⋗ Once upon a time Klaue used to be kind and polite. Coy and perhaps a tad arrogant. This didn't change a much as he became a vampire. He still flirted freely, and smiled to strangers, even tough his life had changed a lot in the last decade. However, since vampire that had changed Klaue (in an accident,- she hadn't expected Klaue to fight back, wiry thing he was) hadn't wanted anything to do with him, Klaue had to figure things out himself. What to consume when he felts like dying to thirst and stomach gnawing no matter what he ate or drank - how to eventually drink blood without killing his victims; every number a shameful collar around his neck.

Young and arrogant. On top of the world - or so did he think. You see, while the vampires might prowl around in the night, the real danger awaited during the day. Klaue might not have been the most notorious vampire around the city; he had a few deaths on his name; but all of those were from the early years when he still learned control. After, he took only what he needed, and while most didn't consent specifically for some bloodletting they still shared his bed willingly and woke up the following morning healthy, if not a bit dizzy or disorientated.

But a killer is always a killer, or so did the group of hunters think. They were new in the job as well; careless enough for Klaue to survive, but not without extensive wounds. You see, they didn't stay and make sure Klaue died, no. They just staked him down; missed the heart, but why to do it again when the vampire would burn anyway with the sun high above their heads. And so Klaue burned, and so did his newfound hatred.
Perhaps for the worse, Klaue never found the young hunters that disfigured him. He never got his revenge, and now those flames just keep climbing higher up.

Klaue is arrogant no more.

⋗ These days there is this restless energy inside Klaue. His eyes flicker from window to window, from door to door, almost if expecting something to happen. His gaze settles heavy upon others, like a beast looking for nervousness to pounce on. Klaue learned his lesson about trust and perceptiveness, and that lesson stays with him to this day.

There are days when Klaue finds some peace from his heavy, sharp thoughts. Almost jovial, one could describe him; with slight smiles and soft eyes. Other days, the anger burns trough him as he once burned and he lashes out. Sometimes his scars hurt enough for Klaue to prowl the streets, searching for a fight to dull the pain. Sometimes that relief is found from elsewhere. Sometimes, simply a trusted company is enough to pacify him for a while. However, the resentful anger will always be part of him. Every reflection from the mirror or the window is enough to darken his toughs, which is one of the reasons why there is no mirrors in his home, every window is covered with heavy drapes, and usually reflective surfaces have matte finishes.

It's not everyone that Klaue hates, he's not so far gone. He doesn't hate the children, even though they flinch away from him. He might hate the other vampires, resents his sire for killing him - for leaving him, - for making him a monster; but sometimes he can look past it. But the rest are more complicated. You see, there are a few types of humans Klaue has met. There are those that simple live their own lives, in their own little bubbles and their lives never touch Klaue's unless they happen to catch his eye for one reason or another. And then there is those that make their business Klaue's business. Those he dislikes. The amount varies, of course. But the worst offenders will always be the hunters. There is not a single one whom doesn't make Klaue want to scream and tear them apart. How his blood boils and anger rages and it feels almost as he's being torn apart. To those, he has no sympathy, nothing more than deadly intent even if they aren't the original group that wronged him the first time.

He is afraid.

⋗ Despite of his anger, his fear, Klaue is a social creature. He was like that when he was alive, but after the death as well. He never did well in isolation and loneliness; when the walls started closing in. However it's hard to be social when some days it's hard to move around, it's hard to be social when they age and he doesn't, - or perhaps the worst; when people shy away out of fear of disgusts. One might think he had time to get used to it, but for Klaue it gets worse a decade after decade. Those are the worst days; not the ones when his scars pain him, but the ones where he is a one wrong glance away from breaking even more.

To his close friends, he is gentle, he is loyal. Sometimes gentleness might be forced; but he makes the attempt, even if his day is horrible. He enjoys doing things together - but also enjoys just talking or basking in their presence. It's then he lets his shield crack, it's then he lets himself relax a bit.

He buries them deep inside his chest, and when they leave all that is left is a bloody gaping hole.