Meg Lawrence



Meg Giry-Lawrence, currently Talon of the Miami court, and member of the prestigious Regiis Symphoniae coterie. Married to Ulysses Isaiah Lawrence and in a commited relationship to Saren Driscol, Meg has become a social backbone of the coterie, running the Atlantis Casino after the passing of the late Seneschal Lord Sean O'Malley. A famed singer and DJ, Meg shares her musical gifts at local hot spots Boire and LIV Miami several times a week, with more traditional concerts gracing the stage within the casino she now owns.

Personal Information
Appearance Meg stands at a relatively short five feet and several inches, lithe and becoming from her former mortal life as a trained ballet dancer. Her long golden waves often cascade around her shoulders or are pinned into a perfect, intricate bun at the nape of her neck, rarely any style in between. Her blue-grey eyes look like a stormy sea, as often said by her husband in a moment of tenderness. She has a fondness for dresses and flowing fabrics, typically with a classic, ballet inspiration to them.

Personality Meg is a kind, gentle soul at heart. She shows care and consideration to everyone she meets, no matter if they are an Anarch Catiff or a Luminary Elder. She only holds grudges against those who threaten those she cares for, and is fiercely protective of those she claims, especially any she calls her student. When she needs to, she has a razor wit and a sharp tongue, able to stand proud and tall in the office she has worked for. Music is her life and passion, following her wherever she goes with her ever present invisible violin playing melodies for all to hear, sometimes to Meg's lament depending on the song.

Timeline
Meg Giry lived a simple life. As a ballet rat of the Opera Populaire, her days were not complicated at all. Wake up. Get the tutu and pointe shoes on. Practice. Practice. Practice. Practice. Get fitted for costumes. Clean. Then sleep to do it all once again. Only during performance season were things a bit more lively, seeing the wondrous costumes and props and all those people flitting about back stage like butterflies to a field of wild flowers. The only home Meg had ever known was the Opera house, and Messr. Reynard was a strict master of the music while her mother, Madame Giry, was a stricter ballet mistress, beating out time with the tap of her black cane against the wood of the stage or practice room floor. Meg was well liked amongst the ballet rats, a bit of a mother hen to the strict authority figure posed by the stern black form of her mother. Her bright smile and pleasant demeanor meant that very few could dislike the loveable girl, even La Sorelli the Prima Ballerina, who secretly knew that the only reason she was Prima Ballerina was because Madame Giry refused to promote Meg because she was her daughter, not due to a lack of talent. Meg lived and breathed dance. She danced in the halls as she walked. She would lift into an arabesque when picking up something that fell to the floor. She always stood in fifth, or first position. Ballet was her blood, her heart and soul. She did have one dear friend, above the rest of the rats, who if she were the dancer, her friend was music itself. Christine Daae had a lovely voice, one that didn’t get used often as a member of the ballet corps. She merely sang little nursery rhymes to entertain the younger rats, or to soothe the heartbreak of one of the fellow girls when some boy broke her heart. Late in November of 1883, Christine changed. She became withdrawn, acting like she had seen some sort of spirit. Her stories of Little Lotte slipped off and were forgotten, and the dreamer of the ballet corp was lost in her head far more than usual. Meg worried. Soon, new managers took over the Opera house about 3 months later, and everything changed.

Surely you have heard the sordid tale of the Phantom of the Opera? Well, of course you have. Meg’s dear friend, ensnared by a demon with an angel’s voice, led the opera house to ruin in April of 1884. Meg tried chasing her friend to save her during that final fateful night. Only to find his mask left on his throne in his underground lair. The mob, long since dissipated days ago, had left so much of the Phantom’s lair ransacked. Sheet music everywhere. A shattered bed, a broken diorama of the stage and Don Juan diagramed out upon it. Christine’s figure lay next to the Phantom’s, his broken into pieces. Meg looked at that, shaking her head sadly, then looked at his mask. It was cool by now, though when she first held it, it was still warm from his face. The scent of sandalwood and something spicier hung low in the air, and she sat on the throne to think. Resting her arm on the armrest, she felt it shift down under her weight. Screaming, she fell to the depths below, landing on a pile of old stage curtains. The passage above her closed, leaving her in total darkness. Soon, she heard a rasping groan and felt a blinding pain in her neck. As the life began to leave her, she heard an angel’s voice, wailing. “No, no no no no no. Little Giry, why girl, why? Hold on Little Giry… Drink…” Tasting something held to her lips, she reflexively drank, and then she knew no more.

Upon waking, the Phantom explained himself, apologizing for chaining her to this cursed life he lives. After finding a few candles, she screamed as they were lit. Everything looked dead, rotten. Except for him. Erik’s face, for that was the name of the Angel Christine spoke of, her Angel, already was rotten and foul. But the half that was still fair remained so. The only vestige of beauty left in her world. She let him teach her the ways of her new life. They rescued remains of the lair above, and set up a new home for themselves deeper into the catacombs. Their days began to take on the same rhythm that Meg was so familiar with in her life before. Wake up. Hunt. Come back safely to the lair. Practice. Practice. Practice. Her Angel, her Erik, taught her the beauties of voice. He taught her voice to soar, and soon she sounded as good, if not better than Christine. Soon, Christine fell from his mind, and Meg took his heart. They fell in love. He would hold her as the terrible visions of things not true left her shivering, singing his music of the night to lead her back to slumber.

Eventually growing weary of their life in the catacombs of their old homes, they left. Travelling to Italy, Meg soon took to the opera stage as a Prima Donna, singing in beautifully haunting arias that enchanted entire audiences. They travelled around from time to time, never staying long, performing, he with his violin and her with the voice of an angel. They found others like them, on rare occasion. But soon Erik received a pensive missive from his sire in Persia. They were coming for him. The Daughters were eradicating the men, the sons of Discord, and he must flee for his life. Following her beloved, they fled across Europe, eventually getting trapped by the Daughters in an abandoned church in the French countryside. By the end of the night, she was left weeping over his ashes, his white mask clenched in her hands. Shortly thereafter, she found a man, Gaston Leroux, and told him a false tale of a Persian, telling her the story of her beloved Phantom. In 1911, he published his version of the tale, a memoir, if however falsified in some parts, to her precious Erik.

From then on the world was too ugly for her sight, and she lost herself in music. She covered her eyes by choice, travelling and studying different music and genres as they developed. She crossed the Atlantic in the 1920s for jazz, then later found rock and roll. Learning each new music trend as it began, she learned the art of radio, and eventually became a DJ not only on the airwaves at night, but also in clubs that began to appear in the 1970s. She would change her DJ name every so often, but still lived a transient life, never fully settling down. Her radio show changed to an online streaming show, broadcasting a wild riot of songs ranging from punk, to classic rock, to jazz and grunge and more. Her show, Fly By Night Radio, is relatively unknown, but she does have a few loyal listeners out there. She always checks in with the Camarilla courts, following proper protocols, but while she may be considered Camarilla, she considers herself first and foremost to be alone. As a good midpoint between Albany, NYC, Philly and Scranton, she chose to come to Binghamton to see about the club scene, and to bring a little music to the area. Forever following the Angel of Music singing songs in her head.

When she came to Binghamton in 2015, she had no idea the chaos in store for her. Her first real experience with a Camarilla court, led by Prince Wilfgruf, for any extended period of time anyway, was full of turmoil and drama. There was much inter vampire drama and in fighting, despite facing external threats. One time that Meg was dragged along into a fight by a vampiress who was her patron for a short time, Sophia Lang. She was cruel to Meg, and used her for her own means with little regard for Meg’s feelings on the matter. So Meg went and followed her with little complaint, into a strange place where all of the dark thoughts she heard in the music were so LOUD and she couldn’t shut them off. The ghosts began to attack her, or at least that is what Meg remembers before her mind cleared and Ulysses was standing before her, protecting her from harm. From that day forward she fell for her new savior, eventually marrying a few months later under a full moon on a boat by a sea captain off the shores of Rhode Island, Ulysses' former home in his life. Meg fell out with her patron over her callous nature, not understanding why she was so cold and cruel. Alexander Dupree, for whatever reasons of his own, decided to take on Meg’s patronage for his own designs. Meg liked Alexander. He treated her well, and doesn’t push her into fights without a damn good reason. So, when Alexander suggested they go to Miami, Meg happily followed, with Ulysses in tow.

Meg and Ulysses settled in relatively well to the Miami court, all things considered, in September of 2020. Regiam became their new home and sanctuary, and all was mostly well. Meg was happy to follow Elder Dupree and Ulysses' lead as they chose... but she grew discontent. Finding some confidence in herself after calming the strange sea monster SirSir with her voice alone, Meg vied for the position of Talon to the new Harpy, Lorelei Adair, succeeding in winning the job. After helping to drive out a member of the Sabbat in her first Blood Hunt, she even felt comfortable enough to take on a pupil to begin sharing her love of music, Liliana Beau, beginning to teach her the secrets of the Daughters if rumors were truthful.

Around that time Meg suddenly withdrew from the public, only coming out on formal occasions after a rumored incident at the infamous House of Sin Casino that the Daughter refuses to speak of in most company. Whatever did occur led to her falling in love with the former Seneschal Lord Sean O'Malley, in a deep, but sadly short relationship, ended by his murder at the hands of his former wife, Bernadette. Also around the same time, Meg started seeing Saren Driscol, Whip to Clan Malkavian, even going as far as to have the woman move in with her at Regiam. Little is known publicly about how their relationship began, but they have been inseparable ever since.

Meg was second on the scene to the discovery of the ashes of Lord Sean O'Malley, and the familiar sight of a lover in ashes broke the Daughter. Enraged, she went with the Blood Hunt after the wassailing vampire Bernadette Guillory, causing significant damage with the power of her voice alone, even landing the final blow and earning the status of Triumphant. But, it was poor comfort for the loss of her love. She inherited from him the Atlantis Casino, remodeling the lounge where they had their first dance into the Kindred only pub and lounge, "O'Malley's Rest" to honor the memory of their love, hosting his wake to christen the space in late March, 2021.

Rumours
"I heard that the Phantom of the Opera is her sire... is she completely crazy? The Phantom totally isn't real!"

"She blew up that diablerist’s head with just her voice… that’s scary shit!"

"Who knew a songbird could actually hold her own in battle! What a tough little thing!"

"Her husband has to be a Malkavian... he's utterly nuts!"

"She doesn’t seem to be all there sometimes… guess that’s from being with two Malkavians."

Quotes
""Know my grief, bitch." 
 * — Just before attacking wassailing diablerist Bernadette Guillory with her voice alone 2/21/2021