1. Characters

Remi Bernard

Keiran's Ghoul
"Every case file has two endings — the one they wrote down, and the one nobody wanted to." — cold open, Fright Bite, Episode 1

Description & Personality

Appearance01a01c05-8f4f-7088-afc5-ee2693969475.jpg

Black hair, always — the shade changes with how bad the week's been, from a careful glossy bob to something chopped shorter and messier when she hasn't had the patience for upkeep. Pale skin that doesn't take the Alaskan winter any better now than it did the first one. Eyes a washed, ice-pale grey-blue that read as unsettling in photographs and worse in person, because she doesn't blink when she's working an angle on someone.

The red lipstick is not incidental. She reapplies it like other people check a weapon — a small, precise ritual before she goes anywhere that matters. It is the one piece of her presentation she has never let slip, on the theory, never stated out loud, that as long as the mouth is put together the rest of her can be falling apart and nobody has to know.

Bearing

Fast talker, faster thinker, chronically unable to let a strange detail go unexamined. She narrates under her breath — half a habit from years of recording voice memos to herself, half something else now. Ask her a follow-up question in casual conversation and you'll notice she's already asking you three back. She keeps a schedule with the fervor of someone who knows exactly what happens when she stops.

Role Playing Hooks

01a01c07-0e0b-702d-b571-100031863255.jpgFright Bite

A true-crime and urban-legend podcast, one woman, one microphone, one increasingly infamous back catalog of cold cases and things half-buried under Alaskan snow that nobody official wanted dug up. She built it out of a folklore degree she never finished and a habit that started long before college — the conviction that most stories have a shape underneath them, if you're patient enough to find it. She reads primary sources in Russian when she has to. She has a research partner she has never met in person, known only from a forum and a shared, meticulously organized case file.

The tagline changed after the last season. It used to be about the cases. Now it's one broken woman investigates unsolved cases and urban legends, and she says it like she's daring the audience to ask what broke her.

The Years She Doesn't Talk About

There is a gap in her own timeline she narrates around instead of through — a folklore student who drifted, then didn't come back. People who knew her at nineteen and people who know her now would have trouble agreeing they're describing the same person. She is loyal to a fault to people who have done nothing to earn it, and she has never once been able to explain why that feels less like a flaw and more like the truest thing about her.

Now

She is Keiran McCormack's ghoul, which she describes, when she describes it at all, with the same wry, deflecting precision she uses on everything else that's actually about her. The Vitae did what it does. She isn't recording episodes about it. She isn't sure yet whether that's discretion or fear.

Soundtrack

Fright Bite — Cold Opens & Bumpers

What she cues up between segments — the sound of a case file getting opened. Mostly instrumental or half-buried vocals, because the show runs on her voice, not the music's.

  • Far From Any Road — The Handsome Family — the murder-ballad standard she'd never admit she's imitating.
  • Feral Love — Chelsea Wolfe — dark folk-doom, her go-to for episodes set somewhere rural.
  • Alpha and Omega — Boards of Canada — nostalgic and slightly wrong, for the found-footage episodes.
  • Night — Zola Jesus — cold and operatic, reserved for the cases that don't resolve.
  • Kill for Love — Chromatics — synth noir, the closest thing the show has to a recurring theme.
  • Roads — Portishead — trip-hop dread, used sparingly, always right before a reveal.
  • selections — The Caretaker — decayed, half-remembered loops for the true urban-legend episodes. Listeners either love this segment or skip it entirely.

Off-Mic

Not for the show. What's actually playing in her headphones at two in the morning, or wasn't playing at all during the years she doesn't narrate.

  • Nutshell — Alice in Chains — the closest thing she has to an honest song about the years.
  • Doll Parts — Hole — nineteen years old and furious about it.
  • Teardrop — Massive Attack — the come-down song. Still is.
  • Fade Into You — Mazzy Star — the version of her that could still be soft, once.
  • Spellbound — Siouxsie and the Banshees — the version of goth that predates the aesthetic being a costume.
  • If I Had a Heart — Fever Ray — new. Post-Vitae. She hasn't examined why this one, specifically, started showing up on repeat.
  • Cherry-coloured Funk — Cocteau Twins — for when she can't tell if she's dissociating or just tired.