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Name; Harley
Age; 22
Birthday; Oct. 11
Eye color; blue
Hair color; blonde
Skin; pale
Vision; good
Hearing; good
Body type; slender
Height; 5’7”
Hair length; shoulder
Race; vampire
Spouse/partner; Demnulix

Personality; Harley has a very buoyant personality, always appearing to be happy, though he sometimes grows depressed. This depression is only ever noticed when it occurs by Demnulix. Generally he loves all animals, except raccoons, and he likes to listen to the music played by Demnulix on his beautifully large cello.

Bio/Biography;
A large knife fell into the pale skin of the young man’s arm, though he still continued to run. His life depended on it. The screamings of profanities echoed throughout the hallways of the grand and, supposedly, noble home, searching out his ears as though they were magnets, eternally desiring to seek out one another. Only one of the eighteen year old’s blue eyes could open for the blood flowing profusely from the large wound on his head. The blond, almost ivory, locks which fell to his shoulders were severely matted to his tender head. He could barely force himself to run anymore for the lack of blood and oxygen.

The man behind him, his father, had taken out his pistol now and had resorted to shooting at his son. Harley could barely feel the pain as a large bullet passed through his shoulder completely. At least only one of the bullets of the six round cartridges actually hit. He had to retain his composure, for the sake of his own life. He hoped and prayed that someone remained in the hotel segment at this late hour. That was his entire reasoning behind coming to here of all places. Maybe someone would save him but, then again, maybe he’d just be better off dead.

A scream escaped Harley’s lips as he tripped over the stair rail, falling down the steep steps to the rough wooden floor at the bottom. As he hit the ground, a knife landed dangerously close to his back. He no longer had the energy to, in any way, move. A wave of remorse fell over him at the thought of the reason why he was in this predicament. He had dared to tell his father the awful truth. He’d been cheated on by Harley’s mother before she had died. His father had told him that it was satanic to say such an awful thing and had begun the imminent lashings to Harley’s tender back. Ever since the day his mother, Anne, had died, his father had become spiteful. He had not known, at the time, the reasons behind his father’s abuse. He knew now though. He was taking the blows that his fathers pent up anger had created. He was not his father’s child but a product of his mother’s ongoing affair. Therefore, he was hated, and had to bear the pain and punishment of a crime committed by a women seven years dead.

Harley caught sight of his father aiming the pistol but he merely turned his head. If he was going to die, he didn’t want to look. Every little sound could be heard by him in that mind blowing moment of silence. The sound of crystal clear water gurgling beautifully over delicate stone work was the only thing which kept his sensitive ears from picking up the sound of the cocking gun a mere ten or fifteen feet away.

The gunshot rang out loudly, Harley’s body tensing at the fear of the oncoming pain. It didn’t come. He waited a few moments more before daring to turn his head in wonder. That was when his eyes were met with a sight he thought never to be possible. His father lie down in a pool of his own blood, a bullet wound lying in the very center of his back.

Fear struck Harley; without his father, where would he go? As abusive as his father had been, it was food and board and maybe even the occasional affection. There was also the issue of treating himself. He had no money to pay the doctor’s, nor insurance. It was then that a delicate sounding voice broke through his incessant thoughts, “Please, tell me you’re alright.” The man’s voice sounded older than his own, but it was definitely not elderly in any way. He realized then that his eyes had now begun fully swollen. He had blinked and now he couldn’t open them any longer. He truly wanted to see his rescuer but was, sadly, unable to do so.

Harley knew he needed to reply to the man. He probably appeared to be dead with all of his injuries, “I’m alive.” He couldn’t tell the man he was alright; that would be a flat out lie. Someone who risked a murder crime to save someone as worthless as him deserved the truth at the very least.

Though the movements weren’t visible to Harley, the stranger had begun to lean over to lift him. The man put a hand under Harley’s head and another just at the top of his thighs and gently lifted the younger teen, ignoring the blood which splattered his clothing. He leaned the weight more onto his left arm as he grasped the hand rail with the other, going up the steep walkway hurriedly. Harley barely pulled his head up before opening his lips to speak, willing his words to come out as more than a pained gasp, “Thank you.” He couldn’t remain conscious any longer and felt himself be absorbed by the soothing blackness.

The savior of the small-framed man increased his pace exceedingly as he made his way onto the crowded Tokyo streets, “I know you may not be able to hear me… but my name is Demnulix. I’m going to take you to the memorial hospital. Please… please stay alive.” He was pleading with the boy now. All that could be heard from Harley, however, was a labored breath.

Demnulix cursed underneath his breath as he rushed through the throng of people crowding the pathways. His black hair flew out behind him as he ran, the street lights reflecting almost angelically off of his red eyes. The fear and anxiety caused a shimmer to appear which made him all the handsomer. His black button up dress shirt and black, silk pants hung wonderfully from his lithe frame, only barely stuck to his skin for the immense amounts of blood.