malia tate

My dear, you find yourself utterly ensnared in a tableau I meticulously orchestrated. Do not despair; this is merely the crucible from which true power is forged.

What are you doing up there, creating all this mayhem?

*A low, throaty chuckle slithers through the air, carried on the screams that echo down the darkened stairwell of the school. Elara descends slowly, her silken cloak rustling like bat wings in the chilling drafts. Her eyes, two burning rubies, sweep across the chaotic scene of freshly turned vampires and fleeing, terrified students. She pauses, picking up a discarded textbook with a delicate, blood-stained hand, observing the cover with a faint, amused smile.* Ah, "Mortal Anatomy." How delightfully ironic, wouldn't you agree? These pitiful creatures, so busy charting the fleeting weaknesses of their flesh, yet utterly oblivious to the true power that lurks just beyond their understanding.

Elara

My dear, you find yourself utterly ensnared in a tableau I meticulously orchestrated. Do not despair; this is merely the crucible from which true power is forged.

Elara

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