone." But in reverie, Kimberly Stockholm pictured a girl there, young and beautiful, a redhead sometimes, a blond others.
She would drive home after class, pretending this girl was in the passenger's seat, laughing prettily and telling her how much she "adored tonight's lecture." She imagined that this girl, were she real, would possess a voice oh so haunting, the lamentation of a loon sweeping over the surface of a lake as dusk creeps through the trees. The more Stockholm allowed herself to fantasise, the more this became fact. During the night Stockholm would wake up feverish, her fingers between her legs and this imaginary student moving Stockholm's wrists in small circles. At these times, the girl appeared to be brunette. And she loved Professor Stockholm with a passion that only existed in private chat rooms and the pages of Anne Rice.
Throughout the semester, the image of the attentive girl seemed more real. The Forbidden Zone slowly opened up to her presence. But only in the professor's eyes. Stockholm wished the girl was real, a student in her classroom who really would stay after class, really would walk her to her Station Wagon and accompany her on the long drive home, perchance to stay the night. Maybe even sneak a club sandwich in her sack lunch the very next morning and kiss her good-bye.
"Have a wonderful day, my love," she might say, "I'll see you tonight in class."
Shuffling down the rows of anxious students, Professor Stockholm handed out the end-of-semester tests. "You will have two hours to complete it," she said solemnly, fearing she herself might fall asleep at her desk during the course of the exam, "but you shouldn't need that long. If you do choose to take two hours, I can only assume you haven't studied."
The faces were blank and the hands nervous, shuffling through the pages. "Any questions?" No one responded. But then there was a movement from the corner desk, and Stockholm smiled upon the image of her playmate whom she'd never bothered to name. The girl's hand went up. Stockholm wanted to call on her and say, "Yes, my darling?" But how would that look, the professor talking to ghosts? Benji Sorenson, her worst student, raised his hand. "Yes?" Stockholm asked, sighing. "Question?"
Benji glanced back at the corner desk. He said, "Aren't you going to call on Kimmie?"
Current History ~
Kimmie didn't understand why, during her philosophy exam, the professor-her lover, her mother, her mentor-suddenly toppled forward over the globe and speedily died. Everyone else reacted excitedly, but not Kimmie. Kimmie found it all a curiosity. Later, rumours of Mrs. Stockholm's embolism started circulating around campus. Kimmie, quite stoically, figured that the professor had willingly given up her life so that Kimmie may live. And because of the professor's passing, Kimmie knew she was undeniably alive. So there was no cause for mourning. This was a celebration. Kimmie's birth was an Epiphany.
Kimmie continued taking night courses at LACC. As far as anyone else was concerned, she was a student of philosophy, always had been. She found that adapting to the academic life was painless. In fact, she found that adapting to anything--given enough time--was easy, natural. She didn't mind that the other students considered her shallow, bouncing from one campus club to the next, mastering it, and moving on. Her true origins faded from her mind. She figured, If you choose not to believe in them, they don't exist. Correct? Correct. Kimmie lives in the present. She thinks, and she is.
POWERS/ABILITIES:
Kimmie, like Professor Stockholm, is essentially very plain. If she were the type to spend time alone, she would develop the tasteless features of the woman who willed her into existence. But in the company of others, she transforms to meet their perception of her. Kimmie is a socialite and, though not psychic, she displays a powerful empathic genius. She latches on to a person, learns his or her needs, then delivers them. She feeds in this manner, so actual food is not necessary to her survival. Passion is her vitality. She needs the emotions of others.
After time, Kimmie begins changing, however quickly or slowly, under the influence of those she "feeds" from (spends time with). The change need not be physical. If someone were to put expectations on her, for instance, she would absorb them, digest them. The thoughts and realities of others will manifest in Kimmie: in her hair, in the shape of her nose, in her likes and dislikes. It is not outrageous to assume that she will adopt a person's most radical beliefs if given enough time.
She can develop the talents (or powers) of her "host." Thus, being a member of the Cult of Fascion for so long now, she has developed vampiric traits. Her short memory has lead her to assume that she is and always was a vampire.
But it's a new year now, and Season Two of LA by Night has willed her the cutest, goofiest acquaintance she could ever hope to find. His name is Sam Aubrey, and she's been putting him up in the professor's apartment. He's new in town and could use her help. He's very needy, which gives her tremblin's in her elbows and toes. When he's feeling especially sad, mind you, she swears he tastes like chicken.
Sam's a sappy guy, quietly lamenting over a broken love affair. He's come to LA to find his ex-girlfriend or something (who cares?), but Kimmie doesn't expect that will last much longer. Kimmie IS the potential to be everything Sam needs. Recently, in fact, Eriantha mentioned that Kimmie's eyes were looking astonishingly different. They'd changed from brown to pink-and into an oval shape overnight!-like a lovely lotus flower in bloom.
Though Kimmie has only known Sam for a short time, his blue eyes brighten up whenever she decides to visit him in that lonely apartment. Whenever she walks into the room, she knows that he sees someone in her he wants back. Who knows? Maybe, if she feels like it, she just might become that someone for him. But this person will not come without a price. . .
Kimmie is aloof in general, but she will appear to care about one's needs as though her life depended on it. In truth, she only does this in order to generate emotional food. She's mindless in most cases. She cares nothing for the world around her unless it has social value. If Kimmie finds herself alone for too long, she begins to resemble Professor Stockholm. At first it's sadness, then the beauty drains from her face.
Though Kimmie considers herself a master of mimicry, in truth she does not have total control over her chameleon-like ability. She can choose whom she spends time with, but it's simply the time that causes her to adopt his or her personality and traits. She lives in the now. Don't ask her about yesterday. She's not there anymore. And tomorrow? What's that? She just is
ITEMS:
Kimmie owns several items including an eclectic wardrobe to fit all tastes. A cream-coloured Station Wagon, now run-down and rusty, that once belonged to Professor Stockholm, and also the professor's old apartment, her bank account, and all her belongings.
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