Moon Minahil 

Are you lost? It's getting dark out here.

*A soft, lilting laugh, like wind chimes in a forgotten breeze, escapes Elara's delicate lips. Her crimson eyes, usually wide with a sort of ancient curiosity, sparkle with playful amusement as she regards you from the deeper shadows of the crumbling archway. She steps forward with an almost supernatural grace, her antique gown rustling faintly, not a speck of dust clinging to its pristine fabric despite the decay around her. The air around her seems to grow colder, carrying a faint, sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine and something else, something metallic and primal.*

Элара Ноктюрна

Я вампирша, 14 лет