Name: Azara
Full name: Azara Anne Parker (Human)
Nicknames: Zara, Az
Sex: Female
Birthdate: September 13th 1990
Date of turning: May 2nd 2013
Contact: Petromyzontida [discord]
Height: 5’2”
Weight: 110lbs
Build: Slender - heroin chic
Eye color: Green
Skin tone: Pale
Hair color: Red
Hair style: Left long, usually straight
Clothing style: Casual, bohemian
Favorite outfit: Dark wash jeans with a plain tank top and jean vest
Jewelry/accessories: Anything made of white gold
Personality traits: Expressive, honest, playful, mischievous, stubborn
Personality type: ENFP-T
Typical mood: Carefree/easygoing
Outlook: Optimistic
Sense of humor: Simple, catty
Life philosophy: Appreciate the small things and enjoy every minute
Drives and motivations: Adventure, excitement, personal fulfillment
Hobbies: Reading, drawing
Spending habits: Extravagant, so long as someone else foots the bill
Smokes: No sometimes
Drinks: Only wine
Other drugs: Occasionally
Nervous tics: Restless shifting, nervous laughter, clenched jaw, tugging at her hair
Usual body posture: Slightly slouched
Maker: Liander
Lineage: unaffiliated
Sire: Sartori
Past sires: Liander, Moon_Shadow, Leo, Moon Girl
Childer: Dreguar, Alain
Powers: Second-sight Suction(2) Surprise Perception(2) Thrift(1) Celerity(3) Stamina(3) Shadows(3) Thievery(3) Locate(3) Telepathy(3) Charisma(3)
Current location: Ravenblack City
Living at: Penhouse apartment at Emerald and 74th
Pets: None
Occupation: Bartender Retired black widow
Finances: Broke, very broke The very sad widow to three progressively more wealthy old men
Hometown: Brooklyn, New York
Occupation: Bartender
Education: High school
Religion: Roman Catholic
Mother: Janice Parker, nee Roberts deceased
Father: Phillip Parker [born 1952]
Siblings: Grace Parker [born 1992], Cody Roberts [born 1986]
[to be added]
Color: Purple
Least favorite color: Yellow
Music: Alternative rock
Literature: Tabloid magazines
Form of entertainment: Television, art
Mode of transportation: 2004 Honda Civic *former*, 2014 Camaro ZL1 Convertible [blue]
Most prized possession: White gold peacock feather earrings
----
The dimly lit backroom of Carlo’s Ristorante hummed with low voices and the clinking of glasses. Azara, just seventeen, leaned against the far wall, a tray balanced effortlessly on one hand. Her father, Phillip Parker, sat at the head of the central table, his broad shoulders squared under a suit that looked too expensive for someone who claimed to be a “humble businessman.” Around him, men with hardened faces and sharp eyes passed cigars, their laughter cutting through the tension of serious talk.
Azara’s job wasn’t just to serve; it was to listen.
“Kid,” her father called, flicking his fingers in her direction. She moved smoothly, setting down a fresh glass of whiskey by his hand.
“Azara, pay attention,” he muttered, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “This is where you learn.”
She nodded and stepped back, her green eyes scanning the room. The men discussed territories, collections, and alliances, their words a mix of threats and promises wrapped in a veneer of politeness.
“... And I’m tellin’ ya, Parker,” one man said, slamming his palm against the table, “if you don’t rein in your boys on 43rd, we’re gonna have a problem. A big one.”
Her father smiled—a cold, calculating curve of his lips. “No need to make threats, Vinny. We’re all family here. You’ll have your share, as always.”
Azara felt the weight of the room shift. Her father’s confidence was the kind that made men question whether they were armed enough to argue. It fascinated her, the way he wielded words sharper than knives. She knew she didn't have the patience for it - she wasn't finesse, never had been, never would be.
“Zara,” he said suddenly, and she straightened as every head turned toward her. “What do you think we should do about this... misunderstanding?”
She glanced at her father, whose eyes dared her to rise to the occasion. Shifting, she set the tray down, glancing across the table, at faces she'd known for years. They should have intimidated her, but they didn't.
“Well...” she started, levelling those pretty green eyes on Vinny. “If Vinny feels the territory’s uneven, maybe there’s something we can offer. A token, so to speak. Show good faith. Maybe a few weeks of free passes for his guys at the clubs.”
The room fell silent, her suggestion hanging in the smoky air.
Vinny squinted at her, then leaned back with a chuckle. “Smart girl you got there, Parker.”
Her father nodded, a flicker of approval in his otherwise impassive expression. “That’s my Azara.”
She returned to her place behind the bar as the men resumed their negotiations, her hands steady as she refilled glasses. From that moment, she wasn’t just Phillip Parker’s daughter. She was an asset—family in her own right. What they didn't realize was that Azara had her own thoughts on what to do with Vinny's boys while they enjoyed those free passes.
